by Jane Casey
‘So Skinner trusts him. He believes in him. He does what the boss tells him to do. That gives us the edge on him, doesn’t it? We can nudge him in certain directions. We can find out more about how he operates and who works for him. And in the end, we can defeat him.’
‘He’ll spot it a mile off,’ Williams said.
‘No. He’s too pleased with himself. He believes he has Godley over a barrel.’ Derwent was still standing, leaning against the fireplace. ‘He hates him with a passion and he loves to use the information Godley gives him. Godley is our best asset.’
‘He’s a bent police officer,’ the first grey man said. ‘Not the sort of person we want to protect. We need to make an example of him.’
‘No. Definitely not. That’s what Skinner would love. It won’t stop him recruiting someone else. It won’t help the Met. It will be embarrassing and public and wrong.’
‘I don’t like the thought of publicising that a superintendent has been passing information to the other side,’ Williams said. ‘It makes us look very bad. But these police killings – we need to hold someone accountable for them.’
‘That’s why you’re here instead of your boss. The commissioner can’t know anything about any of this. But you three can organise it between you.’ Derwent shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously frustrated that they weren’t falling in line with his plan. ‘You want to hold someone accountable. I understand that. But not Godley. It’s not his fault. This is on Skinner. We can’t destroy him from the outside – God knows, we’ve tried. We need him to destroy himself. And this is how.’
The two grey men were shaking their heads. It wasn’t going to work, I thought, despairing. Derwent had overreached himself again.
‘We need to make an arrest. We have too many dead police officers to let this go,’ the first grey man said.
‘That’s the beauty of it,’ Derwent said. ‘The price Godley will demand for coming back into Skinner’s fold is Tony Larch and his accomplice.’
‘Why would he do that? He’s got Godley where he wants him. He needs Larch on the outside doing his business,’ the second man rumbled.
‘Skinner has never liked anyone being more powerful than he is. Larch walked when Skinner didn’t. He’s always been lucky and he has a huge reputation in the criminal world. He’s a real super-villain. Also, he costs Skinner a fortune from what we hear. Give Skinner a chance to saw him off at the knees and I reckon he’ll take it.’
‘We haven’t even seen Larch, and we’ve been looking,’ Redfern said. ‘How’s Skinner going to find him?’
Derwent shrugged. ‘Not my problem. He can get hold of him when he needs to. I know John Skinner. I know what he’s like. It will put him back on top again and that’s where he needs to be. He’ll never be happy while he’s stuck in prison and Tony Larch is out having fun, carving a reputation at Skinner’s expense.’
‘We need to talk to Charles about this. Where is he?’
‘Upstairs. But he’s not well enough to talk to anyone.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
Derwent looked to me. I understood that he didn’t want to tell them what had happened in the property store.
‘He’s suffering from mental exhaustion. He’s been under tremendous strain. He needs medical attention,’ I said. ‘He needs some time off.’
‘And you are?’ the first grey man asked.
‘Not important,’ Derwent said smoothly. ‘She’s useful.’ To me, he said, ‘Go and check on the boss. See how he’s doing.’
I went. I didn’t want them to focus on me any more than Derwent did. I ran up the stairs and tiptoed to the door of Godley’s room, which was ajar. I wondered about knocking and didn’t, in the end, leaning around the door to see if the silence from inside was a good thing or a bad one. They were both asleep, their arms wrapped around one another. Serena was behind Godley, curved around him protectively. I withdrew as quietly as I could, holding my breath. I didn’t want to disturb them.
Nor did I want to return to the sitting room. I sat down on the top step of the stairs and waited, fidgeting a little, until the door opened and the four men emerged. Derwent shook hands with each of them and ushered them out of the front door. When he’d closed it, he turned and looked up to where I was lurking.
‘Everything all right up there?’
I’d been sure I was out of sight. I got up and ran down the stairs, keeping my voice low as I said, ‘They’re asleep. Did you sort it all out?’
‘More or less. They were happy to agree to it. Anything to hide the fact that Godley’s been corrupt for years and no one knew about it.’
‘Won’t they punish him?’
‘I don’t think so. Not if he cooperates now. He’s stored up a lot of good will over the years. And you said he tried not to help Skinner too much. If he gives them the details of what he told him and when, they’ll be happy.’
‘You actually did it. Why do you think Godley didn’t come up with this himself?’
‘He’s too proud. He was ashamed to be caught up in Skinner’s games and he wanted a way out. The trouble is, there isn’t one. I don’t care about being good. I don’t care how we get results. I’m not bothered about being irreproachable.’
‘Poor Godley,’ I said.
‘He’ll be all right. They won’t be telling anyone about any of this. We don’t do deals with criminals, officially, but when we do we get our money’s worth, so the bosses are happy. Godley will still be doing the job and he won’t have to look over his shoulder any more. Win, win, win.’
It seemed too good to be true. ‘There’s got to be a catch, though. Is there a catch?’
Derwent’s face darkened. ‘Did you have to remind me?’
‘What is it?’ I was instantly on edge, expecting the worst.
He shook his head, steeling himself before he could say it. ‘The boss is on leave for the foreseeable.’
‘Of course.’
‘Who could possibly step in to run the team at short notice? What beautiful lady of our acquaintance knows the cases and the staff and would be prepared to take charge at a moment’s notice?’
‘Not Una Burt,’ I said.
‘Got it in one.’
I assessed the implications for me and came up with nothing good. ‘Oh, fuck.’
‘I think you mean “Oh gosh.”’ Derwent heaved a sigh. ‘Come on. Back to the office. If we’re in luck she won’t have heard yet and I won’t have to congratulate her.’
Chapter 26
They found Tony Larch at a spa hotel near Bath three days later. He was having a massage when a team of burly policemen kicked the door in and arrested him. The pictures of him – naked, strategically pixelated, furious, gleaming with essential oils, his arm muscles impressively defined as he fought against the cuffs – quickly went viral. His accomplice, Michael Knaggs, was not at the hotel. He had been picked up seven hours earlier at a strip club in Soho, where he was watching a performance so filthy that the coppers who came to arrest him blushed when they talked about it, and they were not the blushing kind. There were no pictures of that one, at least officially.
Knaggs was twenty years younger than Larch and a novice at the killing game. He’d been a junior motorbike champion, though, and grew up on a farm in Norfolk, where he learned to shoot. Unlike Larch, he had no idea how he’d been found. Larch knew Skinner had given him up. That was why he was so angry.
I had little sympathy.
Neither of them was talking but that didn’t matter. We had taken the contents of Larch’s suitcase and emptied out most of Knaggs’s flat, so we had enough material to piece together a timeline for them. We had evidence, and we would be able to gather more. We would make a case against them easily enough.
‘Are you coming out tonight, Maeve?’
I looked up to see Mal Upton standing by my desk. ‘I don’t know yet. Maybe.’
I did know. I wouldn’t be going. It was a celebration of our tremendous success in locatin
g Larch and Knaggs and I couldn’t quite bring myself to take pleasure in it. Not since I knew the price we’d paid for the information.
But you couldn’t say that kind of thing to Mal, who was standing there looking hopeful and shaggy, his hair untidy, his shirt pulling out from his trousers on one side.
‘I’ll try to make it.’
‘If you do, I’ll buy you a drink. I owe you one and I don’t want to risk making you a cup of tea in case I get it wrong.’
‘Did I really scare you?’ I asked.
‘Not really.’
‘I must be losing my touch.’ I went back to the report I was writing. I knew Derwent was sitting at his desk and I had a feeling he was grinning, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking. He had the courtesy to wait until Mal had gone out of the room.
‘Velcro Kerrigan strikes again.’
‘Stop talking now,’ I said.
‘Does he know you’re single?’
I glowered.
‘Sorry, that you might be single. Have you heard from the wandering boyfriend?’
‘Nope.’ I tried to sound carefree, as if I didn’t mind and it didn’t matter, when really I did mind, a lot, and it was mostly what I thought about when I wasn’t thinking about work. Not a text message, nor an email, nor a voicemail. Nothing at all. I was worried about Rob, and angry with him, and still cross with myself, no matter what Derwent had said about it not being my fault. I just couldn’t bring myself to get in touch with him, or – worse – Deborah Ormond.
Derwent looked as if he was about to say something but, most rarely for him, didn’t. He kicked his desk a couple of times instead. ‘So, you’re single. Should I tell him?’
‘You shouldn’t speak to him. About anything. He’s a sweet boy and you’ll corrupt him with your dirty mind.’
‘Interesting. I would not have said he was your type.’
‘He isn’t.’
‘You can’t be that desperate yet.’
‘I am desperate for you to stop talking to me about this.’ I sat back in my chair. ‘Terence Hammond.’
‘No.’ Derwent shook his head. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘But—’
‘Tony Larch and Michael Knaggs are in custody. We have a backlog of work that will take me until March to get through, because very inconsiderate people kept killing one another while we were worrying about getting shot ourselves. Don’t say Terence Hammond to me.’
‘I’m just not sure.’
‘I hate you.’
‘I know.’ I tapped the end of my pen on my notebook, thinking. ‘It’s the woman that bothers me. Larch and Knaggs are good at what they do, but where did they get a woman who was prepared to help?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe they hired her. I don’t want to shock you but there are women who will do that kind of thing for money.’
‘Conspire to kill people?’
‘Get them off in parked cars. You know, Knaggs was a regular at that club in Soho.’ Derwent snapped his fingers. ‘You are a genius. I’ve got a reason to go and I’m going.’
‘It won’t be open now.’
‘What time, do you think?’ He checked his watch. ‘Soon?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ I went back to work, still thinking, and after a few minutes of fidgeting Derwent threw down the file he was reading.
‘You are ruining my life.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m finished with this case. Hammond is over. Done and dusted.’ He took his notes out of the folder and spread them across his desk according to his own arcane system. It was eerily close to tarot, as I’d told him before. ‘One last look.’
I left him chewing it over and went to an interminable meeting chaired by Una Burt, who liked to read things out loud, at length. She was not a good reader and I spent my time fantasising about screaming, throwing my papers in the air and walking out. Something was bothering me. Something Derwent had said. He said so much, though, and most of it was troubling one way or another.
I came out of the meeting room with a suggestion for him but he wasn’t at his desk. The tarot layout was gone, the file closed with a stapler resting on top of it like a cross on a vampire’s grave. Do not open. He really wasn’t interested any more, and that was fine, but I couldn’t let it drop, even if it meant doing something I found repugnant. Like talking to Peter Belcott. I went across the room to the big noticeboard which Belcott was stripping of its photographs and notes.
‘Tidying up?’
‘What does it look like?’ He was stacking the information neatly on the desk beside him.
I pointed at the stack. ‘Do you mind if I have a look through this?’
‘Why?’
‘I want to see if there’s anything about Terence Hammond’s career. Complaints or enquiries.’ I was shuffling through it as I spoke. Belcott’s hand slammed down on top of the pile.
‘You’re making a mess. Anyway, it’s not there.’
‘Oh. Does that mean there wasn’t anything?’
‘No, there was. I just didn’t put it up. By the time I got hold of it, the Maudling Estate shooting had happened and it didn’t seem important.’ He dropped a couple of tacks into a box and went over to his desk, where he unearthed a thin cardboard folder. ‘There you go. Knock yourself out.’
‘Thanks, Pete.’ There were three pages in the file and I was skimming through them already. As I turned the first page a name jumped out at me. I hadn’t been consciously expecting to see it but I wasn’t surprised, all the same. I sat down at my desk and read through the file properly, a few times, until I was sure I’d taken it all in, and then I lifted the phone.
‘Coming.’ The voice came from quite a long way back inside the flat. ‘I’ll be there in a second.’
I waited on the doorstep, thinking that there was no need to hurry. I wasn’t going anywhere.
After a great deal of unlocking Philip Gregory opened the door and hopped backwards a little. ‘Sorry, it’s the crutches. They slow me down. What can I do for you, Maeve Kerrigan?’
‘You remembered my name.’
‘I never forget a good one. I recognised you as soon as I saw you on that thing.’ He pointed at the intercom, which had a tiny camera for checking who was at the door. ‘This is going to sound rude but why are you here?’
‘I wondered if I could have a word with you about Terence.’
He gave me a puzzled smile. ‘I think I said at the church that I wasn’t in touch with him. I really don’t have any information that would be useful for you. And I thought you’d got the guys anyway.’
‘We have two in custody,’ I said. ‘You know what it’s like. I’m just chasing up some loose ends.’
‘And I’m a loose end, am I?’ He smiled again. ‘Honoured. It’s cold out here. Do you want to come in?’
‘Thanks.’
It was a small flat and Gregory obviously lived in it alone. He dragged a basket full of ironing off one of the armchairs.
‘Sorry about the state of the place. I wasn’t expecting a visitor.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m always surprising people. At least you were dressed.’
‘There is that.’ He lowered himself into his chair and slotted the crutches underneath it.
‘How are you managing with those? Getting used to them?’
‘Not so you’d notice.’ Again the likeable smile. ‘I’ll get the hang of them about a day before the plaster comes off.’
He was being very friendly but I thought he was nervous all the same.
‘Right. The reason I’ve come is because I wanted to clarify a couple of things that were bothering me.’
‘Sounds ominous,’ he said with an edgy little laugh.
‘Probably not. It was just that one of my colleagues took me back to the crime scene in Richmond Park a while ago because he said that was where it all started, with Terence’s death. And it made me think that he was wrong. It wasn’t where it started.’ I was watching him closely. ‘
It started with you.’
He pulled a face. ‘Glad I was the dress rehearsal, in that case. They didn’t have their hand in yet.’
‘It definitely didn’t work out the way they intended.’
‘Look, I know what you’re saying but it doesn’t seem likely, does it? Someone had a grudge against the police, saw me crossing the road like an idiot, saw red, hit the gas. I didn’t jump far enough out of the way and I got a broken leg. They drove off. The end. That’s not the same as Terence being shot, or the PCSO having her throat cut. It’s not skilful.’
‘No, it’s not.’ I leaned forward. ‘Why did you lie about it?’
‘What?’
‘You said you’d given them a pretty good description of the car but they didn’t pick it up anywhere on CCTV – there was no car matching that description in the area at the time you were attacked.’
‘The guys were professionals. They must have dodged the cameras.’
‘No. You sent the cops looking for the wrong vehicle. You didn’t want to find the person who attacked you.’
‘That’s just stupid,’ he said forcefully. ‘Why on earth would I want to avoid it?’
‘That’s what I was wondering. Then I realised you’d lied to me too.’
‘No.’
‘Small tip.’ I took the folder out of my bag. ‘Don’t lie to a police officer, especially about something that’s easy to check and even more especially if you don’t have to.’
‘What are you talking about?’ There was a sheen of sweat across his scalp.
‘You said you’d never been crewed with Terence Hammond when you worked in the same team. You said you weren’t even friends. I spent quite a bit of time today on the phone talking to people, including your old boss. You and Hammond always worked together and you were thick as thieves. Now, why would you lie about that unless you were trying to hide something?’
‘Like what?’
I tapped the folder. ‘This is a report into an investigation carried out by the DPS in 2001. You and Terence Hammond got in serious trouble, didn’t you?’
Gregory swallowed. ‘Everyone’s forgotten about that.’
‘You haven’t. Tell me about Annabel Strake.’