Tennison

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘A white sports coat and a pink carnation

  I’m in a blue blue mood . . .’

  Renee waved her hands for everyone to back off, hooked her arm through Jane’s and moved towards the exit to the back yard of the pub. Jane helped her keep her balance.

  Once in the rear yard Jane helped Renee sit down by a bench table covered in dirty glasses. She took a tissue out from her bag and wiped Nancy’s spit off her face.

  Renee looked at her and shrugged. ‘It was my fault Nancy kicked off. I recognized you first and said you were a copper. I didn’t get a chance to finish telling her you’d helped me out before she erupted. But to be honest, luv, you shouldn’t have come here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but my bus broke down and—’

  ‘Whatever the reason I don’t wanna hear it. You did me a good turn and I figured I owed you one.’

  ‘I really appreciate what you did in there.’

  Renee started to stand up but stumbled back onto the seat.

  Jane hesitated but couldn’t stop herself. ‘So how’s your family? I heard your husband was released recently.’

  Renee looked up with a squinting half-smile on her face.

  ‘If John and Clifford could see me now they’d not be best pleased, but family is family, no matter what I got notions about, but . . .’ She tried to straighten her hat. ‘My David’s the only decent one. I take care of him cos the other two are no-good bastards.’

  Holding on to the table she pulled herself to her feet and started to return to the snug, but stopped and glared at a woman at an adjacent table. She had long dyed blonde hair and was wearing a silver lamé dress.

  ‘You slag!’ Renee shouted.

  Jane couldn’t believe it: one minute Renee was fine and the next she was screeching in a rage. Unbeknownst to Jane this was the woman Clifford had been having an affair with for years. Renee lurched across the table, picked up a half-finished pint and threw it over the woman, who jumped up and started screaming whilst clutching her soaking-wet hair. Jane watched aghast as Renee threw a punch that missed before toppling forward knocking the woman to the ground. Shouts and cat-calls erupted as the pair of them struggled and punched at each other, and people came out from the snug wondering what on earth the ruckus was about.

  Jane was trembling; she had never seen two women fight in her entire life. She took the opportunity to get out fast and headed across the road to the bus stop. She took deep breaths to calm herself, and looking back across the road saw two men pulling Renee and ‘the slag’ apart.

  The conductor was sitting on the platform smoking as another 253 bus pulled up behind the broken-down one.

  ‘Right now, everyone all aboard! If you’ve kept your tickets you can still use ’em,’ he said as he tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter.

  Jane didn’t bother to go upstairs this time as it was only a few more stops before Bethnal Green Tube station. She was still shaken and only then realized she’d left her denim jacket in the pub, but there was no way she was going to go back to look for it.

  When the conductor approached she showed her warrant card again and he looked at her.

  ‘Sorry about the delay, officer. I’m surprised you went in the Star and Garter – it’s a real notorious hang-out for East End villains. Lucky you weren’t in uniform or they’d have tossed you out head first.’

  He wasn’t to know what had happened, but what he said made Jane feel even more upset. She wanted to be at home with her mum and dad more than she could ever remember.

  Bradfield and Kath went to the bank manager’s house in Islington to tell him about what was happening and to ask him to accompany them to the observation point in the old lady’s house. En route Kath had tried to broach the subject of Jane and how distressed she was after her meeting with him. Bradfield had frowned disapprovingly and made it quite clear there was nothing going on and she should keep her nose out of his business. As far as he was concerned the matter was over and done with. Tennison was on a few days’ leave and would return to normal uniform duties on her return.

  ‘Fine, whatever you say.’

  ‘Didn’t mean to sound off at you, Kath, but I got a lot on my plate. She’s a sweetheart and I maybe need to make it clear I’m no good for her.’

  As hard as it was to bite her tongue and say nothing, Kath valued being present at the arrests in the bank vault too much to say anything further on the matter.

  Adrian Dunbar was perplexed and anxious as Bradfield told him that he was to accompany him to an observation address where a team of officers were monitoring an ongoing break-in at the bank.

  He paced up and down his living room, shaking his head and refused to accept what he was being told. Bradfield gave him a quick rundown on the events of the last couple of nights.

  Dunbar shook his head. ‘It is simply not possible to gain access to the vault like that. The security system is of the highest calibre and if they have got as far as you say the alarm would have gone off by now. I think you are mistaken and overreacting, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘I’m not prepared to go into all the details here and now, but we believe the suspects have what is known as a “bell man” who is an expert in bypassing even the most sophisticated alarm systems,’ Bradfield said, trying to keep his temper in check.

  ‘Not the ones in my bank. Since the Baker Street robbery it was designed to be impenetrable, thick metal bars, concrete, steel mesh—’

  Bradfield was really impatient. ‘It’s not YOUR bank and neither is what is stored in there. If you want the suspects to get away with it then fine, stay here and don’t help us. But you might find yourself looking for a new job.’

  Dunbar walked over to his phone and picked it up, but a suspicious Bradfield put his finger on the button to cut off the dial tone.

  ‘I need to contact my head of security,’ Dunbar said aggressively.

  ‘No, Mr Dunbar, there may be someone in your bank who has given inside information to the suspects, so at present only you can know what we are doing.’

  He watched Dunbar’s reaction closely. He did look nervous but it was impossible to tell if he was involved or worried about his career. However, there was no way Bradfield was leaving the house without him, or letting him out of his sight, and within the next hour they were at the op with a very subdued Dunbar listening in disbelief to the suspects’ walkie-talkie conversation on Frank’s CB radio.

  John Bentley pulled up his goggles and backed out of the tunnel section which they had now widened to make it easier and quicker to remove the debris from the vault’s thick concrete base.

  He was covered in cement dust and sweating heavily. Danny and Silas could see he was livid as he grabbed the walkie-talkie from Silas, pressed the transmit button and started to shout at his father.

  ‘Yet again you and your man inside got the fuckin’ layout wrong! The floor also has a bloody thick sheet of steel plating, not just concrete, so I dunno what the hell we are gonna do now. Are you hearin’ me?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be in there on the verge of Aladdin’s cave if it weren’t for me, so shut the fuck up and get on with it.’

  Danny told John to calm down as he dragged forwards the oxyacetylene cutting equipment which was strapped to a two-wheeled heavy-duty upright trolley.

  ‘Listen, there’s plenty of gas left in this thing and it will cut through steel just like it did the iron bars.’

  John was sceptical, plus it was a very confined space to haul the connecting hoses and two tanks into as they were bigger than a deep-sea diver’s oxygen equipment. Danny said they could take turns in doing the cutting as it would get very hot and would be physically draining.

  ‘You done all the cutting so far, Danny, and know how to use it. I don’t wanna risk it – you said that stuff is dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, all right, just bloody calm down, I’ll do it.’

  Danny tested the pressure gauges on the two tanks as it would be har
d to do so once in the tunnel. He then put on a welding mask and thick leather gloves to protect him from the sparks and molten steel when he began the cutting. Danny sat in the tunnel facing John and Silas as they slowly lowered the trolley with the heavy cutting equipment onto the ground by the tunnel entrance. Danny gripped hold of the trolley handles and dug the heels of his boots into the soil ready to heave it backwards and towards him.

  ‘Right, when I say go you push like mad, John, and I’ll pull. Stand by . . . ready . . . GO.’

  John pushed the trolley and Danny pulled with all his strength. It took ten minutes of hard, exhausting effort to eventually get it into position to work on the steel. Danny turned on the oxyacetylene gas, held his lighter to the end of the cutting torch and there was a loud WOOMF as it ignited and the flame burst out of the end, lighting up the tunnel. The flame startled John who scuttled out backwards as quickly as he could.

  ‘Jesus Christ, you hear that fuckin’ thing go off?’ he asked Silas nervously.

  At an angle away from his face Danny held the lit torch to the steel and watched as the metal slowly turned cherry red. Then, as he pressed the oxygen-blast trigger, the reaction produced even greater heat and the flame began to cut through the steel.

  ‘Is like a bloody big volcano eruption,’ Silas said as he heard the rumbling sound from inside the tunnel and watched the smoke filter out from the entrance hole.

  Ten minutes later the noise from inside the tunnel abated and they heard Danny call out.

  ‘Go see what he wants,’ John said to Silas, as he didn’t want to go inside the tunnel again while Danny was using the cutting torch.

  After a few seconds Silas reappeared from the tunnel and gestured with his finger and thumb.

  ‘He reckon is no that thick, maybe few inches, and couple of hours to cut through. He also wants a big bottle of water as like inferno in there.’

  John excitedly slapped Silas on the back and picked up the walkie-talkie.

  ‘We’re back in business! The torch is slicing through the steel like butter and will take about two hours, then we’re in.’

  ‘Good,’ Clifford replied bluntly.

  Bradfield had an excited grin and a ‘told you so’ look on his face as he checked his watch and looked at Dunbar who, having heard what John Bentley said to his father, was sitting with his head in his hands feeling sorry for himself. If the suspects were breaking through into the vault that night it would only be a matter of hours now before Operation Hawk went into overdrive. Bradfield called the incident room and the arrest teams were relieved and excited by the news. He told them to go the station yard at City Road Police Station and wait there until further instructions.

  ‘Not long now, Mr Dunbar,’ Bradfield said.

  Dunbar looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry I doubted you, but I just can’t believe this is happening. I’ll do whatever you need me to, and if anyone in the bank is involved rest assured I will help you find them.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, Mr Dunbar,’ Bradfield replied, uncertain if his loyalty was to him or the suspects.

  Bradfield turned to DS Gibbs who was standing beside him and reiterated that it was imperative, as DCS Shaun Metcalf had ordered, that the targets had to be inside the vault before he gave the go-ahead to move in and make the arrests.

  Gibbs was shaking, more than ever aware that it was going to be one hell of a night.

  When Jane arrived home her mother was elated and fussed around her, saying she was sure she’d lost weight. Jane asked where her father was and was told that he’d nipped to the off-licence to buy a few bottles of wine, a sparkling one for tonight to celebrate Jane’s homecoming and a couple for lunch the following day. Her mother leaned forward and looked closely at her daughter’s head.

  ‘What have you got in your hair?’ she asked as she touched her fingers to it and looked at them.

  Jane stepped away from her and rubbed her fingers through the right side of her hair. She hadn’t realized some of Nancy Phillips’ spit had landed there and made her hair sticky.

  ‘It’s nothing, I didn’t wash the shampoo out properly.’

  It was a lie, but there was no way she was going to tell her mother about the incident at the pub. Instead she said she would like to have a bath and change.

  In her bedroom Jane kicked off her shoes and pulled off her jeans before sitting down on the freshly made bed. She felt exhausted and close to tears as the depression over Bradfield suddenly hit her again, but she forced herself to undress and put on her dressing gown. As she went into the hall her father appeared and held his arms open to embrace her.

  ‘How’s my little girl? Your mother just told me you were home, come here.’

  He had so rarely been physically affectionate and she loved the feel of his arms around her.

  ‘So how are you?’ he asked and stepped back to look at her.

  ‘I’m fine, Dad, just very tired.’

  ‘Well, you go and have a nice bath and then you can tell us all about work.’

  Lying in the foamy bath water, she closed her eyes. How could she tell them about work, about being spat at by a woman full of hatred of the police? How could she explain about Operation Hawk and John Bentley, or least of all her infatuation with DCI Bradfield?

  The tears that had been close to the surface since she left the section house now streamed down her cheeks. She slowly slid her body further and further down into the hot water until her hair floated around her head and it felt as if she was drowning.

  The tap on the bathroom door followed by her mother’s voice made her surface and she was glad she had locked it.

  ‘We had sausages and mash for supper. Would you like me to heat a couple for you, with some baked beans or a bit of salad maybe?’

  ‘Sausage and salad, thanks, Mum. I’ve nearly finished washing my hair.’

  ‘Well, don’t be too long, dear, it’s after ten and we’ll want to be up early to get everything ready for lunch tomorrow.’

  Jane raised the wet flannel to her face and pressed it to her skin. She wondered again what was happening at the bank and felt annoyed that she couldn’t be there as part of the team. She sat up and pulled the bath plug out before wrapping a hand towel around her wet hair and drying her body with another. Then, wearing her dressing gown, she went into the living area where her father was sitting at the breakfast bar eating some cheese and biscuits. He looked up at her with a gentle smile.

  ‘You should have called us, you know how worried your mother gets. What’s this nonsense about you not being allowed to take personal calls at the police station or at the section house?’

  ‘I don’t make the rules, Dad, but it was thoughtless of me. I promise I will call more often from now on and keep you both updated, but sometimes I’m on late shifts until 10 p.m. or later if it’s busy.’

  ‘So, tell me how everything is.’

  She went to the worktop where her mother had left a plate of two sausages, a side salad and slice of bread and butter. She spooned some mayonnaise onto the salad, and poured a glass of water, before sitting down beside him.

  ‘Well you know, Dad, being on probation I am not really involved in very much. There’s a lot of typing up reports, indexing and filing at the moment.’

  She ate hungrily as he finished his biscuits and cheese. He washed his plate, tea cup and knife in the sink and pointed at the pan of peeled potatoes and vegetables.

  ‘Your mum had me prepare them for tomorrow. It’s your favourite, roast lamb, mint sauce and an apple turnover with custard for pudding.’

  She smiled and said it sounded delicious.

  ‘I’m thinking of trading in my old Rover for something smaller. Uncle Brian is looking for a good second-hand Mini for me. What do you think of them?’

  ‘Well, I would say a Mini would be ideal, less petrol, but are you sure about using Uncle Brian?’

  He gave a soft laugh and said that he was a trifle uneasy about it, but if he could get a good trade-in price he wo
uld have a friend check it over. And if he didn’t go for a Mini he might get a Volkswagen Beetle. It felt good to be sitting at home at the breakfast bar she had known for years, and having a conversation that took her mind off work.

  ‘It’s good to be home, Dad.’

  He finished drying his dishes and put them away with a smile.

  ‘She’s got me well trained. Mind you, I hate cleaning greasy trays after a roast dinner. I’m glad you and Pam will be here tomorrow. It’s nice to sit down together for a nice family lunch and you and your sister can help clear and wash up,’ he said with a cheeky smile.

  Jane laughed and he patted her shoulder before he left the room and she finished her sausage and salad.

  Mrs Tennison appeared with her hair in rollers, and wearing her familiar quilted dressing gown.

  ‘I’m going to have an early night to be ready and fresh for the morning. Pam will be over by midday with her husband. It would have been nice if that good-looking inspector was coming. Did you ask him about Sunday lunch sometime?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s a Detective Chief Inspector, and is much more senior than me. They don’t tend to socialize with junior ranks outside of work.’

  ‘Well, that’s a pity. Is there anyone else you like or are seeing? You can always invite them instead.’

  ‘I’m not seeing anyone, Mum, I’ve been really busy. Shift work makes me restless and it’s difficult to get into the right sleep pattern. In fact I was going to ask if you could give me one of your sleeping tablets.’

  Mrs Tennison hesitated, and moved closer. ‘You know Daddy doesn’t like me taking them. I only have half, just enough to get me off into a sound sleep, otherwise I toss and turn all night. He thinks Mogadon is addictive, but I don’t take it every night.’

  Jane smiled and said she doubted her mother would become a junkie overnight, but then seeing her reaction to the term tried to make light of it.

  ‘It’s a police word for a drug addict.’