The Network

by Ernesto H Lee

  Morgan can hardly contain himself and is cursing furiously under his breath, “Bastard, bastard, that fucking dirty bastard.” He only stops cursing Douglas when he hears Donovan protesting.

  “What the fuck, Clive? Don’t put fucking ideas into his head, even if it is just a joke.”

  Next, we hear as Douglas moves to the window and I explain that he has picked up a photograph of Maria and Ben from the windowsill.

  “She is a fine-looking woman, Sean, I really don’t want to hurt her, or the boy, but you’re not leaving me with many options. Help me out, Sean. Which option would you choose?”

  “You’re going to hear me next,” I explain. “This where I try to leave.”

  “I’m leaving right now and don’t even think about trying to stop me.”

  “It’s coming now,” I explain. “I thought he was going to kill me, but this is where DS Douglas kills Paul Donovan. Listen carefully.”

  “You’re a stubborn young bastard, McMillan. Just remember that you brought this upon yourself.”

  They can’t see it but Paul’s anguished cries as Douglas twists the knife in his guts paint a picture for all to see. Any remaining doubt is wiped away with Douglas’ final words before the recording ends.

  “You knew this was the only option, Sean, you knew this was the only way I was going to let him spill his guts. You can go now — don’t go far, though. We need to talk soon.”

  As the recording ends, Cath has tears in her eyes again and she takes my hand. “I am so sorry, Sean. I should never have trusted hi ..”

  I know what she was going to say, and I squeeze her hand and stop her before she can incriminate herself. “It’s okay, Catherine, it really is. You’re here for me now and that’s what matters.”

  Thankfully, DCI Morgan is so beside himself with anger that he doesn’t pick up on what Catherine was about to say and I quickly divert the attention back to the recording.

  “So what now, sir?”

  “I’ll tell you what now, Sean. The what now is that we are going to take down all of these murdering bastards! DS Douglas, Assistant Chief Constable Butterfield, Desmond bloody Carter, and anyone else named in these books that is still alive. These three are the kingpins, though, and my priority for now is the arrest of DS Douglas for the murder of Paul Donovan and the arrest of ACC Butterfield for attempted murder.”

  Morgan has obviously seen the recording of Butterfield shooting Darren and will have read through the ledgers with Jean, but it’s unlikely that they will have been able to fully review everything in just twenty-four hours. I only had a brief opportunity to check everything myself before I had to make an exit, so I am curious to understand exactly what Darren managed to find in Butterfield’s house.

  “Have you managed to go through everything yet, sir? What exactly do we have?”

  Morgan and Jean both give me a look to suggest that I know exactly what we have already, and I shrug my shoulders and feign innocence. They have no idea how I have done this, but neither of them were born yesterday and Morgan politely reminds me of that.

  “We can discuss your part in finding this evidence when we have more time, Sean, but lose the innocent look, lad. You probably know as well as we do what we have here and when all of this is done, you and I are going to sit down for a very long chat. Not least about a burglary at the ACC’s house in the early hours of Monday morning.”

  My smile gives me away, but I am glad that he is not going to put me through the Spanish Inquisition now.

  “Understood, sir, thank you.”

  “Good, let’s get to work. Jean would you be so kind to take DC McMillan through what we know so far from this little lot?”

  Jean called me Detective Constable McMillan earlier, but hearing Morgan call me DC again is worth so much more. A few hours ago I was Sean McMillan murder suspect, but now I am just hours away from full exoneration and reinstatement. It feels good and I relish the moment as Jean goes through her list.

  “Well, the first and probably most important items we have are these three ledgers. They contain detailed information with names, illegal activities and payments stretching from 1983 until the present. To say that the names are a Who’s Who of the movers and shakers in the police, local government and the legal system would be an understatement.”

  Morgan interjects, “That’s no exaggeration, Sean. In addition to DS Douglas, ACC Butterfield, and Desmond Carter, there are also listings for another sixty-seven public figures including the two sergeants from Crompton Road. Of these, thirty-two are still alive, fourteen are still in office, and one remains unidentified.”

  “One unidentified, sir. So no name listed?” I ask.

  “No, the name is listed,” Jean replies. “The entry is in the earliest journal and dates from 24th December 1989; it’s a Detective Sean Smith from the drugs squad. The entry records an initial meeting with the then Detective Sergeant Douglas in the White Hart Pub in Luton and then there is another entry recording a meeting at Douglas’ house on 26th December.

  After that there are no further entries and the trail goes cold. DCI Morgan has also drawn a blank on the service database, so possibly DC Smith was a cover.”

  I pretend to be disappointed at this news, and Morgan gives me a look of encouragement.

  “It makes no difference, Sean. This one dead end is inconsequential compared to everything else we have. Along with the ledgers and video and voice recordings, we also have bank books, statements, letters, and photographs and we haven’t even started on the memory sticks or the hard-drive yet. God only knows what we are going to discover when we get those into the lab. I can’t believe the arrogance of these people to think that they could so blatantly record all of their activities in such a blasé fashion and expect that none of this would ever be found.”

  Morgan might not be able to believe the arrogance, but I certainly can. I have seen first-hand the way in which they believe in their invincibility and God-given right to apply their own rules to the application of the law. As far as they were concerned, Butterfield’s house was untouchable. How very wrong they were.

  During this part of the conversation, I notice that Catherine is looking worried, which is no great surprise given her own dealings with Clive Douglas. When Morgan flicks to the back of the most recent ledger, the color from her face drains completely.

  “This is very strange, Jean. I hadn’t noticed before, but it looks like a couple of pages have been torn out at the back. Look, just here.”

  Morgan points to where he thinks the pages have been removed and Jean takes the ledger from him. “Yes, it certainly looks like that. I wonder if we might be missing a name?”

  Before they get the chance to discuss it, I take the opportunity to divert them away from looking any further by offering my own explanation. It’s also my chance to deal with another couple of crooks.

  “Yes it definitely looks like there are two pages missing, sir. Obviously, I have no idea how they went missing, but I do have a good idea of the missing names.”

  “You think it’s more than one name, DC McMillan?” Jean asks.

  “Yes, I do, I believe the missing names are Senior Officer Phillip Cartwright and Officer Brendan Taylor.”

  Morgan looks at me for an explanation. “Don’t tell me it’s the pair of clowns out in the corridor?”

  “The very same, sir. They are running a smuggling racket into the prison and are in the pocket of Paul Donovan’s cousin, Frank Butler. I’ve had a few small run-ins with them while I have been here and I have reason to believe that in the last few days, they have made a connection to DS Douglas through Butler. That would explain why they would be at the back of this book.”

  Jean and DCI Morgan accept my explanation and Cath seems to be noticeably more relaxed when I catch her eye. She knows that I have just covered for her, but like everything else in this case, she has no idea why.

  “Jean, add these two fellas to the list. And DC Swain, take a look outside, please — make sur
e pinky and perky are still at the end of the corridor and not listening in.”

  Catherine steps outside and I take the opportunity to find out about Darren. “Sir, while we wait for DC Swain to get back, you mentioned arresting ACC Butterfield for the attempted murder of the burglary suspect — what’s the current condition of the suspect?”

  My question causes both DCI Morgan and Jean Monroe to raise their eyebrows and I realize straightaway that I have slipped up.

  “That’s not what I said, Sean.”

  “Sorry, sir?” I ask innocently.

  “I didn’t say that, Sean. I didn’t say that I was going to arrest ACC Butterfield for the attempted murder of our burglary suspect. I didn’t say who it was for.”

  “Oh, yes of course, I just meant, I mean, well I just assumed that was what you were referring to.”

  Morgan shakes his head and frowns, “For one of my detectives, you’re a god-awful liar at times, Sean. Tell me that I won’t find your prints on this phone if I dust it down now?”

  He has me there and there is nothing I can do but put on my best look of innocence again as Cath re-enters the room and picks up on the atmosphere.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “Nothing important, DC Swain,” Morgan replies. “Sean was just inquiring about the condition of our burglary suspect.”

  Catherine pulls a piece of paper from a folder. “This is the latest update from the hospital. He’s doing okay now, Sean. He was on the critical list yesterday, but he recovered from surgery well. As soon as we made the connection with the footage on the phone, we had him moved to a more secure part of the hospital with twenty-four-hour armed protection. His name is Darren Phillips. He has a record as long as his arm. Do you know this guy, Sean?”

  “Yes, you could say that, Cath. We go a long way back.”

  In my alternative reality I have known Darren for nearly thirty years, but I have only met him twice. Without him, though, I could never have got this far and it would be wrong to deny knowing him.

  “Look after him, please, sir. The burglary was my idea and Darren needs to be given credit for recovering everything you see on the table.”

  Morgan gives me his standard frown and then reassures me, “Don’t worry, Sean, we will make sure he is looked after. When we get this lot in front of a judge, we will make sure that Mr. Philips’ part in this is given full credit.”

  “Okay, well, while we are on the subject of giving credit, sir, I need someone else added to that list: my cellmate, Billy McGuigan. When I get out of here, he also needs to be released. You need to arrange for him to be bailed immediately. He has been helping me and he won’t last two minutes if he gets left behind.”

  Morgan nods and jots Billy’s name down in his pocketbook. “Okay, you can give me more details later, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Now, is there anything else we need to know before we go, Sean?Judge McCarthy and the Chief Constable are already on standby and the quicker we can get this lot in front of them, the quicker we can get you out of here.”

  “No, nothing at the moment, sir. What do you think will happen now?” I ask him.

  “My hope first is to get arrest warrants for ACC Butterfield, DS Douglas, and Desmond Carter and an interim release order for you. After that, we work our way through the rest of the list and go fishing. You need to remain patient, though, Sean. In my opinion, the evidence we have is irrefutable, but the Chief Constable has only been given limited information so far. He may wish for us to take an entirely different approach, but I won’t know until we see him.”

  “Okay, so I just wait for now?”

  “’Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but that’s the way it needs to be. As soon as we get the release order, we will get you into court as soon as possible to make it official. Is that alright?”

  I’ve come this far and I am confident that gaining my release shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours; I need to keep my insurance policy, though.

  “That’s fine, sir, I need to keep hold of the voice recorder, though, until I am out of here. There is a bounty on my head after 5 pm today and this might just save my life.”

  Morgan is not happy with this because it will make it harder to get the arrest warrant for Douglas and my release papers.

  “Sean, I understand your concern, really I do, but this is one of the key pieces of evidence, and without it, it’s going to be harder to convince Judge McCarthy and the Chief Constable to release you. I can get you moved into segregation until we can get you out of here.”

  With Cartwright in league with Butler and Douglas, going into segregation will make no difference. If they want to get to me, they will. Out on the wing I might at least have a chance of seeing it coming.

  I decline the offer of segregation and then Catherine interrupts us with an obvious solution that keeps us both happy.

  “I can make another recording on my iPhone. Play it again, Sean.”

  I play the recording as we all listen again in silence, then Cath plays back the beginning to make sure the sound is clear. Satisfied with the quality, I stuff the recorder back in my sock and Morgan gets up to leave.

  “Okay, let’s get this packed up and get you released, son.”

  Morgan and Jean Monroe shake my hand and wish me luck and then they leave the room to let me say goodbye to Cath.

  It’s been a stressful time for everyone, but it’s been particularly stressful for Cath, for reasons known only to us.

  “I don’t deserve what you have done for me, Sean, but I’m sincerely grateful. I promise that we are going to get you out of here.”

  “I know you will, Cath. I never doubted whose side you were on. That bastard worked you, but it’s over now.”

  I pull her towards me for a hug, and then as she turns to leave, I reach into my pocket and press two folded sheets of paper with ragged edges into the palm of her hand — the pages I had torn from the ledger last night.

  “Burn them, Cath. Without these, Douglas has no hold over you and it really will be over.

  Her look says far more than any words can, and as she leaves the room, I am feeling better than I have felt in a longtime. I have just given Cath back her life and within a few hours I should get back my own.

  As always, my moment of happiness doesn’t last long, though. Officer Taylor enters the interview room and I am reminded by his dulcet tones that I’m still Prisoner McMillan and am not home and free just yet.

  “On your feet, McMillan, the party’s over. Come on, lunch is just about to start. I’m sure you don’t want to miss it.”

  Cartwright is not in the corridor, but his absence doesn’t overly concern me. Taylor escorts me back to the wing in silence and into the canteen. As I join the queue for lunch, he leaves me to take up his position at the tea urn and Cartwright joins him a few minutes later.

  Because of Cath’s gift of the McDonalds breakfast, I am not particularly hungry, which is just as well.

  When I reach the front of the queue, the senior prisoner behind the hotplate slides this morning’s snot-covered breakfast tray across the counter.

  “This is with the compliments of Senior Officer Cartwright.” Then he grins and adds, “You can thank the rest of the lads for the additional snot and toenails. We had a bit of a whip round.”

  I push the tray back across the hotplate, but my tormentor is indifferent to my refusal. “Suit yourself, McMillan, but you’re getting nothing else.”

  Nothing is preferable to eating this and I turn to walk away as the con tells one of the other lads to rewrap the tray. Cartwright is smiling and he nudges Taylor as I pass him on the way out of the canteen.

  “Look, Officer Taylor, McMillan has lost his appetite again. He must be coming down with something. Is that it, McMillan? Are you coming down with something?”

  I keep on walking and try to ignore them, but this just pisses Cartwright off and he pushes Taylor forward to stop me.

  “The Senior Officer asked you a fucking question, inmate.”<
br />
  The entire canteen has gone silent waiting for my response and I know that Cartwright would love for me to give some backchat, so that he has an excuse to punish me in some way. It’s not going to happen, though. I just need to stay out of trouble for a few more hours.

  “Sorry, sir, no, I’m fine thank you. Just not hungry today.”

  “That’s right, McMillan, your chums brought you a snack,” Cartwright says. “That was very thoughtful of them. Normally, it’s the responsibility of the prison to provide the condemned man with his last meal.”

  Describing me as a condemned man gets under my skin and I wonder if he has either inadvertently or by design warned me of an imminent threat.

  Cartwright tells Taylor to let me pass and I get back to my cell as fast as I can. The time is 12.55 pm and my colleagues only left me less than half an hour earlier. I have no idea how long it is going to be until I am picked up to be taken to court, but it surely can’t be more than a few hours. I’m not convinced that I have a few hours, though. The atmosphere in the canteen was as hostile as it has been since I got here and I am convinced that Cartwright was gloating over my imminent demise.

  I need a weapon and I need it now. Billy has a lighter hidden in his bedding and I use it to melt and shape the end of my toothbrush into a point. I am returning the lighter to the hiding place when Billy comes flying into the cell.

  “Sean, they’re coming for you. Get out of here now!”

  The smell of burning plastic is still heavy in the air and he sees the toothbrush in my hand. “You’re going to need more than that — they are well fucking tooled up.”

  “Who is it, Billy, who is coming?” I ask.

  “What? Who the fuck do you think is coming? It’s fucking Butler and his crew. I overheard them in the canteen talking to Cartwright. It’s him that has put them up to it. Get the fuck out of here now, Sean!”

  The sensible thing would be to take his advice and run, but what’s the point? At least ninety per cent of the cons in here want me dead or maimed. If Butler is coming for me now, then my five o’clock deadline must have been brought forward and open season declared on my ass. I won’t get fifty meters if I try to run.