by Roy Lewis
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘You’re aware your work with the Squad must come first.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Time off will be difficult to organize,’ Cardinal opined in a discontented mutter.
Grout nodded. ‘I’m aware of the work load.’
Cardinal sighed heavily. ‘Well, if I am to release you it will have to wait until we sort out this Clifford business.’
There was a short silence. ‘Clifford?’
Cardinal was irrationally pleased at Grout’s ignorance. The young man didn’t have his ear to the ground at all times, clearly. Clifford’s name was well-known in the squad room. The thought made Cardinal’s mood lighten somewhat.
‘Ah. So I haven’t told you about Clifford, Sergeant. Someone the Chief Constable hasn’t briefed you about.’ The barb gave Cardinal a certain pleasure and he bared his teeth in a thoughtful grimace. ‘Gus Clifford … it’s a sort of long-standing thing for me. You might hear, if you ask around the squad room, that it’s developed into a sort of personal vendetta as far as I’m concerned. If there’s one man in the world I’d like to see slammed into a cell it’s that bastard Clifford.’
‘I’ve not heard of him, sir.’ Grout said, a little stiffly.
‘No.’
Cardinal was silent for a little while, frowning. He wished this bloody headache would subside. Thoughts of Clifford only made it worse. He stared at his slim, elegant hands placed on the desk in front of him. An artist’s hands, his wife had once told him, many years ago. The Clifford thing went back a long way, almost as long as that comment, back to Cardinal’s early days as an inspector, before he had moved north for promotion to the York office. His wife had never really liked the Met anyway. Too many villains, she reckoned, and she rarely got to see him, even at weekends. Not that life had changed much for her in York.
But Cardinal would be the first to admit that Clifford had become almost an obsession with him.
In a sense his attitude demonstrated Clifford’s efficiency and cunning; while the man’s evasiveness was partly due to the restrictions that hampered police work, he was also a remarkably slippery customer. On three occasions Gus Clifford had been hauled in on serious charges, only to escape scot-free when witnesses disappeared, or changed their testimony … and once on a legal technicality concerning which Cardinal had been hauled over the coals for letting dislike blind his judgement. He remembered the last time he had seen Clifford. Big, hulking shoulders, a sneering confidence on his mouth, eyes that expressed contempt for the man who was facing him.
‘He’s been leading a charmed life, has Clifford,’ Cardinal acknowledged bitterly, ‘but one of these days I’ll pin his ears back for good.’
‘He’s operating here in the north, sir?’
Cardinal swivelled in his chair so he could see the map of northern England pinned to the wall. His domain, his manor, the area covered by the detective squad he led, was delineated in red. He nodded towards the map. ‘You see that, Grout? It’s our patch. But now Gus Clifford has edged his way into our jurisdiction. I wouldn’t be surprised if Clifford’s got one just like it in his office, wherever his bloody office is. He’s no fool and he’s a good organizer.’
‘I don’t understand, sir.’
Cardinal grimaced sourly. ‘He first came to my notice when I was with the Metropolitan Police. He was involved in the protection rackets in those days, but we had problems pinning him down even then. He never saw himself as small time in his activities; it wasn’t long before he began to expand, and moved into prostitution. He set up deals with traffickers in Eastern Europe and even South East Asia, and the Philippines. He had a hand in organizing brothels in the less salubrious areas of the Smoke. But we could never pin him down, he always seemed to be able to keep people quiet by the simple expedient of threats of violence. Along with the occasional torching of premises. Anyway, by the time we finally managed to crack down on that business, with a certain success, he had moved on and he opened up other sidelines, like smuggling cigarettes on an industrial scale, though his main business soon became the distribution of drugs. We tried to put him inside for the establishment of bogus companies and fraud scams but he could afford a smart Queen’s Counsel who made a fool of us and our efforts. We were left with egg on our faces, and he was there laughing at us.’
Cardinal glowered at the map, massaged his temples again, almost unconsciously as the pent up anger in his chest began to get the better of him.
‘Since then, things have moved on. I came up here, and Clifford, well, he seems to have got involved in more sophisticated – and maybe less openly brutal – forms of crime. He’s moved into a new racket, I’m informed. You know much about the art world, Grout?’
‘I know a Constable from a Sargent, sir.’
Cardinal turned his chair slowly around to glare at the detective sergeant. ‘I can do without the laboured humour, Grout.’ He grimaced, then sighed despondently. ‘Clifford moved into the art world some years ago in style. The information I’ve received suggests he’s been involved in the organization of most of the art thefts in the country houses on the fringe of the London area over the last five years. But apart from paintings he’s also moved into a lucrative system of scams involving antiques. There’s a packet to be made from the States and Europe. I’m told the big museums aren’t too careful about demanding appropriate provenance for the items they’ve offered. A lot of the stuff is looted from designated – and protected – sites scattered throughout Europe and in particular, Italy. I’m informed there are always unscrupulous curators who are always keener to add to their collections in their museums, publicly endowed as well as private. Yes, it seems they’re prepared to accept the doubtful if not fake details that Clifford and his associates, his front men, are able to provide. Clifford has built up a network throughout Europe, and has been selling to the States, China, Switzerland – where he’s got a warehouse hidden away somewhere, but he’s now carved up the whole of England into organized areas.’
‘I … I’m not certain what you mean. Areas for what purpose?’ Grout asked, still puzzled.
‘He’s got ten territories, each with a nominated agent at its head, responsible to him. There’s the south west, the south, the metropolitan, the south east to cover that part of the country. Farther north he’s got a midland area organized from Birmingham, a north western based in Liverpool, a Yorkshire, northern and Scottish series of operations.’
‘This sounds the stuff of fantasy, sir. Are you sure of this? We’ve all heard of a fabulous Mr Big in criminal fraternities but this …’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘You said ten territories, sir.’
‘We mustn’t forget Wales, Grout,’ Cardinal said dryly. ‘Never forget Wales. If you spoke Welsh instead of bloody Urdu I’d be inclined to send you down there to check on what I’m telling you. But forget Mr Big. Clifford is just a small-time crook who’s made it by extending his activities with existing networks throughout Europe. He’s just one of many. But the others, they don’t concern me. Gus Clifford is big enough for me. I want … I have to nail that bastard!’
Grout hesitated. ‘How exactly are you involved in all this, sir?’
‘The fact of the matter,’ Cardinal said, ‘is that when I was with the Met I was the officer in charge when we finally pulled in Clifford. I got to know him well. We had some interesting conversations, on and off the record, before his smart-arse lawyer got him off all charges. He walked free, and I was embarrassed and furious. And I came north. But somehow it felt like a defeat.’ Cardinal scratched thoughtfully at his cheek. ‘But things come around, don’t they? It seems as though others have come to realize that Clifford needs stopping. New information recently came in – the other regions have come to understand what’s going on, the network is now an established fact and we’ve been drawn into an investigation that spans the regions. And we are closely involved because of my knowledge of the bastard. I’ve been asked to co-ordinate the hunt from here in Y
ork. I’m telling you all this, Grout, to explain why I won’t be around much to keep an eye on you during the coming weeks.’
Grout frowned. ‘I don’t need nursing, sir.’
‘Debateable. And I do sometimes wonder who’s running this bloody office,’ Cardinal said.
Grout stiffened but made no response.
‘Maggie,’ Cardinal growled in contempt. When Grout showed no reaction, he went on. ‘Anyway, I was down in London on Friday at a conference of the senior officers from the Met, and in particular people from Northumberland and Cumbria. Clifford has been very active in the north and has finally overextended himself. It looks as though we’ve struck lucky at last. A certain disaffected gentleman has seen fit to rat on Gus Clifford – faced as he is with a lengthy term inside for fraud – and we are told there is shortly to be a meeting of the Board.’
‘Board? I don’t understand, sir,’ Grout murmured.
‘They now seem to regard themselves as businessmen, these criminal scumbags. Clifford has what he calls a Board … the individual heads of his network, his areas, and they are to meet in London tomorrow. We’re lined up to pounce on them. Not only will they all be conveniently gathered in one place, but there should be enough in their individual briefcases to put them all away for a number of years. Even so, once we get them in the net there’s going to be a lot of hard digging to do in the next few weeks to sort things out so it’s unlikely you’ll be getting Inspector rank until I get back. The paperwork, you know. And as for leave … well, you see how it is.’
‘Inspector?’ Grout had not been aware he was in line for promotion. He opened his mouth in surprise but Cardinal cut him off coldly before he could speak.
‘Friends in high places, hey? Don’t let it get to your head, Grout.’ He got up, walked across to the map on the wall, prodded at it with his lean finger, traced the line along the Yorkshire border. ‘Inspector Elliott will be going down to London this afternoon and I’ll be awaiting confirmation from him that Clifford’s northern agent will have boarded the train. We’ve been tagging him for some time; he never flies down because apparently our bold criminal isn’t happy about taking to the air. Takes all sorts… . The rest of the mob will be converging for the meeting this afternoon and tonight. We know the location: a small hotel in Russell Square. Nothing fancy. Clifford believes in keeping a low profile. So, we have the troops on standby. Tomorrow we’ll catch the lot of them, bag them like rats in a trap. Along with the big cheese himself.’ Cardinal rolled the name around his tongue with obvious satisfaction. ‘Big Gus Clifford.’
As Grout stood there in front of him, Cardinal seemed suddenly to become aware of the gloating tone in his voice. He grimaced, and returned abruptly to his desk to sit down once more. ‘All right, enough of all that. I called you in here to explain to you how it is, how it’s going to be. I won’t be around much over the next few weeks. I’ll be pretty busy with the Clifford business. That means you’ll need to pick up the overview on the Endbury and Cooper cases from Inspector Maxwell. He’ll be taking over some of my duties, acting as my deputy, and won’t have time for—’
Cardinal was interrupted by a knock on the door. He raised his head and called out. The door opened and a fresh-faced young constable from the outer office entered the room.
‘This had better be important,’ Cardinal snarled.
The young constable licked his lips nervously, glanced at Grout. Cardinal could guess what the young man would be saying when he got back with his colleagues: His Eminence the Cardinal is in a right mood today.
‘This message has just come in from Chief Superintendent Carliss, sir. I thought you’d want to see it immediately.’ Cardinal took the proffered paper and read it quickly. His lean features took on a grimmer aspect. His lips writhed back as he gestured to the constable to leave, and while Grout waited patiently Cardinal picked up the phone and dialled a London number. He waited, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk.
‘Bill? Cardinal here. I’ve just got the message. What the hell’s going on?’ His tone was impatient.
Grout waited and watched as Cardinal’s mouth drooped in ill-disguised disappointment. The chief inspector said nothing more during the next two minutes as the man at the other end of the phone continued. When Cardinal did finally speak, he was terse. ‘I see. That puts us back where we started. Right. I’ll see what I can do this end to try to pull them in.’
He banged down the receiver in obvious anger. He glared at Grout, as though blaming him for what had happened. ‘Bloody meeting’s cancelled.’
‘Clifford’s meeting, you mean?’
‘What other meeting would I be talking about?’ Cardinal said savagely. ‘The meeting of the bloody Board’s been cancelled and as far as I can gather our informant, our inside man, is reckoning that all the area heads have been ordered to go to ground. Wherever they can find a personal rat hole.’
Grout hesitated. ‘They got scared? So what happens now?’
‘Clearly they got wind of our operation. How the hell…? Anyway, we’ll now have to scrabble around the regions to pull in the bastards one by one,’ Cardinal said with an angry snap to his tone. ‘And that means a lot of extra bloody hard work and trouble that we didn’t need at this stage. I didn’t want this complication, believe me. I thought it was all sewn up at last. Now we’ll have to charge ahead but without all the evidence we need. In some cases, my guess is all we can do is give them scare, alert them, maybe fix them with receiving if we can find their local warehouses, but the whole damn thing is a mess, Grout, a real mess.’ Cardinal rose abruptly, marched to the door, flung it open and bawled, ‘Where the hell’s Robinson? Why hasn’t he reported in yet?’
Hastily, Grout pushed past the senior officer and stepped into the corridor. ‘I’ll check at once, sir, and get a call out to the patrol car.’
‘Do that. Contact Inspector Parker at Leeds while you’re at it. Fill him in, ask for his co-operation and he’ll know what you mean when you say that Elliott needs to get hold of the guy he’s been observing. He needs to be arrested, brought in for questioning.’
‘Elliott has been observing…?’
‘He’s been keeping an eye on our weak link in Clifford’s organization! A man who apparently has ideas above his station. He’s called Rigby – and he was scheduled to go down for the Board meeting. I thought I already told you that! Keep up, Grout, keep up, for God’s sake!’
As Grout made his way, stiff-lipped, to the outer office, Cardinal walked back into his room and banged the door behind him. He stood by the window, gradually cooling down, suppressing the painful ache of anger in his chest. The way things were going on he’d probably end up with a heart attack. Clifford, the enthusiastically copulating neighbours, his wife’s constant complaints …
He stared out across the sunlit roofs to the ancient cathedral where the tourists would be thronging, through the Shambles, walking along the city walls, past Clifford’s Tower, dining down by the river. He wondered briefly whether his old enemy Gus Clifford might have been distantly related to the Norman robber baron who had built the tower. The follower of Duke William the Conqueror would no doubt have been as violent and unprincipled as the man who had been getting under Cardinal’s skin for years.
Several minutes passed before the telephone on Cardinal’s desk rang. He picked up the receiver. ‘Robinson?’
Robinson’s voice was partly masked by the sound of traffic roaring in the background. ‘Yes, sir. Sorry I’ve not called in earlier but I’ve just spoken to Inspector Elliott. He’s been hanging around waiting to see if Rigby boarded the next train out of Newcastle.’
‘He wasn’t on the first?’ Cardinal asked, glancing at his watch.
‘No, sir. Anything gone wrong?’
‘You could bloody well say so. The meeting’s been cancelled. That’s why your looking out for Rigby is useless, he won’t be heading south. He’ll be off to the woods somewhere.’
‘So what now, sir?’
&nbs
p; ‘Put the call out. Pick him up if you can. You’ve got some men on standby, and someone on surveillance at his home. Get there straight away. I’ll send a couple of squad cars as back-up but you’d better liaise as of right with the Newcastle and Northumberland police at Ponteland, keep them in the picture. For God’s sake, let’s have no slip-ups. I want you to bring Rigby here to me at York, alive and kicking, along with Inspector Elliott. Rigby, alive, kicking, and I hope squealing his ugly head off!’
‘I’ll get things moving straight away, sir.’
Robinson rang off.
Cardinal replaced the receiver, stared at it for several seconds then looked up as Detective Sergeant Grout tapped on the door and entered. Cardinal didn’t like what he saw. The normally expressionless sergeant was frowning and his thick lips were set. Cardinal had rarely seen that expression. It meant inevitably there was a problem.
‘Tell me,’ Cardinal said, suddenly even more wearily despondent.
‘You’ve spoken to Robinson?’
‘I have. Rigby didn’t turn up to take the train to London for the Board meeting.’
Grout nodded as though he already knew. He had a slip of paper in his hand, a message from the operations room.
‘This came in earlier, sir. It wasn’t drawn to our attention because the duty sergeant didn’t realize its significance and thought Inspector Maxwell should be the man to deal with it but—’
‘Spit it out, Grout!’
‘Robinson won’t have any difficulty finding Rigby, whom I gather is one of Clifford’s associates.’
‘And the only man we can pin down up here! That’s why we’ve had him under observation, for God’s sake. He’s been our link to Clifford. But he won’t be difficult to find? How do you work that out?’
‘The body of a man was discovered early this morning at Chesters Fort in Northumberland. The back of his head was battered in. He’s very dead, sir. As a doornail, one might say.’
Cardinal sighed. There was something quite old-fashioned about Detective Sergeant Grout.