The door opened and Harkins walked into the briefing. He was late for the first time in his career. Anyone else would have had a dig from O’Connor, but he deserved better than that and Macallan waved him into a seat, wondering at the spark now missing from his eyes. His shoulders seemed less square and he looked weary.
‘Mick, I’d like you to make an approach to the owner of the house and, if he’s agreeable, get two or three guys who can handle themselves into the place as a reception party. We’ll have to get them from the locals, and we don’t want any of our surveillance guys involved. What do you think?’
Harkins pulled himself up and got into gear. ‘I’ll take care of the owner and see what we can do. There’s a few bears who work locally and one’s an ex-marine who’d be a fair match for Billy Drew.’
There was no sense of drag or tiredness, and as the day moved on the pieces fell into place. A young probationer called Jimmy Lee, whose parents had come from Hong Kong, had jumped at the chance to work with the MCT as liaison, and Harkins smiled at the raw enthusiasm he saw in the boy. He must have had that at some point; he just couldn’t remember it now.
Despite their fears that the owner of the house might have been shy about allowing a reception committee into his home, it was quite the reverse. The Chinese community in Scotland was close, and they knew all about the murders in Glasgow. Although the man hadn’t been told that it might be the same group involved, he had worked hard to be a success and despised the type of people who would invade someone else’s home. He was a widower, his children grown and flown the nest, and over the years he’d served hundreds of his meals to night-shift policemen, meaning he’d lost the traditional suspicion his ancestors had held about government officials, and particularly the police.
The likelihood was that Billy Drew was planning a break-in while the owner was in the casino – but they’d protect him in either case.
21
In the early afternoon Frank Drew drove the car they’d stolen back into the city as the sleet beat down and parked it behind some garages near his flat. Although the two surveillance officers didn’t pay attention to the car going in, they saw Drew emerge from the garage area and that was enough to ring the alarm.
When he left his front door about an hour later and headed to the bookies, Macallan asked for the garage area to be checked. Anyone watching would have seen a messed-up alky shuffling round the garages looking for a place to piss – and nothing unusual in that. The surveillance officer took a slug at the can of Carlsberg and memorised the number of the VW. Frank Drew had been told to park it well away from the area, somewhere safe, but he’d fucked up again and Macallan did a quiet ‘thank you, God’ when the wheels were confirmed as stolen.
‘We can’t let them get too far from us,’ she’d told the surveillance and arrest teams during the operational briefing. ‘So once they’re in the stolen car we’ll go in as close as we can and hope this is the night.’
As Macallan checked the time around 9 p.m., the calls came in from the surveillance officers that Frank Drew had driven off in the stolen car. This was followed by calls that Colin Jack and Billy Drew had been seen getting into it. The surveillance team moved out behind them but kept their distance, and they all willed Frank Drew to drive safely to the reception party.
They followed the stolen car to the dark, peaceful streets of the conservation area known as the Grange and its stone-built, late-Victorian homes. Macallan gave the order to let Drew and his team run in the area and a dozen cars closed off the surrounding streets.
Billy Drew got out of the car and nodded to his brother and Jack. The plan this time was to break in knowing the owner would be away till the early hours.
‘I’ll watch it for an hour and give you the call to come in,’ he told them, before walking across the deserted street and then climbing over a dividing wall at the back of the darkened house. On the other side of the wall he waited for a couple of minutes without making the slightest move, then he slipped into a shrub border and settled down again to watch and listen. His army training and discipline had never left him, and he took care before a job. He waited until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, then watched and listened for anything that might alert him to a problem or a neighbour’s dog taking an interest.
In a darkened bedroom on the second floor of the house the police team waited, their tension rising as they realised the man they wanted was close. Ex-marine Steve John was one of them, and like Billy Drew, he had never forgotten his training. He’d barely moved a muscle since getting in place, though the other officers shifted impatiently in other parts of the house. He whispered into his head mic: ‘Target one is in the garden and not moving. No sign of the other two.’
Macallan was in a car half a mile away and had been here before. ‘Patience. Just give Billy and his boys time to do their job.’
They did need patience – Billy Drew sat still for fifty minutes before he called Jack to give him the all-clear and tell him to climb over the wall so they could get started.
John watched the dark shapes struggle over the wall as Billy Drew moved out of concealment. He moved down to the ground floor so he could be part of the reception committee, relayed the information, and Macallan gave the order for the arrest teams to move in close. There was no alarm, and as Jack got to work on the window, a dozen officers moved in on three sides of the house, and the street either side of the stolen car was blocked.
Billy Drew went in first and all hell broke loose. Jack couldn’t make sense of it and froze, but Frank Drew had no problems in deciding to get the fuck out of there. Jack looked round, trying to decide whether to go in the window and risk whatever was in the dark and definitely giving Billy a hard time. When he saw the bodies coming at him from all sides, though, he realised it was time to put his hands up. Frank Drew got over the wall like an Olympic jumper and tried to run but was pulled down by a police dog named Captain who ripped into his calf muscle. Billy Drew had tried to put up a fight inside the house, but he’d realised he wasn’t as sharp as he used to be because whoever had hit him had known exactly what they were doing – the first blow was a winner, and it wasn’t much of a struggle after that.
Macallan ran her hands through her hair and punched the air. The first part of the job was done. She left her team to clear up at the house and headed for the squad room to get the next part of the operation moving.
As she headed back to HQ she was struggling to clear her mind and missed a red light. Then, when she tried to turn left, she just managed to miss a Mercedes who had the right of way. She banged the steering wheel in frustration and decided to take a minute, pull in and take a few deep breaths.
The driver of the Merc cursed. ‘Fucking woman driver.’ But he had more important business that night and headed on towards Leith to take his next step. He felt on fire and looked forward to the night ahead.
22
O’Connor was with Harkins when the news crackled across the airwaves that the arrests had been made. He smiled at Harkins and slapped the table. ‘Nice one. Now if we can get something to tie them to the murders in Glasgow, we’re off to a flyer.’
Harkins didn’t give a fuck about the executive floor, but this was a good result, although still only a partial one. They would need a break to put them away for a lifer. ‘I’d like to have seen the face on Billy Drew when he broke into that house and met Steve Jones. Grace has done a great job; I take my hat off to her.’
O’Connor nodded at that one. She was turning into the lynchpin of the MCT, and he had no problem with that if she could bring the results in. He knew that as head of the team, good results reflected on him first as far as the chief’s office and, just as importantly, the press were concerned. If she could nail the murder charges then any lingering doubts in people’s minds after Belfast would be just what they were – history.
O’Connor had had doubts about coming back to the force after Germany, where he’d been offered a string of UN jobs that would have h
ad him living in style, but he still had his ambitions about a chief constable’s post. It was what he’d always wanted, and he was young enough that if it didn’t work out, then he still had time to jump back onto the international merry-go-round.
He glanced at the worn face on Harkins and thought, not for the first time, what it would have been like to have taken his path. O’Connor played safe bets, and his eye had always been on his career above all else. He’d had a good start in life with money behind him, and a decent 2:1 from university. Even when he joined the force he’d been planning the road ahead while the other young cops were enjoying the excitement of the streets and partying on their days off. While they’d been dealing with hangovers, he’d been in the books and applying for anything that would add to the CV. The older guys could spot what he was a mile off and had kept him at a distance, just in case he was too honest when they were slightly adjusting the rules. He was good at everything he did but didn’t take risks. That was the problem: there had to be risks taken and that’s where guys like Harkins came in.
O’Connor knew that he would never have the legendary status among the troops that Harkins did, but at the end of the day, someone had to sit in his chair and someone had to sit in Mick’s. He tried not to dwell on it, but there were times when he would have loved to have been that man and have the old cops trading stories about how he’d gone face-to-face with the bad guys and pissed on their shoes. However, looking across at Harkins again, he reassured himself that there would have been too high a price to pay.
‘You look shagged out,’ O’Connor said to him. ‘You okay?’
Harkins manufactured a laugh. ‘All good – counting the days to retirement and just want to see Billy D off to the pokey.’
They both knew that was shite, but there were more important things to think about, and Harkins shifted the conversation back to the job in hand. ‘I’m going to get the warrants – we’ll get teams organised to search their homes and full forensics. We’ve told Strathclyde and they’ll send someone through, but at the moment they’re still going through all the possibles on their side of the country. Trouble with the Weegies is that they think they have all the violent psychopaths instead of just most of them.’
O’Connor nodded, then headed back to his office and poured some of his own coffee, having given up on the canteen muck a long time ago. He’d been worried that coming back to the daily grind of a force would have been too much reality, too hard to deal with again, but the world had changed in his time away, and the criminals were getting bigger and better everywhere. The movement of people meant that exotic gangs, which in other times wouldn’t have moved out of London, were all across the country. Yardies, Balkan gangs and Triads were competing with the locals, and it would keep Her Majesty’s Constabularies in work for a long, hard time. The force had changed, and it just about matched his ambitions, although he was impatient to get where he wanted to go.
His thoughts wandered to Grace Macallan. It was unusual for O’Connor to take too deep an interest in anyone, but she did it for him. It worried him slightly, and he wanted to take time and consider all the options before making a decision that he might regret. He was intrigued by her complications. An attractive woman, with eyes that could laser through metal, and a complete lack of pretence. She was what she was. When he looked at her service history, he felt the same pangs that Harkins generated in him. She had a stunning record, working in one of the most dangerous police environments in the world, and had been face-to-face with men who’d cut your throat for swearing an oath to the Queen. He’d had relationships with women but always outside the job and found it easy to knock back the occasional offer inside the job, which helped stoke the rumours about his sexuality. He was conflicted by Macallan, found her wonderfully attractive but worried she might be a threat down the line.
His desk phone rang – it was Harkins telling him that Billy Drew and his team were ready for interview, and the search teams were on their way to take their places apart.
Macallan walked into the cramped interview room with Harkins and had her first look at the real Billy Drew. She thought he was impressive, in good shape – his eyes were sharp, clear, and he was calm. She knew this was likely to go nowhere, but she wanted to meet the man and introduced herself. He wasn’t impressed.
‘Look, I’ll give you my name and address even though you already have that, and apart from that fuck all. Just get me locked up and I’ll take my chances in court.’
Macallan didn’t want to ask questions about the murders because they had nothing to go on, but she at least wanted him to know they were thinking about it. They would plant a seed and let it germinate. She let Harkins take the pleasure of that one.
Harkins looked straight into Drew’s eyes. ‘We’ve got Colin and your pissed-up brother. I reckon Colin will hold but what the fuck were you thinking taking Frank on your team? You’re getting old, Billy.’
Billy Drew decided he would speak after all. ‘Mr Harkins, you might not have noticed but we’re both getting old – and you look a bit further down the line than me. Time was you would have planted the evidence and game over, but I guess that’s not allowed now. Fuck me, you trail in here with a woman for a boss and try and take the piss. Fuck off back to the bar, Harkins, and drink yourself to death. From what I hear that’s what you’re doing anyway.’
The two men stared across the table at each other and declared a draw.
Macallan cut through the testosterone filling the room. ‘Okay, Billy, we’ll be back after we see Colin and Frank. Search teams will turn over your places and then we’ll see. There’s a chance that the boys from the Glasgow murder squad will want to talk to you again.’
Drew looked at Macallan and didn’t like what he saw. He didn’t understand her. He understood Harkins but he just didn’t like her. She looked too fucking smart to be a cop.
The interviews were a frustrating struggle. Colin Jack played the same game as Billy, and Frank managed to hang on without making any kind of admission. He was on the verge, but fear of his brother and what they faced meant he’d held his nerve.
Late into the night Harkins, O’Connor and Macallan sat down together and tried to find a positive. O’Connor had lost a bit of spring – getting Billy’s team for a break-in would be a result but not a headline. It looked like they could tie some other jobs to them on circumstantial, but that was it.
O’Connor tried to lift the mood. ‘What do you think, Mick? Is there any chance of an admission to anything?’
‘Not a chance – Frank is holding the line. It wouldn’t take much to break him, but at the moment there’s no lever apart from the stolen car and the break-in. They’re even denying the stolen car so we need a break.’ It was the same old story with the real villains. You could catch them with their hand wrist deep in the till and they’d deny even being in the shop – it was the game
Macallan’s mobile trembled. It was the lead officer in the forensic team so she apologised to O’Connor, stepped outside and took the call.
Harkins leaned on the table and felt the weight pressing down on his shoulders. Billy Drew had touched an open nerve. ‘Years ago I would have wrapped them up, evidence or not. I fucking hate seeing them walk away time after time. They need the shit knocked out of them.’
‘Leave it. Those days are gone so leave it and don’t talk like that outside this room. What the fuck is wrong with you?’
It was unusual for O’Connor to curse and it added to Harkins’ bad mood.
The door opened and Macallan walked in.
‘Forensics have been to Frank Drew’s house and guess what? He’s an old barbecue drum in the back garden. They’ve recovered part of a balaclava and a boiler suit. He’s fucked up. Apparently there are hairs on the mask. We just got that bit of luck, Mick.’
Harkins spoke for all of them. ‘Fuck me pink.’
23
Macallan was sitting in her office, pretending to concentrate but praying to a god she didn’t bel
ieve in for the break they needed, when the Senior Forensic Officer walked in. ‘Sit down, please, but let me get Mr O’Connor through.’
O’Connor and Macallan listened to the scientist without interrupting. They didn’t need to.
‘Basically the part of the balaclava we recovered had human hairs, and we’re still running tests, but they’re almost certainly Billy Drew’s. Now that proves nothing, but there’s DNA on the front part and it’s from Mr Yip and we believe it’s saliva.’
Macallan and O’Connor shared a look then O’Connor picked up the phone to get Harkins in the room as the Senior Forensic Officer continued: ‘On part of the boiler suit we’ve recovered we’ve sprayed blood patterns and they’re from both victims. No doubt about it. Inside the suit we have DNA from Billy Drew. We think that Frank Drew burned the majority of the kit, but the rain did us a favour and at some stage he probably lost interest in the fire and didn’t finish the job.’
Harkins entered the room.
‘Sit down, Mick – I want you to hear this.’
The SFO repeated her account then left the room, and it was O’Connor who broke the silence: ‘What do you think?’
Harkins was the first to answer. ‘I think Billy Drew is fucked. Can I be the first to tell him? I should add: God bless Frank Drew.’
‘I think I can go with that. Grace, get the work done, and then let the team know the drinks are on me.’
He looked at Macallan longer than required, and they asked each other questions without saying a word.
24
Billy Drew was seething, but he didn’t let it show when Harkins dropped the forensic evidence on him. He was even more pissed off that the only forensic evidence belonged to him. Frank had burned Colin’s gear and his own before leaving Billy’s stuff for the pigs. He swore that if he got near Frank, he’d forget he was his brother and do the world a favour.
Cause of Death Page 11