If Fear Wins

by Tony J. Forder

  Chandler’s mouth yawned wide and round as she exhaled a long gasp. To Bliss she sounded just like Darth Vader. ‘Emily Grant?! Emily Grant is staying with you?’

  ‘Actually, no,’ he said, pushing the car through a tight gap to make headway on the dual-carriageway. ‘Emily Curtis.’

  ‘She’s married? The Bone Woman is married and she’s staying with you? Well, slow the hell down, Jimmy, because before we get out of this car you’re going to tell me everything.’

  Which was exactly what Bliss did. More or less. He revealed how Emily had come to him and why, explained that he was helping her out, and that he had offered her a place to stay in response to her shock at having been burgled. He omitted any reference to the man from MI6, Simon Curtis’s cover story, or having received help from Nick Preston from Tech-Ops. He both told the truth and lied because Chandler was his best friend.

  ‘If you need any help, all you have to do is say the word,’ Chandler said when he was done.

  He had known that offer would come. Hence the lies. No way he was going to involve Chandler in the unsavoury mess the man from MI6 had revealed. When it was all over he would take her to one side and admit his mendacity. Until then, that was a world she did not need introducing to.

  ‘So how does it feel having the Bone Woman back in your life?’ Chandler asked, clearly ridiculously pleased for him.

  ‘It’s not like we’re dating. She’s been widowed for a fortnight. She is in mourning. She thought her husband had committed suicide and now may have to face the fact that he was murdered. I’m not at all sure which of those two possibilities is the easier to deal with. Plus, now someone has broken into her home and trashed the place. It’s not exactly the happy reunion you seem to think it might be, Pen.’

  Chandler closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Sorry, Jimmy,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I don’t know where my head is. She must be in a right state. Would it help if I popped in to see her? Bit of female support?’

  ‘Thanks. I suspect she’ll be going back home tomorrow anyway, but I’m sure she’ll be really happy to see you again at some point. Let’s just give her some time to adjust.’

  Bliss had no intention of allowing the two to get together yet. He wanted distance between him and Six first, to ensure that he and Emily were both in the clear and that MI6 no longer had any business with either of them, before introducing a third person into the mix.

  ‘I guess it must be a bit awkward for you two,’ Chandler said.

  He nodded. ‘You don’t know the half of it, Pen.’

  Essex police station in Grays was a grim-looking building, four storeys high and straight out of the Eastern bloc architectural manual. It occupied a rectangle of land squashed between tiny two up-two down houses built for dockers before the war. The Tilbury station had been closed down early in 2016, and much of the overspill of officers was subsequently mopped up by Grays. Its dour edifice gave Bliss the chills as they pulled into the car park. He felt as if he had turned a corner and in doing so had somehow driven into cold-war eastern Germany. By the time they arrived, Bird had already been interviewed three times. Sitting alongside his brief he ‘no commented’ through every single question put to him.

  ‘Smiling all the while,’ Pursey told them.

  They sat in the DI’s office, introductions out of the way, the focus firmly on the task at hand. The room was about the same size as the one Bliss used back at Thorpe Wood, but its decay was even more pronounced. There was a damp stain on the ceiling tiles, with dark smudges of what looked to be mould. The metal window frames were more rust than paint, and cobwebs gathered in every corner where the walls met the ceiling. The kind of office that kept its occupier out on the streets knocking down doors.

  ‘I don’t see him using a different tactic with you, Bliss,’ the big man said. ‘Sorry, but it looks like you’ve both had a wasted journey.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Bliss had known it might go that way, but felt he had to at least try.

  Pursey shrugged. ‘It’s your time to waste.’

  ‘Okay, so tell me a bit more about him. I guess I had moved up to Bedford before he hit the scene, so I’m not familiar with him.’

  The DI wrinkled his nose. ‘Darren Bird came out of nowhere, really. His family are not crooks as far as we can tell. He has a brother who doesn’t appear to be in the game, either. Born and raised in Enfield, north London, he moved out to Essex about ten years ago. He describes himself as an “entrepreneur”, if you can believe that. He does have a lot of businesses, but they’re all a front for his real income stream. Sad thing is, Bird would be a rich man if he just stuck to the legit, because everything he touches turns to fifty-pound notes. For whatever reason, however, be it greed, power, or the thought of being a face, Bird went into the drug racket.’

  ‘And this is the closest you’ve been to nailing him?’

  ‘It is. Not that we will this time, either. He’s a ruthless prick, and his crew are justifiably terrified of him.’

  ‘No weaknesses?’

  ‘None that we’ve had any joy with.’

  ‘Kids?’

  ‘Two. Girls he dotes on apparently.’

  Bliss glanced across at his partner and said, ‘Let’s go and introduce ourselves to this piece of shit, shall we?’

  Bliss ran the interview in the smaller of the specialist rooms. He liked these occasions to be intimate, providing the suspect with an insight into what their life might be like in the months and years to come if they were sent down. The room was every bit as grim as Pursey’s office, only colder and even more bleak.

  Darren Bird was a bit of a disappointment to Bliss. No more than average height, balding, overweight, dressed more like a homeless man than the millionaire he had to be. The villain was unimposing and unappealing in a grey sweatshirt bearing the Lonsdale logo and matching jogging bottoms. Even his training shoes were third-rate knock-offs by the look of them. Bird regarded him and Chandler with thinly-veiled interest as they entered the room, no doubt intrigued by the presence of two fresh faces. But the contempt remained plastered across the man’s corpulent face. They might not be locals, but cops were cops.

  ‘I’m here to speak with you about Duncan Livingston, Mr Bird,’ was how Bliss decided to begin the interview itself, having got all of the legal requirements and formalities out of the way.

  Bird’s mouth opened and his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, about to offer the standard response. But then the lips flattened and his eyes sparked. ‘And who the fuck might that be?’

  ‘Darren!’ the man’s solicitor said in a warning tone.

  Bird waved him off. ‘No, I’m interested to find out where this is going. It’s a nice change of pace after all that guff about stolen gear and a shot dead cop. So who is this Duncan geezer?’ He jerked his head in Bliss’s direction.

  ‘Mr Bird, are you telling us you don’t know Mr Livingston?’

  ‘No comment.’ Bird leaned across the table that stood between them, its metal feet bolted to the cement floor. The room existed for one purpose only, and its furnishings were austere and unwelcoming. ‘Listen, you want something from me then don’t ask me anything that might come back to bite me on the arse. I know how it goes with you people. I tell you I don’t know him and you later show me a photo of me asking him for directions or some old bollocks like that, and then I’m in schtuk. You’ll need to do better than that, I’m afraid.’

  Bliss agreed. ‘All right. I’m happy if we settle on discussing things you know about. Things you have knowledge of. Thanks for the guideline. So, are you able to tell me whether Mr Livingston is a client of yours?’

  Bird considered the question. ‘Not to my knowledge. To my knowledge I have never heard that name before. Why d’you ask? Is he saying otherwise?’

  That question alone was enough to convince Bliss of the man’s innocence. At least as far as the RAF officer was concerned. That and the way it was asked. It was unrehearsed, entirely convincing. Because it was genuine
. If Bird had ever had any dealings with the airman, he’d done so unaware of the man’s real identity.

  ‘How about if I told you he was an RAF officer. Would that jog your memory?’

  ‘No. I told you, the name means nothing to me.’ Bird smirked. ‘To my knowledge.’

  ‘Okay. How about any RAF officer? Know any of those, Mr Bird?’

  Creases deepened on Bird’s forehead. He stared down at the table for a few seconds, before eventually nodding. ‘Ronnie Ward,’ he said, wagging his finger. ‘Diamond geezer.’

  ‘What, he fenced or stole them?’ Chandler asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The diamonds.’

  Bird threw back his head and laughed. He coughed and spluttered his way through it for a long ten seconds, his sloping shoulders heaving. When he was done he looked at Bliss and shook his meaty head. ‘She’s precious, ain’t she? Where the fuck d’you get this one from?’

  Bliss leaned across and whispered in Chandler’s ear. ‘He meant this Ward character is a good bloke, not that he had anything to do with actual diamonds.’

  Chandler rolled her eyes, gave a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Of course. Sorry, Mr Bird. My mistake. So this RAF officer, Ronnie Ward, whereabouts is he stationed?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ Bird replied. ‘At least, I wouldn’t have thought so. He’s all of eighty.’

  Bliss searched hard for deception, but once again came up empty. It seemed as if Bird was giving a genuine answer to the original question. There was no RAF link here, either. Now he became concerned about the motives of the man from MI6. Bliss could not fathom why he would have provided the names of DI Pursey and Darren Bird if there was no connection between either and the murdered airman. It made no sense.

  ‘Ever do business in Peterborough?’ Bliss asked, trying a different tack.

  The eyes did it every time. They gave a person away. A moment of deflection, a glance in a different direction, a narrowing of the gaze. Something. A tell. And Bird’s had just told Bliss his question this time had struck a chord. The lengthy pause caused Bliss to suspect Bird would decline to comment once more. Only for the suspect to surprise him.

  ‘Probably. I sell motors, run kennels, I have shops. I do business with people from all over the place.’

  ‘But I’m asking about Peterborough specifically.’

  ‘Bound to be one or two, I suppose.’

  ‘And their names? You remember who these one or two business contacts are, Mr Bird?’

  ‘And now I’m saying… no comment.’ Bird grinned, sat back and crossed his arms.

  Bliss regarded him thoughtfully. There was more than one way to obtain the truth. It came in many forms, often as much from what people did not say as what they did. Bird had been willing to open up a little when there was nothing to lose by doing so. On what must have felt like safe ground. But as soon as the conversation touched on something sketchy, he clammed right up again. That was enough to renew Bliss’s interest. He believed the man when he said he did not know Duncan Livingston, nor anyone else from the RAF base. But there was something about Peterborough that caused the Essex-based gangster to wind his neck back in like a turtle.

  Bliss went back at him. ‘You provide me with a lead I can take back to my bosses, and I will see what I can do about some of the charges you face down here.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You’re really not helping yourself, Mr Bird,’ Chandler said. ‘Use your nut. You give up some minor dealer in our little city, you receive consideration when this lot down here in Essex charge you.’

  ‘No comment.’ Bird stared straight ahead.

  ‘And we were led to believe you were one of the county’s brighter villains. If that’s the case, the rest of them must be complete morons.’

  ‘Was there a question in there somewhere?’ This time Bird switched his attention to Chandler, sneering at her.

  ‘No,’ Bliss said. ‘But here’s one. See, part of me understands why you would handle stolen goods. Sure, a bloke like you isn’t going to care about the men and women your business harms, but I can see that to a complete numbskull it would feel like a relatively harmless way of earning a crust. The drugs, though… they’re a different matter altogether. You know what a life of misery you’re selling. People steal for it, people fight for it, people even kill for it. And you can’t ignore your role in that. So here’s my question, Bird: why? Why buy and sell drugs? And here’s another question while I’m at it: what do you imagine your own daughters will think of you when they learn what their father does for a living? And how will you feel if one or maybe even both of them end up junkies hooking for their next fix?’

  Bird’s face hardened. His eyes blazed. ‘Don’t you dare bring my girls into this,’ he said, his lips barely moving.

  ‘That is an outrageous thing to say,’ Bird’s solicitor said, slapping his hand on the table.

  Bliss ignored him, keeping his focus on Bird. ‘You bloody hypocrite. It’s perfectly fine for you to sell drugs that make criminals, whores and zombies out of other people’s kids, but your little princesses can’t be burdened by knowing the truth about dear old dad.’

  He leaned across the table and fixed the man with a spiteful glare, stabbing a finger at him. ‘Well let me make it abundantly clear to you, Bird, that’s precisely what will happen. Irrespective of whether you walk out of here or get carted off to prison, your daughters will come to know about every sordid thing you ever did.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ the solicitor cried, getting to his feet. ‘I will call a halt to this interview right now if this harassment of my client continues.’

  The client in question remained seated. Bliss could almost hear the man’s teeth grinding together. After a moment of complete silence, Bird said, ‘You ever threaten my family again and I will do everything in my power to make you pay.’

  ‘Darren, that’s enough,’ his solicitor said, placing a hand on Bird’s arm.

  The gangster shook it off. His eyes had become slits, coal-black pinholes in the centre of each. ‘You hear me? There is nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.’

  Bliss nodded, smiling. He lowered his head a little, moving it closer to Bird. ‘And there is nowhere your family can go where they will not find out what you are. That’s my promise, Bird.’

  Aware of his partner’s stunned silence, Bliss knew he needed to leave before his temper got the better of him. He also realised that Bird would give up nothing further on the subject of his contacts, so saw little reason to stay. After a brief exchange with Chandler, he took one final look at Darren Bird before killing the interview.

  ‘Told you it was a waste of time,’ Pursey said as Bliss and Chandler exited the room. The Essex DI had been leaning back against the shiny pale green corridor wall, but indicated they should join him as he made his way back towards his office. The corridors inside the gloomy building were wide, but poorly lit. Everything that happened inside it seemed to echo throughout its entire structure. ‘You got fuck all from him.’

  ‘Quite the contrary,’ Bliss said. ‘You were watching the interview?’

  ‘Yeah. From the media room two doors down. Came out to wait for you when I saw it was just about over. Didn’t seem to me as if he gave up a single thing of note. But, I have to hand it to you, I admire the way you went at him towards the end. He did not like that one little bit. First time I’ve seen him shaken up, so hats off to you.’

  ‘Well, he might not have said much, but what he did tell me was that he had nothing to do with our murdered RAF officer, but also that he does have a connection in Peterborough who did.’

  Pursey stopped walking and turned to face Bliss. He blinked a couple of times and pointed back towards the interview room. ‘I watched that entire interview and he said no such thing.’

  ‘But he did. His eyes told me some of it, the rest was in both what he did say and what he failed to say. The truth sat somewhere between the lines.’

  Pursey glanced at Chand
ler. ‘Is he winding me up?’

  Chandler laughed. ‘Not at all. I saw and heard what you saw and heard, but DI Bliss was in another room with another suspect entirely, I think.’

  ‘I’m not saying he told me who it was,’ Bliss said. ‘Nor that he admitted anything we can ever use against him. But there were things he was comfortable with because he genuinely had no knowledge of the matter, and things that caused him to shut up shop because it came too close to home. He was telling the truth about our dead airman and the RAF connection, but the shift to Peterborough itself unnerved him.’

  ‘You really went at him there, boss,’ Chandler said. The way she peered at him made Bliss feel as if he were being analysed.

  ‘I wanted to ruffle a few of that smug bastard’s feathers. I want him to think about what I said to him, and how his girls will regard him when they know what kind of man he really is. I wanted him to think of the crack whores his product creates when he looks at his own children. Until then it was all about business. I wanted him to feel it at a human level.’

  ‘You did that all right. Makes you wonder how much his wife knows.’

  Bliss started to walk ahead but then he himself came to a standstill. He turned to face Pursey and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. ‘When we came though earlier to the interview rooms you said that bleached blonde in the waiting area was Bird’s wife, yes?’

  ‘Yeah. Stacey.’

  Bliss dipped his head, staring at the tiled floor but seeing a whole reel of images flash through his mind. He looked at Chandler. It was Sunday so she was casual in blue jeans, pale lemon sweater and a brown leather jacket. Ideal for what he had in mind.

  ‘You got makeup with you?’ he asked.

  Chandler turned her shoulder to indicate her bag.

  ‘Good. Slip off somewhere, put on a bit of slap, tie your hair up into a pony-tail or a tight bun would be even better. I want you to get friendly with Mrs Bird.’

  ‘You want me to… Jimmy, what mad plan have you got for me now?’

  Bliss smiled, took Chandler by the arm, led her out of view of anyone in the waiting area and told her exactly what he had in mind.