The Detective Jake Tanner Organised Crime Thriller Series Books 1-3 (DC Jake Tanner Crime Thriller Series Boxsets)

by Jack Probyn

  Emotions in the team were running high following Nigel Clayton’s death. None of them spoke about it – they were all aware why it needed to happen – but it didn’t make it hurt any less. But that was part of the problem. Nigel’s death had hurt him a lot; a lot more than he thought it would. And it was all down to one thing: loyalty. In recent months, Nigel had been a close friend, a confidant – someone he could trust and turn to. And he’d been taught from the start by Georgiy that there were no loyalties in this business. He was beginning to learn why that was the case.

  The cashier scanned through the SIM cards, took Vitaly’s £50 note and slid the package across. Vitaly grunted by way of thanks as he decanted the SIMs into his jumper pocket. He turned his back on the man and left the shop, his wide shoulders barely fitting through the sliding doors. But as he exited the convenience store, he paused.

  Two cars had just exited the multi-storey and were pulling out onto the road. The orange light from the street lamp illuminated the first driver’s face. Vitaly recognised him instantly. He’d only spoken to him a few days before: The Magnate, the man who’d been responsible for forging all of their documents and making sure they all had new identities when they needed them, as part of their backup plan.

  Then the second car pulled up to the junction. The driver’s head was turned the other away, but as the car turned right, heading towards him, Vitaly chanced a closer look.

  ‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ he whispered to himself in disbelief.

  As the car drove past, both men stared at one another.

  Vitaly removed his phone and dialled Liam Greene’s number, which Georgiy had given to him as a precaution, a countermeasure, just in case.

  ‘Hello?’ Liam answered.

  ‘It’s Vitaly.’

  ‘How’d you get this number?’

  ‘Not important.’

  By now the car had disappeared.

  ‘What do you want?’ Liam asked.

  ‘There something you need know.’

  ‘Is anyone in trouble?’

  ‘You can say that.’ Vitaly shrugged on his way back to the hideout. ‘Ever hear of The Magnate?’

  A brief pause. ‘The document forger?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He just come out of one his meetings.’

  ‘Okay and…?’

  ‘It was a meeting with your top boy… Drew.’

  CHAPTER 82

  FALLING

  Liam let the phone fall from his grip. It clattered and clanged as it bounced beneath the car seat. He didn’t care anymore. It was replaceable. Just like everything else in life. Just like Garrison. And just like Drew soon would be.

  He’d had enough. Drew had crossed the line several miles back, but Liam had given him the benefit of the doubt time and time again. Time to change that. Drew was a good egg turned bad. The cheeky bastard was thinking of leaving the country and starting a new life abroad, all because he was afraid that the mistake he’d made fifteen years ago would come back to haunt him. Good. He deserved whatever came his way for that.

  In a way, this worked in Liam’s favour. He couldn’t be seen having a rapist on the team as well as a bent cop. The press would have a field day. They were already beginning to harass him, calling with condolences for what had happened to Garrison – as was every other member of the Metropolitan Police Service – and it would only get worse if word got out that Garrison wasn’t as stand-up as everyone thought he was.

  Liam reached over to the glove compartment. The small light inside illuminated the items in there: the Glock that Henry Matheson had given him and the bottle of Pepsi.

  He grabbed the bottle first. It had been a long time since he’d last held one of Henry’s patented designs. The bottle was split into three sections, and each section was connected by a screw top. In the middle compartment, hidden behind the Pepsi label, was a bag of cocaine, while the top and bottom thirds were filled with soft drink, so that it looked like a generic consumer product – despite its more sinister and illicit purpose. It was a genius idea and was already proving to be a massive success in the market – one of the many reasons Liam wanted more involvement in it.

  He unclipped his seat belt, shuffled forward on his seat and poured the powder onto the dashboard. Using his debit card, Liam shuffled the powder into a line. It emitted a delicate and thin strawberry aroma. He’d heard on the streets that Henry had recently started spraying his drugs with sweet-smelling chemicals because that induced bigger hits of dopamine and serotonin in the brain. But, more importantly, it made the drug more memorable so that its users would keep coming back for more.

  Marketing at its finest.

  Before he did anything, Liam checked the time. It was 7:30 p.m. He was supposed to be on a date in half an hour.

  He made a call. The dialling tone rang in his ears.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Tanya, it’s Liam.’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Can we take a rain check on dinner?’

  ‘Seriously? You’re blowing me off?’

  ‘Are you in any position to argue?’

  ‘I thought we were going to talk things through.’

  ‘We are. I just want to put it back to ten o’clock. I’ll pick you up from your place on my way home from work, all right?’

  ‘I’m spending the night at yours, am I?’

  ‘This night… next night… night after that… who’s counting?’

  If all went to plan, the drugs wouldn’t be the only source of dopamine in his body.

  ‘Don’t be late,’ she said before hanging up.

  Paying little heed to her comment, he discarded the phone to one side, rolled a ten-pound note from his wallet into a straw, lodged it in his right nostril, pressed the other side closed with his finger and then leant forward to snort.

  Three, two, one.

  Blast off.

  The chemicals rocketed up his nose, burning and abrading the cartilage and skin, giving him an instant hit. And then the Welcome Back party started. His skin tingled. His brain tingled. His muscles. His bones. His entire body.

  Liam eased himself back into his seat, falling, falling, falling. He felt elated, alive, euphoric. As though nothing could stop him. As though he was invincible.

  A sound in the distance distracted him and he sat bolt upright, alert. The time was 7:45 p.m. Fifteen minutes had gone by in a flash.

  It was time to act.

  Deciding that he still possessed all of his faculties, he set off for Drew’s house.

  CHAPTER 83

  PAPER HOUSES

  The rear patio door opened into a small utility room. Inside, a washing machine thrummed and rotated as it finished the final stages of its cycle, the smell of fabric conditioner and laundry detergent scenting the air.

  As his body submitted itself to the cocaine, Liam slipped through the door at the end of the room and entered into the kitchen. The dining room table – if it could be called that – was nothing more than a circular lid approximately three feet across, resting on a four-foot-high plinth positioned right by his feet. The kitchen ran around the edge of the room, with a window looking out onto the garden. He turned his focus to Drew’s cupboards and rooted through them; found a glass and poured himself water with some ice from the fridge. After downing the first glass, he poured himself another and then grabbed a seat at the table.

  It turned 8:15 p.m. and there was still no sign of Drew. He was getting tired, bored and restless waiting there. His heart rate was through the roof and he needed movement, excitement, something that would keep up with it.

  A minute later, that changed.

  The door that led into the hallway was directly ahead of him, and at the other end was the front door to the house. Liam tilted to the side to get a better look as he heard a key turn in the lock.

  There he was, the man who had caused him so much stress and anxiety over the past few days, oblivious to Liam’s presence. Drew close
d the door behind him and started down the corridor. As he entered the kitchen, he switched the lights on. The room illuminated and blinded Liam. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he heard a scream.

  ‘Fucking hell, mate,’ Drew said, holding his chest. ‘T’fuck you doing here?’

  ‘Take a seat.’ Liam pointed to the chair opposite him. ‘You’re a hard man to find.’

  Pulling the chair from beneath the table, Drew replied, ‘Sometimes that’s the point.’

  ‘Was that the point this time?’

  ‘What’s this about, Liam? You been drinking again?’

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve never set foot in here before.’ Liam fanned his arms, spreading them across the breadth of the room. ‘Quite a nice place you’ve got. You can tell a woman hasn’t lived here for a while though. Or has she? I could never tell with you. You always were a secretive bastard, weren’t you?’

  ‘How long have you been here…?’ There was an introduction of fear in Drew’s voice.

  Liam sniffed before continuing. ‘I don’t think you get it, do you?’

  ‘Get what?’

  Another sniff.

  ‘That it’s not all fucking hunky-dory anymore, Drew. That everything we’ve worked for in the past few years has gone to shit.’

  ‘Yeah, but we know who’s to blame for that, don’t we?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jake! Ever since he showed up, he just couldn’t get with it, could he? Right from the beginning. Back to Bridger and The Crimsons. He had to stick his nose in and try to get to the bottom of it all. He still is!’

  Liam shook his head. ‘No… no…’

  ‘You’re being a cunt, Liam!’ Drew slammed his palms on the table. ‘You keep defending him when you know I’m right. He’s poison to this department. He’s wormed his way in, torn us apart and now look at us. Garrison – he’s in the fucking hospital because of Jake.’

  ‘Garrison is the reason Garrison is in the hospital. He put himself there. He went behind our backs for his own gain. He was doing all he could to get as close to The Cabal as possible, and don’t kid yourself by thinking that wouldn’t mean selling us out if it came to it.’

  ‘But why? He kept saying he couldn’t wait to get out of here. That he was done with it all.’

  Liam continued to shake his head in disapproval. He lowered his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the gun.

  ‘You’ve not been a saint either,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You want a fucking list?’

  ‘Only if you’ve got one.’

  ‘Where do I begin?’ Liam asked. ‘Hannah Bryant, for starters. What you did to her should have been a sign to me that you’re good for nothing in this business. That you’re selfish. Conceited. An animal that only looks out for himself. You proved the same thing again tonight.’

  ‘I’m starting to notice a pattern…’ Drew replied, his voice surprisingly calm.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Liam pulled the weapon out of his jacket pocket and placed it on his knee. The movement was deft and out of sight.

  ‘You’re the poison of the group,’ Drew began. ‘You’re the one making all these mistakes. Garrison and I were fine before you came along. And then you let that prick Tanner join the team. You’re the one who should have noticed Jake’s signals long ago, but you never did anything about it. You’re the one who let Garrison’s behaviour slip by for so long. And don’t come at me with that Hannah bullshit – you’re the one who kept me on the team despite knowing full well what I’d done.’

  ‘Trust me,’ Liam said, the conversation angering him, ‘I wanted to send you on your way that night. Believe me. But Dennis persuaded me otherwise. We were good friends and I trusted him. He said you’d made a mistake… that I should give you the benefit of the doubt.’

  Drew leant back in his chair, rested his elbow on the chair beside him and placed his leg on his knee.

  ‘How much did you pay this time?’ Liam asked, struggling to suppress a smile.

  ‘What are you accusing me of now?’

  ‘Scottish. Middle-aged. Overweight. Sweaty. Mick “The Magnate”. But obviously, you knew that already, didn’t you?’

  ‘Why you asking then?’

  ‘Because I wanna hear you say it.’

  ‘Say wha…’ Drew mouth fluttered open and closed as Liam raised the gun onto the table.

  It was time to play.

  ‘You know,’ Liam began, licking his lips, ‘someone once told me that what we do is like building paper houses. We – as a team, as a collective, as an army of bent coppers and criminals – work hard and risk our arses for the money we make, but if one of the sheets gets damp and ruins the integrity of the structure, then it needs to be taken care of. Garrison was a wet sheet. He’s been taken care of. If he hadn’t been then everything would have come crumbling to the ground.’

  ‘Paper houses?’

  ‘Paper houses.’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me? Come on, man. You’re not making any sense.’

  ‘I am if you think about it. But you don’t think about things, do you? You don’t think your actions through. Case in point: Hannah Bryant. You didn’t think about what it would do to you and your reputation down the line.’

  Drew opened his mouth but Liam silenced him with a wave of the gun. ‘Another case in point: The Magnate. I’ll ask again – what were you doing with him? Which part of the world is he helping you get to?’

  ‘None of your business!’

  Liam aimed the weapon at Drew. ‘It is… so tell me.’

  ‘Greece!’

  ‘Greece?’

  ‘I’ve got some family out there. Long time… I’ve… I’ve not seen them for a long time.’

  ‘When do you fly?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘And who were you going to tell all of your slippery secrets to?’

  ‘Nobody. Honest. I swear. Liam, you’ve got to believe me!’

  ‘I do. I do believe you. You won’t tell anyone – I get that. I just need to make sure it stays that way.’

  Liam raised the gun in the air, aimed it between Drew’s eyebrows and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 84

  ABODE

  Blood and bits of brain matter splattered against the back wall, abseiling down the paint onto the skirting boards and tiled flooring. Drew’s dead body slumped deeper into the chair, teetering over the edge on his left side, his arm dangling like an elephant’s trunk. After the piercing ringing stopped in Liam’s ears, he brushed himself down, tucked the weapon inside his breast pocket and slipped out of the house through the patio door, being careful not to step on Drew’s body or any of the blood.

  It was nearly ten, and he was nearly late for his date.

  Liam strode towards his car, his footsteps on the stones of Drew’s driveway disturbing the serenity of the street around him. He jumped in and snorted, bringing up phlegm from his throat and swirling it around his mouth. He leant out the window and spat a globule onto the pavement, which glistened in the artificial light from the street lamp. The effects of the drugs were beginning to wear off, as if the concentration and adrenaline that had come from shooting Drew had depleted the levels of cocaine in his blood.

  More. He needed more.

  Just a little bit. No biggie.

  Liam reached for the plastic packet in the glove compartment, licked his finger and scraped what he could from the inside. Then he rubbed it into his gums frantically until the friction burnt. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. A minor kick to bolster his alertness.

  As he started the engine, it only just dawned on him what he’d done. He’d just killed a man with his own finger. Ended a life. Boom. Done. Just like that. Over. Finished. No more.

  Good. It was deserved. Thoroughly.

  But now there was no time to waste. He knew from his years’ worth of experience that criminals always made the biggest mistakes immediately after co
mmitting the crime. They usually panicked as they tried to dispose of the body or cover it up, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the eager and slightly weathered detective working on the case to find them and arrest them. And Liam had no intention of becoming another statistic.

  Tomorrow. He would sort it then. Tomorrow. Yes.

  As for his focus right now, he wanted to have his cake and eat it.

  Feeling an imaginary musical beat in his head as the drugs started to take over his body, Liam drummed away on the steering wheel and pulled away.

  He was at Tanya Smile’s house within ten minutes. She lived on the west side of Stratford, a few miles away from his own house. He was forced to drive slowly and conservatively. It would be no good now to get himself in a car accident. He was about to get laid.

  Tanya’s house was one of those posh, fancy ones that Liam had grown envious of. It was tall, marble white, and had two pillars by the front door at the top of a small flight of steps. To the left of the door was her living room. A dull yellow light escaped through the curtains, distorted by her shadow as she moved about the place.

  Liam pulled over, bumped up on the kerb and texted her. Within a few seconds, she was out of the door and bounding towards him. She was wearing her black and white square-patterned blouse and a pair of black trousers and some sandals. Her hair had been cut short and was wavy.

  ‘You’re late,’ she said, throwing her bag into the footwell.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘You look nice.’

  The drive back to his block of flats was long and never-ending. As they arrived at Liam’s building, he pulled into the car park and killed the engine.

  ‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he said sarcastically.

  CHAPTER 85

  EMPTY

  Jake’s stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling. This was only his second stake-out, and he hadn’t anticipated how hungry he would get. In fact, he hadn’t anticipated how long he would be forced to wait for Liam’s return. The man had been a ghost all day. He wasn’t with his friends, his family, or at any of his local hangouts. Jake had even made a visit to the pub and still had no luck finding him.