by M. C. Dutton
Jazz nodded to Ash and said he would meet him in the car, adding that he’d better go check it. Left too long and someone would have nicked the tyres. He wanted a word with Mad Pete alone. When the door had closed and Ash was out of hearing, Jazz turned to Mad Pete and said, ‘I need a favour from you.’ Mad Pete thought he was going to get a bollocking but instead the tone was very sweet. He nodded and waited. ‘I need a contact in the Triad. Someone who will talk to me. Can you help?’
Mad Pete was being asked for his help, not told. This was unusual for Mr Singh. He could have got cocky and played hard to get but there was no point. ‘They ain’t happy with me, Mr Singh, after the last lot with Bam Bam. I’ve steered clear of them since then, just in case.’ He wasn’t too happy to be close to any of them at the moment but if that was what Mr Singh wanted he would do his best to set up a meeting.
Jazz left with the start of a plan that would ultimately end in a revenge killing. That would do nicely, he thought. He smiled at the thought.
The meeting with The Bird Man of Barking was arranged quite quickly and Jazz received a summons to attend his residence in Barking the next afternoon. Jazz knew where it was and he set about instructing Ash to leave all the talking to him and just to look suitably remorseful. Ash wanted to argue that this upstart was a villain; why were they doing all this and pandering to him? Jazz said there were reasons and he’d tell Ash later. For the moment he should shut up and act stupid – which, Jazz muttered, he shouldn’t find too difficult.
CHAPTER TEN
The Bird Man of Barking
The Bird Man of Barking was a law unto himself. He was about sixty-five, 6’3” tall and built like a brick shithouse. He was a one punch and knock out man. No one got up when he hit them. He prided himself that no one could take him on in a one-to-one fight even though he was getting on a bit. Over the years he had learned the techniques of boxing in the East End, in Spinks Boxing Club, but it was the dirty tricks of fighting on the streets of London that had made him fearsome. When he looked at you with his intelligent, steely blue eyes you were on your guard. He was no one’s fool. With one glance he had you sized up, and the warning glint in his eyes made you want to take two steps back.
Jazz and Ash arrived on time and were shown into the lounge. Jazz, usually cocky and smart, felt small and vulnerable. Quietly, he waited for The Bird Man to talk first.
The Bird Man seemed unusually affable. He lived in a very nice house in Barking near the park. It was fairly nondescript on the outside but once inside it was palatial. Crime does pay, thought Jazz as he looked at carpet that was so thick he nearly lost sight of his shoes, and the sort of furniture you only see on the TV. There was flock wallpaper of a different era but it wasn’t Indian Restaurant cheap, it was very fancy and expensive. He asked if he should take his shoes off, this place was far too opulent for his trainers, but the Bird Man said no. He told them to follow him out into the backyard.
The garden was big and immaculately laid out. At the side was a huge brick shed, covered in ivy, but towards the end of the garden Jazz could see an aviary, full of budgerigars of different colours. This was why Barry Bentall was called The Bird Man of Barking. Barry loved his birds and was known to spend most of his time looking after them. For the past two decades he had unsuccessfully bred budgies to find that elusive champion budgerigar.
Inside the shed there was a small but comfortable sitting room with TV, kettle, cups and biscuits. It looked as if he received visitors here, because there were three comfortable chairs set out around a coffee table. The door off this room led to the budgies’ nesting boxes, and the aviary. Jazz, uncharacteristically, was lost for words. This was a strange place to hold a meeting. Ash stood surveying the area. Everyone had heard of The Bird Man of Barking, they’d all seen his picture on the video links sent to all detectives with intelligence information, but this was the first time both he and Jazz had the misfortune to be in his company. It didn’t feel comfortable.
Up to now The Bird Man had said nothing much. Again he gestured for them to sit down and he went through the door for a few moments, but came back holding something small. The look on his face and the way he held this precious item make them think it was made of pure gold. He pushed the yellow budgie towards them and waited for a response. Perplexed and unsure of what was required, Jazz stammered and said what a lovely yellow it was. Ash nodded in agreement, also not understanding what was wanted of them. Jazz cleared his throat and smiled. Both almost held their breath wondering what the fuck were they doing here. He opened his huge hands a little and showed them a yellow budgie. The Bird Man almost smiled at their ignorance.
In a loud and commanding voice, The Birdman pointed at the bird. ‘This one will win the best in show and is heading towards being a champion bird. Look at its blow, how beautifully it stands up.’ Seeing their ignorance, he pointed towards the head of the bird and showed how the feathers stood up and how they surrounded the beak and covered the eyes. ‘There is a good depth of mask and good spots as well. You’ll never make it to the bench (show) if you don’t have good spots.’ Jazz and Ash nodded, not knowing what the fuck he was talking about. ‘We have a chance of being best in show at the world show next year,’ said The Bird Man.
Jazz nodded and said, ‘Oh right.’ He shifted his position on the chair a little and tried to look interested.
‘Oh yes,’ The Bird Man continued, savouring the moment. ‘That means it’s like my bird winning the bird version of Crufts. I will be the dog’s bollocks!’ He looked at them, turned and left the room. Jazz and Ash looked at each other, not knowing what on earth was going on.
In a moment, The Birdman returned with another bird, but it was different. ‘Now this little bird ain’t gonna do nothing. It’s small, with a short mask, no spots and fine, not fluffy, feathers. It’s a runt. So what do we do with runts?’ Before they could answer, in one swift move and a jerk of the neck he had killed the budgie. He tossed it into the bin in the corner. ‘It ain’t no good to anyone so best got rid of.’ He sat down and looked straight at Jazz and Ash. Although it had been quick it was unexpected and quite shocking. Both were momentarily taken aback and unable to speak. They read volumes into this small act of violence and wondered if it had been done to show them just what he was capable of.
The Bird Man leaned forward and in a quiet voice that was just as frightening as his words said, ‘So, I think you have some explaining to do. I ain’t a happy man.’ His steely blue eyes never wavered as they locked on Jazz.
Jazz cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to fill the ominous and oppressive silence that weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was important he got this right. No smart comments or jokes, just a straight apology for Ash’s enthusiastic stupidity. He spent a long time explaining how Ash was new and was being wound up by the kiddy gangs, that it hadn’t been done out of disrespect, more out of stupidity. Ash sat and squirmed at his name being trashed and ridiculed. He had to listen to Jazz taking the mickey and telling The Bird Man on the quiet what an utter pain in the neck Ash was. The Bird Man was nearly sympathetic to Jazz’s plight of having to work with him. It was left that Jazz promised to take Ash under his wing and not let him get out of hand again. The kiddy gangs would know that the police had backed off and The Bird Man and his name and standing were intact. The apology was embarrassingly full and this seemed to placate The Bird Man. Finally Ash gave his full and cringing apology, which confirmed what an arsehole he was, as Jazz had put it.
In a frightenly calm tone The Bird Man stated ‘I know everyone in London worth knowing, remember that,’ Jazz and Ash nodded and The Bird Man continued ‘I have taken on nearly every scumbag in London and they don’t mess with me. Do you know Big Pete from Plaistow? You wouldn’t upset him. Twenty stone of rippling muscles fuelled by steroids and suffering from ’roid rage that hits boiling point before you can say bugger this I’m getting out of here.’ With much pride he said, ‘He got out of line with me, he for
got to give me respect and I needed to teach him a lesson. Tough? You think he was tough? You don’t mess with me; we fought one on one and I nearly done for him. Big Pete now sucks his food through a straw.’
Ash looked at The Bird Man and out of a silence you could cut with a knife he said, ‘I nearly killed him too.’
The Bird Man snarled at this little pipsqueak. ‘You? How?’
Looking straight into his eyes Ash said, ‘I got stuck in his throat and he nearly choked.’
The Bird Man looked puzzled for a second and then the laugh came from his belly. By the time it had reached his throat he had patted Ash on the back and shaken Jazz’s hand. ‘Okay, I accept your apology, now go and behave and show some respect in future.’
Once outside, Jazz looked at Ash with new eyes. Perhaps they would get on. He would see. Ash was growing on him.
They left Barking in the undercover police car with Ash boiling with rage and mortification at such a trashing. He was ready to resign and punch the lights out of Jazz for the insults he’d had to endure. It was going to take many hours of talking to calm him down and get him to see what was really going on. Tomorrow, said Jazz, they would sit down and he would explain everything. He tried to ignore the dark brooding look Ash gave him. He figured a bit of embarrassment was better than a few nights in hospital and tomorrow Ash would thank him.
Jazz thought better of going to the police station at this hour. He told Ash to go home; a detour to Sainsbury’s for some light refreshment and home to a quiet night in front of the telly was on the cards. It wouldn’t be long before a quiet night at home would seem like a pleasant distant memory.
He got to De Vere Gardens and put the key in the door. As soon as he opened it Mrs Chodda’s kitchen door opened and he groaned and prayed to all the deities in the celestial heavens that she hadn’t set him up again. He just wanted a quiet night –in, just this fucking once! As he entered, trying not to clink the bottles in his Sainsbury’s bag, he was surprised to see a not so young strange woman smiling at him through the open kitchen door. She was beautiful in an assured way and he could see she was intelligent and interesting; he smiled back. She looked down for a second in embarrassment and apologized for startling him; she had thought it was her uncle, Mr Chodda, coming home. She said goodbye with a beautiful smile and returned to the kitchen. Jazz was quite stunned. No call from Mrs Chodda, no introduction. For a second he was disappointed, and then he almost laughed at himself. ‘What are you like Jaswinder Singh?” He took himself upstairs for that drink he’d promised himself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Teamwork
He woke the next morning to the all-familiar feeling of thick tongue and thick head. He glanced at the bottle, not wanting to believe he’d drunk so much. He swore at the nearly empty bottle but vowed he wouldn’t drink during the day. He wasn’t going down that road again. His hip flasks, all three of them, sat in a cupboard calling him. He could almost hear them saying it doesn’t matter, just fill me and keep me for emergencies in your pocket. No, he wouldn’t do that, not today anyway.
He was going to work with Ash today. Talk to him, do a bit of fence-mending and team-building. If you could call two a team, he thought with disgust. He still smarted that he’d only been given one newbie to work with.
Ilford Police Station was as busy as ever. He picked up a case of street robbery. It was Asian gold again. He found Ash and they went to take a statement. The robbery had taken place on Green Lanes, Ilford, and there was plenty of CCTV. The victim was an elderly Asian woman called Mrs Vijay who was badly shaken and now too scared to go out. Her manners, even in her shaken state, didn’t stop her making tea and offering samosas and pakoras to Jazz and Ash. They had to stop her going off to cook some rice and meat for them. Her English wasn’t good, but Jazz understood her and spoke to her. She couldn’t remember who had mugged her and as much as she tried she just couldn’t tell Jazz anything. In the end she started to get upset and covered her head with her shawl. Jazz reassured her that the CCTV would tell him everything he needed to know. Ash just watched, understanding nothing.
When they left Jazz told Ash that they were off to Green Lane to see where the robbery had happened and which CCTV copies would be best looked at. Some shops had CCTV that showed the outside of their shops, and then there were the CCTV cameras in the street. Ash organized copies of CCTV from a sari shop that had cameras pointing outside and Jazz organized the street CCTV film. They went off to Ilford Police Station to sit and look through them. For the first time Ash felt part of a team and, although still waiting for some explanation about The Bird Man of Barking, he liked the decisive feel of doing something right.
They found the film that showed Mrs Vijay being mugged and a good picture showed the mugger. Ash sat up when he saw the close-up of the mugger’s face. ‘Hold up, hold up, I know him!’ he shouted, more loudly than necessary. It felt good to get something right. ‘It’s that little shit who’s been causing me problems with The Bird Man of Barking. And I know where the fucking bastard lives.’
It took only one hour to get Kevin Winston Bobby Moore Chibwesi into the interview room at Ilford Police Station. Kevin was only fifteen but he knew his rights; in fact he knew more about the law than most police officers. He, Jazz, and Ash sat together in the interview room, waiting for Kevin’s mother to arrive as his appropriate adult. Jazz suggested to Kevin that perhaps they could while away the time and talk about the mugging. ‘It ain’t me and nuffink to do with me. I don’t know wot you are saying, man,’ was the reply from Kevin. They questioned him, taking turns to fire questions at him, and he just sat there, arms folded, saying, ‘No comment and I want my lawyer.’
Jazz said a solicitor was on the way and in the meantime perhaps Kevin would like to look at some film. They showed him the CCTV and he smirked. ‘That ain’t me, that could be anyone. You ain’t pinning that on me, man, I want a lawyer.’ Jazz knew he couldn’t do anything more without an appropriate adult present and he knew Kevin knew this. It was frustrating but standard stuff.
Eventually Kevin’s mother arrived. She was a kindly woman who smiled and introduced herself as Christine. As a single mother, she had her hands full. Kevin was her eldest but she had four younger children all by different fathers, none of whom had stayed with her very long. She was tired and worn down by all the problems Kevin caused. Christine was shown into the interview room and sat down next to Kevin. She tried to fuss a little over him and he roughly pushed away her hands. He was a tough guy and didn’t want no mother making him look a wuzz.
Feeling a bit daunted but up for trying one more time, Jazz showed the CCTV again to Kevin and once again started the interview process, now that an appropriate adult was sitting in. The tape was rewound and replayed. Kevin sat with a distasteful bored look. His mother Christine stared intently at the screen before her. She watched the Asian woman walking and the mugging, and then the film was stopped as the mugger looked up. It showed a not too clear picture of a boy in a hoody, which slightly covered his face. Christine sat up and pointed excitedly. ‘Hey, look, Kevin that’s you.’ Kevin paled at this and told his mother to shut up and that it wasn’t him. ‘Oh yes it is, Kevin, I would recognize you anywhere,’ came the joyous response. ‘Ooh, can I have a copy please, officer, it’s a nice picture of my Kevin and I haven’t got an up-to-date picture of him.’ This was the final nail in Kevin’s coffin. Jazz just stopped himself from laughing and giving Ash a high five. They had got him. He was charged there and then.
A mobile phone was found on him. This was taken away and the IMEI number on it checked against the National Mobile Phone Database to ensure it was his, which was standard practice. The custody officer would be informed of the result. Kevin was bailed and given a date to return to the police station; then he went home with his mother. Now finished in the custody area Jazz and Ash could both go and get on with getting a charge from the CPS and organizing a Nary date, which was the first hearing at court.
Jazz asked As
h to write the MG3 for CPS. There was always some work to do to prepare a charging file. It started with an MG5, which was a full report of the incident, followed by an MG3 which was sent to the CPS for charging advice. These days you had to fax it through to the CPS Charging Centre that had been centralized in London. What this meant was you sat on the phone for as long as it took to get it read and a decision made on charging. This was a done deal, the evidence was good enough and Kevin couldn’t deny it. It was a boring and time-consuming job, and Jazz had better things to do. But first a tea break was on the cards. The MG5 and MG3 could be done afterwards.
Jazz took Ash to the canteen for a well-earned cup of tea and a cake served by the lovely Milly. She always served them at their table. No one else got this five star service. You collected your tea from Milly at the canteen counter, otherwise you got nothing. But Jazz always got special treatment and with a big smile too. Milly always flashed her aged and unaligned front teeth in Jazz’s direction. He thought it amazing she still had her own teeth at her age.
This was his opportunity to put things right with Ash. In covert terms he tried to give a hint of what was going on. The Bird Man of Barking was a very clever gang leader. Nothing ever stuck to him. Intelligence knew he had fingers in many pies. He made sure he didn’t interfere with any of the other gangs dealing with drugs. He dealt with robberies, bouncers for clubs, a bit of protection rackets and prostitutes, and then there was his transport business.
His main business was his transport company. He had a haulage firm called B4 Transport. He built up a big business, fighting off other haulage firms to become one of the countries biggest haulage companies. Everyone knew B4 Transport and the public were encouraged to sound their horns in their car when a B4 articulated lorry passed them. The general public took to this and a B4 articulated lorry completed its journey to a constant fanfare of car horns. The Birdman even advertised on the TV and there was talk of a TV show about his lorries travelling the country. Although The Birdman enjoyed the fame, he put his foot down regarding a TV show. He couldn’t afford to have those nosey little bastards checking out what he did and where he went. Even the police didn’t have such access to him and there was no way he was going to allow the bleeding media to bugger up his business interests. As it happened another haulage company that ran a lot like The Birdmans was suggested as a better bet for the TV crew and they all trundled off to organize TV footage. That particular haulage company was legit (legitimate) which was just as well, with the TV crew looking into every crevice and loophole in their business.