Green For Danger - Volume II of the Operation Jigsaw Trilogy

by Hayden, Mark

  When he arrived at the Major Incident Room, the Exhibits Manager gave him a sour look.

  ‘I’ve come to sign your report into the unauthorised removal of Griffin’s house key,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll have to make it yourself. I can’t say for certain that you handed it in – especially given that it was discovered at the property. You should have just brought it back, and I would have forgotten about it.’

  Tom nodded and looked around the room. There were no senior officers present, and all the others were putting on their coats.

  ‘If you’re looking for DCS Winters, he’s gone to the hospital to talk to Ian Hooper.’

  The USB drive was comfortingly solid in his pocket. Suddenly he was unwilling to allow any of his observations on to the system when he didn’t know who might be looking. He turned on his heel and headed back to Earlsbury Park.

  The trauma unit at Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham is world famous. Despite being on the other side of the world, injured service personnel from Afghanistan were routinely shipped there for surgery and recovery. Ian Hooper was beginning to appreciate what a mess he was in, and not just from the gaping wound in his abdomen which had been lightly stitched for easy access in a further operation tomorrow.

  As the serious anaesthetics wore off, he started to become more aware of what had happened and of some of the choices he would have to make. The first one was whether to talk to the Major Incident Team.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ said Ceri. ‘The doctor was very clear, you must only talk to them if you’re up to it.’

  He didn’t remember much about recovering in hospital, but he could remember feeling Ceri’s hand every second he was awake. When he finally got to focus on her, he asked what had happened to her.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What’s happened to you? You look terrible.’

  She gripped his hand. ‘I’ve spent one hundred and twelve hours in this hospital waiting for you to talk to me, and the first thing you say is that I look terrible. Ian Hooper, you’d try the patience of a saint, you would, and I am not a saint.’

  Tears rolled uncontrolled and uncontrollably down her face. She gripped his hand as if she needed to stop him slipping away. There was so much morphine in his system that he could barely feel her touching him.

  ‘Marry me, love.’

  ‘Oh my God – you’re delirious. I’ll have to call the doctor.’

  ‘No. Call the priest. Get him to marry us before it’s too late.’

  A look of horror washed over her face. ‘Don’t say that. You’re not going to die. Not now you’ve woken up. You’re going to get better, and then, only when you’re better and not before, you can marry me. But that will take months, and I’m going to plan every detail. Everything.’

  There was so much water running down her face that she had to use her free hand to wipe it away. Ian was fairly sure he wanted to marry her. It would do for now. His heart had speeded up slightly, and with it had come an ache in his side like a thundercloud – getting bigger every second and clearly about to discharge a lot of pain very soon. He had to ask her something else.

  ‘What happened?’ If he kept it simple, she might tell him something he didn’t know.

  A big shadow passed across her face like an echo of the clouds building inside him. She looked around the intensive treatment unit. He was in a semi-private bay in what reminded him of a milking parlour: it had a desk in the middle which was always busy with staff and a dozen bays around the edge of the room.

  ‘It’s like this, see,’ said Ceri. ‘They told me that I can’t discuss what happened with you. We’re even on CCTV.’ She pointed to a camera above the bed that he hadn’t noticed before. ‘Nigel made me promise. Said that if I wanted to be here, I had to give him my word that I wouldn’t say anything to you. It was that or put a guard on your bed.’

  The ache in his side was turning into actively hurting, mobile and stabbing pain. He would have to ask for drugs soon. ‘C’mere, love,’ he said, and tugged her a little towards him. She bent her head down to his. ‘I can’t remember properly. I just want you to let me know what happened after I was shot.’

  She gripped his hand again. ‘No, Ian. I don’t know what you were doing there, and I don’t want to know now, but it’s going to stop here. You tell them the truth, all right? If you want to marry me, you have to start by being honest.’

  He nodded his head. That was the easy bit; he’d do anything to stop her walking away right now. ‘Who’s Nigel?’ he asked.

  ‘Superintendent Winters. He’s been here twice a day or more since Thursday morning.’

  ‘Oh yeah, what day is it?’

  ‘Monday afternoon.’

  There was a spasm of pain and he tensed his muscles in response. That turned the spasm into a full on seizure. He screamed.

  Before Ceri could even stand up, a doctor and nurse were halfway to his bed.

  At half past six, they allowed him to drink some water but told him that it would be a long time before he ate anything. Ceri had reluctantly agreed to go back to their flat with her mother, and he was waiting for the doctor to allow DCS Winters in for a short chat. All he’d got out of the medical staff was that he was unconscious from the moment they loaded him into the ambulance. Well, at least he hadn’t given anything away so far. He had tried to ask if Griff were in one of the other beds. He might have been seriously injured too – the ambulance was there quickly enough, so maybe they’d picked Griff up before it was too late. The nurses just gave him a blank look.

  Two of them came, DCS Winters and a DS he’d never seen before. The doctor told them he would be watching from the desk, and made sure that Ian had his call button in his hand. It was a lot less comforting than Ceri’s fingers.

  ‘I’m not going to ask how you’re feeling,’ said Winters. ‘I can see that for myself. Nor am I going to ask why you were at the Yard – you’ll be asked that under caution at some future date. I just want to know who shot you.’

  ‘So do I. I’ve never seen him before. Ever.’

  ‘Description?’

  ‘Tall. Thin. Wore a mask.’

  They weren’t taking notes. Ian made a point of labouring his breathing.

  ‘How many altogether? Was there anyone you did recognise?’

  He was in real pain but not so much that he couldn’t have concentrated if he wanted to. Ian gave in to the demon eating away at his guts so they couldn’t read his face. He mustn’t give anything away. You never saw that twat Robert King.

  ‘Two of them. Apart from Griff, that is. Maybe more. Didn’t recognise any of them. How is he? How’s Griff?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ian. DS Griffin was found dead at the scene. We’ve reason to believe that two people who were known to you were also at the scene – Robert Marley King and Dermot Lynch. Did you see either of them?’

  Ian moaned and shook his head at the same time. Another wave of pain followed on, and he didn’t notice the officers getting up and walking away.

  Chapter 10

  Earlsbury

  Tuesday

  26 October

  There had been a very peremptory message at reception. DI Morton and DC Hayes were expected at morning briefing and afterwards. The briefing itself was short. ACC Khan had been joined by DCC Nechells at the back of the room, but Winters took the lead.

  ‘The good news is that I spoke to Ian Hooper last night, and he’s at the beginning of a long recovery process. The bad news is that he could tell us nothing about what happened. He said something about a tall thin man but that’s not very helpful. Looking around the room, I could arrest the DCC and ACC on that basis.’

  No one laughed. Khan managed a smile, but Nechells (who wasn’t very thin, in Tom’s opinion) just pursed his lips in disapproval.

  ‘We had been delaying the broadcast of the 999 call because we were waiting for Hooper to regain consciousness. He does not remember seeing Lynch or King, so you may have heard the tape being broad
cast on local radio this morning. Within five minutes we had twelve people positively identify the voice as Dermot Lynch.’

  Winters paused to let the news sink in. Tom was surprised that no one had spotted this before – but if they were keeping things hidden from the Earlsbury CID, then perhaps it wasn’t so unusual.

  ‘This places Dermot Lynch at the Goods Yard which is progress of a sort, and we will ask Patrick Lynch about it in due course. The mobile number that Dermot used to call 999 was only ever used for that one call, another item for his uncle to account for. As for today, we have twelve names still to track down for Trace, Interview and Eliminate, but the bulk of the work will be reviewing CCTV. The technical team have now tracked down every camera we asked them for, and two of the groups today will start to analyse and cross-reference using the major incident protocol.’

  If anyone groaned at the news, they kept it to themselves.

  ‘Finally, and you don’t need me to tell you this, the investigation is now entering a new phase. Because we didn’t get a breakthrough from Hooper last night, we’re going to have to do it the hard way. There are still three murders and one attempted murder to solve. I doubt we’ll do it today or this week, but do it we will. Now let’s make a start.’

  The group dispersed. Tom and Kris made their way up to Winters, and he jerked his head towards the empty office in the background. ‘Just you,’ he said to Tom. ‘This doesn’t concern her.’

  ‘She has a name,’ said Tom.

  Winters’ mouth twitched and a flush started forming. He walked off, and Tom followed. By the time they were both in the office, his face had turned from its usual grey to an angry red. Neither of them sat down.

  ‘Look, Morton, we all make mistakes. You left Griffin’s house key behind and you found it later. Problem solved. What in God’s name are you playing at with my exhibits manager?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but someone removed that key from the Exhibits section. It wasn’t me’

  ‘What for? Why on earth would someone want to go round to Griffin’s house?’

  ‘That’s a CIPPS matter, sir.’

  ‘Then you leave me with no choice but to report you for losing evidence.’

  ‘I handed that key back in. If you report me, I’ll have to report the exhibits manager for failing to issue receipts properly.’

  It was stalemate. If Tom followed through with his threat, there could be serious consequences. Anyone charged for these crimes would have Tom’s complaint handed to them in the papers disclosed to the defence. A good barrister would use it to undermine the chain of evidence.

  Winters looked about to explode. ‘On the other hand,’ said Tom, ‘ACC Khan has made it very clear that I have a limited amount of time left in Earlsbury. If we could both sit on this for a few days…’

  ‘Get back to work, Inspector. Oh, and don’t expect to be interviewing Hooper any time soon. He’s only held together with string and stitches.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Tom let out a long, deep breath as he walked back through the MIR. He headed for the canteen and found his hand shaking when he carried his mug of tea to the corner.

  He had given Hayes a job, and told her not to use any of the HOLMES 2 computers to complete it. She was a lot longer than he expected.

  ‘All right, boss?’

  ‘Don’t ask,’ he said. Hayes had enough pain of her own without burdening her with his experiences.

  She frowned at him.

  On the other hand, she had also been shut out by too many people in the past. She deserved more. ‘Get me another tea and I’ll tell you about it.’

  When she returned, he said, ‘You know I’m only here on sufferance. The minute that either Winters or Khan can get rid of me back to London without upsetting the Chief Constable, they’ll come over to Earlsbury Park and pack my bags for me. It was just more of the same. Cheer me up – tell me that you found something.’

  She put a set of printouts on the table and pointed to a couple of places. ‘Your hunch was right, sir. The Earlsbury Park Hotel isn’t part of some multinational chain – or rather, it’s operated by a national hospitality company, but they don’t own the premises. The land and buildings are all owned by an overseas bank. Both the Hotel and the golf club lease their facilities from it.’

  ‘A bank? That’s unusual. I would have expected a property company at least, not a bank.’

  ‘You might be able to dig a bit further into that, but I think the bank took it over a couple of years ago when the developer went bust. I didn’t know where to look in the time I had.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘There is one more thing, though. I found a company called Nineteenth Green Ltd and the directors are Craig Butler, Jack Kirkstone (aka DS Griffin), and a man I’ve never heard of. They receive a facilities fee from the golf club every year – their only client.’

  ‘Good work. I’m going to take a punt on this – let’s go and put the third man’s name into HOLMES 2 and see what pops out.’

  They went through to the MIR and felt the temperature drop by several degrees. The central briefing area had been squeezed by the installation of a bank of specialist equipment on each side of the room. Both sets had a group of detectives and civilians working through CCTV and Automatic Number Plate Recognition data. It looked like a video arcade for grown-ups.

  There were a couple of regular terminals free, and Tom let Hayes put the names into the system. It turned out that the third man was married to Patrick Lynch’s daughter.

  ‘Bring up her details,’ said Tom.

  Holmes 2 isn’t the most advanced system in the world, but it is a lot faster than its predecessor. In a few clicks of the mouse, Tom saw the besuited blond woman who had passed something to the steward at Earlsbury Park. ‘Show me all the members of Lynch’s family.’

  Hayes located some surveillance pictures, and he stopped her. ‘Look – that’s me. Waiting outside the Catholic Church for you.’

  ‘You’d have a long wait, then. What were you doing there?’

  ‘Being nosey – and having my second encounter with Helen. That must be her mother and younger sister going into Mass after Patrick dropped them off.’

  There was one more picture on the system tagged as “Family of Patrick Lynch” – a redheaded teenager with a mixed-race man in dreadlocks and a curvy white woman in a bouffant dress. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Let me see … it’s Hope King. Patrick’s natural daughter and then her mother, Theresa King and Theresa’s older son, James King, the one who plays bass for that singer you’d never heard of.’

  They both stared at the screen. Tom pointed at the image and said, ‘Why has no one said anything in the briefing? Why has no one been pursuing this angle? Patrick Lynch has a teenage daughter by another woman: it happens. But what are the odds that the half-brother ends up dead in a burnt out van? There has to be more to it.’

  ‘I take it you don’t want me to enter anything on to the system, sir?’

  ‘No chance. We’re going back to Earlsbury Park.’

  This time, Tom led them straight through the Hotel and into the Nineteenth Hole, using his warrant card as a shield. They found Butler in his office, and he immediately shot to his feet.

  ‘You can’t come in here without an invitation or a court order,’ he said.

  ‘Wrong,’ said Tom, and passed him the printout from Companies House. ‘They set you up, Craig. They let you use your real name, and hid theirs. I’ve got probable cause to tear this place apart now and see where all the money’s gone.’

  The steward digested the implications of the list of directors and then collapsed into his chair. ‘I had to use my real name,’ he said, throwing the paper on the desk. ‘I needed to prove my earnings to get a mortgage – the money those bastards on the committee pay me is so pathetic, I couldn’t afford a cardboard box.’

  ‘How about a little co-operation,’ said Tom. ‘Give me the original copy of Griffin’s application form to start with, the one in the name of Jack Ki
rkstone. DC Hayes, can you get an evidence bag from the car.’

  The man looked uncertain for a second.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to beat you up while she’s out of the room. As you can see from this black eye, I’m not built for unarmed combat.’

  Hayes left, and Butler gave in. He flicked the incriminating paper back towards Tom and levered himself out of the chair. While he was rooting in a filing cabinet, Tom threw him a casual question.

  ‘While DC Hayes is out of the room, there is one other thing. What did Patrick’s daughter give you on Saturday?’

  Butler’s eyes gave him away again. He looked at one of his desk drawers for a fraction of a second but it was enough. Tom put on some gloves and opened it. Among the menu cards and matchbooks was a mobile phone. Hayes returned with a sheaf of evidence bags, and Tom dropped the phone in one of them. He examined the application form for membership which Butler handed over, and there at the bottom was the name of Griffin’s sponsor: P Lynch (Honorary President).

  ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he said to Butler. ‘And remember, any attempt to destroy evidence such as computer files or legal documents will count as Conspiracy to Pervert the Course of Justice.’

  Back in the car, evidence stowed away, Hayes asked him if he’d seen the photograph of Butler’s family on the desk.

  ‘No, why? Is he married to Lynch’s sister or something.’

  ‘No idea, sir. I just wondered what you were thinking of charging him with.’

  ‘That’s up to your colleagues in MCPS Economic Crimes. When I’m gone from here, they’ll be digging through the records for weeks. Hopefully they’ll find enough for a serious money laundering charge and get him a couple of years.’

  ‘In prison? That’s harsh. I thought you might let him go as he’s co-operated. Even with a suspended sentence, it’ll destroy his family – and he’ll lose his house regardless of whether you try to sequester it.’

  Tom had been about to drive off but he put the car in neutral and turned to Hayes. ‘What did you expect? He’s just as greedy as any drug dealer, and he’s stealing from every honest worker in the country. Does your mother have a job?’