The Last Big Job hc-4

by Nick Oldham

  ‘ I’ve seen your picture in the papers, apart from which you’ll be the only arsehole parading up and down outside the police station.’

  ‘ Fair point. So… can you give me something else now?’ Henry asked.

  ‘ Let me think… something a bit tasty. How about an ex-cop living out here with very close ties to the man you’re after? I’ll blow the whole caboodle on him, too.’ He hung up.

  Henry turned to Danny and FB, who had arrived by then, and said, ‘He’s going to give us Barney Gillrow too.’

  Just over twelve hours later, Henry had met Nero outside the police station in Santa de la Cruz and hustled him into an interview room.

  Arranging facilities with the Spanish police had been easy. The relationship between the Spaniards and the British police was extremely good, mainly because the international drugs problem is common to both countries, as are many of the criminals. In his time on the RCS Henry had worked in Spain, — though not the Canaries — on a number of occasions, mostly on surveillance jobs.

  Henry went alone into the interview room. Danny watched and listened through the two-way mirror.

  ‘ First things first. I need to know who you are,’ Henry said as he sat.

  ‘ No, my first things first. Where is my three thousand pounds?’

  ‘ You’ll get your money when I’m satisfied that your product is worth paying for,’ Henry said firmly. ‘Let me make something crystal clear from the outset. I am in charge of this process, not you. I decide how it goes. I understand you want to come out of it with a bucketful of money, probably with protected status too, and I don’t have a problem with that. At the same time you have a desire to tell me, for whatever reason, about someone who has committed very serious crimes. Whilst I am eager for you to give me this information, you must understand that all it does is support my own evidence. I will arrange for the money and the protection, don’t worry about that. But the agenda is mine — all mine.’ Henry paused and looked squarely at the man who had a face full of bruises and a left hand wrapped with grimy bandages which stunk. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘ Lawrence David Brayfield, born sixth June 1953. My friends call me Loz.’

  ‘ Thank you — Loz.’

  In the other room, Danny scribbled these details down and was on the phone a minute later, checking him out.

  ‘ Speaking broadly, Loz, not specifically yet, what information can you give me?’

  ‘ The name of the man who murdered three people in Blackpool and the definite reason why he killed two of them. And the name of the man, the same guy, who pulled that big security van job on the M6. I can blow open wide the drug-smuggling operation this guy operates from here. I can give you names of suppliers, dates of deliveries, names of couriers… fucking everything. I can also tell you about an ex-cop who was on the take from this guy too.’

  ‘ What is the man’s name?’

  ‘ Billy Crane. Barney Gillrow is the ex-cop.’

  As easy as that, Henry thought triumphantly.

  So that Crane would not be alerted, Henry decided it would be prudent if their singing informant was to continue to lead a normal life, run Crane’s legitimate businesses in and around Los Cristianos whilst he was bled white of information during regular debriefs. Once there was enough to move against Crane, Henry would then arrange for Loz to meet a Witness Protection Officer who was due to fly out from the Metropolitan Police. From then on, Lawrence Brayfield’s life would change for ever.

  Although Henry’s decision was perfectly sound, there was a personal angle to it as it gave both him and Danny time to spend together. They were in adjacent rooms in the hotel in Los Cristianos Danny had stayed in previously and were able to divide their time between speaking to Loz and indulging in wonderful sex, wine and food (in that order) as their love blossomed in the sub-tropical heat.

  Loz grassed everything. It was obvious he was a man bearing a huge grudge against Crane. He blew apart Crane’s drug operation, revealing that many young travel company representatives were on the payroll, eager to supplement their meagre earnings by identifying potential mules amongst their clients. Loz openly admitted his part in the operation, that of actually employing the mules, packing their cases for them with gear and paying them. He said he had employed Cheryl Jones and packed her case for her. He gave the names of the drugs suppliers from whom Crane bought his stocks, gave details of other names, dates and places which Henry and Danny enthusiastically noted down. He told them of Don Smith’s role of distributor in the UK and gave a list of further contacts in England. He also told how angry Crane had been to lose the?50,000 worth of drugs carried by Cheryl Jones; how he had punished Loz by feeding his hand to a lion (so there is a lion in Los Cristianos, Danny had thought at that point. My ears weren’t playing tricks with me). And how Crane had gone to England to exact revenge which would give out a clear message to other mules who might be stupid, by killing Cheryl and her boyfriend. He provided Henry with some bank account details, too.

  He had told Henry how annoyed Crane had been on his more recent return from the UK when Loz had bragged to him about ‘sorting out’ the woman detective. Henry wrote down the exact words Loz said Crane had uttered about the M6 robbery, the deaths associated with it and his admissions about killing Cheryl, Spencer and another man — Malcolm Fitch.

  Loz did mention Barney Gillrow, but did not really have as much information about him as he had initially maintained.

  On the third day of their stay in Tenerife, Henry formally requested the assistance of the local police to arrest Billy Crane who was believed to be residing in his villa on La Gomera, after which extradition proceedings would be instituted. The basis of his request — made through the necessary legal channels — was on Crane’s involvement in the robbery and the murders he had committed. He didn’t tell the locals too much about Crane’s Tenerife-based drugs business, because they might have wanted to deal with that first, which would have slowed things up considerably. Henry wanted to get Crane back to the UK as quickly as possible.

  Nor did he reveal Loz’s admissions about his own involvement in Crane’s drug operations from the island as this would have complicated matters. Henry had decided to tell the Spaniards about this further down the line.

  In the meantime, the debriefing of Loz would continue and Henry and Danny decided to take the opportunity to visit Barney Gillrow.

  It was 10 a.m. as the two lovers, two cops, strolled arm-in-arm along the Los Cristianos sea-front towards Playa de las Americas. They had a noon meeting arranged with Loz, so had a couple of free hours to put the frighteners up Gillrow. As they strolled along, Danny pointed out the sights — such as the spot where she was indecently assaulted on the beach by Loz. She laughed about it now, though she could not warm to Loz who had shown no remorse or offered an apology.

  They dawdled along, actually relishing the approaches of the timeshare touts who thought they were a married couple. Thoughts of a difficult future were a long way from their minds. For the time being, they were revelling in the present, both never happier in this false, transient environment in which they were floating at the moment, which seemed a million miles away from reality.

  ‘ Ah well, here we go,’ Henry said outside the door to Gillrow’s apartment. He rolled his shoulders and slicked back his hair, then knocked.

  Gillrow answered and was plainly shocked to see Danny standing there. He squinted at Henry with a faint glimmer of recognition.

  ‘ I’m Henry Christie, now a Detective Inspector. You might remember me as a PC. You’ve already made the acquaintance of DS Furness.’

  ‘ I have nothing further to say,’ Gillrow snapped.

  Henry heaved a sigh and gave the ex-detective the hard stare without saying anything. Gillrow held the look for a few moments, remembering how many times he had given it to guilty felons himself, then cracked. He swallowed. ‘Come in.’

  He was alone in the apartment, his wife was out shopping. As before, he motioned them towards
the balcony for a discussion, except this time no drinks were offered.

  Henry said, ‘I’d like to go back to 1986, please.’

  Lawrence Brayfield — Loz — was once again on the rooftop of Uncle B’s English Bar and Disco, sitting underneath a sunshade. It was a position to which he gravitated regularly these days. In the cage at the far end of the flat roof, Nero lounged indolently in the hot sun, rolling on his back, licking himself with his muscular rasping tongue. The cage floor, uncleaned for four days, was a mess of urine and faeces. Nero was beginning to show signs of neglect. His stench — overpowering at the best of times — was dreadful.

  Loz was happy with the way things were panning out. He had already received two grand of the promised initial three and was certain he would get the final instalment later that day. By the end of tomorrow he expected to be talking to the Witness Protection Officer about his future: living somewhere in Southern England, with a new identity and everything that went with it. There was no doubt he would need all the protection the cops could offer because Billy Crane — vindictive, violent, vengeful bastard that he was, a man who never let a grudge die — would either want to kill him personally or contract someone to do it for him. Loz knew his life would be under threat for as long as Crane lived, but he was prepared for it and had worked out, in his mind, that the risk was worth taking. His eyes were fixed firmly on that two hundred thousand pounds reward money.

  But until the cops arrested Crane, everything had to go on as normal. Crane had eyes and ears everywhere and if he smelled a rat, he would bolt — and then Loz would very definitely have a problem. He had to keep things ticking over — which included looking after Nero.

  Loz crossed to the cage and regarded the big cat. Then he looked down at the hand Nero had chewed on. The cops had arranged some proper medical treatment and it was improving, smelling less, feeling more like a real hand. This, however, did not make Loz feel any less animosity towards Nero. He still hated the beast with venom.

  His last act of betrayal towards Crane would be to feed Nero with poisoned horsemeat, sit back with a long beer and enjoy watching the creature writhe agonisingly to a slow death in its own shit and piss.

  The expression on Loz’s face, as he thought about this, was pure evil.

  ‘ In your wildest dreams, Barney, could you ever have imagined us not coming back to see you after the way you warned DS Furness off?’

  Gillrow stayed numb for a few moments, then said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘ Let me put it this way,’ Henry said in a tone of voice that would let Gillrow understand the message behind the words — i.e. that he knew everything. ‘We know you tried to see Billy Crane after Danny visited you, and we know that stupid henchman of his tried to warn her off and at the same time indecently assaulted her and tried to rape her.’

  Gillrow’s head fell at this. ‘Oh, God,’ he uttered desperately.

  ‘ We are in the process of dismantling Crane’s organisation, ripping it apart bit by bit — which means going for an historical perspective as well. If that means ripping you apart with it, Barney, then I’ll be more than pleased to do it, so I think you should consider long and hard about helping yourself here, because no one else will- especially Billy Crane.’

  The ex-detective stood up suddenly and walked away into the lounge area, deep in troubled thought. He did not know it, but Henry had very little on him at all, other than a piece of paper from the financial analysts and the sketchy details Loz had supplied. Gillrow returned and sat down wearily in a chair, his expression defeated. Henry’s cold eyes told him in no uncertain terms that he would not be let off the hook.

  ‘ What can you give me?’ Gillrow asked.

  ‘ In terms of promises?’ Henry asked. ‘Nothing — until I’m satisfied you’ve told me every last detail. Then I’ll make decisions and recommendations.’

  Gillrow nodded. He had expected this answer. ‘I’ve been dreading this day. I knew it would come.’ He looked at Danny. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you, DS Furness. I never imagined he would try to sexually assault you.’ Gillrow rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Where do I start?’ Henry then knew he had him — a man about to unburden himself, a wonderful thing for a detective to behold.

  ‘ How about with Malcolm Fitch, Billy Crane and this?’ Henry held up the sheet the financial analysts had prepared for him. ‘The thirty thousand pounds in cash you put down as a deposit for this apartment in 1986 and the seventy thousand you received two years ago to payoff the loan. I’d like to hear about all of those things.’

  The briefing had been very unusual in that the Russian, Yuri Ivankov, had been summoned from Gozo to Moscow, to a massive hotel overlooking the Moscow River; here, Alexandr Drozdov lived and ran his empire from a penthouse apartment, having ruthlessly driven out the rightful owners. A taxi collected Ivankov at the airport and took him to the hotel where he was met at reception and searched; no one was allowed into Old Man Drozdov’s presence armed, other than his immediate trusted bodyguards.

  The penthouse was actually two large apartments knocked into one. A huge, armoured-glass window, capable of withstanding a missile attack, gave a superb view of Gorky Park, one which the Russian did not have time to admire. He was rushed into Drozdov’s presence straight away; the old man was sitting at a desk, typing on a laptop — old fingers, new technology.

  ‘ Yuri,’ he said gravely, raising his head. ‘I have bad news.’

  Ivankov had no idea why he was there, only that it must be of major importance to actually see Alexandr in person; he usually received all instructions through third parties. The opening comment from Drozdov made the killer wary. His skin seemed to tighten on his body. Could it be that his end had come? If so, what had he done to bring it about? Would he have the opportunity to bargain for his life?

  He looked slyly from side to side, noting that Drozdov was flanked by two armed guards, standing either side, several steps behind so as not to crowd him. There was also the bear-like lieutenant, Serov, Drozdov’s most trusted aide, positioned behind the Russian, maybe six feet away. The Russian could not see this man but could sense and smell him. Maybe he already had a gun out, prepared to kill on the old man’s nod.

  In a fraction of as second, Ivankov had weighed up the odds. They were not in his favour.

  If he had been brought in here to be executed, then Serov had to be Ivankov’s first target. Even though he had been searched, the stiletto was still up his sleeve… he would have to turn quickly, drive the knife up through the man’s bearded chin into his brain; at the same time he would have to spin him round for protection from the other guards, seize the weapon from him and take the other two out before shooting Drozdov himself. He had it all worked out. He would not be killed without a fight.

  ‘ Nikolai has been murdered,’ Alexandr Drozdov said, startling the Russian, who was speechless. He knew Nikolai was being groomed for the next Mafia Tsar.

  ‘ How?’ he stuttered. ‘This is dreadful news. You have my sincerest sympathy.’ He meant it.

  Drozdov nodded a thanks. ‘The “how” is irrelevant, Yuri. That is the past. It cannot be changed, but the future can become inevitable. Please find his murderer and kill him brutally and without mercy. Make him suffer.’

  Ivankov said, ‘I will do that gladly. I will do that for love.’

  ‘ Thank you.’ The old man’s spidery finger pointed to the bear man. ‘Serov will furnish you with details… and there is one other thing. Yuri: Nikolai’s murderer stole twenty million pounds from us. Before he dies, ensure he reveals the whereabouts of that money.’ Ever the businessman. He waved the Russian away. ‘As I said, Serov will give you details.’

  Several days later Ivankov’s investigations, based on what he had been told and what he had discovered for himself, led him to Tenerife where he was sitting, sipping strong Turkish coffee on a pavement cafe across the road from Uncle B’s English Bar and Disco.

  ‘ I do not want my wife to be involve
d in any of this,’ Barney Gillrow said firmly.

  Neither Henry nor Danny responded. They were going to make no guarantees.

  Gillrow’s face tightened. ‘You’re a pair of bastards.’

  Henry raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Get on with it,’ he said.

  There was a dictaphone on the table, whirring quietly.

  ‘ You were right,’ Gillrow told Danny. ‘Malcolm Pitch was one of my informants. I recruited him in the early eighties after I got him convicted on a couple of conspiracy charges. He was nothing but a shit-bag, really, on the periphery of big stuff. But he knew lots and lots of people. I used him successfully on numerous occasions.’

  ‘ Even though you didn’t keep any records,’ Danny pointed out.

  He shrugged. ‘No one did in those days.’

  ‘ And that made it right?’ She was incredulous.

  ‘ No.’ He leaned towards her with a sneer. ‘But it was the system, the culture. Every fucker did it, even down to sharing informants’ pay-outs.’

  ‘ Did you?’ Henry asked.

  Gillrow considered the question. He was deep enough in the mire as it was without having to admit to something else. ‘No — I did not.’

  Henry allowed himself a little inward smile. He knew there was no chance of Gillrow blabbing out everything in this sweep. It was doubtful whether he would ever reveal the whole picture of his corruption — and Henry was under no illusions here: Gillrow had been a very bent cop — so for the moment at least, he did not feel a need to push the issue. Later, it would be a very different matter.

  ‘ Tell us about Fitch and Crane.’

  ‘ Like I’ve already said, Fitch was on the periphery of things, but not above trying his best to get deeply involved with some pretty heavy people, amongst whom was Billy Crane. Fitch had been grassing for me long before Crane came into the frame. I was really pushing him to flash himself around the East Lancashire criminal fraternity and he gave me some bloody good stuff, but some of it was close to the edge too.’