Darke

by Matt Hilton

  A look of doubt crossed his features.

  ‘What’s wrong? Not up to the challenge?’

  ‘It’s not that. Every other time I thought about visiting one of Robson’s cribs, it was to put an axe in the back of his skull. Now you want me to…what? Sneak inside like a coward and not do a thing except report back to you?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Now where did I hear that before? Right! Come on, out of the car, Swain.’

  He stayed put. Offered her a grin. ‘Who’d have ever thought Kezza and Swain-o would become partners, eh?’

  ‘Don’t get above yourself. We’re only partners out of necessity. You need to prove you’re not totally useless, or you can forget about any arrangement we made.’

  ‘You don’t think I can do it?’

  ‘Swain,’ she said, and held his gaze, ‘I don’t even think you exist.’

  ‘That’s just charming.’

  ‘So prove to me I’m not going insane. There’s no possible way I could know where to find Robson and the others. Show me and…well, just show me.’

  ‘I’ll show you. But there’s something you have to promise me first.’

  ‘I won’t hurt anyone for you.’

  ‘That’s not it. Tyke. My dog. With Hettie and Zane locked up, who’s looking after my boy? I want him to go to a good home.’

  She had no idea what had become of the Border collie after Hettie’s arrest. But she’d find out. ‘I promise he’ll be looked after,’ she said, and wondered why the issue of the dog’s welfare had entered her mind. It surprised her that a violent thug could have empathy towards a pet: so maybe — in her changing opinion — Swain wasn’t as irredeemable as she’d first thought.

  He surprised her again. ‘I trust you,’ he said.

  Then he was gone.

  32

  What began quietly the next afternoon, with officers converging stealthily on the location, grew noisy very abruptly. A plain-clothed SCO19 Tactical Support Team bolstered the raid on a warehouse on a business estate off Queenstown Road. Secured doors were rammed, and armed officers spilled inside shouting warnings and commands. The Nine Elms Crew employed various buildings and houses throughout the region as bases for their operations, but the police had never before identified the target of this raid as one of theirs. An ‘anonymous’ tip-off to Detective Inspector Darke had allowed her to gain RIPA authorisation to conduct covert surveillance on the warehouse, and within a few hours, Derrick Lewis had been spotted. As the suspect in the shooting of the Ghedis, and possibly armed and willing to shoot, the inclusion of the TST in the raid was mandatory.

  Kerry, accompanied by Korba and DC Tony Whittle, entered the warehouse on the tail end of the tactical officers, each of them wearing ballistic vests, and police decal similar to those worn by the plain-clothed SCO19 officers.

  The warehouse was an Aladdin’s cave of contraband goods, ranging from high-end motor vehicles to counterfeit cigarettes and alcohol. It also contained upward of a dozen gang members, and also innocents coerced into manual labour, most of them Eastern Europeans and illegal immigrants from further afield.

  None in the warehouse offered resistance to the small army of cops, but some tried to flee, and there were running scuffles where the use of force became a requirement, but none critical. However, in an adjoining annex block to the warehouse, the opposition proved tougher. Funky Adefunke, Derrick Lewis and Kingston James, and four of their gang mates, weren’t for coming quietly. They fought their arresting officers, both Lewis and an unidentified gangster choosing the lethal option. They weren’t armed with antique weapons like Hettie’s grandfather’s Webley, but with modern semi-automatic handguns.

  Kerry took cover against a doorjamb as the gangsters opened fire, bullets striking the wall a few inches from her face. The response from SCO19 was immediate, and pinpointed, and the unknown gangster fell – shot three times in quick succession. Derrick Lewis charged away, hurdling unmade cot beds they’d been using as a home away from home, taking wild shots behind him. Funky threw up his hands in surrender, but Kingston James tried to flee by throwing himself through a window. He’d watched too many Hollywood action movies, because in reality he rebounded from the toughened glass into the arms of DC Whittle, who rugby-tackled him to the floor. A firearms officer assisted Whittle on with plastic restraint cuffs. Funky and the other three were soon all face down, surrounded by grim-faced cops armed with MP5 Carbines, while they were searched and secured.

  Kerry charged after Korba, who in turn was on the tail of a duo of SCO19 officers pursuing Derrick Lewis. Of all of the conspirators Lewis had most to lose, and wasn’t prepared to do the time for his crime. In an adjoining room, he barricaded himself behind an overturned desk and prepared to take on the world. He was shot in the upper chest, and sprawled out dead on the floor, within a matter of seconds.

  Seeing her prime murder suspect die — and escape lawful justice — Kerry was gutted. But apparently one person was overjoyed at the gangster’s abrupt end. Erick Swain, an unwelcome addition to the raiding party, loomed over him, bent at the waist, arms thrust out to his sides, as he roared in celebration into the dead youth’s face. He spied over at Kerry who rested wearily against a wall, and fist-pumped in exhilaration. She took great care not to respond to him. She rested a hand on Korba’s shoulder as the sergeant exhaled deeply, and shuddered out some of the nervous energy he’d contained since before the green light to storm the warehouse was given.

  ‘At least we’ve got Funky and Kingston James alive,’ Korba said, as they observed the SCO19 officers securing Lewis’s weapon.

  ‘But no sign of Jermaine Robson,’ she responded.

  ‘We’ll get him. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Zorba’s got a point,’ said Swain, drifting over to her. ‘I told you you’d find De-Lew and those other fuckwits here, didn’t I? Trust me, Kezza, I’m going to give you Robson too, and that’s how I want to see him end up.’ He jabbed a translucent finger at the corpse.

  Kerry ignored him.

  It was regretful Derrick Lewis went down fighting, but when all came to all three of the four fugitives had been rounded up – it was a huge success for the GaOC team, but she was torn by mixed feelings.

  Swain had passed her test, and she’d no logical explanation for how, other than she genuinely was being haunted, a terrifying prospect.

  She returned to the adjoining building. By now, Funky and Kingston James were in full restraints, kneeling alongside their other gang members. Officially they’d been arrested and cautioned, but she wanted a private word in Funky’s ear.

  ‘You,’ she said, leaning to challenge him an inch from his nose, ‘are lower than scum. You are responsible for the deaths of a mother and child, you made a widower of Nilan’s husband, and an orphan of her baby, Taban, and you will pay fully for your crimes.’

  Funky couldn’t hold onto his arrogance. He looked despondent. He lowered his face and tears dampened his cheeks. His remorse wasn’t for the family he’d helped destroy, it was because he’d been caught.

  ‘Not such the brave man now are you, you piece of shit? Those lies you told me about staring down your would-be killer, when you’re nothing but a spineless coward, a baby killer. You make me sick to the stomach.’

  A blur of movement from her left startled her, and she jerked back.

  Swain was poised to kick Funky directly in the face, but it would be a pointless conduit of his rage.

  ‘OK. That’s enough,’ she sighed, and to her surprise, Swain backed off, and waited for instruction.

  Funky and Kingston James were loaded in a police van. Before they were locked inside, Kerry nodded at Swain and he got the message. He slipped inside the cage with them and sat on the bench alongside Funky, listening to every word they exchanged.

  Once all the prisoners were out of the way, and the scene managed, Kerry headed for her car. Korba and Whittle had travelled with her to the scene, but they w
ere given lifts back to their nick to begin the custody process. She couldn’t return to base yet: the warehouse required a full search, and there were witnesses and possible illegal immigrants to deal with. SCO19 stayed on site, securing it, and also making safe the firearms they had seized. Ambulances were called, but it would be a while before the bodies of Derrick Lewis and the other dead gangster were moved, and CSI and the coroner were en route. A full review of the fatal shootings would be conducted, and again Kerry could be criticised.

  She didn’t care.

  She’d more on her mind.

  Sitting in her car, she did what she’d put off days ago. She pulled up a webpage on her smartphone and noted the contact telephone number. Alongside her window, she was aware of a dim shape. She didn’t look directly at it. There was no need in order to tell Girl nodded encouragement.

  She called Elias Tiberius Price, paranormal sleuth and demonologist, Britain’s pre-eminent multi-faith exorcist.

  33

  The night before the raid on the warehouse, Kerry had gone home and found Adam waiting for her. He’d made supper, and poured glasses of wine. He didn’t bring up the subject of their recent fights and Kerry was grateful. There was an uneasy undercurrent, but their truce held, and later they slept together for the first time in days. In the early hours Adam reached for her, and she’d snuggled into him, thankful of the embrace. But when Adam tried to take things further, hands roaming and kneading, she gave him the cold shoulder, and he abruptly turned over on his back with a curse: how could she tell him she was embarrassed to have sex when somebody could be watching? It would reignite their fight, and who knew where it would end. Kerry fell asleep with tears dampening her pillow, and when she woke, Adam had already left the house. Erick Swain had greeted her at breakfast with the location of the fugitives, and things had been all go since.

  When she finally arrived back at the nick, her team had got the interviews underway, and already Hettie Winters — despite Dave Barnes’ assertion she was not a flight risk — had been remanded in custody and was due to be taken to HMP Holloway before appearing before a magistrate the following day. Zane McManus had also been charged, and remanded, but wouldn’t be joining his cousin, he was off to HMP Belmarsh, along with Funky and Kingston James and other Nine Elms Crew members arrested at the warehouse: she’d bet that their uneasy alliance had ended so things could prove tricky for Zane. Poor Zane, she thought sarcastically.

  To her surprise DCI Porter appeared ebullient, buoyed by her apparent return to form. He sought her out in her cubbyhole in the GaOC office, and asked her to join him for coffee. There was no vending machine slop for him: Porter had a coffee percolator in his office. She took the same seat as on previous occasions, but Porter kept things informal, brewing them fresh drinks. He placed her steaming mug on his polished desk, and his alongside it. He perched his backside on the desk too, and Kerry couldn’t help feel intimidated by his proximity. It was difficult meeting his gaze, and she knew she looked flaky glancing everywhere except at him.

  ‘Relax, Kerry,’ Porter said. ‘If we’ve been a little off with each other these last few days, then it’s over now. Let’s put it behind us and move on. Go ahead, drink your coffee.’

  She squeezed out a smile, and took her cup in both hands. It tasted pretty good. But she put it down again.

  ‘I’m impressed with your results,’ said Porter.

  ‘I only did my job,’ she retorted, unnecessarily snappy. ‘It’s all I ever wanted to do.’

  ‘Yes, and I see now that you were right. Catching those suspects so quickly, well, it is damn impressive. Superlative detective work.’

  She suspected there was an underlying but waiting in the wings, except he wasn’t ready to slap her with it yet.

  ‘Things dropped into place once I knew what happened, and who was involved. Like I said, going after Ikemba Adefunke first would’ve made things more difficult for us.’

  ‘Yes. Like I said. You were right, I was wrong.’ He took a long gulp of his drink. Set it down and leaned forward. His coffee breath was hot and moist on her face. ‘You’ve delivered a real coup for my team, for which I’m grateful.’

  Again she waited for the inevitable but.

  When it didn’t come, she said, ‘I’ll be happier once Jermaine Robson’s in custody.’

  ‘And you’ll get your man. I’ve all confidence in you, Kerry.’ He took another long sip, and his glasses steamed over. He took them off and wiped the lenses on his shirt. As he replaced them, she glanced at his magnified irises. He was acting friendly, but his eyes lacked any lustre. He hit her with what was actually on his mind. ‘You know, I’m curious. Just how did you manage to locate the others so quickly?’

  ‘Information from a CHIS, sir,’ she lied.

  He nodded; it wasn’t an unreasonable explanation.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have to protect my source.’

  ‘You can tell me, their identity won’t go beyond the two of us.’

  ‘Sir, you know we have a protocol in place, to protect informants from repercussions. I can’t tell you, and if I do I’ll be the one responsible if any harm comes to him.’

  ‘He must’ve been an insider in the gang?’ Porter prompted, although he’d already made up his mind. Who else but an insider could have known where the Nine Elms Crew was holed up? ‘Hopefully he can also give you Robson’s whereabouts.’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ Kerry admitted. ‘I’m hoping he gets back to me soon with something actionable.’

  ‘I do too.’ He drained his cup, then aimed it at hers. ‘Drink up. I can make you another if you’d like?’

  ‘I’m wired on adrenalin as it is; more caffeine’s probably not a good idea.’

  ‘When do you expect contact from your CHIS?’

  ‘That’s down to him, sir,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t usher things along? It’d be a rare success if we could collar Robson before the day’s out.’

  ‘It’d be great, but if I hear anything it’ll be in my CHIS’s time.’

  ‘He’s doing this for reward?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Porter pinched his thumb and forefinger together, rubbed the tips in circles. ‘Is your informant being paid from our budget?’

  Kerry didn’t respond.

  ‘The only reason I ask is that I’m prepared to authorize an extra incentive if your man delivers in good time.’

  Kerry sighed. ‘Thank you, sir, but the arrangement I have with him is that he contacts me. I’ve no way to reach him directly. I can’t promise he’ll be in touch until he’s ready.’

  Porter made a humming noise in the back of his throat.

  Kerry pursed her lips, waiting for the axe to drop.

  ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Inspector Darke.’ He was back to formal names again.

  ‘CHIS rules,’ she reminded him. ‘We must protect their identities at all costs.’

  ‘OK. I’m not going to press the issue.’ He abruptly changed tack. ‘Your team members are conducting the prisoner interviews?’

  ‘Yes. They’re formalities, to get the suspects charged and in front of the court. I’m confident Danny and the others have everything in hand.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Porter. ‘You should get yourself off home. Get some rest, Inspector Darke, before this informant of yours comes through, otherwise who knows when you’ll next get the chance.’

  She didn’t argue.

  She left his office, but didn’t walk away. She took out her phone, pretending to check her messages, and listened to a one-sided conversation. ‘Hello, yes. This is DCI Charles Porter for Superintendent Harker…Oh, I see. Well, if you could ask him to give me a call at his first convenience I’d appreciate it. Thank you. He can reach me on my extension number…’

  Kerry strode away, frowning. It might have sounded like paranoia when she told Korba she was worried she was under internal investigation, but why else would Porter call
Graeme Harker the instant she left his office? She must be more careful with her interactions with Swain.

  Once she’d finalised some notes, signed off on the crime files stacked in her inbox, checked with Korba how everything was going, and left the running of the investigation in his capable hands, she headed home.

  Adam had beaten her to it, but had gone out again, though to where he gave no clue. He’d left a hand-written note propped on the coffee table in their living room, short and to the point. WE NEED TO SORT THIS, KERRY XX. The inclusion of the kisses meant he was hopeful of a peaceful reconciliation. She crumpled the note and threw it in a waste bin in the kitchen. It wasn’t spite. The situation wasn’t something they could sort between them, only she could.

  She logged onto her laptop and opened her emails. The reply she’d hoped for was in her list.

  When she’d rang Elias Price earlier, her call had gone directly to his voice mail. She’d asked Price to contact her as a matter of urgency and left her email address. In his brief reply Price gave implicit instructions of where and when to meet him, and no offer of an alternative. Kerry typed a response, thanking him and promising she’d be on time. He didn’t acknowledge her response.

  She showered, ate supper, then sat in her living room with the TV off, waiting for Swain to show up. He didn’t appear by midnight, so she retired to bed, and dropped into a depthless sleep, and wasn’t roused until her alarm clock shattered the calm the following morning. Adam was beside her, his back to hers, snoring soundly and smelling of beer and kebab. She didn’t wake him, only prepped for what would prove to be a day of contradictions, and left the house, closing the door gently behind her.

  34

  Hettie Winters and Zane McManus appeared before a magistrate to tender their pleas. The court hearings were private affairs; they were formalities to ensure both suspects were remanded to custody pending trial, to allow the Met to prepare cases against them. Kerry would have liked to go to both appearances, except her workload was gigantic. Besides, Korba attended, being the respective arresting officer, and she was confident his remand requests would be granted and they were. Later in the day DC Whittle was also due in court, this time as Ikemba Adefunke’s and Kingston James’s arresting officer, and Kerry asked Korba to accompany him to ensure everything went the Met’s way.