He hugged her again. ‘Give it time, we’ll be out on our bikes before you know it. Now, where’s the menu?’ he said, and closed the blinds tight to shut the world out.
27
Friday morning held the promise of fine, dry weather at last. Dan drove to work in a better mood. His feelings of hopelessness about moving forward on any aspect of either case had eased. Both Sally and Sam had been able to report suspicious behaviour from Moss Garrett, and tonight’s stakeout may well net him in the act. A niggle played about at the back of his mind, though. Garrett was dealing, but the manufacturer, the one who had caused all the real trouble, and a death, could get away with it if they acted too soon. He clearly had enough knowledge to mix the chemicals, but couldn’t get the proportions right. It was terrifying that another kid could die because of the incompetence of an idiot.
As soon as he was in his office, Dan rang Neil Pargeter. ‘Neil, hi. I’m getting a sinking feeling about your thief. He may be our manufacturer.’
‘And a very good morning to you, Inspector,’ said Neil. ‘I like to see you exercising your superpowers early in the day.’
‘Sorry, I’m a bit pushed, got a lot on today. What?’
‘I was about to ring you. I’m pretty certain that the thief is our technician, Nathan Solomon. He was hanging about looking very suspicious yesterday lunchtime, so I hid in the gents’ loo and watched him enter the store room with a light bag and leave it with a heavier one. I was just about to tell the security team.’
‘I thought you were going to ring me first?’
‘I did leave a message on your phone,’ answered Neil. ‘Guess you didn’t see it?’
Dan swiped his phone, two messages appeared in the screen. ‘Christ, I’m sorry, Neil, I’ve only just seen your message.’
‘No worries. We wouldn’t do anything about it without your say-so. I’m telling you now, anyway. It’s the first chance I’ve had to speak to you.’
Dan winced. ‘Yeah, sorry again. Didn’t mean to whinge. Send me his contact details and we’ll get on to it today.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘If we get time.’
‘Okay.’ There was the sound of the tapping of keys. ‘Drink Sunday night?’
‘Sounds good,’ said Dan. ‘I was wondering… perhaps it’s time you met Claire. Shall I bring her along?’
‘I’d like that. She’s still keen, then?’
‘Oh, yeah. Amazing, eh?’
* * *
By eight o’clock that evening, Dan had a full surveillance team in place. He had sent his team home for a couple of hours to eat and change into dark clothes. He’d insisted they all wear stab vests. If nothing else, they added another layer of warmth. He glared at the sky in disgust. They had endured all those nights of clouds and grey skies that brought dusk forward, but tonight the sky was clear duck-egg blue. A couple of stars were already out and the sun was nearing the horizon. It was already noticeably cooler.
Over on the university playing fields a couple of dedicated runners were still doing laps of the track. He could make out Sam and Lizzie clearly in the growing dusk – and they did not fit in. He used the radio. ‘ER 4 and 5. You two are too visible standing still,’ he whispered. ‘Start doing press-ups or something. Fit in with the students practising.’ He watched them change position and start a warm-up routine. Better.
The spot they were staking out was under the motorway bridge, on a cycle path that was screened from the road by trees. It was a good spot for a bit of dealing. There was quite a lot of car traffic heading to and from Topsham, cyclists, and a few students running around the field. No one would notice a person coming out from the shelter of the motorway bridge, or a person going in.
Dan was leaning against a motorway bridge strut on the opposite side of the road. He figured that Garrett might bolt home if he was spooked, and he could get out easily from there to follow him. His team had parked their cars behind the football clubhouse, which was giving him a bit of concern as he had no idea what Garrett might do if he spotted them. Hiding under a shrub next to him, with infra-red video camera at the ready, was Bill Larcombe, an unexpected volunteer for a stakeout, but the best man for the job. Sally sat in the van with half a dozen uniforms on Wessex Close, ready for a takedown, should one be necessary. Two area cars, borrowed from night shift, waited on the housing estate up the road.
He shifted as the hour wore on, craning his neck to see any movement from The Retreat. Sally called. ‘Echo Romeo 1? Garrett’s on the move, walking in your direction.’
‘Thanks, ER2. Get ready, everyone, and no moving until I say so. And, for Christ’s sake make sure all your phones are on silent.’ He ducked behind a shrub and watched.
Moss Garrett carried a bag over his left shoulder. He wore a black tracksuit and trainers with a luminous green flash. Light on his feet, he jogged across the road past Dan’s hiding place and slipped into the shadows under the bridge.
Two cyclists rode past chatting. Dan breathed out, and felt Bill Larcombe shuffle next to him.
‘Got bloody cramp,’ the older man whispered.
‘Well, tough,’ said Dan, ‘you’ll have to manage. Hold on, we’re on,’ he said as a lone cyclist slowed at the bridge and did a lazy circle before cutting onto the cycle path.
Bill set the cameras to record. He had a clear view of the middle sections of both bodies, but their faces were shadowed. He whispered, ‘Garrett taking something from bag, passing over, receiving something. Job done.’
Seconds later, the cyclist sped back the way he had come, along the cycle track.
‘Echo Romeo 6?’ Dan whispered into the handset. ‘Intercept cyclist wearing no helmet, Superdry black coat, yellow lettering. He should be passing you in about a minute from Topsham direction.’ He waited for assent, then switched his attention back to Garrett.
Another kid, this one younger than the last, came by also on a bike and bought her drugs. Dan arranged for her to be picked up and taken to the station, too. Things were looking up.
At just after ten o’clock a black BMW screamed to a halt on the road, hazards flashing. Out jumped two men, also dressed in black. They leapt through the bushes and jumped on Moss Garrett’s back. It took both of them to get him down.
Dan yelled with frustration and smacked the stanchion. ‘What the…? Idiots!’
Bill Larcombe rolled over and came up to standing. ‘What shall we do, boss?’
His radio buzzed but Dan let it. He watched the scene. It was a quiet, vicious battle, with only grunts and yelps to mark it out as anything untoward. Dan switched his radio onto general broadcast. ‘Echo Romeo 1 here. Stay down. I repeat, stay down unless any of you see a knife, in which case tell me first, or I give the order to go in. Got that?’ He slid down towards the road to get a better look at the driver, who was banging the steering wheel with his fist. As he suspected, it was Darren Carr, so Bateson was one of the fighters. Dan used Bill Larcombe’s infra-red goggles to see as much as he could in the gloom under the bridge. Moss Garrett was winning the fight, that was clear. The unknown man in black was already unconscious on the path. Bateson got in a good punch to Garrett’s head, but went down under a volley of rabbit punches to his middle. Carr leapt out of the BMW and kicked Garrett’s legs from behind. He hit the ground, hard. A crack of skull against concrete echoed under the bridge.
‘Echo Romeo 3 and 4?’ Sam and Lizzie stopped stretching their hamstrings. ‘Get running, the pair of you, like you’re in training for a marathon. I want you to run, heads down, round the corner and straight into the fight. Try and grab Garrett’s shoulder bag, it’s on the ground next to him, then get out of there.
‘Echo Romeo 7, come haring down the main road, lights and sirens going, but not until I tell you to. I want them all to get away. Got it?’
Sam Knowles and Lizzie Singh shot round the corner as instructed, heads down in fierce concentration. Lizzie elbowed Darren Carr in the ribs as he went in to kick Garrett, and Sam knocked a rising Garrett back onto his knees, gr
abbing the canvas bag off the ground as he ran. They shot off down the path.
‘Now, Echo Romeo 7, quick as you like.’
As Garrett went down for a second time, Gary Bateson stared after the retreating figures as if he were unable to make sense of what he’d seen. Dan watched him stuff his groaning friend onto the back seat, pull Carr off Garrett’s prone body and shove him into the passenger seat. This done, he slipped into the driver’s seat and slammed the car into first gear.
Garrett lurched to his feet and screamed after the BMW as it accelerated up the road towards Topsham. He screamed in more fury as he realised his bag had been stolen by the runners. He stood, impotent, shaking, on the side of the road, blood pouring from his head.
The on-coming lights of the area car and the siren’s wail penetrated his anger. Staggering, he lurched across the road and disappeared into The Retreat.
Dan climbed over the barrier under the bridge and flagged the speeding car down. ‘Pick up DCs Singh and Knowles and take them back to the station. Sam’ll be coughing up blood at all that running. Thanks, lads,’ he said.
‘Echo Romeo 1 to all units: stand down. I repeat, stand down. I’ll see you back at the station in ten. Over.’ And out, he added to himself. What a total cock-up.
28
At twenty to eleven, the station still buzzed. Sally stood in the back doorway and checked the uniforms in and out. ‘Yes, you’ll get your overtime,’ she said for the umpteenth time. ‘No that was not the plan, and no, DI Hellier didn’t pay those men to beat Moss Garrett up, and if I hear one word about this in tomorrow’s news, I will track you down and eat your firstborn child. Am I making myself clear?’
Upstairs, Dan stood by the whiteboard in the incident room. Bill Larcombe put the camera’s SD card into his computer and printed out several still images showing the exchange of money for drugs. But they didn’t want Garrett for dealing; they wanted him for attempted murder. And Dan desperately wanted the manufacturer before any more kids died.
Sam, Sally, Lizzie and Bill sat at the table, dejection showing in the slump of their shoulders.
‘Bateson and Carr. Prize dickheads, the pair of ‘em. I knew they were up to something, but I thought my warning would scare them off. Obviously not.’ He folded his arms and nodded at Sam and Lizzie. ‘Well done, you two. You broke the fight up enough for them to hear the siren. And,’ he indicated the shoulder bag, now secured in a large evidence bag, ‘our nasty friend is going to need to replenish his stock, isn’t he?’
Sam grinned. ‘Brilliant idea to grab his bag, boss.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘He may have called me one or two names as I scarpered.’
‘As long as he didn’t recognise you, he can call you what he likes. Good work, both of you.’
Sally yawned. ‘Sorry. Getting past my bedtime. This was a nuisance, but it’s not as bad as we first thought. It might even work in our favour. Knock his confidence, get him acting in a panic.’
‘Yeah, it’s a nuisance, alright,’ muttered Dan. ‘We can’t have Garrett off the streets in bloody hospital if we’re going to catch his supplier.’ He glared moodily at the tabletop. ‘But, you’re right, it’s not a disaster if he has to go out and get more stock, is it?’
‘If it was me, I’d change my spot,’ said Lizzie. ‘Let it be known that I’m going to be somewhere else. He won’t want the caped crusaders coming back, will he? Could be bad for business.’
‘That’s where the couple of kids we brought in earlier tonight can help, if they want to avoid any follow-up, that is,’ said Sally. ‘Leave them to me, I’ll have a little chat with them and their parents and see if we can get them to pass on anything they hear on the street about a change of venue.’
Bill Larcombe looked at the whiteboard. ‘I see you’ve put the home address of Nathan Solomon up there. When do we pick him up?’
Dan rubbed his face. ‘I have no idea. We need to stake him out for a while, as well as continue with Garrett. And where do we get the budget for that?’ He took up his usual place on the corner of the table. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll think of something.’
‘We could forget about surveillance and just storm in there,’ suggested Sam.
‘I can see the merit in that suggestion, DC Knowles,’ said Sally, ‘but you wouldn’t be the one facing charges of harassment, would you?’
Dan interrupted. ‘Leave it with me; I might just have a plan that will work.’ Well, he might have one by Monday morning. ‘Who’s on surveillance shift tomorrow?’ he asked.
Bill passed him a list of the names he had drummed up for a bit of unexpected weekend overtime.
‘Right, thanks.’ He scanned the names. ‘Okay, we’ll have one person following Garrett at all times, with backup from beat PCSOs if needed. He’s going to have to get more stuff at some point, and if he leads us to Nathan Solomon, that would be brilliant. Well, keep in touch, all. I’ll be on my phone.’ He hesitated. ‘I… err… have a family matter to attend to tomorrow, and it can’t wait. But I’ll be back home by late afternoon, and I’m ready to come in tomorrow night if there’s any movement. Okay?’
‘It’s your rest days, boss, you should take them,’ said Bill Larcombe.
‘And miss all the action?’ Dan grinned. ‘No chance.’ He yawned. ‘Right, I’m going to pay a surprise visit to Bateson and Carr and issue bollockings; then I’m off home. Night.’
* * *
As he half-expected, Darren Carr and his comatose friend were holed up at Bateson’s house. Kelly Bateson finally answered the door after he yelled through the letter box that he was going to arrest the lot of them for perverting the course of justice if they didn’t let him in. She stood, white and worried in the doorway.
‘I know they’re here, Kelly. Can I come in, please? I need to talk to them.’
She stood aside reluctantly, glancing back towards the closed kitchen door. ‘The thing is, Mr Hellier,’ she whispered, ‘one of them’s unconscious. Has been for the past half-hour. What if he dies?’ Tears welled up and spilled over her lashes. ‘I can’t cope, what with Lee and all the trouble…’
Dan put one hand on her arm. ‘I know it’s tough, Kelly. I’ll see what I can do.’ He pushed past her into the kitchen.
Gary Bateson stood at the sink, squeezing a cloth into water the colour of Vimto and dabbing at his face. Darren Carr sat on a chair, a huge swelling at the side of his head and purple bruises growing round his eyes.
Neither man reacted to Dan’s presence. He moved further into the room and spotted the other man, slumped on the kitchen floor, still unconscious. Dan knelt next to him and felt for a pulse. Still strong, but he was out cold, and had been for at least an hour. To Dan that said concussion at the least, brain damage at the worst.
He rang for an ambulance. Then he stood and faced them. ‘I’ll keep my voice down, because I don’t want to alarm Lee, but if you two stupid bastards ever do something like this again, I will arrest you and throw you into a cell.’ He raised his palm to stop Bateson from interrupting. ‘No, you listen. Tonight, I had a team of people watching Garrett, waiting to gather evidence so we could arrest him, and have it stand up in court. We were filming his activities. Imagine our delight when you lot turn up and wreck it. Wreck the whole operation. Waste all that taxpayer’s money. Waste all the progress we’ve made. How,’ he asked, looking each of them in the eye, ‘how does beating Moss Garrett up help to catch the person who actually killed your brother, and hurt your stepson?’
Neither man answered.
‘Exactly,’ said Dan. ‘It doesn’t help. All it does is satisfy your need to be doing something. Well, do something else. You,’ he said to Darren Carr, ‘see to your brother’s funeral. I’m releasing his body on Monday. You,’ he pointed at Gary Bateson, ‘bloody grow up. You’re a father and you have a family that needs you. You have obstructed the police investigation, withheld the name of the suspect, and all you have achieved is to halt our work. Well done, the pair of you.’
He looked at the s
ilent body on the floor. ‘Who’s he?’
Darren Carr muttered, ‘Mate from work.’
‘Right, go with him to hospital, and call his family. I don’t care what story you make up, but if he dies, it’s on your heads.’
Dan pulled open the kitchen door, but turned back before he left the room. ‘Oh, and if Moss Garrett recognised you, and chooses to press charges, I’ll be back.’
He passed Kelly Bateson, still standing at the door. ‘There’ll be an ambulance along in a minute. Put Carr and the other one in it.’
‘Are you going to arrest Gary?’ she asked, eyes huge in her white face.
‘Not this time,’ he said, ‘I think you’ve got enough to worry about.’ He held open the garden gate as the ambulance arrived. ‘But I will if he does anything like this again.’
* * *
Moss Garrett slunk into the barn. He was in pain. His head hammered. He thought he might have concussion because of the way the ground kept coming up to meet him. He slumped onto a hay bale. Bastards. They had to be the dead kid’s family. He felt the side of his head and winced at the cut and the blood on his fingers. How did they get to him? Who told them? Who were the two that stole his bag? Could he believe they were just passing by and picked it up by chance? No way. He was set up. He tried to think about local dealers, and who might have dobbed him in. He supplied Jade Wells with her stuff, so he didn’t think it would be her. That left the tosser over St Thomas way, Ridout, and the gang up at the university. Even he was scared of those big Jamaican dealers who travelled down from Bristol, and there was no way they’d talk to the police. He closed his eyes. Ridout, if it was you, you’re dead.
The barn was warm and quiet. Around him goats snuffled and the donkeys hung their heads over the gate to stare at him hopefully. Moss staggered up, reeled towards the water trough and stuck his head under. The shock of the cold water on his battered and broken head forced a whimper from him. He sank back down onto the barn floor, and went to sleep where he fell.
Death on Dartmoor Page 14