by L M Krier
‘I’ll swing by just before eight in the morning, if that suits you, boss? Ring me before, if you get a shout, of course, and I’ll come and get you.’
Trev was at the kitchen table, books and papers spread everywhere, his laptop open and on. He looked up with a smile as Ted came in.
‘Hey, you. I didn’t hear the car.’
‘That’s because it’s in intensive care,’ Ted told him, bending over to kiss him. ‘This all looks very studious. What’s it about?’
‘What happened to the car? And this is TEFL stuff, after I talked to Mark last night.’
Seeing Ted’s puzzled look, he continued, ‘Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I did a bit of it when I had that year in Japan. Mark volunteers at a centre that helps refugees and immigrants to learn English so they can integrate better and have more chance of finding work. It made me think. I have all this education, all these language A levels, and I’m basically just a lazy sod who doesn’t do anything much to make a contribution to society. So I’m going to update my qualification and do the same thing. Is that all right with you?’
‘Of course it is. Good for you. I’m proud of you. You’ll be really good at it and you’ll enjoy it, too. Knowing you, you’ll pick up a few more languages while you’re doing it.’
‘The downside is, I’ve been so wrapped up in this I haven’t made us anything to eat yet. Sorry. I’ll knock something up quickly. But first tell me about the car. What happened?’
Ted gave him the carefully edited highlights, not wanting to worry his partner. He started tidying up while Trev began preparing their meal.
‘You be very careful. There must be quite a few people with a grudge against you by now, and I don’t want anything happening to you. Promise me you’ll take care and watch your back.’
‘Morning, Super.’
Ted had seen the caller display and knew it was Jim Baker calling, not long after Mike had picked him up and he’d arrived in his office to get ready for the morning briefing.
‘Ted, if you breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you, I swear I’ll have you back on the beat,’ the Detective Superintendent growled menacingly.
‘You know by now that you can trust me, Jim. Unless you’re phoning to confess to committing some crime or another. Then it might be a bit tricky.’
‘I’m in hospital,’ Jim began, then as Ted started to ask questions, he interrupted him. ‘It’s fine, now. I had to have an operation, but I’m okay, although they’re keeping me in for a few days. The official line is I’ve broken my ankle, which is true. I’m going to tell you what really happened but if you laugh, Ted, you’ll be issuing fixed penalty tickets for the rest of your career. No one else knows this, so if it gets out, I’ll know it came from you.
‘Bella wanted me to go line dancing with her. You know, all that country stuff. Not my scene at all, and I’m no dancer. But she was mad keen. Bought me the fancy cowboy boots and everything. They cost a fortune. Trouble is though, I’ve got two left feet, and I’m not light on either of them. And those bloody things have heels. I’ve never worn high heels in my life. Anyway, I fell over, off the little raised platform thing we were on, and broke my ankle. A bad fracture/dislocation, they said, and the blood supply was compromised so I had to have surgery to sort that and pin it. And they had to cut the boot off because my ankle was swelling so badly.
‘So I’m bloody stuck in here for a few days, and I need keeping up to speed with whatever’s going on. And it means, of course, that I won’t be able to head up this joint investigation, at least not for a few days. Well, we can keep in phone contact and you can run things by me. I just won’t be able to do anything officially until they let me out. And until I come off the painkillers, which have turned me into a zombie and keep sending me to sleep. Just don’t you dare tell anyone what really happened, if you know what’s good for you.’
Now he knew his boss and good friend was all right, Ted was having trouble keeping the laughter out of his voice.
‘Your secret’s safe with me, Jim. I won’t breathe a word to anyone. I wouldn’t be such a heel.’
‘Ted, I’m bloody warning you ...’
‘I’ll try and get in to see you later today, if I can get away. Meanwhile, look after yourself and good luck. You know. Like they say in the theatre, break a leg.’
‘Ted ...!’
Ted was laughing aloud as he ended the call. Then the phone on his desk rang. Kevin Turner.
‘Hi, Ted, have you heard what happened to the Big Boss? Line dancing, in cowboy boots? Can you imagine it? I’d have paid good money to see that.’
‘How did you know about that? He’s just this minute phoned to tell me and I’m sworn to secrecy.’
‘You know nothing like that stays secret for long in a town this size. One of my lads is married to the paramedic who took him to hospital. She recognised who it was from the name and the description he’d given her from when the Big Boss worked here.’
‘He’s going to think the leak came from me and as soon as he has a good leg to stand on, he’ll be round here to kick me right round the office.’
Both men were laughing now, then Ted heard Kev break off and, in response to a voice in the background which he couldn’t quite hear in detail, he said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
There was a pause, then he continued, ‘Ted? Did you hear that? That was the Ice Queen, summoning the two of us to her office in ten minutes’ time. And I have to say, Her Royal Highness does not looked pleased. Not at all. Now, I know I’ve been a good boy. My conscience is clear. So what have you been up to?’
‘Nothing, that I can think of. Certainly nothing she might have heard about. I’ll swing by your office to pick you up, for moral support. But it’s your turn to go in first, this time.’
Ted went to tell the team that he had to be elsewhere and to ask Jo to start the briefing without him. He’d catch up with them once he found out what had rattled the Ice Queen’s cage this morning.
‘I think the priority needs to be to get that diary transcribed as soon as possible, so we might know exactly how this scam worked and what was going on. There could be vital details in it.’
‘Boss, if it helps, I can actually copy type quite quickly and accurately,’ Megan Jennings put in. ‘I decided to learn when I was still making my mind up on a career path.’
Mike Hallam immediately got to his feet, crossed the office and put the diary on her desk. It was a smartly bound A4 book, the type often used for hand-written accounts.
‘Sold to the first and only bidder. Thanks, Megan, that will be a big help. It would take me ages with two fingers and that might be a productive use of your time. Can you start from the most recent entries, please. They’re likely to be the most relevant to the case.’
‘Right, I’ll be in the Super’s office but I sense it might be best to say interrupt me for dire emergencies only. Jo, over to you.’
For once, even Kevin Turner wasn’t clowning around as he usually did when he and Ted got the royal summons. All he would say was that their boss had been tight-lipped and in an extremely bad mood. It didn’t bode well, especially as neither of them had a clue as to what it was about.
They knocked dutifully and waited for her summons to go in. Ted could see straight away what Kev had been getting at. He’d seldom seen her look so angry. The coffee was ready but she plonked it down in front of them much more forcefully that usual.
‘Gentlemen, please sit down. There has been, please excuse the expression, the most monumental cock-up. I’ve been on the phone half the morning already to the top brass. I’d just hasten to reassure you, before I go any further, that although heads will roll, they won’t be from here.’
Ted and Kevin exchanged a quick look. It was so rare for either of them to hear anything like that from the Super.
‘You’ve heard that Jim Baker is out of action?’
Ted thought he’d better just check that she was up to speed with that development.
‘Thank you, yes, I heard as soon as I arrived this morning. In light of what I’m about to tell you, it actually makes no difference in the greater scheme of things. In fact, I’d wager that Superintendent Baker might well prefer a cosy hospital bed to the hot seat in this enquiry.
‘In a nutshell, it appears that the Fraud Team from Central were aware of this ongoing bogus police officer scam. The one in our division is gang related. Several of those behind the operation are already known to the police. In the interests of fairness, I should point out at this stage that none of the suspects has any record for serious violence.
‘They had their eye on one in particular who was known to be in our area. Sam Kateb, full name Samir Kateb. Originally from Algeria, moved to France with the whole extended family, then to the UK. He’s often the front man as he’s well spoken, articulate and charming. Speaks several languages fluently. When I say they had their eye on him, they had him under full surveillance, including his visits to our patch.
‘They even saw him have a face-to-face meeting with an unidentified woman who we’re now sure was our victim. A decision was taken to concentrate on him, rather than the target, in the hopes of picking him up when he went to collect whatever he’d told the target to buy, which we now know was the watch. He may not, of course, be the killer. It’s thought he probably isn’t as he has no form for violence of any sort. Quite the reverse. He is the consummate gentleman.’
She paused to take a drink of her coffee. Ted and Kevin took the opportunity to do the same thing. Ted couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If a team from another division had been carrying out covert surveillance on their territory, they should have been notified, as a courtesy, if nothing else. But the idea that they could have let a suspect like that slip through their fingers and possibly go on to kill would have serious and far-reaching ramifications.
‘As you can imagine, gentlemen, there are currently a great many internal enquiries going on into how this appalling mess was allowed to happen. This means that senior officers are a bit thin on the ground to take over from the unfortunate Superintendent Baker to head up the joint operation. And it is now going to be far larger than before as it will have to include Major Fraud, or what is left of their team once the axe has ceased to fall.
‘In addition, it was felt at the top level, that it needs to be someone from outside the area, to be sure that the whole sorry affair is handled impartially. They envisaged finding someone who could oversee both the joint operation and the various internal enquiries. That way, the force may manage to emerge with at least some shred of integrity left intact.’
She paused to allow them all another drink, then without saying anything, got up to top up everyone’s mugs.
‘They’ve settled on an officer who’s previously served with the GMP but has been with the Met for a few years now. You gentlemen might even have encountered him. Chief Superintendent Roy Marston. He’ll be taking command tomorrow and we’ll be attending the first briefing of all the senior officers who will be involved. Those who have survived, that is.’
Ted had a sudden leaden feeling in his stomach which had nothing to do with the excellent coffee, even if he had gulped it too hot and too quickly. He and Marston had history, and not in a good way. From back when Ted was a Firearms sergeant, in charge of a team, assigned to a case on which then Inspector Marston was SIO. They’d gone toe to toe in a dispute when Marston had tried to interfere with Ted’s deployment of his weapons team. In the end Ted had called in his own senior officer who had backed him unreservedly and given Marston a public dressing-down. Ted knew he was in for a rough ride with him in overall charge of this investigation.
‘I haven’t met him myself, yet, but I know of him by reputation. I know he’s a hard and exacting taskmaster, which is what is needed. I also know he has a reputation for calling briefings at any time of the day or night, his way of making sure that everyone on his team is in a fit state to work at all times. I’m looking forward to the challenge of working with him.’
‘I’m bloody not,’ Ted muttered, as he followed Kevin into his office after the Ice Queen had finished with them.
Kev looked at him in surprise. It was almost as rare for Ted to swear as it was for the Ice Queen.
‘You know him, then? I know of him, but no more than that.’
‘I came across him when I was in Firearms. We had a right bust-up. My boss backed me over him, in public, too. He’s not likely to have forgiven or forgotten. He’s also massively homophobic and I doubt that’s changed.’
‘You’ve got rights now, though. Not like the old days. If you’re getting aggro of that sort, you can complain to someone.’
Ted’s laugh was hollow.
‘He hates me because I had to call my boss in when he was trying to interfere with how I was deploying my team. No one without firearms experience is qualified to do that, but he wasn’t having any. No matter how tough things get this time, I can hardly go running to teacher again, if I want to stay on the case. Especially as my senior officer is now a woman. He’d love that.’
Chapter Five
The Assistant Chief Constable (Crime), Russell Evans, made a short appearance at the first joint briefing. He would be overall in charge of the operation, but because of the problems so far and the need for transparency, the day-to-day running would be done by the officer sent up from the Met, Chief Superintendent Roy Marston. Ted’s old Nemesis.
The ACC introduced the new senior officer in charge, then left them all to it. It didn’t take the incomer long to show his colours, as soon as the door closed behind Evans.
‘Right, everyone. Mobiles off, ears open, mouths shut.’
Marston stood, legs apart, rocking from heels to toes, surveying those present. He was not tall – Ted put him at no more than four inches bigger than he was – and he was carrying rather more weight than he should have, which made him look smaller somehow. His receding hairline was offset by a thick, bristling moustache in a face so smooth that there was something almost feminine about it. The nose spoilt the look. Broken and badly set at some time, so it splayed across his face like that of a boxer.
Ted could almost picture him on a military parade ground, swagger stick under one arm, barking at his soldiers. Except he knew he was a career copper, fast-tracked through promotion, hotly tipped for the next Assistant Chief Constable vacancy which came his way. Ted could never really work out why, except that he knew the man was without doubt highly intelligent, had sailed through all his exams and promotion boards and didn’t care how many faces he trod on as he headed for the top. Ted doubted that Marston had forgotten the history between them, or that the bad feeling it had caused had mellowed over the years. He feared it might even have grown through festering.
‘You’ve all been called to this briefing because each of you will be in charge of one aspect of this investigation, answerable directly to me. I’ll be assigning tasks shortly. I know who you all are, obviously, but it’s a big team and some of you might not know one another. So when I address you for the first time I’d just ask you to make a gesture to identify yourself.
‘But first of all, this is a big and a complex operation and I want to make sure we start off with the right focus. Now, I’ve picked out five possible operational names from The Book. I’m going to write them up on the board here. You’ll find pen and paper in front of you, so I want you each to write down your choice and pass them up to me.’
Ted imagined Marston had recently been on some box-ticking course or another about involvement and engagement. To him it felt like a waste of precious operational time. He thought he’d made his sigh too quiet to notice, but perhaps the way he’d changed his posture, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, had drawn Marston’s attention to him.
‘Am I boring you already, Darling? For those of you who don’t know, this is Detective Chief Inspector Darling, from Stockport.’
‘No, sir, not at all. You’re quite right of course, it’s essential tha
t we pick the appropriate name for such an important operation.’
Marston glared at him for a moment longer, looking for any hint of sarcasm or impertinence. Then he turned to the board and started writing. Kevin Turner, sitting on Ted’s right, gave him a sharp nudge with his elbow and grinned at him. Ted wasn’t sure but he thought that the Ice Queen, sitting demurely on his other side, lowered her head to hide a smile.
‘Right, so Operation Croesus it is,’ Marston said, once he’d counted the pieces of paper. ‘That’s very apt, because of the financial angle, but we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that a woman has died as a result of it. Darling, you’re in charge of the homicide investigation. But you report every aspect of it to me, and above all, you don’t move to an arrest without my say-so.
‘I don’t want this first briefing to turn into an inquest into what has gone wrong with the case so far. You all know by now that errors have been made. Disastrous errors, which certainly contributed to, if not directly caused, the death of a civilian who got caught up in the scam. Superintendent Don Williams, from West Yorkshire, is in charge of that part of the case, so I’ll just ask him to outline very briefly what we know so far, and what lessons can be learnt from previous mistakes. Don,’ Marston nodded to a uniformed officer sitting in the front row.
‘Sir, from what we know so far, Fraud decided to concentrate their efforts and resources on keeping one of the known gang leaders, Samir Kateb, under observation rather than the prospective target who had been identified. With the benefit of hindsight, it was probably the wrong decision. Kateb has no record of violence of any sort. Quite the contrary. He’s the front man, charming, plausible, absolutely no menace about him. It’s unlikely he ever intended going near the victim in person for the actual hand-over, which is why he will have told her that she would be handing the item over to one of his so-called officers. Who that was, we don’t know, but clearly someone in a different category altogether, as we’re assuming from the information we have to hand that it’s this second person who killed Mrs Ashworth.