Marked for Death

by Tony Kent

  ‘Now that’s just a bloody lie, sir.’

  Levy could not help but raise her voice. She could handle the truth. Even when it was spun and distorted. That was the job. But outright dishonesty was another thing altogether.

  Levy continued.

  ‘The NCA operation was dead the moment Penfold killed Ireland’s man. Penfold wasn’t leading them to anyone that could connect the diamonds to Ireland. The NCA know that. Penfold had stolen the diamonds. He was going to sell the whole lot and run. They know that. If they say otherwise they’re lying.’

  For the first time Rogers did not fire back. Instead he turned to Walker.

  ‘You got anything to say on that, Carol?’

  ‘It accords with my own information, sir,’ Walker confirmed. ‘The NCA operation was a bust. And they should have known that earlier. If they’d left surveillance on Ireland’s associate – or if they hadn’t lost Penfold – then they’d have realised much sooner what had happened. It would have allowed them to call it and to arrest Penfold much earlier. Without the public fanfare or the loss of life. In my opinion, they’re now using yesterday to cover their own embarrassment.’

  Rogers stayed silent, considering her words. Levy met Walker’s eyes as he did so and nodded her thanks. Walker inclined her head in return. A slow, formal tilt that said was just doing her job. Her conclusion had nothing to do with loyalty to her unit.

  ‘On that information, that’s rather how I read it, too.’ Rogers turned back to Levy. ‘It’s still a shit-storm, though, Joelle. But I won’t have those over-funded bastards casting mud on my unit. We’ll protect you as far as the ferry’s concerned. But that means I want some progress on the Longman case. Before any more bloody lawyers end up crucified.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Levy felt a mix of relief and pressure. The unexpected attack after Penfold’s arrest was going to be defended. But the price was high: greater pressure for progress on Longman’s murder.

  Which is firmly back at square one.

  ‘Which brings us to Edward Burrell.’ Rogers’ attention turned to Hale. ‘You, Steven, took an SO19 team to a heavily populated street in South West London. Once there you proceeded to engage in a pitched gun battle ending in the death of three officers and four civilians – albeit known gang members – and the suspect himself. Do you see a problem with that?’

  Hale was not used to direct interrogation. Such questions were usually reserved for Levy as the operational commander. But Rogers knew who really had charge of the Ferris case.

  ‘Sir, we, erm, we carried out a clean raid. We apprehended Burrell. We apprehended him and his men inside of the building. We had no way of knowing what was waiting for us outside.’

  ‘A clean raid, Inspector? Do I need to remind you of the cost?’

  ‘I understand that, sir. I really do. But we had no intelligence at all about the back-up in the building across the street. We didn’t know what we would find in Burrell’s place; we had no knowledge that a drug consignment of any size was going to be there, let alone enough to flood London. So we had no reason to expect that Burrell had taken extra precautions with back-up outside.’

  ‘Why was there no intelligence? How could you have gone in there so blind? You had Trident officers with you, Inspector. Surely they had some idea?’

  ‘No one did, sir. Burrell holding that much cocaine? It was unheard of. He just doesn’t operate anywhere near that level. At least he didn’t.’

  ‘And he doesn’t any more. So silver linings.’ Rogers’ voice was flippant. Only for a moment. ‘But a gun battle in the middle of Brixton does not read well in the morning papers, Inspector. Especially with officers down.’

  ‘I realise that, sir. But it wasn’t planned. We reacted to an ambush. And we won. I don’t know how these things are done but surely that can be spun in our favour? Can’t it?’

  Rogers pushed his chair back from his desk. He reached up, put both hands on his head and locked his fingers across his hairless scalp.

  ‘I was thinking that myself, Steven. I was thinking that this could be played to our advantage. Officers ambushed on a raid, the ambushers taken out. Maybe we can turn you into the hero of the hour.’

  ‘That’s really not necessary sir,’

  ‘I’ll decide what’s necessary, Steven. And then I’ll inform you what that is. Now, onto another issue. Quite an important one, given what occurred yesterday. I have heard a rumour, Steven, that you might be questioning yourself. That you now have your doubts that Burrell was involved in Ferris’s death.’

  ‘That’s right, sir,’ Hale answered. ‘I have significant reservations.’

  ‘Why?’

  Levy glanced at Hale, interested in what would follow. They had not yet had a chance to discuss Hale’s theory.

  ‘First it was just instinct, sir. When we raided the address I took a look at Burrell’s office. It was a carbon copy of Ferris’s. Near on identical. It suggested to me that Burrell wasn’t just in competition with Ferris. It suggested that he was obsessed with Ferris. Like, psychological obsession or whatever you’d call it. I’ve seen that before in murders, sir.’ Hale indicated Levy. ‘We both have. And whenever I’ve seen that, the obsessed person does the killing themselves. They wouldn’t hire someone. It’s part of the illness. It’s personal.’

  Levy nodded at the assessment. It made sense.

  Rogers and Walker could not have missed her agreement. Rogers turned back to Hale.

  ‘Is that all? Just your gut instinct?’

  ‘No sir.’ Hale seemed to be warming to his subject. ‘It was also the drugs, sir. Our suspicion that Burrell was responsible for Ferris’s murder was based upon his approach to one of Ferris’s men. Burrell suggested that the guy might want to switch allegiances, because things were about to change. We thought he meant that Ferris was about to die. But a drugs shipment that size, sir? That would have changed the status quo as surely as Ferris’s death. It would have made Burrell ten times as rich as Ferris. And money talks in that world. So I now suspect that’s what Burrell was referring to.’

  ‘That makes some sense,’ Walker offered. ‘And then you add the police attention that Ferris’s murder would inevitably bring onto his rivals. Why would Burrell risk that with so much cocaine in his possession? It’s just asking for trouble.’

  ‘Exactly, ma’am.’ Hale’s assessment was finding favour. ‘All of which tells me that Burrell was not our man.’

  ‘And yet his building was raided, which led to a shoot-out in the middle of Brixton.’ If Hale’s response had also persuaded Rogers, it had not made him happy. Rogers continued. ‘Which is another incident – within twenty-four hours – of public violence brought about by a misconceived arrest by MIT officers. Does no one else see the problem with this?’

  ‘But it led to a major drugs bust, sir.’ Levy interceded on Hale’s behalf. ‘The biggest on British soil in a decade. Surely that justifies it?’

  ‘Guns, Joelle. Fired on the street of London.’ Rogers’ voice was rising close to a shout. ‘We cannot have that happening for the wrong reasons, regardless of who fires first. This isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about perception. About how it will be reported. We cannot have our officers in pitched shoot-outs for arrests that turn out to be groundless.

  ‘The drugs were lucky. Justification after the fact. But if the press gets wind that the reason for the raid in the first place was bad intelligence? A false conclusion? Dare I say it, bad police work? What the hell happens then? I’ll tell you what happens. We get the same treatment as Longman. We get bloody crucified. That’s what happens.’

  No one responded. Not Levy. Not Hale. Not Walker. All stayed silent. Rooted to their chairs as Rogers rose from his own. They watched as he walked around the room. As he used its square footage to the full. The Chief Superintendent thought carefully as he paced to the door and back. Once. Twice. Three times before retaking his seat.

  ‘Burrell was behind Ferris’s death.’ Rogers’ voice
was firm when he finally spoke. ‘That’s the official line, for now at least. I want you giving a press conference on that within the hour.’

  ‘But sir, he wasn’t. Surely you can—’

  Hale was interrupted by Rogers’ raised hand.

  ‘The truth is irrelevant on this one, Inspector. It’s not like there’s going to be a trial anyway. Not since you killed the bastard.’

  ‘Can I ask why, sir?’ Levy spoke on Hale’s behalf. ‘I mean, if Steve has to lie. Doesn’t he deserve a reason?’

  ‘I don’t think he deserves anything, Joelle. But perhaps it will assist him in the future if he understands.’

  Rogers turned to Hale.

  ‘The public need to have faith in us, Inspector. They need to know that when we raid a gangster’s lair and risk a gun battle in which civilians could have been killed, that we do so for the right reasons. That we do so because we know what the bastards have done. You secured your search warrant on the basis of Ferris’s murder. That can’t be changed. But if suddenly we were wrong about the murder? Well, that’s public confidence all gone to hell, isn’t it. And you can bet your bottom dollar that the press would happily expose it. So Burrell had Ferris killed. Now he’s gone too and everyone is happy. Understood?’

  Levy saw Hale glance at her uncertainly. She sympathised; what he was being asked to do was outside of his experience. Hale was a cop. Not a politician.

  She gave him a subtle affirmative nod. The only way to tell him what she wanted to say.

  Just go with it, Steve. There’s no other way.

  Hale turned back to Rogers.

  ‘Sir, if we proceed on the basis that Burrell ordered Ferris’s murder, that still leaves the actual killer.’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘Then am I allowed to continue my investigation into him? Into whoever actually carried out the job?’

  ‘As long as it isn’t suggested that he worked for someone other than Burrell, you mean?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘In that case yes. It would look a little rum if you did otherwise, in fact.’

  ‘OK. Then I’m on board, sir.’ Hale had little choice. ‘How long until the press conference?’

  FIFTY

  ‘So what do we know about him?’

  James Elton sat at the head of the conference room table. To his right was Sarah Truman. To his left Nathan Benson. The room’s seventeen other chairs were empty.

  Both Sarah and Elton wanted this conversation private.

  Sarah and Benson had been working together for three hours, building on the little Michael had told Sarah. They had been productive, digging up information on Adam Blunt’s career with the Metropolitan Police. At the same time Sarah had found everything she could on Karl Hirst. At first it had been to satisfy her own curiosity, piqued by the effect the name had on Michael. But only at first.

  They had already brought Elton up to speed on Blunt. The subject now turned to Hirst.

  ‘He was convicted of manslaughter, assault, blackmail and kidnap,’ Sarah answered. ‘Seventeen years ago. Longman was his judge and sentenced him to life with a minimum of fourteen years. Hirst served fourteen. As close as possible to the day. And despite what Michael told me this morning, it seems he was paroled on his first application.’

  The revelation that Michael had been wrong had come as a shock. A shock that quickly turned to excitement. Hirst was a viable suspect.

  But that’s all he is for now, Sarah thought, forcing herself to contain her own enthusiasm. Until I have more. He’s not going to be another Wisdom Penfold.

  ‘OK. Violent and sentenced by Longman. That ticks the boxes. But what’s the connection to Blunt? Was he the lawyer?’

  ‘Better than that,’ Benson offered. ‘Blunt was the cop.’

  ‘No shit.’ Elton smiled at Sarah. The story wrote itself. ‘And he headed the investigation, I take it?’

  ‘He did,’ Sarah replied. ‘His last case, in fact. Blunt quit the police literally the day after the conviction. No warning. Still a few years away from his pension.’

  ‘Anything that suggests why he’d do that?’

  ‘Not that we’ve found. At least not yet. But it’s damned strange. We’re looking into it.’

  ‘OK. So are there any problems you see with Hirst?’ Elton was testing Sarah’s judgement. He seemed concerned that yesterday’s conversation could make her careless. ‘Is there anything that says he might be a weak choice of suspect?’

  ‘The two things I’m sure you’ve already spotted from what I’ve told you, James.’ Sarah knew Elton well. She could anticipate what he would consider a problem. She continued. ‘The fact that he was released on his first application suggests he wasn’t violent in prison, and fourteen years is a long time to pretend at that kind of character change. So it suggests his violent streak was a one-off. Plus three years is a long time to wait between his release and the murder when the target is someone as old as Longman. Whoever killed Longman wanted him to suffer hugely, so why wait three years when he could have just died naturally any day and deny the killer that chance?’

  Elton nodded.

  ‘Both big black marks against him being our man,’ he said.

  ‘I thought the same,’ Sarah replied, ‘so I checked Hirst’s prison record with my contact in Wandsworth. Hirst’s last prison.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It was impeccable. In Wandsworth and everywhere before. No violence. No insubordination. Hirst was the perfect prisoner. He did his courses. He got himself qualified in a whole host of different subjects. Criminology. Biology. Philosophy. Forensics. The guy’s got degrees and diplomas coming out of his ears. But nothing on there to suggest any violent streak.’

  ‘Still, the fact is it’s unusual to be paroled from a life sentence on a first application, however good the track record,’ Elton observed. ‘Does your guy in Wandsworth have any idea what might have swung it?’

  ‘He did, yeah. Hirst was targeted while he was in Wandsworth. He caught the eye of one of the main players there and ended up being used as a plaything. Beaten. Abused. You get the picture.’

  ‘Did he give you a name?’

  ‘No,’ Sarah replied. ‘He’d just said it was pretty much the big fish.’

  ‘Was nothing done to stop it?’

  ‘Not a thing.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘A combination of factors. For one thing, Hirst never complained, never once. And he also never fought back, so there was never an actual incident for any guards to deal with. Seems he just let it happen.’

  ‘But the prison knew about it? Enough for the guy to tell you?’

  ‘They knew, yeah. Unofficially. But the other factor mattered, too. The guy behind it was a special case. He had most of the guards paid off; hell, he probably had my guy, too, hence he wouldn’t spill on who this man was. So there was no way anyone was stepping up. Especially when Hirst hadn’t asked for any help.’

  Elton shook his head.

  ‘But it found its way onto Hirst’s record?’

  ‘Unofficially. But enough that the Parole Board would be given the gist. My theory is that this swung it. That the board will have taken the view that Hirst had been punished above and beyond, due to what he’d suffered. And they figured that his lack of a violent response was absolute proof that he was no longer a danger. That he was no longer violent. It would also explain why Michael’s contact at the Parole Board didn’t inform him that Hirst had been released. This was one they’d want to see just slip under the radar.’

  ‘Seems a fair conclusion to reach,’ Elton observed. ‘And pretty bloody compelling. So what makes you think they were wrong? That he is still a psycho?’

  ‘I don’t think they were wrong, necessarily,’ Sarah replied. ‘But I do think he’s worth tracking down. He’s the only name we have right now, without access to Longman’s case files. It may come to nothing – it’ll probably come to nothing – but until Levy is ready to share I think Hirst’s worth
a look.’

  Elton said nothing.

  Sarah had made her case. Hirst ticked a lot of boxes, but she knew that there were compelling arguments against him. Her best point, though? What the hell else did they have?

  Finally Elton spoke.

  ‘OK, go after this Hirst guy. Find out everything you can about him and about his crime. And track down anyone else involved in that case. Any other lawyers, prosecutors, witnesses, the lot. Never hurts to speculate in this game, and if he turns out to be our guy then that’s a hell of a story.’

  Sarah nodded in agreement.

  ‘But I want you working with Kendal and Cross on this,’ Elton continued, referring to two of the younger reporters on his roster. ‘Have them chase down Longman’s other cases, concentrating on all live ex-cons who appeared before him and who have any record of serious violence.’

  ‘So basically the police search criteria?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Exactly. If they’re doing that while you investigate Hirst they might just come across a suspect who better fits the bill.’

  ‘OK. But where will they get Longman’s case files?’

  ‘Not my job to bring the horse to the water, Sarah. Tell them to use their initiative.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And one more thing. Remember what I told you yesterday. No more sharing with the police. At least not until I say so. I don’t want any mention of Hirst or the “Blunt as a cop” angle to MIT. Understood?’

  Sarah hesitated for just a moment. She knew what she wanted to say: that Elton’s order disgusted her, and that in respect of the ‘Blunt as a cop’ angle it was already too late. She had left that message for Levy moments before this very meeting.

  Sarah also wanted to say that she would share whatever she had to – including the name Karl Hirst – if it would save lives. It was a fight she was willing to have. But for now it was unnecessary. For now Hirst was nothing more than a hunch, with a host of factors pointing away from him, and she would not risk sending MIT One on another wild goose chase. Until he was more – if he ever was more – she would keep Hirst’s name to herself.