Closer Than Blood

by Paul Grzegorzek

  It was dim inside, almost dark, and a bored-looking girl in her late teens glanced up at us with disinterest from behind the counter.

  “You want a room?”

  “No, we want Bobby.”

  “He’s in his office, you know the way?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. Before we passed her she was buried in her phone again.

  Bobby’s office was at the back of the building, directly above Simmonds’ basement one. Thanks to some holes carefully drilled in the floorboards, it was now possible to hear everything happening in the room below, which was how we’d known about the drug deal in the first place. It was low-tech, but it worked.

  I pushed the office door open without knocking, to see Bobby asleep in his chair, feet up on the desk and head back as he snored.

  “Hey, wake up. Need your office.”

  He started and scrambled to his feet, then saw who it was and immediately looked down at the floor.

  “Oh, sure, uh, sure.” He hurried out, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then paused in the doorway. “I don’t suppose, uh, I could find out when …”

  “When I say so,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re lucky you’re not in a cell right now.”

  “But what if he finds out I’ve been letting you use the place? He’ll kill me!”

  “Then you’d better make sure your staff keep their mouths shut, because the only way he’ll find out is if someone here tells him. Now bugger off.”

  He nodded, still looking at the floor, and left, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, I rolled back the stinking carpet in the far corner and after perhaps thirty seconds of listening we were rewarded with the sound of approaching voices from below.

  “… my fucking house and starts asking questions about you.” Eddie’s voice was loud enough to hear clearly, but when Simmonds responded, I had to strain to catch the words.

  “What did he ask?”

  “He wanted to know how you got in touch with that Jake bloke.”

  There was a pause. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That I didn’t know you.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “I threw the cunt out!”

  “You threw him out?”

  “Well, yeah. I told him to fuck off and he did.”

  “Did he mention that Jake is his brother?”

  “His brother? He didn’t say nothing about that.”

  “Probably would have done if you’d given him the chance. Anyway, it’s a good job we didn’t buy off him in the end. Word is he stole that coke from the Russians and they want it back, along with his head.”

  “Russians?”

  “Yeah, a gang of them from London. They’ve put feelers out for Jake, want him dead or alive as long as they get their bag back. Fifty grand, they’re offering, so you tell your brothers that the one who finds him gets a cut. Any idea where he might be hiding?”

  “No,” Eddie replied, his voice filled with greed, “but I can think of fifty thousand reasons to find out.”

  Chapter 14

  Barry and I sat in near-silence outside the Chief Superintendent’s office, broken only by the curses I was muttering under my breath as we waited for her to call us in.

  “We’ll find him before they do,” Barry said finally, doing his best to sound positive. “There’s not many places he can hide.”

  “Fifty grand!” I replied, shaking my head. “I know a dozen people who would carve his heart out for half that. It’s going to turn into a free-for-all. And speaking of which, what kind of fucking moron steals drugs from a Russian gang?”

  “It is pretty stupid,” Barry agreed cautiously. “But maybe he didn’t realise …”

  “This is Jake we’re talking about. If there’s one thing you can say about my brother, it’s that he doesn’t care who he’s screwing over, as long as he gets what he wants.”

  I was about to say more, but broke off as the Chief Super opened the door to her office and gestured us in. She was back in uniform today, her shirt and trousers spotless and perfectly pressed.

  “What news?” she asked as we all took seats around a small table near her desk. “Have you found him?”

  “No, and we’re not the only ones looking.” I launched into my explanation, watching Striker’s frown deepen until it was almost a scowl.

  “So,” she said when I’d finished, “let me make sure I’ve got this right. What you’re telling me is that the Russians your brother stole drugs from have put fifty thousand pounds on the table for his head?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” I confirmed. “And I still have no idea where Jake is.”

  “Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “So, what’s your next step?”

  “Well it occurs to me that if the Russians have been offering money, they’ve been talking to people and that in turn means a trail we can follow. Instead of looking for Jake, I think we should concentrate on them.”

  “OK, I can see the logic in that. Where are you going to start?”

  “My team are already out and about asking questions. While they’re doing that, I was thinking we could canvass the local B&Bs and hotels. They’ve got to be staying somewhere, and if Jake was telling the truth then they don’t have much of a network down here. I also want to find out if we’ve got anything from the ambulance on Wilsons Avenue – there were loads of people with their phones out when we arrived.”

  “Good.” Striker nodded. “I’ll get CID to help. I’d like to avoid using uniform as much as possible, I don’t want to spook these Russians and provoke them into doing something stupid. What else?”

  “Well …” I thought furiously for a moment. I’d been too worried to think this through properly, but the Chief Super was the type of senior officer who expected her troops to come to her with answers as well as problems. “I can visit a few people, see if anyone I know has actually spoken to the Russians. If they’ve been putting the word out, someone must have been face to face with them.”

  “Do that. I want these men in a cell before someone else gets hurt or they find your brother and disappear. If you need more resources, I’ll throw the whole damn division your way.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.” I stood, recognising the dismissal for what it was, and ushered Barry out.

  “That could have been worse,” Barry whispered as we took the stairs down to our office.

  “It could have been,” I agreed, “but it could have been better too. These guys are professionals, and despite what I said upstairs I don’t think we’ll find them easily.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  That was one of the things I loved about my team. We’d been working together for a long time now, and no matter how difficult the task they simply got on with it – no fuss, no bullshit.

  “This fifty grand changes things. It’s going to draw some of the nastier bastards out from whatever rock they’ve been hiding under. So speak to your regulars, see if anyone interesting has surfaced. It’s early days yet, but you never know.”

  We’d almost reached the door to DIU when it burst open, Phil Blunt careening through it with a dark expression on his face. The moment he saw me, he thrust his phone at me.

  “You’re gonna want to see this,” he growled.

  I took the phone and looked at it, seeing the webpage for the local paper, The Argus. I had little love for them, having had my fair share of negative press over the years, and so I wasn’t terribly surprised when I read the headline “War in Woodingdean!”

  “Great,” I muttered as I read on.

  A little before 9 o’clock last night, the sleepy village of Woodingdean was rocked by a scene more in keeping with downtown L.A. than the Sussex coast. According to reports, armed men, rumoured to be from a drug cartel, stormed the family home of Sergeant Gareth Bell, an officer known for …

  “Fucking drug cartel!” I snorted, offering Phil his phone back.

  He shook his head.
“Keep going.”

  … his questionable actions a decade ago where he took the life of well known crime boss Quentin Davey. The property, owned by Bell’s father, is currently unoccupied as Mr Bell is in St James Hospice, receiving end of life care …

  “Oh, you fucking …” I threw the phone at Phil, spun on my heel and raced down the stairs, taking them three and four at a time. The Argus, in their never-ending desire to report all the facts, relevant or not, had just painted a big, fat target on my dad. He might not have a clue where Jake was, but the rest of the world didn’t know that, and by now more than a few of them would be looking for any way to get a lead on the bounty that was on my brother’s head.

  Chapter 15

  I sprinted through the door of the hospice, almost battering it down in my haste. My phone rang again, for the ninth or tenth time since leaving the office. I ignored it still, unable to think of anything but getting to Dad and seeing for myself that he was OK.

  I could hear voices through his door, deeper and rougher than any of the nurses I’d met. I burst through the door and charged into the room, blood up and ready to fight.

  Four faces looked at me in surprise and I stopped, heart thudding painfully against my ribs as I took in the scene.

  There, surrounding the bed, were Jane, Barry M and Tom Shepherd, in the middle of a game of cards with Dad.

  “Forget how to knock?” Dad asked.

  “I, uh, I …” My hands began to shake as the adrenaline left my body, leaving me feeling drained and empty. I took a breath and tried again.

  “I thought something bad …” Jane shook her head from her place on the far side of Dad’s bed, motioning with her head towards the door. I got the hint. “Sorry, Dad, it’s been a hell of a day.”

  “Well, it’s been very pleasant here. Your colleagues have been keeping me entertained.”

  “Speaking of which, I need a quick word with Jane if it doesn’t interrupt the game too badly?”

  Dad waved graciously and I took Jane outside, closing the door behind us.

  “What the hell is going on?” I whispered, wary of being overheard by other residents. “I thought Dad was …”

  “If you’d answered your phone or given Phil a chance to explain back at the nick, you’d know that he diverted us here as soon as he read the article in the paper.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I just panicked. I had to know he was OK.”

  “And answering your phone probably would have helped with that.” As usual, Jane’s habit of being correct was only exceeded by her desire to make sure I knew it. As good an officer as she was, it was bloody annoying. It would also make her an excellent senior officer, I had no doubt.

  “Don’t rub it in. Have the brass been made aware?”

  “Yup. Chief Super has just authorised a round-the-clock protective detail from firearms. We’re here until they take over, which shouldn’t be long. You want some time with him?”

  “Please, if you don’t mind.” I turned to go back in, then paused. “And thank you.”

  “Anytime, boss.”

  I entered somewhat more calmly this time, crossing to the bed and giving Dad a gentle hug.

  “We’re going to get coffee,” Jane said from the door. “Do either of you want anything?”

  “No thanks,” we both said in unison. The others placed their cards on the table and filed out.

  “So,” Dad said, as soon as the door closed. “What’s really going on?”

  He sagged back on the pillows, and I realised how hard he’d been working to seem hale and hearty to his guests.

  “The Argus,” I replied, taking a seat and pulling it right up to the bed.

  “Oh, your old friends, eh?”

  “Yeah.” I filled him in on the events of the previous night, his face growing ever grimmer as the story unfolded.

  “And let me guess,” he said when I’d finished. “You’re expecting a string of Brighton’s less-than-finest to try and shake me down to find out where Jake is? Hah, I’d like to see them try!”

  “These are not nice people, Dad. We’re taking it seriously enough that you’re getting an armed guard around the clock.”

  “Really? Hope they’re good at cards.”

  “Come on, Dad, this isn’t funny.”

  “I think it’s hilarious. I’m dying, Gareth. What can they possibly do to me that nature isn’t doing already? Don’t waste the taxpayers’ money on me, spend it on finding Jake instead.”

  “We’ve got people looking for him, it’s only a matter of time before he turns up.” It was a white lie, but it felt wrong all the same. Personally, I didn’t think we’d ever see Jake again, or if we did then it would be in a body bag.

  “How was he?” Dad asked. His voice was slurring now as exhaustion took hold. Over the last week his energy had taken a nosedive, and he struggled to stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time.

  “He was surprisingly well for someone who’d just jumped off a marina. He says he’s off the gear, and he looks like it too. He’s been all over, but mostly London and Glasgow.”

  “He was never really a bad boy, you know,” he mumbled as his eyelids drooped. The drip next to his bed released a fresh batch of painkillers with a soft click. “He was just so easily led. Not so bright, but not bad.”

  “I know,” I said soothingly.

  “It was that Harrison boy, he was the bad apple. Led Jakey around by the nose. He’s got a lot to answer for, if you ask me.” Dad’s eyes drifted closed, as I sat bolt upright.

  “Dad,” I said excitedly, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. “You are a fucking genius!”

  “Language,” he mumbled, then began to snore as I stood and strode to the door. Outside, Tom and Barry lounged against the wall, watching the hallway below.

  They straightened as I stepped out, sensing my excitement.

  “What’s up?” Tom asked.

  “I need a PNC check,” I replied, wracking my brain for the details. “Craig Harrison, approximate date of birth July 1980. If they struggle with that, get them to do a quest search for a chest tattoo of the words Love and Hat. There can’t be many with spelling that bad.”

  Tom nodded and pulled out his phone, moving off down the hall.

  “Who’s Craig Harrison then?” Barry asked as Tom got through to PNC and relayed the details.

  “If he’s still alive,” I said, praying that was the case, “then he’s the one person in the whole damn city guaranteed to know where Jake is.”

  Chapter 16

  An hour later I sat alone by Dad’s bedside, watching him sleep while half-lost in memories of earlier, better days. Cancer is an evil thing, and watching someone you love slowly eaten away by it is something that’s almost too painful to bear.

  My dad, always so full of life, so confident and self-assured, was now little more than a husk wrapped around a failing will to live. Although I should have been out with my team, hunting down my brother and his would-be killers, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I didn’t know for sure how long Dad had left, but it could be no more than days at best and I hated the thought that I might not be there when his time came.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” The hoarse whisper jerked me upright. Dad’s eyes were still closed but he had turned his head towards me. “You’re supposed to be finding Jake.”

  “We are,” I assured him. “I’ve got two officers outside Craig Harrison’s house right now, waiting for Jake to show.”

  “Do you think it will be that easy?”

  “No,” I admitted, “but it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

  The bleep of a police radio sounded from the hallway outside, followed by a brief knock. Before I could respond, the door opened a crack and an officer I didn’t recognise, complete with tactical helmet and G36 assault rifle, stuck his head through the gap and scanned the room. He nodded once and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

  “I’ll be honest,” Dad pushed h
imself up on the pillows a little, “I’m not sure how much safer that makes me feel.”

  “It’s just a precaution. No one is going to bother you but it’s best to be safe.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I know.” I grinned. “It’s why I ended up being a copper. Criminal was too much like hard work.”

  He smiled and then made a shooing motion with one hand.

  “Right, bugger off. You’ve been sat here long enough, go find your brother.”

  I nodded. I’d been here too long already, but he was right and there were a dozen things I should be doing. I stood and reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “I’ll come back and see you tonight, OK?”

  “Do us both a favour and get some sleep instead. The last thing I need is you crashing on the way home. You can come and see me tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing.” We both knew that was a lie. I’d be back as soon as I could. I waved and stepped out into the hallway, pausing for a moment to catch my breath. Every time I left this room I worried it was the last time I’d see him, but with everything that was going on I needed my head in the game.

  Pushing my worries away, I turned the corner and walked straight into my ex-wife.

  Sally stopped, looking as startled as I felt. My heart began to pound wildly and I felt my pulse throb in my throat and wrists as I tried valiantly to stop the shock from showing on my face. We studied each other in silence.

  The top of her head was level with my nose. A semi-tamed riot of golden curls framing a heart-shaped face and blue eyes that danced with energy and humour. Usually, anyway. Today, they looked concerned and possibly a little fearful, as if she was afraid of what I might say.

  “Hey.” My voice came out as a croak, forcing its way past the lump that I was trying to swallow.

  “Gareth. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I, uh, I needed to see Dad.”

  “Yeah, I worked that out. How is he?”

  “Tired, but OK. You here to see him?” I realised what a stupid question it was the moment I uttered it, but seeing Sally always did this to me. Much as I tried to pretend I wasn’t, I was still madly in love with her, but the gulf between us had grown so wide that I never knew what to say and usually ended up sounding like an idiot.