by Jack Probyn
Until now.
Jake watched eagerly as Liam and the BBC News reporter Tanya Smile entered Liam’s block of flats. He was sitting forty yards away, in the car park opposite the building, shadowed by an overhanging tree. In his hands he held one of Elizabeth’s professional cameras, fitted with the lens he’d bought her after Ellie was born. It was the one she’d used at university to help her gain her first-class honours. He was under strict instructions not to damage it; if he did, he would have to replace it for her – which was an expense he certainly couldn’t afford.
Jake pointed the lens at the two profiles, zoomed in and snapped.
‘Gotcha,’ he whispered to himself as he lowered the camera from his face. ‘Now we know who’s been selling our secrets to the hungry wolves.’
As soon as they disappeared out of sight, Jake leapt out of his vehicle and stealthily stalked across the car park, treading lightly and keeping his body low. Less than an hour earlier, Charlotte had given him the green light to gain access to Liam’s and Drew’s cars by whatever means necessary. Beside the boot of Liam’s car, he put on a pair of disposable gloves, removed a set of pins and pick locks from his pocket and started to break in.
Beneath the latex, his fingers jemmied the lock until eventually it gave way and the handle opened. He was in, and it had taken him less time than expected; while he was waiting, he’d practised on his own boot, and in the low light it had taken him several minutes.
A small, red, incandescent light turned on inside the boot, illuminating its entire contents. There he saw a Tesco bag for life, filled with bottles of sparkling water, a steering-wheel lock and an AA road map. Lurking beneath the map was the corner of another plastic bag. He lifted the map and revealed the two cigarettes he’d spotted earlier, placed inside two evidence bags. In the top corners of the bags were sticky labels. Each had been scored, signed and dated by Liam himself.
Jake stopped breathing momentarily as he pieced together what it all meant. Now it was confirmed that Drew and Liam had been complicit in Garrison’s accident. The cigarettes were the evidence he and Charlotte needed. But why were they sealed in evidence bags and made to look as though they’d been found at the crime since to be exhibited as evidence in the case?
The answer didn’t take long to form in Jake’s mind.
It was an insurance package for Liam. Just in case he needed to use them against Drew. For whatever reason.
Jake shut the boot quietly, moved round to the front of the car, picked the lock and sat in the driver’s seat. He gave a cursory glance over the contents of the middle section. There was nothing there except a half-drunk bottle of Pepsi and an empty sandwich bag. Deeming it clear, he leant over to the glove compartment. Before opening it, he swallowed, fearing what might be on the other side.
He opened it, then sighed heavily.
Empty.
Part of him was relieved, though the other part had hoped there would be something inside that they could use to pile the evidence against him. Maybe a weapon, or a packet of drugs, or a wad of cash; maybe even a burner phone that contained all of his illicit activity.
A sound in the distance distracted him – a twig falling to the ground or snapping underfoot. Frightened, his pulse raised, he shut the glove compartment, slipped out of the car and locked it again. Then he hurried back to his own car and made his way to the station.
CHAPTER 86
LONG NIGHT
Jake parked his car beneath a street lamp, out of fear that someone might tamper with it. Might place drugs or money in his car like they had his drawer, vandalise it or even steal it and then make it look like he’d been involved in Garrison’s accident somehow. There was no knowing to what extent Liam and Drew would go. There was no knowing how far they were willing to push things.
He gazed up at the station building in front of him, the orange hue tinting his skin. All the lights inside Bow Green were on, although Jake knew there would only be a handful of people inside at this time of night. Bow Green was his second home. A place of refuge. Camaraderie. Friendships. Relationships. There were several fun and joyous memories that had taken place inside the four walls that comprised the Major Investigation Team. And there were also sad, distressing, soul-destroying times.
But, as with anything, the good always outweighed the bad.
Jake carried the evidence bags to MIT. The lights inside almost blinded him. Along the walls were large squares of darkness that gazed out at the street beneath. On the other side of them, the sporadic hum of cars passing the building sounded. Charlotte was the only body in the office. She was busy working at her desk, leafing through documents.
Jake waved. ‘Evening.’
‘Jake!’ she said excitedly. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘You been working all this time?’
‘Haven’t taken a break,’ Charlotte replied, immediately turning her attention back to her work. Beside her keyboard was a half-eaten chicken pasta salad from the Co-Op a few hundred yards from the station.
‘What you got?’ Jake asked as he approached her. He manoeuvred his way through the desks with the evidence bags in his hand.
‘Lots. DNA report on the wallet you found in the warehouse, and the DNA on Michael Cipriano’s body and clothes.’
‘And?’
‘Yours turned up, as was to be expected. But you were right: someone did beat him to death. Nigel Clayton. Again. His DNA was on both the wallet and Michael’s body. Maybe he just doesn’t wear gloves.’
‘He’s not a criminal like the others though. He was an accountant, a numbers person, not a hardened criminal who had an eye for being discreet.’
‘What do you mean others?’ Charlotte asked, swinging round on her chair to face him.
Jake pulled up a chair and sat beside her. ‘Where’s the black van that was left in the warehouse?’
‘Gone. Nobody’s found it.’
‘So it was taken while either Drew or Garrison were on their shift. And Clayton’s car was missing also.’ Jake paused. ‘I forgot to mention it, but when Michael died, there was someone else present. A woman. My head was all over the place; it completely slipped—’
‘Are you sure?’
Of course he was sure. He hadn’t been able to forget about her. Standing over him, gun in hand, finger on her lips…
There’s nobody here…
‘She let you go?’ Charlotte asked after he’d finished explaining it to her. ‘But why?’
Jake shrugged. The answer was beyond him.
‘Did she know you were police?’
‘Maybe. But it’s not like I was wearing uniform or anything.’
Charlotte considered for a moment, grabbed her dinner and spooned a mouthful of pasta into her mouth. ‘She might’ve thought you were a John Doe.’ She paused to take another bite. ‘Did you write down the reg number of the van after you entered the warehouse?’
Jake nodded and told her what it was.
‘I’ll run it through. See if it’s been picked up since.’
‘If it’s the same one that they used to transport and kill Danny Cipriano in, then the plates’ll be fake. But if you can find anything, I’ll be impressed.’
‘I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. A couple of people who might owe me a few favours.’ Charlotte scribbled some more on the pad and then pointed to the evidence bags on the table. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
Jake nodded slowly.
Charlotte reached for them, held them aloft and surveyed them. ‘How’d you get them?’
‘Liam’s boot. He was in his flat. With Tanya Smile.’
Charlotte’s eyes widened as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. ‘The BBC News reporter?’
‘Unless she’s got an identical twin.’
Charlotte said nothing, set the evidence bags down and grabbed her phone. The call had already connected by the time she placed it to her ear.
‘Hello?’ she said. ‘It’s me… We need emergency forensics to
the office. Is Carl available…? Perfect. Send him down.’
Charlotte hung up, and, just like that, it was taken care of.
‘What happens now then?’
‘My handler’s getting someone to collect the evidence. He’ll run some tests on it and then we should see if there’s any other DNA on it.’
‘How long’s that going to take?’
‘With him… fingerprints’ll take a couple of hours… anything else, a couple of days… minimum.’
Charlotte grabbed her mug of coffee and swirled it.
It was empty.
‘I’ll get you another one,’ Jake said, taking the mug from her. ‘I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.’
CHAPTER 87
ADDRESS
The hours seemed to drag by without any hint of sunrise climbing through the windows like a character from some Japanese horror film. Jake’s eyes felt heavy and a tirade of yawns assaulted him. His body was drained of energy, and to keep himself awake, he strode around the office, forcing himself to stay active. And to stay awake.
He took stock of everything they knew about Liam, Danny Cipriano and everything in between. Danny Cipriano was murdered by The Farmer, a contract killer, and his conspirators. They’d abducted him from witness protection and buried him alive at the construction site. The DNA of Nigel Clayton, an accountant, was discovered at the crime scene. Done. Next up was Richard Maddison, the main suspect – in the eyes of Liam, Drew and Garrison. All bent. Richard was killed in his own flat by The Farmer and his conspirators. Again, Nigel’s DNA was discovered at the scene. Then it was Michael Cipriano’s turn to suffer the same fate as his brother. Except this time it was different: it was just two of them. Nigel Clayton and a female. Russian. Identity unknown. Had saved his life and spared him.
Who was she, and, more importantly, who was The Farmer?
The million-dollar question.
If they found out who The Farmer was, Jake was hopeful they’d uncover the identity of The Cabal.
Shortly after Charlotte had made the call to her handler, the scene of crime officer, Carl, had retrieved the cigarettes and taken them away to be investigated. Jake and Charlotte had then spent the next few hours conducting tasks that were usually carried out by a team of five or more. They started with Nigel, first checking to see whether he had any registered home addresses. They’d found one that he’d given before he went to prison but, after a quick check, Jake discovered the building had been knocked down and turned into a petrol station with an adjoining convenience store attached to it.
Dead end.
Jake spun on the spot and glanced over at Charlotte. Just as he was about to ask her something, her mobile started ringing.
‘Yes?’ she answered sleepily. ‘I can talk. I’m still at the office with DC Tanner. What’s up?’
There was a long pause in the conversation; Jake listened intently.
‘Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you so much… Yes. Of course. That’s understood… Please send it across. I’ll log in now.’
Charlotte hung up and placed the phone on the desk. She grabbed a pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper.
‘What was that about?’ Jake asked.
‘We’ve got the call logs for Liam, Drew, Garrison and Clayton all in one go. My handler’s sending them across now.’
‘What about the live info from the phone towers? Is he getting that info?’
‘He’s on it. If they’re stupid enough to get their DNA on the bodies, then they might be stupid enough to leave their phones on.’
A large grin grew on Jake’s face, and he was unable to shift it until the email arrived in Charlotte’s inbox. She printed two copies of the reports and handed one to him. On it was a long list of mobile numbers, dates, times and the duration of the call, side by side with a series of maps that showed the locations of the calls. So much data, such little time.
‘Jake,’ Charlotte began, ‘bear in mind that these are calls that have been made by phones registered in their names in the last twelve months. If Liam, Drew or Garrison have done anything on unregistered numbers, then we won’t have it. Unless we can find the phones they might have been using. Did you find any in Liam’s car?’
Jake shook his head and then turned towards Liam’s office. ‘Bet there’s a gold mine of answers in there,’ he said.
‘No, we can’t.’ Charlotte lifted her glasses onto her forehead and massaged her face, deep in thought.
‘Course we can. What if I search the office for something to do with Danny’s murder?’ Jake asked. ‘I go in there, find a phone and it starts ringing. That seems suspicious to me so I leave it. I wait for the call to finish and then inspect the phone.’
‘Jake…’
He lifted himself out of his chair and edged towards Liam’s office. It was unlocked.
The smell of alcohol lingered in the air – the kind that seeps through your pores; the kind that doesn’t wash off after a shower the morning after the night before. Jake ignored it and made about the room, tentatively, cautiously. He couldn’t shake the paranoia of feeling like he was being watched, monitored, or at any time Liam might knock on the door and ask him what the fuck he was doing. Composing himself, chiding himself for being stupid and thinking such things, Jake searched through Liam’s drawers by his desk. Lifted everything out. Nothing. He left them and turned his attention to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.
The top drawer was filled with paperwork and folders. As was the second. So, as he reached the bottom, Jake didn’t hold out too much hope.
He placed his hand underneath the handle and pulled.
His breathing stopped as he recognised what was inside. A bottle of whiskey and a mobile phone.
‘Oh, Liam,’ he said. ‘Liam, Liam, Liam.’
Jake called Charlotte into the room and she came bounding over.
‘What is it?’
Jake showed her. ‘A burner I reckon.’
‘Don’t touch it. Let me get some gloves and an evidence bag.’ Charlotte exited and then reappeared a few moments later with an evidence bag and her hands clad in blue latex gloves. She reached inside the cabinet, removed the phone and took it back to her desk.
‘This is adding to the already-long list of paperwork we need to fill out once this is all done,’ Jake remarked.
A smirk grew on Charlotte’s face. ‘Paperwork is what makes this job what it is.’
‘Think we’re going to need to put your priorities straight.’
Charlotte placed the phone on her desk, turned it on and scrolled through the most recent calls. Jake grabbed the printouts and set them beside the phone. They spent the next couple of minutes cross-referencing the numbers in the address book and the numbers in the log.
Shortly after, they had a hit. Several.
Jake ran his finger along the row on the sheet.
‘It’s a landline number. Mobile phone accessory shop. Elm Road,’ Jake said after looking at the corresponding location on the map.
‘Perfect for money laundering,’ she replied. ‘Let’s check it out. I’ll pack this up, you call SO19. Get the AFOs in. These are people who have access to firearms. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.’
CHAPTER 88
LEAVING BEHIND
Blue flashing lights illuminated the street, marauding their way into buildings and windows and people’s private lives. Jake and Charlotte were the first to arrive and waited for the remaining officers to attend the scene. The location they’d uncovered was a mobile phone accessory shop on Elm Road, just west of Bow Green. It was small, quaint and, for the most part, inconspicuous – save for the vibrant green facia that adorned the door and the walls. The front of the building housed glass windows, and the displays were complete with mobile phones, refurbished laptops and games consoles, as well as row upon row of every conceivable type of mobile accessory – cases, chargers, screen protectors, selfie sticks. The works.
An armed response vehicle pu
lled up beside them. Five men clad in black clothing and protective gear, armed with SIGs erupted from the van and approached the building quietly. Four of them spread either side of the entrance, while one of them hurried towards the door – deftly and silently. He bent down beside the lock and forced it open. As soon it was, the armed officers screamed, ‘Armed police! Come out with your hands on your head!’
It wasn’t the criminal’s chance they deserved, but it was one they got. When there was no response, it was time to send in the police dog. Bounding out the back of a dog van was a German Shepherd dressed in its own bodysuit. Attached to a lead still, it raced towards the front door. As soon as they were within a few feet of the entrance, the handler let the dog off and it ripped into the building, tearing its way through the lobby and into the back rooms. Within seconds, its deep and powerful barks disappeared and became muffled, almost silent.
Less than a minute later, the hound returned, panting, exasperated, tongue dangling from its mouth, dripping saliva.
Next, it was the armed officer’s turn to enter the property. Once the dog was back with its handler, the officers flooded in – weapons raised, faces concealed, screaming the same two words that managed to prickle the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck every time he heard them. Armed. Police.
Jake cast his gaze left and right, observing the length of the street. Within minutes, on the outskirts of the perimeter that had been set up by the uniformed officers, residents from the surrounding homes had allowed their curiosity to get the better of them. Most were wrapped in their dressing gowns. Some graced everyone around them with a view of their shirtless chests, despite the nip in the air. Others were fully clothed, hugging themselves for warmth.
Jake paid them little heed.
Two minutes later, the five armed officers returned, holding their weapons in both hands still. None of them seemed out of breath, and none of them seemed fazed by the adrenaline surging around their body.
