COVER BLOWN: covert police work clashes with a murder investigation

by Ian Robinson

  ‘Those bastards on mopeds robbed me last week. Cleaned me out of everything I had, along with the cash from the till. I have lost good customers, decent people who always drop phones, but know I give best price to fix screen,’ Mace said as his assistant came back and left a selection of phones in a box on the counter.

  ‘So, take your pick. All been serviced and I give you a good price for two if one of them is a smartphone…’

  Nash picked up the latest iPhone. She placed it down and sifted through various Nokias before she settled on two. The iPhone was one of them, along with a basic Nokia.

  ‘I’ll take these if the price is right. I’ll need a car charger for both, and a spare battery for the Nokia.’

  ‘Of course, of course, I always look after you,’ he said, as he brought a box of SIM cards out from under the counter and a spare battery for the Nokia. Everything was sealed.

  They haggled on price. Mace turned the phones on to prove they worked. Once Nash was satisfied the Commissioner was getting value for money, she paid Mace in cash and left.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The block’s cold atmosphere hadn’t changed as Moretti reclined in the concierge’s seat and made notes in his decision log, while a couple of detectives canvassed the flats’ inhabitants again. It had been a week since the murder, and with very little progress. No leads were surfacing, and Moretti had hoped an anniversary visit to the area would produce someone who may have remembered something of use to the enquiry.

  Nash was back at the incident room with the remainder of the team, all of whom were sat around a large meeting table, eager to get any update that would add a positive spin on the investigation. Nash updated them on the progress so far.

  ‘Toxicology has returned a negative hit for any drugs, and witness appeals are proving futile. CCTV from Vauxhall station has captured an image of what appears to be a dispatch rider. He or she is seen entering the block ten minutes before the victim arrived home. The subject’s observed to leave thirty minutes after the latest time of death of 7 p.m., given by Dr King.’

  Some of the team shifted to a more comfortable position in the hard-backed seats. She continued despite the team’s feeling that the job was as stale as a canteen roll.

  She tapped the return key on her laptop and the main screen it was linked to displayed the CCTV footage.

  ‘As can be seen, the rider waits for a resident to enter the block and follows him in. Notice our rider’s carrying a Jiffy bag. The concierge is nowhere to be seen.’ She paused as Jonesy let out a groan.

  She continued, ‘That’s all the coverage provides us with. The man who let the rider in has been spoken to. He confirmed, somewhat embarrassed, that he hadn’t realised he’d let the person in, as he was concentrating on a call and didn’t take any notice of who was behind him. The rider was then seen to leave the building without the Jiffy envelope,’ Nash said.

  All eyes were on the screen.

  ‘No Jiffy bag was found at the scene. Enquiries are in hand to see if any other resident had taken a delivery at that time. If that isn’t the case, then one possible theory is the rider is our suspect and the Jiffy bag contained the implement used to gain access to the victim’s flat. On exiting the building, the bag may have been secreted in their jacket. Bins have been searched with a negative result. They hadn’t been collected, so if they’d dumped the scanner or any other device to access her door, it would have been found. Drains close to the block have been lifted and a camera probe sent down just in case. Nothing. I’m liaising with the dive team manager who sent a couple of his officers down there on the night to see if it’s worth another visit.’ Nash stopped the CCTV footage.

  DC Colette Booth continued after getting the nod from Nash. ‘Witness appeals have been updated with the anniversary plea: witness boards, all social media platforms in addition to TV and local press. A CCTV image of the rider has been released on your authority, ma’am, as a person of interest we wish to trace and eliminate from the investigation. As we can see, there’s not much to go on with the rider – all dark clothing, no bike seen nearby or any company logo to work off. The footage has been enhanced and the dark shadow is a balaclava that was worn. It covered the mouth and nose. From the image it wasn’t possible to accurately determine ethnicity or sex. A boot impression has been lifted from the bathroom floor. The pink from the bath bomb stained it and revealed a pattern from the sole. That find hasn’t been made public, again at your request, boss.’

  Jonesy spoke up.

  ‘I visited the victim’s place of work and spoke to all members of staff there. It’s a bespoke firm with a small team of five. They deal with high-end clients’ advertising needs. The victim was a much-loved team member. A person dedicated to her job. She’d been there from the off and grafted her way to the position of CEO. She wasn’t in any current relationship as far as they knew. Work was her passion. She’d been in relationships up until a year ago when the last one ended. It had been a thing of some six months and they’d parted under a mutual understanding that they weren’t compatible.’

  Jonesy paused to check his notes then continued.

  ‘I contacted the victim’s ex and visited her with DS Moretti. She was shocked to hear the news and was naturally upset. DS Moretti and I were satisfied that the ex was genuine in her responses to questions we asked. She’d provided an alibi for her movements along with a theatre ticket stub. She was at The Garrick at the time Melissa would’ve been murdered. Enquiries at The Garrick corroborated the account by way of the theatre’s CCTV and ticket. Staff had the name as she’d collected her ticket on the day,’ Jonesy said as he closed his daybook and sat back.

  Nash cradled her pen like a drummer palms their sticks while she tapped her decision log slowly as she thought. It was an annoying trait of hers but the team now knew they’d be departing soon, as this was a pattern she performed before wrapping any meeting up.

  Nash stopped her drum solo and looked up at Sagona. ‘George, I want a meeting later re any outstanding actions.’

  He nodded at Nash as he dispersed crumbs from his belly. Nash continued and addressed DS Owen Matthews from the Intel desk.

  ‘Owen, I need an up-to-date list of all dispatch firms within a mile’s radius of the victim’s block and work. We’ll start there and expand parameters if required. I also want the victim’s phone records for the last month – both work and personal. Any problems with the work side then let me know. Finally, I need details of any social media accounts she may have used. Everyone else, see George. Get any actions from him. I want them turned around quickly please and the system updated by your phones while you’re out. Any other business?’ Nash scanned the room and everyone shook their heads.

  ‘That’s all.’ She closed the briefing and shut the lid to her laptop. Chairs scraped back and the room dispersed, leaving the electrical fizz of the overhead projector as the last trace of the room’s occupation.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nash knocked on the door to the undercover unit. Behind it she heard a male clearing his throat and the plain brown fire door opened. A gruff sounding DS, Carl Harris, stood before her. His planet-sized fist covered his mouth while he motioned her in with his free hand, and kicked the door closed behind them. A pointless act, as the restraining mechanism slowed the momentum to a crawl. Harris was wearing a short sleeve white shirt and dark blue jeans. The shirt hugged his torso as it was designed to. Nash felt good to be back in the world she loved. This also justified her reason for never being on camera for witness appeals or updates outside court, much to her Detective Chief Inspector’s chagrin.

  Harris motioned for Nash to grab the spare seat. A seat which had seen better days but was still fit for purpose – just.

  ‘How’s tricks, Pip?’ Harris enquired as he sat across from her and shuffled through papers on his desk until he found the folder he sought.

  ‘All good aside from the business end of murder being on the up,’ she replied, taking out her phones and placing
them on the table.

  Harris looked down at the three that sat there and then back up at Nash and raised his eyebrows. She smiled and took each phone’s battery out and made an exaggerated show of displaying that the iPhone was off.

  ‘I thought you’d have the phone cages installed by now. The National Crime Agency have them, as do the Confidential Intelligence Unit…’ Nash let that hang.

  Harris could see the wry smirk accented on her jaw and waved his index finger at her.

  ‘I’m not taking the bait, my friend. We are more than happy to save the Commissioner’s money and have any visitors break up their phones and leave them on display. Now, to business.’

  ‘No coffees? Another budget saving scheme you’ve introduced? Anyone would think you’re after a promotion,’ Nash quipped, as she hesitantly leaned back in the chair to test its strength.

  Harris sat forward and opened up the file. Banter over, it was down to business.

  ‘So, I need you to introduce someone to me. I’ve been working with the Economic Crime Unit and we’ve set up a nice little sting. It’s working a treat, but not attracting the right people.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said, with a degree of hesitation as she racked her brain as to how she could be of any use or know someone Harris would need introducing to.

  Harris continued.

  ‘We’ve set up a sting shop in Kings Cross. It’s a small unit that purports to take in second-hand goods for sale. So far we’ve had it running for a month and let’s say the trade has been a tad steady. Word’s getting out and we’ve had a few takers who’ve asked the right questions and got the right reply but the gear that’s coming over the counter isn’t phones and that’s our target market.’ Harris paused and flicked through a few A4 sheets in the file. ‘I’m not after a few junkies looking to sell their mum’s nicked rings. As sad as that is, that’s not going to help this operation continue.’

  ‘So where do I fit in? I haven’t got the capacity for anything long-term, Carl, so I’m not going on any rota for errand girl or front of house totty,’ Nash said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘As if I would use your excellent female guile and detective ability for such a menial task,’ Harris said. ‘Right, where were we…’

  Harris slid a printed colour image across to her. The image had been taken by a surveillance team and showed a male’s face. The male was standing outside a house. The face was turned to the camera; a face Nash knew all too well.

  She picked up the print and bit her bottom lip. Harris sat back and returned his arms behind his head. As Nash glanced up, Harris grinned and started to laugh.

  ‘Who’d have thought all my luck would fall into place so quickly?’ Harris slid another image over that showed Nash exiting her favourite phone shop. ‘All said, you picked a great place to get your burner phones. Good skills. Now, obviously our mutual associate doesn’t know you’re Old Bill?’

  Nash gave a wry smile. ‘So, what do you need me to do and how the hell has he come into your enquiry?’ she asked.

  Harris pushed the remainder of the file that had contained the photographs towards her.

  ‘Read this for background but you can’t take it away. The shop you visit is taking in nicked phones from smash and grabs and sending them abroad. Not just the odd one, but enough to justify the use of a corner of a shipping container. A large corner, mind you. I need you to introduce your man to me. I’m aware I could just wander in myself but I’m getting pressure from above for results and with what I have in mind you could help me achieve them far quicker,’ Harris said.

  Nash looked through the file.

  ‘I’m not entirely convinced you’re right about this one. When I was there the other day, the windows were boarded up after they’d been put through and his stock stolen. He told me it was the smash and grab lot that robbed his place,’ Nash said.

  Harris rocked from side to side in his office chair as he contemplated his reply.

  ‘The robbery was staged,’ he said.

  ‘Staged?’

  ‘In the file is what analysts call an association chart. To you and me, it’s a pretty diagram that shows the shop owner’s associates, phone numbers and premises. They all link up and correlate a connection with his shop. He’s running these moped gangs and they’re stealing to order. The phones are getting forensically wiped, restored and shipped back to Albania for resale and onward distribution. The money we’re talking about here is staggering. Millions of pounds being made off the back of these robberies.’

  Harris got up and walked to a kettle. He placed a heaped scoop of instant into two Styrofoam cups and shook the kettle. Satisfied it contained enough water, he flicked it on and waited for it to boil while he checked his own phone for any messages.

  Nash took out the association chart and had a look. Various sheets had been taped together and she draped these out on the desk. At first glance it contained multiple linking lines, spidering out from the phone shop in the centre of the sheets to other graphics of telephones, cars and residential and business premises. One premises was a shipping container company. She could see that a lot of effort had gone into the job already. The kettle clicked and Harris poured out the boiled water and returned to the desk with the drinks.

  ‘That’s not all our work.’ Harris nodded at the chart. ‘Our job has crossed over with another. I wouldn’t see you having any further involvement beyond the introduction of my good self,’ he said then took a sip of coffee.

  ‘How do you propose I introduce you?’ she asked.

  ‘All I’d like you to do is bring me to the shop as a place that would be good for me to buy my phones from. After you make the introduction, you leave and that’s it. My hope is that with you as a reference point the owner will relax and I can have a chat with him. The ins and outs of that you don’t need to know,’ Harris said as he scratched his chest.

  ‘When do you want to do this? I’ve a live murder investigation at the moment.’

  ‘Well, with the best will in the world I’ve seen the news and it’s hardly alive… I thought we could strike while the iron’s hot and go within the hour?’ Harris said.

  Nash shook her head at the brazen gall. She started to read through the file again. She switched her work phone back on and there was a text from Moretti to call her; not urgent.

  ‘I’ll go and get the DI from the operational team. She’s in the canteen and we’ll run through the usual use and conduct stuff then once you’re signed off, we’ll go. I took the liberty of getting your paperwork up and running as I knew you couldn’t refuse coming back for some fun,’ Harris said.

  ‘Fine,’ Nash replied as she continued to read more of the paperwork and profiles it contained.

  Harris got up and patted her on the shoulder as he passed her.

  ‘You may want to leave the phones that you bought with me. I have a couple of others you can have.’

  With that, Harris left Nash to her reading while he went to find the operational team’s DI.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nash waited by Angel tube station for Moretti to pick her up. Not the best of places for him to pull over but a place he knew well, so they’d agreed on that. Nash had completed her role with Harris and had introduced him to Mace as he’d asked. It had all gone smoothly. Mace was relieved there wasn’t an issue with the phones he’d sold her. Nash had laughed when she left. Mace had looked as though she’d brought along her enforcer and was overjoyed when that wasn’t the case. Nash looked up from where she was sitting and saw Moretti crawling along in traffic. She waved, grabbed her belongings and ventured into the road. As the car stopped at traffic lights, Moretti released the door lock and she jumped in.

  ‘All go OK in the world of talking out the corner of your mouth and wearing overpriced suits?’ he said as Nash drew the seatbelt across her and into the holder.

  ‘Need to know basis,’ she replied, with a smile and her tongue in her cheek.

  Moretti rolled his eyes, the lights changed, and h
e drove towards Holborn.

  ‘Any updates from the enquiry?’ Nash asked.

  ‘That’s why I texted you. Melissa’s parents want to see you. They’re staying at a hotel in Holborn, so they agreed to meet us there before they leave to collect Melissa’s property. I said I’d bring it to them or get the FLO to, but they’d rather collect it. It will help them with closure, they said. Make the unbelievable real.’

  They crossed the lights at Mount Pleasant and headed towards the city.

  They reached the hotel, Moretti parked up and they walked to the entrance. The hotel’s receptionist greeted them and they were motioned into a bar area where a couple stared out of the window. The female of the couple looked up at them. Her eyes red and face pale. It was as though an older version of Melissa stared back at Nash and Moretti. The woman tapped the male who sat next to her on the arm. He looked away from where his gaze had been locked.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Phelps?’

  They both nodded at Moretti.

  ‘We spoke on the phone, Mrs Phelps. I’m DS Nick Moretti and this is DI Pippa Nash. May we sit down?’

  There was a moment’s pause before Mrs Phelps replied.

  ‘Yes, yes… of course, please do,’ she said, as she motioned with her hand for them to take the seats opposite them.

  A waitress from the bar approached and asked if they wanted tea or coffee and they all declined. The bar area was empty and Nash waited for the waitress to leave before she spoke.

  ‘I’m very sorry for your loss. Are you happy to speak here? I can ask if there’s a private room should you rather that?’ Nash said as she looked between them both.

  Mrs Phelps let out a sigh and shook her head. Mr Phelps remained impassive. He took a deep swallow and mirrored his wife’s response.

  Nash continued, ‘I have some questions that I need to ask if you’d be good enough to answer them.’