Fear the Past

by J M Dalgliesh

  “Sure, okay,” she said, nodding and then turning and walking over to a cork board mounted on the wall behind the till point. She pinned his card alongside notices put up on behalf of the locals regarding anything from lost cats to cleaning services.

  The two of them left the café, Hunter acknowledging the couple’s help with a wave as she passed. Stepping out, they were once again buffeted by the wind. Leaving the boundary of the café’s seating behind them, they crossed the road to the top of the coastal walking path. Glancing down, Caslin could see the land slipping towards the sea. There were warning signs mounted indicating for people to stick to the marked trail and to follow the detours when they came upon them for their own safety. Noise from behind made them turn as they were approached by the same group of ramblers who were in the café when they arrived. They stepped aside to make room for the walkers who thanked them. Almost as an afterthought, Caslin caught the attention of the second to last member of the group as she came past. She was a lady in her seventies, Caslin guessed.

  “Can I ask where you are heading today?”

  She stopped, smiling at his interest, “We’re heading up to Thornwick Bay past the Flamborough Cliffs. It’s stunning on days like this. Well, on any given day to be fair.”

  “I’ll bet,” he replied, nodding and smiling warmly. “Tell me, what are the highlights along this route?”

  “Many,” she said. “The cliffs themselves are well worth a look as are the views on their own but all along this coastline there’s so much history. There are the old smuggler’s caves and with the frequent land slips the scenery changes every time you walk it. It’s tremendously exciting. Are you considering heading along the path?”

  “No, not today,” Caslin said. “Another time. Enjoy your day.” She bid them goodbye and set off to catch up with her friends who were waiting a short way off.

  “This is a strange place for a meeting,” Hunter said, looking back towards the car park. “I can think of any number of places in and around York that I’d rather head to. Why drive all the way out here?”

  Caslin scanned the area, “Neutral ground? I mean, you’d stand out to the locals but that’s about all. It’s certainly a place that the rest of the world wouldn’t pay attention to. There must be a particular reason. Bradley came here for something, must have done.”

  “What do you want to do?” Hunter asked, glancing at her watch. Caslin screwed his nose up in a mock grimace hearing the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks as the wind dropped. They’d achieved as much as they were going to.

  “We’ll head over to Full Sutton.”

  ***

  HMP Full Sutton was a category A prison situated to the north-east of York, near Pocklington, with six hundred male inmates. A purpose-built maximum-security institution, its primary function was to house some of the most difficult, violent and dangerous prisoners currently incarcerated in the UK. Within the walls also stood the Close Supervision Centre, often referred to as the prison within a prison, housing those considered to be the greatest threats to both the public and national security. The approach road left visitors under no illusion as to where they were headed. The small village of Full Sutton was set to their left, average-size family homes, dwarfed by the facility to be found barely a stone’s throw away. Signage indicated where they were, directing them towards the administration and visitors’ entrance.

  Caslin pulled into the car park and located one of many free spaces bringing the car to a stop. A works compound was off to the prison’s right-hand side surrounded by its own security fence and razor wire. The entrance to the prison lay before them, a brick structure protruding out in stark juxtaposition to the imposing walls running the perimeter. The entire compound was illuminated by towering floodlights placed strategically every thirty feet along the perimeter ensuring the open ground around the facility could not be breached unseen.

  Approaching the pedestrian entrance, Caslin eyed the security bollards, painted yellow, sited in such a way as to make ram-raiding the administration block an impossibility. Likewise, they passed through the main door with its mechanically operated security gate that would keep out even the most ambitious of attackers. Official signs were erected leaving entrants to the institution in no doubt as to what their legal requirements were, what would not be tolerated, as well as the consequences of failing to adhere to the visitation rules. All prisons were detached from the trappings of the free society but here, you really were stepping into a world alien to most.

  The reception was manned. Family visitations were underway and the lobby was empty. They approached the counter, Caslin noting the glass was easily an inch thick. Feeling the need to lean towards the speaker of the intercom which wasn’t necessary, he identified himself by way of his warrant card, as did Hunter. The man behind the screen asked, with a somewhat disembodied voice, for their warrant cards to be deposited within the tray before them so he could inspect them properly. They did so. The sound of sliding metal carried as they closed the lid and the prison officer opened the other side. They waited patiently as he transcribed some details and then conferred with a colleague who glanced in their direction. Their warrant cards were returned to them.

  “Please approach the door to your right,” the officer advised them, pointing the way. Caslin thanked him. They stepped away and heard a buzzer sound as the lock disengaged. The door came open and an officer appeared from behind it beckoning them to accompany him. Then they headed into the bowels of the prison passing through locked door after locked door. Minutes later, they emerged out into the open and were escorted across a yard towards a square building, two storeys high. Glancing around, the facility was a collection of secure compounds within the inner walls of a greater one. Every building’s approach was by way of a tunnel of chain link fencing and secure access points. The hospital was visible as was what appeared to be a sports hall with an all-weather pitch attached on one side. Again, all were visible through layers of security, perhaps unsurprising seeing as this prison housed mass-murderers, terrorists and those at the top end of the criminal food chain.

  Caslin saw a woman appear from inside a building they were passing, a toddler in her arms. Looking past her, he saw what looked like a soft-play area. He was momentarily taken aback. Their escort appeared to notice.

  “That’s the visitor’s centre,” he explained. “We have recreational facilities for the children. It makes it less intimidating for them and let’s face it, far more appealing for families to spend time together.”

  “Nice,” Caslin said. “Maximum security has come a long way.”

  “Don’t let the image fool you,” the officer countered with a dry laugh. “Some of them will still cut your throat as soon as look at you. Your interviewee included,” he said the last, with a tilt of the head for emphasis.

  “Does he cause you any trouble?” Caslin asked. The officer shook his head.

  “Not really. He’s an old timer. He understands how these things work.”

  “How do you mean?” Hunter asked.

  “Lags of his generation know the boundaries. There’s a mutual understanding between us and them. They know why they’re here and it’s our job to keep them in. It’s not quite respect but that’s as close a description as I can think of,” he explained. “We all know where we stand.”

  “And the difference between them and the next generation?” Caslin asked.

  “Boundaries. They’ll push it to the max and don’t mind taking one of us down if it comes to it. The experienced inmates keep a lid on it most of the time but if it does go off, then things go awry very quickly.”

  “Like a couple of years ago?” Caslin asked, referencing a riot that broke out making national news at the time.

  “Just like that,” the officer agreed, reaching for his keys as they came to yet another locked door. “Drugs were getting out of hand and we needed to have a crackdown, reassert the authority. You can imagine how popular it was for us to be disrupting the
ir supply of spice?”

  “Drugs are your biggest problem?” Hunter asked.

  “Generally speaking, yes,” the officer stated. “That and keeping the headcases from killing the paedophiles and the ex-military from topping the jihadis… and all of them from trying to give us the odd kicking.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Caslin said with intended sarcasm.

  “I’m starting to think I should have tried harder at school,” the officer replied, smiling and leading them into the next building.

  They found themselves in an inner lobby, standing before a security desk. Here they were reminded of the rules regarding prisoner interaction. Then they were asked to sign another form before being led into an adjoining room. Here they waited. It was only a few minutes before a second door, at the opposite end of the room from where they entered, swung open and a man was led in. Caslin took his measure. They had never met. He was in his late sixties and cut an imposing figure. Once powerful and muscular but now his frame was visibly sagging. Despite that fact, Caslin could tell if it came down to it this man would still be able to hold his own in an altercation with someone half his age. Hawkish in appearance, he carried himself with the confidence that could only be derived from the solid assurance of his position as well as a core self-belief in his own status. He eyed Hunter momentarily before turning his gaze on Caslin. There it remained, his eyes narrowing. Caslin was in no doubt he was conducting much the same assessment of his visitors as they were of him.

  “Take a seat, Mr Fuller,” Caslin said, polite but firm.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pete Fuller pulled out a chair and seated himself placing his hands on the table before him, palms down. Rolling his tongue across the inner edge of his bottom lip, he maintained eye contact with Caslin.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector Caslin?”

  “You were expecting me?” Caslin asked. It was as much a statement as it was a question.

  “My boys said you would probably be paying me a visit,” Fuller stated leaning back in his chair. Caslin could tell he was standing before a career criminal. Fuller had that look about him. He was not intimidated being interviewed by the law.

  “You must be a little disheartened at one of your businesses being attacked in that way?”

  “So, it’s an attack is it?” Fuller asked in a light-hearted tone. He lifted his hands from the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest inclining his head slightly, holding Caslin’s gaze. “The news said it was a gas leak.”

  “You and I both know that isn’t true,” Caslin said stepping across to the table and pulling out a chair of his own. Sitting down, he lent forward placing his elbows on the table. “I wanted to know what your thoughts were?”

  “You’re the detective.”

  “It must be maddening for you,” Caslin said. “What with you being who you are.”

  “How so?”

  “A man of your stature being stuck in here as someone attempts to do an end run on you,” Caslin said, glancing off to the left at nothing in particular. “I’ll bet you’re itching to find out who did it? Unless of course, you already know.”

  “I’m quite sure my boys can handle it,” Fuller stated evenly.

  “Yes, I’ve met your boys,” Caslin said. “Ashton appears quite level headed. Carl, on the other hand, seems to be wired just like his old man. At least, the old man of his youth.”

  Fuller smiled at that. “They share my best qualities,” he stated.

  “Although, on this occasion they may well have gotten in over their heads,” Caslin said drumming his fingers on the table and inclining his head. “They’ve acquitted themselves quite well running your enterprises. The uneasy peace between them and your competitors has been advantageous… for a decade or so, maybe more?”

  “And your point is?”

  “They’ve managed to steer clear of any major drama with your adversaries,” Caslin said. “But this is different. This is a new phase and I’m not sure they’re ready.”

  “Is that so?” Fuller asked with animosity edging into his tone. “It’s a tough business.”

  “Particularly so where Clinton Dade is concerned,” Caslin said narrowing his eyes and watching for a reaction. At the mention of Dade’s name, Fuller’s eyes widened in the slightest indication that Caslin might be touching a nerve. He noticed. “You and Clinton go back a long way, don’t you?”

  “We do.”

  “Is it fair to say you’re not exactly on friendly terms?”

  “Aye, you could say that,” Fuller said raising his left hand and leaning his face against thumb and forefinger. His index finger stroked his chin as he eyed Caslin expectantly.

  “Any idea why Dade would want to start up a little fracas between you? It seems rather odd timing after years of amicable relations.”

  “Dade is a funny old goat,” Fuller said. “It must be all that time he spends with those young boys of his.”

  “You and he were close once, weren’t you?” Hunter said from the other side of the room. Fuller glanced in her direction and smiled.

  “A long time ago, lass,” Fuller replied.

  “What did happen between you two?” Caslin asked.

  “A minor disagreement between friends.”

  “Friends don’t go to war with each other over minor disagreements,” Caslin said.

  “That depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “The manner of the disagreement,” Fuller said sitting forward in his chair. “As well as the nature of the friendship,” he added.

  “There’s always another way that we could view this,” Caslin said. “You must be looking forward to getting out of here. Not necessarily Full Sutton but out of the system completely. How long have you got left to serve… two years, maybe three if you don’t have a positive parole board but no more than that?”

  “Far less than that.”

  “In which case, soon you will be moved to a Category C prison to prepare you for returning to society the changed man that I’m sure you are.”

  “So, what’s your point?”

  “Maybe this bombing is a response to something you’ve done. Are you looking to reassert your presence?” Caslin asked locking eyes with the man sitting opposite him. Fuller smiled but it wasn’t genuine.

  “And you think I’m that stupid?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first to start acting like he’s already out when into the final stretch,” Caslin said. “And besides, don’t insult my intelligence by making out you have nothing to do with your business interests while you are in here. I’m certainly not that stupid.”

  “Well, you have to keep your hand in, don’t you?”

  “We had a chat with Clinton the other day. He was all about the business as well,” Caslin said.

  “There you go then.”

  “He thought animosity between you would be bad for both of you. Of course, he’s probably drawing on previous experience, isn’t he?”

  “You keep on pushing that, don’t you?” Fuller said fixing Caslin with a stare.

  “The word on the street is that the two of you were thick as thieves on your way up. But something happened along the way. Just when the two of you were hitting the big time you had a falling out. Care to comment?” Caslin asked. There was the briefest flicker of a reaction. If they were playing poker Caslin would have known something was up.

  “Water under the bridge. I don’t think Clinton will be coming for me and as far as I’m concerned…” he drew a deep breath, “the past is the past and that’s where it should remain. Is that clear enough for you, Mr Caslin?”

  “How’s the family?” Caslin asked.

  “Well enough.”

  “Ashton and Carl will be looking forward to your return,” Caslin said before sucking air through his teeth, “or maybe not.” Fuller raised an eyebrow in a gesture of curiosity at Caslin’s intimation but offered no comment. “After all. Despite your obvious influence, they’ve had their
hands on the reins for years. It’ll be quite a wrench to step back into your shadow, I’d imagine.”

  “So, they bomb their own business?” Fuller countered. “No wonder the crime rates are soaring if your level of ability is the new benchmark.”

  Caslin was about to respond but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Taking the handset out of his pocket he allowed his gaze to linger on Fuller as he took the call from Terry Holt.

  “Sir, I’ve got an update for you on Bradley’s case files.”

  “Terry, can it wait?” Caslin said barely concealing his irritation at the interruption.

  “No, sir,” Holt explained. “You are going to want to hear this. Believe me, it’s relevant.”

  “Go on then, make it quick,” Caslin said.

  “The files from greater Manchester came over this morning and I’m and going through them. The indexing is pretty good I have to say. I was looking for a crossover between Bradley and MacEwan and I found one, albeit it’s a little tenuous. Do you remember the Manchester airport securities raid back in the 80s? It was headline news. I don’t remember the details because I was just a kid but it rang a bell. Once I looked it up, I remembered hearing about it at the time.”

  “Was that the raid on the customs clearing house?” Caslin asked. Fuller was still looking at him, an impassive expression on his face.

  “Yes, that’s the one, sir. An armed gang hit the clearing house in the early hours escaping with an estimated haul of around £22 million worth of cash, gold and gems. As I said that was estimated with the true value never fully being revealed. And don’t forget those are the values of the day, it would be a lot more now.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Even a conservative estimate would put today’s figure at somewhere north of £120 million,” Holt stated. “And I’m not sure how much you know about the detail but there was a lot that went unrecovered.”

  “And how does this tie our boys together?” Caslin asked, reluctant to reveal names of an ongoing investigation in front of his present company.