Dead Lands

by Lloyd Otis

  ‘You think it’s best that he believes a lie rather than the truth?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, Patricia.’

  Kearns disagreed. ‘We should let him know sir.’

  Bashir rested a hand on his desk and stooped his back to lean towards Kearns. ‘I was sworn to secrecy. I told you because I felt you should know. Had a right to.’

  Kearns felt disgusted with herself and at the bullshit Bashir spewed. He didn’t tell her out of any moral duty as he claimed. He did so because he needed help in controlling the investigation. Breck presented too much of a risk to toe the line, but Kearns’ personal interest in Larry Sands guaranteed her compliance.

  ‘He has a right to know as the SIO in this case,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t tell Arlo an unnamed officer assumed the moniker of Alexander Troy and had been working undercover to flush out his target, and that we hid it from him. Patricia, I’m sorry if it displeases you but I’m not going to entertain that idea.’

  Kearns tried to better understand the motives for her own sanity. ‘So they found out Aychm Dvorak wanted Ceinwen to acquire new business, due to her specialist background, in his bid for legitimacy, and sent Troy in to influence her.’

  ‘By overseeing her induction into Aychm’s close circle.’

  ‘And siphoning information from her?’

  ‘Yes correct. The whole operation had been running on a need-to-know basis since 1974. Until the order came in just days ago to pull the plug. They also felt the operation might be compromised after another one of theirs, Dai Kyler, lost his life. From what I gather he operated a Plan B in their attempt to snare Aychm.’

  Bashir shook his head at the tragedy of it all but there was something Kearns wanted to know. ‘Why couldn’t Troy use his alibi when we arrested him? It would have saved him a lot of hassle.’

  ‘Troy met with his handler Proctor, at the time of Janet Maskell’s death. He couldn’t disclose that for fear of blowing his cover. We’d have to record that.’

  Bashir leaned away from the desk and slid back into his chair. ‘The decision to end the assignment infuriated Proctor so he delayed Troy’s termination process.’

  ‘To ensure Troy received help or assistance if he needed it?’

  ‘Correct, and we believe they executed Marcin as a damage limitation exercise. His infatuation with his former lover Ceinwen, screwed things up for him. Anyway, are you feeling all right?’ Bashir frowned. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘Don’t know. I put everything on the line to get Larry Sands. I spoke to Louise Tellow’s mother and told her what happened. She thanked me and I thought I’d feel better for it but I don’t. It doesn’t bring Louise back, or change the fact he slit her throat.’

  Kearns’ trembling fingers pulled out a cigarette and she waited for Bashir to OK it before she lit up. ‘What will happen to Troy or whoever he is?’

  ‘After his debriefing they’ll release him, while we pick up the pieces. That’s how it is, Patricia. It’s a small win and a sorry state of affairs. It’s the people like Peter Clarke and Ceinwen Phelps that I feel sorry for.’

  ‘Having the trust broken you mean?’ Kearns said it like she had first-hand experience.

  ‘They’ll be spun the witness protection line just like Arlo will be, but it’s best they forget about him and move on.’

  As if by fate, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation and Breck limped in with frustration painted all over his face.

  ‘They’ve ferried Troy away into witness protection because he’s an informant eh? I didn’t see that one coming.’

  Bashir cleared his throat. ‘He’ll be safer there but this case will be boxed up and closed now.’

  ‘Why did you keep me in the dark about what he was?’ Kearns and Bashir waited to see who would respond before Kearns looked away, leaving Bashir to explain.

  ‘It was difficult for me, a top-level decision. Patricia had inside information on Sands that allowed her the special insight. We heard he had been offering his services and had become close with the Dvoraks.’

  ‘You didn’t trust me, sir?’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense Arlo, I just explained.’

  Breck remained far from convinced. The armed officers that arrived at that house were not even from Cransham station, so just how high profile was Troy? An uneasy silence swamped the room and from his own investigation, Breck knew that whoever they were protecting, it wasn’t the real Alexander Troy.

  ‘I need to move on from this, as other major issues are pending.’

  ‘You mean the march, sir?’

  ‘Yes, we lined up a field of horses with men and riot shields, still more than a dozen officers were seriously hurt. With far more injured. It’s not good.’ Bashir visibly shook while he spoke and Kearns in particular, began to feel sorry for him. ‘We’ve got more anti-fascists locked up than Front marchers, the Bishop holding prayers, and community leaders are protesting. The national press are having a go and Rose screamed at me down the phone.’

  ‘Maybe it will die down soon, sir.’ Kearns blew smoke up to the ceiling.

  ‘I wish it would but the Home Secretary is now involved so I doubt it. I expect it to be a tough couple of days for me. You two go and take the rest the day off. You’ve both earned it.’

  They were surprised by Bashir’s rare gesture of appreciation for their work but knew well enough to grab it. Breck escorted Kearns out of the office and it seemed like a good moment to speak in private with her. They ended up at a spot close to the canteen and he could sense her nervousness.

  Breck wanted everything out in the open.

  ‘Pat, the lies end now. I know that the man we’ve recently referred to as Alexander Troy, is not the real Alexander Troy any more than the POI was.’

  Kearns held her chest and tried to steady herself. ‘I’m not feeling well.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, just answer me.’ Kearns couldn’t see a way out. No where to run to, so she threw her arms up, almost in despair. ‘What do you want me to say, Arlo. There were things happening that you didn’t need to know about.’

  ‘Yes, I know, according to what Bashir said.’

  Breck punched the wall near to Kearns’ head. It startled her.

  ‘It’s not his fault. He broke protocol and told me because I had a personal connection in Larry Sands.’

  Breck recalled the trip through Sandal and Agbrigg. The story of Kearns’ time as a WPC, and finding the dead girl.

  ‘Yes, I know he killed one of your childhood friends. This was all about Sands?’

  Kearns leaned against the wall. ‘Yes, for me it was, but for other people it was other things. I don’t know.’

  ‘Why was I kept out of it, Pat? I want the real reason.’

  Kearns sighed. ‘You reported Riley a year ago for using excessive force on a suspect. Too clean for some, so Bashir couldn’t trust you’d go along with it. Troy needed to complete the job he was sent in to do.’

  ‘Sent in to do?’

  ‘Keep this quiet or I’ll be sacked.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘He’s not an informant in the way we’ve tried to lead you to believe. This was a ‘level one’ assignment. He’s an officer, part of the Yard’s undercover unit.’

  ‘The son of a bitch is an undercover operative?’ Breck was staggered by the news and dizzied by the betrayal.

  ‘Don’t just look at me like that. Say something.’

  Breck turned around with the turmoil building inside his head. He walked away thinking about the case, leaving a distressed Kearns leaning against the wall to watch him shrink into the distance. On a day of surprises, he would play his part in one more.

  *

  Breck stood outside the Pear Tree Pub in East Cransham. The clammy palms and palpitations were evidence of his anxiety, knowing that 6:00 p.m. would arrive in a few minutes. He felt guilty for having to follow the tip-off given to him by Larry Sands. But no other option existed. His own police work had resul
ted in nothing. So what if Sands had used his criminal network to obtain the information as his bartering tool? With Sands now dead, Breck would benefit from the ground work he put in.

  Breck livened up when an unidentified man made a swift exit from the Pear Tree Pub at 6:00 p.m. sharp. Just as Sands had said. Breck couldn’t see his face from where he stood, the heavy coat and flat cap put paid to that. Even when the man checked both sides of the road before crossing, he couldn’t get a clear view.

  Breck watched him pad along to the bus stop then zero in on the timetable.

  ‘Come on,’ Breck said under his breath, ‘turn around.’

  Sometimes we should be careful what we wish for.

  When the man peeled his eyes away from the timetable, to stretch them down the road in the hope of seeing a bus, Breck shuddered then took a step back. Then another. He recognised the face straight away and it sickened him.

  A shaky Breck lifted his radio and gave the order, and out of nowhere a squad car pulled up in front of Ralph Jenkins. The man that pretended to come to the rescue of Brecks’ girlfriend on the night of the attack, was her assailant. He squared up to the officers but they took him away in spite of his protests and denials, and Breck took a moment for himself.

  He could have administered his own justice and got away with it too. If he had known when he went to see him. He felt foolish because he even thanked Jenkins for saving her.

  As things stood, Ralph’s old witness statement would be re-examined and his whereabouts on that night too. No matter what it took, Breck would do his utmost to make sure he’d find enough rope to hang him with.

  Then he lost track of time.

  When Breck eventually opened the door to his VW and sat inside, he retrieved the unopened letter from the security firm regarding the interview. He ripped up the letter into little pieces and threw those pieces out of the window. They floated out like paper butterflies and he watched the breeze carry them along. Whether he got the job or not didn’t matter, because he still had work to do at the SCU. There were people he wanted to trust once again, things to iron out, and for now that was quite enough for Arlo Breck to be getting on with.

  Acknowledgements

  It’s only right that I thank those who have helped me along this epic journey, without rambling on too much or being clichéd in the process, so I’ll try.

  First and foremost Matthew Smith, the publisher that has made this possible. Foresight goes a long way in any industry, and Matthew has shown his own, by believing in this story and giving me the platform to share it with everyone.

  My heartfelt appreciation to Row, for being a constant support and putting up with me endlessly typing away for hours on end. And Mum for always listening.

  My gratitude to Keshini Naidoo, who used her sharp ‘crime reading’ eyes to give me valuable pointers on a few chapters of the story’s earlier drafts. Also to Livvy, for her editorial reading on later editions. My thanks go out to retired officer Brian Robbins, who gave me valuable insights into 70s policing with a trip back in time, and a mention must go out to Maggie Smith, a great former tutor and friend. A person that truly loves and understands the essence of writing. I can’t forget Leigh Russell for her professional advice and dedication in selling over a million copies of her books. Inspirational.

  My thanks also, to those writers that provided me with plenty of good conversations, insights and truly funny times along the way – you know who you are. It’s a writing community that has made me feel welcome.

  Fiction allows for many enjoyable freedoms. The area of Cransham is totally fictional. However, with regard to a brief moment in history, I have tried to stay as true as possible to the ‘Battle of Lewisham’ referenced throughout as ‘the march’. Any mistakes are my own.

  Finally, a big thank you to family and friends who have been genuinely pleased that Dead Lands has arrived, and to the ever-supportive network of amazing bloggers and reviewers who love reading just as much as I do. Keep on doing what you do best.

  About the author

  Lloyd was born in London and attained a BA (Hons) in Media and Communication. After gaining several years of valuable experience within the finance and digital sectors, he completed a course in journalism. Under the pen name of Paige, he has interviewed a host of bestselling authors, such as Mark Billingham, Hugh Howey, Kerry Hudson, and Lawrence Block. Two of his short stories were selected for publication in the ‘Out of My Window’ anthology, and he currently works as an Editor.

  @lloydotiswriter

  http://www.lloydotis.com/

  facebook.com/LloydOtisWriter

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