He walked around for a while, always alert, then stood with his back against the fence and watched. Prisoners chatted, laughed together. No one even looked at him. No mates, no one willing to speak to him. He was tainted. It never bothered his friends outside, because they knew they could trust him. In here, though… Maybe they thought he was a grass. Maybe they expected him to go running to his sister with information, try to get a few years knocked off his sentence. Fat chance. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Liv. Wouldn’t do much for her precious career, having him around. Her dead-beat, drug-dealing jailbird brother.
Jackson pushed away from the fence as one of the screws yelled at them to line up. Back to their cells, kicking their heels until feed time. He closed his eyes, just for a second. How would he cope? How would he stand it? He’d never tried his own merchandise, hadn’t even smoked for years. Now, though… now, he could see the temptation. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance of a few minutes’ oblivion?
As they made their way back down the corridor, the kid was at his side once more. Jackson turned his head, opened his mouth. Didn’t get the chance to speak before the kid rammed a shiv into his throat, moving so quickly no one saw it happen. If Jackson hadn’t felt the blade pierce his skin, he wouldn’t have believed it possible. He fell to the ground, his vision already dimming, shouts erupting all around him. The last thing he saw was the face of one of the screws, lurching and swimming before his eyes.
17
Ian Penrith’s office was warm, the press of too many bodies in the small space stifling.
Penrith sat behind his desk, hands folded over his gut. As Caelan squeezed through the door, he picked up a grubby coffee mug and peered into it.
‘Not sure how long this had been here, but the mould’s growing mould.’ He looked at her, grinning. ‘Will you get someone to send some in?’
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Who am I supposed to ask?’
‘Isn’t your faithful assistant with you?’
‘If you mean Ewan Davies, you know he isn’t.’
He nodded. ‘Not yet, anyway. He’s on his way here.’
‘He told me you were having a meeting.’
Penrith picked up the phone on his desk, murmured into it. Caelan heard biscuits mentioned. He replaced the receiver. ‘Perhaps my new office will have a coffee machine. Of course Davies told you. Confidantes, aren’t you?’
Caelan ignored him, moving to stand with her back against the wall. She glanced around the room, seeing who else had been summoned here.
Nicky Sturgess and Richard Adamson sat in the two chairs in front of Penrith’s desk, their backs to Caelan. Richard turned his head, offered a smile of greeting, but Nicky didn’t move. To their left, Tim Achebe stood with his arms folded, staring at the floor. Beside him, Jen Somerfield frowned at her phone. Caelan stepped over to them.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked Somerville in an undertone. Somerville slid the phone into her jacket pocket.
‘You don’t know?’
‘I was told to come over here for a briefing. I wasn’t given a reason.’
Somerville’s face twisted. Achebe uncrossed his arms, ran a hand over his mouth.
‘There’s an issue.’
Caelan snorted. ‘Isn’t there always?’
‘Well, this is a little more than a run-of-the-mill problem.’ Penrith straightened his cuffs. Caelan stared at him. How had he overheard what they had said?
A uniformed officer appeared in the doorway with a tray of coffee cups, and Penrith beamed at him. ‘On the desk here. Thank you, Constable.’ He watched the door close before speaking again. ‘Jackson Hobbs is dead.’
Caelan blinked, her mind scrambling to take in what she was hearing. ‘DI Hobbs’s brother? But isn’t he—’
‘In prison? He is, or at least he was.’ Penrith nodded. ‘Someone stuck a home-made knife into his throat. Knew just where to aim to kill him quickly. Hobbs bled out before they could get an ambulance to him.’
‘Who did it?’
Penrith spread his hands. ‘The investigation’s ongoing.’
‘You mean they don’t know? He was killed in prison, and they don’t know who it was?’
‘I didn’t say that. You know how understaffed these places are. There was probably one prison officer supervising a hundred men.’ Penrith reached for a mug of coffee from the tray. ‘Help yourselves. It’ll be awful, but you might as well.’
Caelan looked at Achebe, at Somerville. Both were solemn-faced, watching Penrith, who was already happily slurping coffee. ‘Has DI Hobbs been informed?’
Achebe licked his lips. ‘Yes. We went to speak to her as soon as we heard.’
‘How is she?’ As Caelan asked the question, she saw Nicky’s shoulders stiffen, though she didn’t speak. She still hadn’t acknowledged Caelan’s presence in the room.
‘She was quiet, calm.’ Jen Somerville cleared her throat. ‘But as we were leaving…’
She paused, bowed her head. Achebe looked at her.
‘She made that sound,’ he said. ‘You’ll all have heard it, when you’ve given terrible news. It’s involuntary. Moaning, keening… I don’t know how to describe it.’
‘You don’t need to.’ Assistant Commissioner Elizabeth Beckett stood in the doorway, wearing a dark suit and a scowl.
‘More coffee.’ Penrith reached for his phone again.
‘Don’t trouble yourself, Ian.’ Beckett strode into the room and stood by his desk. Richard Adamson scrambled out of his seat.
‘Sit down, ma’am, please.’
Beckett waved him away. ‘Thank you, Richard, but I’m not staying, I have a meeting upstairs.’ She gave Penrith a hard glare. ‘I need an update.’
Unperturbed, he leaned back in his chair, which gave an ominous creak. ‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘What do you want to know? We’ve a dead drugs baron, a dead police officer, a dead user. Three undercover officers nosing around, nothing yet to show for their efforts.’
Beckett exhaled. ‘And Frankie Hamilton?’
‘Caelan spent last night cosying up to him, didn’t you?’
Caelan stood up straight as Beckett’s gaze landed on her. ‘Ma’am.’
‘What did you discover?’
‘It was more what happened afterwards.’ She explained about the attack on her, the warning she had been given. Beckett’s face flushed.
‘And you didn’t think to report this immediately?’
‘I did, ma’am.’ Caelan spoke calmly, though Beckett’s manner was beginning to grate.
‘Did you? To whom?’
‘To me.’ Penrith reached his arms above his head and stretched. ‘I sent you an email detailing what happened late last night.’
Beckett was unapologetic. ‘I haven’t seen it yet.’ She frowned, pursed her lips. ‘Did these men suspect you were anything other than Frankie Hamilton’s new girlfriend?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Caelan said.
‘You said you fought them off?’
‘Not exactly. I was grabbed from behind, so I freed myself.’
‘How?’
‘I broke his hold, then hit him in the balls.’
‘That was all?’
‘The second bloke didn’t touch me.’
‘Can’t blame him really,’ said Penrith.
‘So, you used basic self-defence?’
‘Yes.’
‘It could still raise eyebrows.’ Nicky spoke for the first time. She looked at Beckett, not Caelan. ‘I don’t think many civilians could fight off two men.’
Caelan took a breath, told herself not to bite. ‘I didn’t. Anyway, what was I supposed to do? They were dragging me into an alley.’
Nicky said, ‘You should have let them.’
‘Let them? That’s your answer?’ Caelan laughed. ‘I didn’t pull a gun, didn’t break any limbs.’ This time, she added silently, remembering other incidents.
‘Why did you approach Frankie H
amilton in the first place?’ Nicky wasn’t going to let it lie. ‘Our brief was to observe him, not become best friends with him.’
Again, Caelan forced herself to speak calmly. ‘I knew you and Richard were there watching. I thought approaching him directly was worth a try.’
‘You could have compromised the operation.’ Nicky finally turned in her seat to look Caelan in the eye.
‘But I didn’t.’ Caelan stared back, unflinching. She had done nothing wrong, and for Nicky to suggest she had was unfair.
Nicky snorted. ‘As far as we know.’
‘But what did we learn from your actions, Caelan?’ Beckett wanted to know. ‘These men said they wanted to talk to you.’
‘To pass a message on to Frankie Hamilton. They wanted to frighten me so I’d tell him they’d attacked me.’
Beckett pursed her lips, mulling it over. ‘Do you think they were in the car that drove at Hamilton?’
‘I’d say it’s likely, and we also need to consider the link between that and the incident DI Hobbs was involved in,’ said Caelan.
‘Okay. All this suggests we’re right to have been watching Hamilton. He was released from the same prison Jackson Hobbs has just been murdered in.’ Beckett’s eyes swept the room. ‘Did Hobbs and Hamilton know each other?’
Achebe stepped forward. ‘They were on different wings, ma’am. As far as we know, there was no contact between them inside.’
‘And outside? They both lived in Edmonton. Hobbs was a dealer, Hamilton a user. It’s likely their paths would have crossed, isn’t it?’
‘And Liv Hobbs said she was at school with Frankie. Her brother must have been too,’ said Caelan.
‘That’s correct,’ Achebe said. ‘Hamilton was in Liv’s class, Jackson the year below. It doesn’t sound as though they were close at school, and from what we’ve heard, Jackson Hobbs was too big a player in recent years to deal directly with bottom-of-the-pile users like Hamilton. He employed people to sell on the street for him.’
‘Weren’t they arrested when he was?’ Beckett checked her watch.
Achebe nodded. ‘The main men, yes. The footmen we left alone.’
‘Because we wanted to watch them? See who they went to for their next employment opportunity?’
‘Yes.’
Beckett sniffed. ‘Seems to be going well so far. Have we traced the car that drove at Frankie Hamilton? Found the two men Caelan was sparring with?’
‘I wasn’t—’ Caelan began to say. Beckett silenced her with a look.
‘Well?’ Her hands went to her hips, chin jutting. ‘Do we know who these men are? Tim?’
Achebe shuffled his feet. ‘Not yet.’
‘Ian?’
‘I’m leaving it to Tim.’ Penrith finished his coffee, set the mug back on the tray with a clunk. ‘It’s his case.’
‘Which one? The murdered police officer, the tortured informer, or the dead prisoner? You’re supposed to be working on this together.’ Beckett spat the words out.
Penrith raised his eyebrows, smiling. ‘“You’re”, ma’am?’
She looked down her nose at him. ‘We’re. This is showing all the signs of snowballing. We don’t need another disaster. We don’t need any more scandal. We’ve been lucky so far that the press has kept their noses out, but it can’t last. Find these men. Bring Frankie Hamilton in and ask him about Jackson Hobbs. I want another update this evening.’
She turned and marched out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind her. Penrith rubbed his chin as he looked at each of them in turn.
‘Well, Her Majesty has spoken. Better hop to it.’
Achebe said, ‘Jen, will you have Frankie Hamilton brought in and interviewed, please? Nice and friendly for now.’
Caelan said, ‘Won’t it look obvious? I spoke to him last night about Jackson Hobbs, then he’s dragged in for questioning? Can’t I talk to him again first?’
Achebe pursed his lips, considering it.
‘That seems sensible,’ Penrith said. ‘Assistant Commissioner Beckett doesn’t need to know.’
Somerville brushed her hair from her eyes. ‘What about Liv? It doesn’t seem fair to disturb her again.’
‘I know, but we have no choice.’ Achebe was grave. There was a silence, everyone studying the carpet tiles or their shoes.
‘Can we establish a few facts?’ Nicky asked at last. ‘I’m not sure about anyone else, but I’m confused. We’re assuming there’s a link between Ben Rainey’s murder, the death of Anthony Bryce, and now the murder of Jackson Hobbs?’
‘And the deliberate collision involving DI Hobbs, plus Frankie Hamilton almost being run over last night, and the attack on me,’ said Caelan. Nicky narrowed her eyes.
‘We don’t know for sure that DI Hobbs’s car was crashed into deliberately, and you said yourself you weren’t certain if the car meant to hit Hamilton or not.’
‘Okay, and I imagined a bloke grabbing me from behind too, I suppose?’ Again, Caelan fought to keep the anger from her tone. Nicky held up her hands.
‘Not what I’m saying. I’m trying to see what links all these events together, if anything. Why would someone kill Jackson Hobbs? He was in prison, out of the way for the foreseeable future.’
Achebe stepped forward. ‘I’m going to the prison when we’ve finished here. We might find Jackson Hobbs was killed after a dispute with another inmate, or on the orders of a business rival. We believe a new player is moving into Edmonton. Maybe whoever it is thought putting Hobbs out of business permanently was in their best interests.’
‘They must have an idea who killed him. There had to be witnesses, not to mention at least one prisoner covered in blood. What about fingerprints on the knife?’ Caelan said. Achebe exchanged a glance with Penrith.
‘They’re still collecting evidence,’ he said. ‘The entire wing’s been shut down. All the prisoners are locked in their cells, including the suspect. They’re bringing him to South Harrow this afternoon for interview.’
‘Aren’t you going to see him when you visit the prison?’ Caelan asked. It seemed to make sense. ‘Why bother to bring him across London?’
‘Because, as you can imagine, the prison is a pretty volatile place just now – even more so than usual. The prisoners aren’t happy about the prospect of being banged up all day as well as all night. We don’t want a riot on our hands.’ Penrith rubbed his eyes. ‘If this man’s guilty, as it seems certain he is, he’ll be moved anyway. He can’t go back there.’
Richard Adamson spoke up. ‘So who is he?’
‘Aaron Jacob. He’s from Forest Hill, in for GBH,’ Achebe told them.
‘Not close to Edmonton then, or Northolt or Hounslow, where Ben Rainey and Anthony Bryce were from,’ Caelan pointed out.
‘No, but he’s twenty-three, like Rainey and Bryce. They’re all more than ten years younger than Jackson Hobbs.’ Achebe raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know if it’s relevant, but…’
‘What about the possibility that Rainey and Bryce knew each other through church?’ Caelan asked. Somerville shook her head.
‘Dead end. The woman I saw was the pastor at the church for fifteen years before retiring. She remembered Rainey and his family, but not Anthony Bryce. She’d never heard of Jackson Hobbs either.’
Caelan chewed on her bottom lip. It had been a long shot, but worth pursuing. She was beginning to see why the investigation into Ben Rainey’s death had stalled.
A phone rang, and Achebe stepped out into the corridor. Penrith looked at Richard Adamson.
‘How do you feel about serving some jail time, Richard?’
Adamson groaned. ‘I thought we knew who’d killed Jackson Hobbs?’
‘But we don’t know why. We don’t know how he was contacted, or persuaded. You could ask around. You’ve done it before.’
‘Yeah, and I was lucky to get out alive.’
‘Aaron Jacob’s cellmate will be lonely. Maybe he’ll feel like talking. He’s got eighteen years to kill, after
all. I won’t tell you what he’s done.’
Adamson snorted. ‘No, he probably will when he’s stamping on my throat.’
Penrith pointed a chunky finger at him. ‘So you do know him.’
‘Piss off, Ian.’
Penrith laughed, his jowls wobbling. ‘It won’t be for long. We’ll ghost you in, give you forty-eight hours, then bring you out. You’ll barely have time for a shower. Probably a good thing.’
‘What about me?’ asked Nicky. Penrith glanced at her.
‘You’re going back to Edmonton. You and Caelan still have work to do.’
Nicky shot Caelan a look, her expression impossible to read. Frustration? Anger? Both, Caelan decided, as Achebe came back into the room.
‘That was a DC Bailey, from Stoke Newington. You’ve worked with him, Caelan?’
She frowned at him. What now? ‘Yeah, briefly. What did he want?’
Achebe slid his phone into his jacket pocket, took his time replying. ‘You went to a brothel with him? One specialising in underage girls, forced prostitution?’ His disgust was clear in his voice.
Caelan swallowed, seeing the face of the girl, Ardiola, again. ‘I did, and Bailey’s team closed it down.’
‘They found plenty of fingerprints, as you’d expect.’ Achebe’s lips thinned. ‘A match flagged up.’
‘To whom?’ Penrith demanded, as all eyes turned to Achebe.
‘Ben Rainey.’
There was silence. Caelan was stunned for a second. ‘What are you saying?’ she asked.
Achebe lifted his shoulders, let them fall. ‘I don’t know. Either Rainey had a thing for young girls, or…’
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