The Godfathers of London

by M. C. Dutton

  The Birdman had over two hundred lorries and dressed his drivers in B4 T Shirts and trousers so they were recognized. This was his legitimate business and with a business acumen most gangsters don’t have, The Birdman had built a multi million business that could go through the books.

  He seemed to fill a niche that gangs like the Triads didn’t go near. He didn’t have many enemies alive and the police had a team of officers watching him but to date they had found nothing. At the moment, there was a hands off policy on The Bird Man. The special team watching him had carte blanche over him. He didn’t know he was being watched closely and that there was an undercover operation going on that other police officers knew nothing about. So my naïve friend, Jazz told Ash, you could have put the cat amongst the pigeons with your accusations. The Birdman’s a clever bastard and he would have hurt you badly if we hadn’t stopped it by apologizing and it might have jeopardized the undercover operation going on. Enough said and keep all this under your hat. You deserve to know something.

  Ash took all this on board and said he would watch out next time. Jazz said there wouldn’t be a next time because they were going to work more closely from now on. Ash asked if that meant he was involved in all the jobs Jazz took on, and Jazz agreed that they were now joined at the hip.

  Neither had any idea at that moment just where it would take them and the danger it was about to put them in.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Shake rattle and roll

  Ash had gone off to type up the MG3 with all the details for the CPS on Chibwesi, and to wait for a decision. Jazz went off to ring Mad Pete. He wanted that contact name and number. He passed by his fair-weather friend and colleague DI Hardy to tell him about catching Chibwesi and arresting him. DI Hardy nodded. Jazz was getting cocky again and it was getting on his tits. ‘So how is Dumb and Dumber doing these days?’ was the parting shot from DI Hardy. ‘Actually he was the one that identified Chibwesi on the CCTV. He’s doing great,’ said Jazz, leaving with a smirk that DI Hardy would have been happy to wipe off his fucking face. ‘Let’s hope he lives long enough to enjoy his success,’ he shouted after the swaggering Jazz. They would never know how much that hurt – the bastards! Jazz raised a finger, shouting, ‘Swivel on that!’ and left the CID office. He was pushing his luck. You didn’t talk to DIs in that manner but he didn’t care.

  After calling in and checking how Ash was doing he thought he would go home for a quiet evening. Ash was bored, holding the phone and waiting for charging advise on Chibwesi from the CPS Charging Centre. Jazz told him to go home as soon as that was done and they would get together first thing in the morning to check out what cases had come in overnight. He promised no stolen bikes.

  He went straight home. There was some leftover rice and Chinese in the fridge and a full bottle of vodka ready for consumption. As he put the key in the door of De Vere Gardens he wondered if that girl was still here. He thought he might just knock on the kitchen door and say good evening to Mrs Chodda, just to be friendly of course. She didn’t answer his knock. This was the first time Mrs Chodda hadn’t been in her kitchen when he came home. Slowly, he opened the door but the kitchen was in darkness. If he felt disappointed he wasn’t going to admit to it. He had a quiet night and found some cricket on the TV to watch while he ate his Chinese and drank a vodka or two. This was his type of night so he wondered why he felt a bit restless.

  He received a call from IBO as soon as he got into Ilford Police Station. There was a GBH and rape at an address off Green Lane, Ilford. This was what it was all about. He loved it when there were real jobs to work on; there was a buzz in the air. He called Ash and made his way to get a police car from the garage. The BMW had been booked out to another team but when he said it was urgent the garage staff didn’t argue and handed over the key. He threw it to Ash and said he would get the address en route from IBO over the radio.

  They arrived outside the house but had to park quite a distance away. It was one of those roads chocked with parked cars and where there had been a space three police cars had taken up residence. Jazz and Ash made their way into the house and heard the dulcet tones of Jenny telling officers to stop pissing about and get out of her fucking way. Jazz shouted out, ‘Ah, those dulcet tones, I’d know them anywhere. Hello, Jenny.’ He heard her response, advising him to do something that sounded anatomically impossible but he appreciated her optimism that he had the size to do it. He laughed and walked off to find someone who could tell him what the hell had happened here.

  He got the information from the officer inside the door. ‘It’s two females, sir,’ the officer said. ‘The elder woman’s in a bad way, it’s thought she’s suffered a heart attack, and the young girl looks like she was raped and then bludgeoned around the head.’

  Jazz went to find out what Jenny was doing. She was in no mood to talk. There was blood and broken glass around and she told him to come back later.

  Ash was instructed to go next door and find out what was happening, and to talk to the person who’d made the call to the ambulance service and police. This was an Asian household in an Asian area; someone would know who they were and what they were doing.

  It transpired the mother and father of the household and their two sons had gone to Pakistan for a wedding. The grandmother had been taken ill and their daughter was left at home to care for her. The daughter was a beauty by all accounts and just seventeen. She was to be married in the next year and a suitable husband was being looked for. This would now ruin her chances of a good marriage. No man of standing would marry a woman who was not a virgin. This would devastate the family. Never mind she had been attacked and hit around the head with a blunt instrument causing injuries not yet confirmed.

  Jazz took himself off to the hospital to see if he could talk to the grandmother and the girl. He asked Ash to get every bit of information he could about the family, what they did, who they knew, etc. A cursory inspection suggested nothing had been stolen. Everything looked in its place and no drawers had been opened, no stuff thrown around – so why had the person broken into the house and attacked the girl?

  The victims had been taken to King George’s Hospital in Barley Lane. Jazz flashed his badge many times and finally found out where they both were. The grandmother was in a poorly state and Jazz couldn’t talk to her. He looked at her through the glass and saw she was hooked up to every machine in the room. She looked so old, with all those machines clamped to her mouth, chest, and arms, and pipes coming from under the blanket. Poor soul auntie, he said under his breath. The girl was another matter. She was lightly sedated but semi-conscious. The doctor said she wouldn’t remember anything at the moment. Jazz called her name softly. ‘Mina, how are you feeling?’ She stirred and looked at him with vacant eyes. ‘Do you remember anything, Mina?’ She didn’t answer; she just stared. He could tell she was traumatised and not quite in the same world as him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll come back tomorrow,’ he whispered. Feeling quite emotional from seeing two innocent women destroyed in this way, he could feel the temper rising from his stomach up into his throat. He was going to get the bastard who’d done this.

  Back at the house Jenny had found fingerprints on the door: not those of either the grandmother or the daughter. Jenny said she would let Jazz know when she’d put the prints through the machine back at the lab. Jazz was so glad it was Jenny here. Okay, she was bad-tempered with a foul mouth but she was the best SOCO in the Met, and tenacious too. He loved her!

  Ash was working hard and had some information for Jazz. They took themselves off to the BMW to talk it through. The radio in the car was red-hot. The team due to have the BMW had been calling up on the radio, and at first had been polite, but after the third hour of calling, the language was getting pretty strong. Jazz turned the radio off so they had no distractions.

  The neighbours hadn’t seen anyone suspicious. Most members of the Chakravarti family were in Pakistan for a wedding. The neighbours were shocked at what had happened and said they had
heard nothing. Mr Chakravarti ran an Indian restaurant and most of the staff were relatives from India. The restaurant had been closed for the wedding and would reopen when he returned to England in two weeks time. The neighbours did say that they had seen the young cousin come to the house a few times whilst the family was away. They presumed he was checking up on the women to see if they needed any help. He was about twenty and had come from the Punjab to work in his uncle’s restaurant.

  Ash confirmed it was the neighbours who had phoned the police because they saw the back door to the garden was smashed, and they couldn’t get a reply when they knocked on the front door.

  Jazz and Ash were disturbed by an urgent knocking on the car window. ‘Open the fucking door!’ It was Jenny, who was getting cross at being held up. She wanted to tell them what she had found by the back door, although it hadn’t yet been forensicated: half a pear with teeth marks in it. Anyone else and Jazz would have poured scorn and sarcasm on such a statement but this was Jenny. ‘So what makes it special?’ he asked.

  ‘Pears go brown very quickly and this one must have been recently bitten into because it was only just starting to go brown. It’s within the timeline and I can take a cast of the teeth marks. There could be a match further down the line.’

  ‘God, Jenny, I so love you,’ came the joyous response from Jazz.

  ‘Fuck off, you daft prick,’ was the blustery response from an embarrassed but flattered Jenny. She had a thing for the cheeky bastard, and quite liked the banter with him – but of course he would never know what she hoped.

  Ash had got all the names of the family, and the name of the young cousin. The neighbours were a mine of information and knew where the lad was staying. Apparently they’d promised to keep an eye on the women and had said the lad could come to them if he got into any difficulties. His English wasn’t too good, he was twenty, and he had only been in England for six months and was not used to the ways of England.

  Jazz thought this very interesting and asked to speak to the neighbours. Ash took him to their door and introduced Jazz as his Detective Sergeant. They were very pleased to talk to a fellow Sikh and invited them both in. Mr and Mrs Manku were very pleased to talk to Jazz about their neighbours. The gossip started with the question of who was Parminder. They whispered that the family wanted the women to be safe and they had specifically asked that Parminder, as a young man, would not call on the grandmother or Mina during the family’s absence. It wasn’t appropriate for a young woman at home, almost alone, to be in the company of a young man; it wouldn’t look good for Mina. They leaned forward and said that Parminder had visited a few times. Mr Manku said the boy had never stayed late but they had made sure to visit the grandmother and Mina the last time he was there, to ensure they were supervised. Mrs Manku added that they had both thought he was very attentive to Mina and as dutiful neighbours they suggested he didn’t visit again during the family’s absence. He had agreed to this.

  Jazz asked Ash to find Parminder and bring him to the police station for questioning. There were a few things he needed to clear up. In the meantime, a cup of something and a sandwich was on the cards. He wished he had filled his flasks that morning. He could do with just a taster of vodka, nothing much, just a little. He went outside, lit a cigarette and dragged on it long and hard. It felt good and relaxed him. He had an idea of what had happened in the Chakravarti household but interviews would tell him later.

  He went back to the Ilford Police Station and decided to maybe just get a half bottle of vodka on the way, just as a back up. He only wanted a sip, nothing much, it would go nicely with a cigarette. It was getting on for late afternoon and he hoped to have Parminder interviewed before the day was out. As he walked back to the station he took a call from Mad Pete and confirmed a meeting that evening.

  Milly made him a fresh bacon sandwich. It was a bit late for cooking bacon but she got a nice couple of rashers out of the fridge for him and he sat and thought about what he was going to do as he drank a fresh cup of tea lovingly presented to him. The bacon sandwich was worth waiting for. She was a love and he told her so, much to her delighted embarrassment. He enjoyed the quiet moment to sit and plan and think. Things were going to happen.

  It was about 6 p.m. before Ash returned with a scared and quaking Parminder. He was taken to an interview room and left for a twenty-minute pause for thought. By the time Jazz and Ash returned he was shaking and pleading to go home. His English was very poor and a Punjabi interpreter was called for. At this stage a solicitor was not necessary because, as Parminder was told, this was just the police asking for help with their enquiries.

  He was made comfortable and brought a cup of tea, offered a toilet break which were both accepted. In another fifteen minutes they were all seated along with a female Punjabi interpreter. The interview was pretty slow going, with Jazz having to speak in English and then wait for the interpreter to interpret and answer back. It was actually very interesting for Jazz, who spoke Punjabi, to watch and listen. Parminder kept asking the interpreter to tell them he had nothing to do with the crime, that he’d been in the flat his uncle had found for him all evening and had never left it. After a time he became quite comfortable knowing all questions were filtered. No pointed questions that he couldn’t answer or didn’t have time to answer. He looked relaxed and less tense. Jazz saw this and he was having none of it. He wanted a tense and scared person: much easier to get them to tell the truth. When Parminder started to laugh and flirt with the interpreter Jazz knew it was time.

  In Punjabi Jazz asked, ‘Why did you do it?’

  The smile was instantly wiped off Parminder’s face and he stuttered and muttered, ‘No, no, not me, I didn’t do anything.’

  The shock of Jazz speaking in Punjabi and the question itself stunned him and almost made him sick. Ash sat up, not knowing what had been said but seeing the reaction. Parminder may not have known much of England but he knew enough to say, ‘I want a lawyer, I won’t say anything else until I have a lawyer.’

  Jazz nodded, and beckoned for Ash and the interpreter to leave the room with him. They left Parminder alone, scared, and not knowing what to do. He had plenty of time to think.

  It would be an hour before the solicitor for Parminder arrived. Mr Mason was harassed and tired after a long day and fed up because now he had this interview, which would make him miss his dinner.

  The room was pretty crowded, what with Jazz, Ash, Parminder, the interpreter and Mr Mason. The tape was put on, as this was now an official interview. Jazz introduced himself and everyone present and said he was interviewing Parminder Chakravarti about the GBH and rape of Mina Chakravarti and the GBH of the grandmother. Parminder fidgeted and looked petrified. Jazz smiled and said for the benefit of the tape that Parminder was here helping them with their enquiries but he requested a solicitor be present. He confirmed the solicitor was present. He didn’t take his eyes off Parminder. Parminder squirmed even more.

  The questioning started simply and comfortably: when did you last go to the Chakravarti house, when did you last see Mina and her grandmother. Parminder’s answers were noted. It went along nicely for ten minutes with the interpreter working between Punjabi and English. Jazz thanked Parminder for his help and then picked up all the papers on the desk, shuffling them together and looking ready to finish the interview. Parminder visibly relaxed. Suddenly Jazz stopped and said in Punjabi, ‘Oh by the way, I know why you raped Mina and I can tell you exactly what happened.’ Parminder sat frozen on his seat. He wasn’t the brightest spark in the world and didn’t know what to do or how to get out of this. The solicitor requested that Jazz ask his questions in English.

  In English Jazz said to all present that Parminder was the person they were interviewing regarding the GBH and rape of Mina and the GBH of the grandmother. He said that under PACE he could keep Parminder for twenty-four hours without charging, and that he needed a bit of time to collate the information he was waiting for that would prove Parminder was in the vici
nity of the house at the time of the offence. Parminder was put in a cell and the solicitor and interpreter said they would be back tomorrow at 2 p.m. as agreed.

  With everything done Jazz told Ash he had an appointment in an hour and would see him back at Ilford Police Station at 9 a.m. tomorrow, when he would explain everything. Ash was getting frustrated by all this cloak and dagger stuff. He went home mumbling that Jazz was an arsehole to work for.

  Jazz got home very late. He put the key in the door of De Vere Gardens at midnight. He crept in, knowing the house would be asleep. His eyes automatically went to the kitchen door but of course no one was up, so no visitors. Unconsciously he sighed and decided he was pretty tired. A quick drink and the McDonald’s he’d bought down the road would do him fine for the night. He slept the sleep of the contented. His plan was on track.

  He was up bright and early the next morning. He walked to Ilford Police Station; he liked that, it gave him time to think. He phoned Jenny as he walked and asked if the teeth indent in the pear had any DNA on it and if a mould of the teeth was ready. Had she written a report that stated the pear had been bitten within a timescale that could be recorded as similar to the crime that had taken place? Jenny asked him if he thought she was fucking superwoman to get all this done in such a short time. He answered yes, she was superwoman. She liked that and told him he was fucking right for an arsehole and yes, she had it ready for him because she knew what an anal dick he was for getting the villains. He said he would get a car and come and pick up the mould, and get her a DNA sample from their suspect in custody. She was pretty impressed and secretly thought that between them they made a good team. Of course she didn’t tell him that. She just called him Clever Fucking Clogs and hung up.