Jenny Parker Investigates

by D J Harrison

  ‘Wouldn’t you be better off going private though?’

  ‘Oh, I’m okay. The NHS is really good, I’m getting the treatment I need.’

  ‘But not necessarily when it’s convenient to you,’ I say. ‘From what I’ve heard you get a group appointment to see the specialist, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, we all turn up at ten, wait our turn. Last week it took until nearly one before I got to see him. I was only in five minutes.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. If we get you a private appointment it’ll be much less time-consuming for a start.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I can’t afford that.’ She looks at the clock on the wall. It’s old, battered, black and white and pock-marked with rust. I’m amazed she shows any faith in it at all, but it actually confirms the time on my phone, 9.25 a.m.

  ‘I have to go, sorry. I need to leave now to get to the hospital on time.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I say.

  ‘There’s no need for that.’

  ‘Monty can drive us. It will save you parking and messing about, I insist.’

  In what I take to be meek agreement, Yvonne walks out of the portacabin and I open the passenger door of the Range Rover for her. At the hospital, Monty drives into an area marked ‘ambulances only’ and drops us off.

  ‘Are you sure about this? We could be hours,’ Yvonne asks.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not missing any important meetings.’ I smile at the thought; Hector Brighouse emailed an invitation to meet him at twelve. It’s not something I can afford to be late for.

  We sit together in a crowded waiting area. Dozens of women are looking worried, interspersed with the occasional male with an air of embarrassed depression.

  ‘I have a proposition to put to you,’ I say.

  ‘I’d rather you talk to my accountant. I can’t get my head round business matters right now, especially not here. It’s kind of you to bring me, but I’ll understand if you don’t wait. I can get a taxi back to the office.’

  ‘Your accountant isn’t the one who has to do the deal, it’s you. Listen to what I have to say then decide if it’s worthwhile you getting accountants and lawyers involved.’

  ‘I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘First I’m offering you private medical care, the best oncologist in the region, a second opinion about your condition. Consultations in a private hospital from now on. If you want to keep the consultant you already have I’ll arrange for you to see him, but privately.’

  ‘It’ll be very expensive,’ she says, ‘my prognosis isn’t good. I’m set to deteriorate rapidly.’

  ‘All the more reason to take my offer, Yvonne. You and your family can get the help you need. When necessary you’ll get full-time nursing care at home and I’ll make sure the boys are looked after and that you stay with them as long as possible.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ she asks.

  ‘I’ll buy the business and the freehold to all your land and I’ll pay you fifty thousand a year to help me run it.’

  ‘That’s not going to be for very long.’

  ‘Maybe not. At the moment your bank overdraft is guaranteed by the equity on your home, isn’t it? If the business fails you’re in danger of losing your house.’

  I see the angry look on Yvonne’s face and stop talking.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ she says, ‘I’m perfectly aware of the situation I’m in, I’m not stupid. The council are closing me down, I’m not well enough to work, the bank will take everything. My accountant says I might be able to pay off the bank by selling the skip business to one of the big multinationals. That’s who he’s talking to at the moment. He says they’re very interested.’

  ‘They’ll be more interested in making sure you go out of business, then they’ll get all your customers for free,’ I say. ‘I have a much better solution. I’ll pay off the business overdraft, get rid of your personal guarantees. I’ll also pay off the mortgage on your house so that whatever happens, your home doesn’t have to be sold because you can’t make repayments. The fifty thousand I will guarantee for ten years. If you don’t survive that long I’ll pay it to your estate. It’ll be index-linked so it keeps its value.’

  ‘How would that work?’

  ‘Simple, you sell me your shares for what it costs to pay off your mortgage. Then you sign a contract of employment that gives you your income and your private medical benefits.’

  ‘It sounds too easy,’ she says.

  ‘It’s only easy if we trust each other,’ I reply. ‘There are some aspects that lawyers and accountants can’t be told about. If you’re okay with that, you can do it.’

  It’s eleven fifteen. We’ve been here an hour and a half and nobody has moved. No names have been called out, everyone who was here at ten is still here, sitting morosely around, trying not to imagine what proportion of their remaining lives is being wasted. At least I’m on chatting terms with Yvonne. We’re swapping naughty child stories, though I am running out of material. Either Toby is a particularly good boy or I don’t spend enough time with him.

  I walk over to confront a nurse who has been careless enough to betray her presence. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘We’ve been here since ten; how much longer?’

  She looks at me as if I’ve brought an offensive odour into her nice nurse’s station. She looks all around her as if expecting reinforcements before she answers.

  ‘Mr Gupta has been delayed. We are hoping he will be here very soon.’

  ‘So he’s not even here yet?’

  ‘No, his previous surgery has over-run, I expect. You can’t be precise about these things.’ The nurse looks down her nose at me and I get the feeling she’s used to fobbing off patients who have the temerity to ask questions. From first impressions I certainly wouldn’t put her in the angel category, though if I desperately needed a bedpan, that view could change.

  I return to Yvonne. It looks as if she’s uncomfortable at my intervention. ‘I don’t reckon he’s coming at all,’ I say.

  ‘It’s happened before,’ she replies. ‘Once we were sitting here until two in the afternoon and then they announced the surgery was cancelled. We all had to come back the following week.’

  ‘Look, Yvonne, I have to go soon, there’s a man I have to see in Manchester at twelve. Let me take you back to the site. If you need to see this particular consultant, he’s got a clinic at Fulwood this evening, according to their website. Why don’t I arrange for you to see him there?’

  ‘Surely they won’t let me do that? Wouldn’t I need a referral from my doctor or something?’

  ‘You’re already Mr Gupta’s patient, you must already have a referral,’ I say.

  ‘It all sounds too easy.’

  ‘You keep saying that.’ I ring the hospital and make the appointment. ‘Six thirty this evening,’ I tell her.

  Yvonne nods. As we make our way out of the hospital I suddenly remember Monty. I don’t have a mobile number for him and I have no idea where he might be or where he’s parked the car. My self-satisfied feeling at making such good progress with Yvonne gives way to embarrassment. Yvonne seems to sense it.

  ‘Where’s your driver, Jenny? He’s surely not still parked in the ambulance bay is he?’

  ‘The car’s over there,’ a Scottish voice murmurs in my ear. I see Monty standing at my shoulder and wonder where he came from. He leads the way. We drive back to the brickworks where I arrange to pick up Yvonne from her home later and take her to Fulwood. She is my top priority. I won’t let her refuse my help. Anyway, my social life is only being improved by a bout of hospital visiting.

  ‘Wait in the car,’ I tell Monty when we’re safely parked in the SG car park. The slight raising of his eyebrows could mean acquiescence, but it might also signify acceptance of a challenge. The last thing I need is Monty’s sudden presence in Hector’s office.

  ‘Really.’ I stare hard at him. ‘Wait in the car, I’m perfectly safe in Security Group head
quarters.’

  Parrot Face is missing today; perhaps off having her beak sharpened or the remaining vestige of kindness surgically removed. Instead I am greeted quite warmly by a hefty twenty-year-old, with a flushed face and a very large backside. As I enter Hector’s office, I realise I’m fifteen minutes late. There are two other men sitting at the big table holding Hector’s best teacups.

  ‘Ah, Jenny.’ Hector grips my hand quickly. ‘So glad you could make it. This is Sandy Slater.’ He indicates the smaller of the two men, who’s wearing a matching jacket and trousers in an unusually pale shade of brown. His almost completely bald head accentuates the silly moustache which does not go well with the suit.

  ‘And his colleague, Grant Matthews. Sandy will explain things,’ Hector continues.

  The second man, Matthews, looks uncomfortable and remains silent. Slater’s voice has a higher pitch than I expect from a man, giving it a comedic value.

  ‘Mrs Parker,’ he whines, ‘I’ll not beat about the bush here. We need you to step up your efforts and get us some information, so that we can arrest Lafferty and O’Brian. Time is of the essence.’

  The only thing that stops me laughing out loud at this squeaky man is the irritation he provokes in me. It’s not just his voice, or what he’s saying, it’s the shock at realising these two strangers know all about me and what I’m doing.

  ‘I thought I worked for you, Hector,’ I say.

  ‘And you do, my dear,’ he replies. ‘I need you to report directly to Sandy from now on. Anything regarding O’Brian and Lafferty is his province.’

  ‘Are you both MI5?’ I ask.

  ‘No, certainly not.’ Both men shake their heads but Sandy squeaks, ‘We’re with the National Crime Agency.’

  ‘Both Grant and Sandy are retired police officers,’ Hector adds, ‘and now they’re using their great experience to the benefit of the NCA.’

  Slater hands me a card with his details on it.

  ‘I want you to set up a meeting with Lafferty, try to get him to pass over some cash to you. Even a small amount is fine, say a couple of thousand pounds. I’ll accompany you, tell him I’m your colleague, that I help with the business. Do that in the next few days.’

  ‘And you’ll arrest Lafferty?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, of course I’ll arrest him.’

  ‘For a few thousand pounds?’

  ‘We need a quick result, Mrs Parker. Once we can charge him, we can issue a restraint order, freeze all his assets and his bank accounts. Take away all his computer records and get access to everything. Then we’ll sift through and see what else he’s up to.’

  ‘You can do that?’ I ask.

  ‘Proceeds of Crime Act,’ he replies, voice annoyingly shrill. ‘That’s the beauty of it, once we get the restraint order he’s finished – out of business.’

  ‘Lafferty is worth millions.’ Matthews speaks for the first time. ‘If we can prove criminal lifestyle we get the lot.’ He smiles. ‘The NCA need a big boost of funds like that. We’ve got targets to meet.’

  I feel betrayed and stupid. It’s hard enough for me to justify what I’m setting up for Lafferty; it’s either me or him, that’s the situation I’m in. To hear these cold-blooded men telling me it’s only down to money is quite a shock.

  ‘Is that all you want him for, his money?’ I ask.

  Slater and Matthews look at each other. Their expressions say I’m worse than stupid.

  ‘That’s not something you need to worry your pretty little head about. You do your job, Mrs Parker,’ Slater says. ‘Flash your eyes at Lafferty, show him your tits, lift your skirt, whatever it takes as long as he agrees to hand over cash to you. Then I’ll be there with you to collect it. You can tell him I’m your trusted colleague.’

  My face must be displaying my antagonism, because Hector intervenes.

  ‘It’s important that you put aside personal feelings, Jenny. Your friend will be better off without Lafferty, believe me. It may feel like you’re not being honest with her, but it will be best for everyone in the long run.’

  ‘What about O’Brian?’ I ask. ‘Don’t you want him as well?’

  ‘Don’t worry about O’Brian,’ Slater says, ‘we’re close to making that arrest, we don’t need you for him. Forget about O’Brian, all you need do is help us with Lafferty.’

  O’Brian may be difficult to handle at times, a bit too fond of getting his own way, but I know how long and hard he works and how many people depend on him for their livelihood. A pang of worry reminds me that Tim is one of them. If these horrible small-minded men destroy O’Brian, Toby’s father will be out of work, and my son’s whole life will be affected.

  ‘What about Trafford Trailers?’ I ask. ‘I was down there the other night, they were expecting another load of sex slaves. Shouldn’t you be putting your efforts into stopping that kind of thing?’

  ‘Not our department,’ Matthews says. ‘We’re economic crime, not border policing.’

  ‘But it’s happening right here, right under your noses, all those poor girls. Surely they deserve protection?’

  ‘Jenny, your job is to gather information, not to intervene. If you start interfering, all you do is put yourself at risk and get in the way of the lawful authorities,’ Hector says. ‘By all means pass on whatever you might hear, but don’t get involved. From now on Sandy Slater will be working closely with you. You’ll need to report on a daily basis until Lafferty has been arrested.’

  I look over at Sandy Slater and wonder if I’ve ever despised any man so comprehensively after one brief meeting.

  20

  Fulwood Hall Hospital is a low, modern building, set in a large car park with plenty of available spaces. There couldn’t be a bigger contrast with the chaos and over-crowding we experienced earlier at the NHS hospital. Yvonne is nervous and upset, regretting her decision to let me persuade her this is best.

  ‘It just feels wrong, Jenny. Anyway they’ll almost certainly turn me away. I’ve got no documentation, no medical notes, no letter from my doctor. I don’t see how this can work. Mr Gupta must know I’ve missed my appointment with him. He’s not going to be happy.’

  The receptionist ticks her name on a list and gives her forms to fill in for the medical insurance claim. She looks at me. I tell her to tick the cash payment box and put ‘none’ in the insurance provider section. This seems to cause her even more anguish.

  There are a few people scattered around the waiting area, which is smartly furnished with small tables, plush chairs and comfortable settees. We hardly have time to help ourselves to a cup of complimentary coffee and sit down before Yvonne’s name is called out by a nurse. She abandons her brew and follows dutifully. I can’t help but contrast the positive confidence I get from this place from the utter desolation I was feeling at the main NHS hospital. I look over at Monty who is standing by the entrance pretending to read a magazine. His back’s to a wall, so anyone coming in would fail to see him without turning around. He sees me staring at him and nods in my direction.

  When Yvonne returns she looks brighter and her step is more positive.

  ‘How was it?’ I ask.

  ‘Really good. It’s as if he looks at me completely differently. There seems to be much more he can do for me than I realised.’ She looks down at the sheaf of papers she’s clutching. ‘It’s going to be expensive. I’m to have some more scans here, then there’s some new drug they’ve developed that you can’t get on the NHS.’

  ‘I hope you told him you want to go ahead with everything?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, but like I said it’ll cost thousands.’ She smiles thinly. ‘The longer the new drugs keep me going, the more expensive it gets.’

  ‘Then it’ll be a small price to pay. I’ll cover the costs for now and when we do the deal, I’ll put aside enough to cover whatever you need.’

  Yvonne is more animated on the drive home than I’ve seen her before. She is holding herself less, her shoulders are more relaxed. There’s a healthy glow
to her face, and all from a ten-minute appointment with the right doctor. Hope is a wonderful thing.

  21

  ‘Who’s that sitting outside in your car?’ Alex is peering out of his window.

  ‘My driver.’ I shake my shoulders like I imagine royalty and very rich people might.

  ‘You never told me you’d lost your licence,’ he says.

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘Then why do you need a driver? You don’t even have to go to work every day. If you don’t like driving you could take taxis, surely?’

  ‘He’s also my minder,’ I say.

  Alex’s face crumples with concern. ‘Why, what’s happened, have they tried to kill you again?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s only a precaution. An old friend of Gary’s heard about my predicament and gave me Monty to look after me.’ I can’t tell Alex the full story, what with his position in the National Crime Agency. Even he couldn’t turn a blind eye to me parking nearly two million quid in cash with Popov and letting him have thirty thousand of it for providing both myself and the money with protection.

  ‘Shouldn’t he be a bit closer than three storeys down in a car park? If he’s supposed to be protecting you, shouldn’t he be up here with you?’

  ‘Oh don’t worry, I told him you weren’t a threat, that I’m safe with you, that you are all the protection I need.’

  Alex laughs. ‘Don’t be so sure. You might regret leaving him down there, now I have you at my mercy.’

  I throw myself into his arms and hang on tightly, lifting my feet off the ground and circling him with my legs. He staggers backwards but to give him credit, regains his balance and stands looking out of the window with me hanging on.

  ‘I think I’ll make some tea,’ he says, ‘do you want some?’

  ‘Okay.’ Before I can loosen my grip he clomps his way across the room to the kitchen with me and starts filling the kettle.

  ‘Monty you call him, do you know his full name?’ he asks, steadying himself against the worktop.