by M. C. Dutton
Jazz was furious. This pair were expert at setting up cannabis factories, so how come they were electrocuted? It didn’t make sense. He wanted to talk to Bam Bam. Just as he was taking his phone out to ring him, a call came through from Ilford Police Station. A house in Barking had been torched and two bodies had been found inside. It looked like another cannabis factory. Jazz grabbed Sharon and Tony with the words “Bloody Hell, doesn’t anyone around here live a normal life? Another cannabis factory and bodies found in Barking.”
They put on the blue light and the siren and Tony drove to Barking at break neck speed, while they shouted at drivers ahead of them. Confused by the siren and not knowing what to do, these drivers stayed where they were, causing Tony to screech and mount the pavement to get away. They were all hoarse from shouting at all the fucking stupid drivers who got in their way by the time they arrived at the house in Barking.
While they were travelling, a call came through from Ilford CAD room to tell them a body was floating in Barking Creek. It looked like either a Vietnamese or Chinese man aged between 25 years and 35 years. A doctor said this person had been shot in the back of the head. Jazz asked, “What the hell is going on? This is like CSI Criminal Intent on the television. Who the fuck is doing this?” None of them could contain their excitement. Never before in the history of East London, well not since the Krays, had so much be going on; within a space of an hour, five men had been killed. There had to be a turf war being organised was all Jazz could think. It had to be contained because he wouldn’t be allowed to keep such a huge case. “The drug bastards should rot in hell for doing this now. They are gonna get my case taken away from me,” was all he could say.
The fire was smouldering when they arrived in Barking. The bodies had been taken to the local mortuary. The fire chief said it looked like the fire had been started deliberately but wouldn’t confirm this just yet. The bodies were found trussed up in the bedroom upstairs and it looked like the fire had been started around and on the bed where the bodies were found. Jazz left knowing he would get a full report tomorrow.
They went to the mortuary in King George’s Hospital. Luckily they had also brought the body from Barking Creek there. It was confirmed all were Vietnamese or Chinese. Again, there was a promise that there would be a post mortem and report within the next couple of days but off the record all had been killed and the body in Barking Creek had a gun wound in the back of the head that looked like it had been inflicted at close range and very much like a contract killing. The two burnt bodies had been tied up with chains. The fire would have taken some time to become a furnace and they would have burned slowly. In answer to Jazz’s question, the pathologist said, “Yes, it looked like they had been burnt alive.” The pathologist stated this in quite a matter of fact way and was surprised to see the three of them in such distress. The colour had drained out of Jazz’s face at this bit of information, Sharon looked close to passing out and was holding onto the wall to steady herself. and Tony was open-mouthed in shock. They were in the police force but this sort of thing never happened on their shift. The brutality and the pain of these killings took their breath away. The pathologist got on with his work, he was used to such things. He was used to dealing with inanimate bodies and never gave a thought to what they were or how they felt before death. To him, their deaths were a puzzle to be solved.
Jazz told Sharon and Tony to do all the necessary paperwork to tally up all the victims and to get systems operating so everything was sent to their office as soon as possible. He would see them in the morning but he told them to ring him if anything cropped up. It was a waiting game with forensics again. This was getting stupid. He was off to talk to Bam Bam to find out what the fucking hell had been going on. He needed a drink and once outside, he took a good long swig from his flask and had a cigarette. He needed time to think. He drove to Bam Bam’s office for some answers.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
He arrived unannounced which, on reflection, was stupid. What if Bam Bam wasn’t there? He would be stuffed for answers. He needed to know what was going on. He saw in the road Bam Bam’s Mercedes, registration BBB1. He had to be in the office. The minder on the door was very obstructive and wouldn’t let him pass. Jazz showed his police badge but that didn’t help. It took a bit of shouting and swearing before the oaf on the door called up on his radio to another oaf inside. Bam Bam could see Jazz on the CCTV. He was almost jumping up and down with frustration at being kept waiting. Bam Bam decided to make him wait a bit longer. He didn’t allow anyone to come barging into his office when they felt like it. They had to be invited and Jazz needed to learn a lesson. He sat drinking tea and eating a cake whilst he watched what was going on outside.
After thirty minutes, Bam Bam nodded to his bodyguard beside him and he went and fetched Jazz, who had now calmed down and was waiting patiently. He finished his cigarette and walked in when beckoned by the bodyguard. Bam Bam was sitting behind his desk; he waved Jazz to sit on the chair in front of the desk. He beckoned for more tea and cakes and the bodyguard nodded to someone waiting at the office door. They scurried away quietly to collect a tray and serve Bam Bam and his guest. This was done within a minute. Jazz reckoned they permanently had a tray of fresh tea and cakes ready for Bam Bam whenever he called. It was a good service and Jazz reckoned even royalty wouldn’t get served this quick. It showed how powerful Bam Bam was in every area of his work, people jumped to attention when he looked at them.
Bam Bam knew why Jazz was here but he would wait until asked before he said anything. The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up and listened. Jazz could vaguely hear a voice on the other end; Bam Bam grunted once and after a minute he put the phone down. He looked up at Jazz and said there had been another house fire and a body had been found in Newham. Jazz knew Bam Bam was either involved in all of the killings or was very aware who was. There had been two fires and six bodies, all within 24 hours. It was all getting out of hand.
Jazz asked who had killed Giang Nguyen and Tho Luong. Bam Bam couldn’t answer directly. He hinted that perhaps one of the Holy Trinity were just paying them back for killing the old lady and bringing the business to the attention of the police. The first fire and the two killed in the house in Barking was retaliation by the Triads. The victim in Barking Creek was also the interlopers’ man and the latest fire was a Snakehead house so the interlopers were retaliating. Bam Bam said that his business was on red alert for any trouble. Jazz asked for the name of the head of the interlopers and he said Tran Tan Giap was the boss. Jazz knew that name, he was the owner of the Mercedes seen next door to Alice. God, it was all coming together. He needed to find this Tran Tan Giap. Bam Bam laughed, he said what the frig did he think they were all doing? Everybody wanted to find this Tran Tan Giap. Nerves were getting frayed and the killings had to stop.
Bam Bam was waiting to go home. He said his wife had been sent to his daughter’s home in Spain for a few weeks until this all died down. Jazz asked how Sandeep was these days. Bam Bam relaxed a little and his face shone. She was pregnant and doing well. He hoped she would have a son. Apparently she was due in the next four months and with a bit of luck Mrs Bam Bam might stay out there for longer than a few weeks. He thought she would be safer there. His home was not as safe as it could be and some of his men were working on securing it from the interlopers, he was waiting for their call to say he could go home.
Sandeep was pregnant, now that was great, Jazz told himself. A little of him felt quite jealous though. He liked Sandeep a lot and hoped her husband was kind to her. He would have waited on her hand and foot if he had married her. She was very special. He saw the latest picture of her on Bam Bam’s desk. She looked older but finer. She was a very serene and beautiful woman, no wonder Bam Bam was so proud. He unconsciously felt the bangle she had given him. He had never taken it off.
Getting back to the situation in hand, Jazz asked what the next step was in finding Tran Tan Giap. Bam Bam said his men were working with Snake
head and Triad men to find where he might be hiding. It was thought he was somewhere in Central London. Jazz asked if anyone had a picture of this man but no one had seen him. Jazz would get someone to check the police systems to see if the name meant anything to anyone. He looked at his watch and saw it was nearly 6 p.m. and he was meeting Bob in the Cranbrook. He left Bam Bam with the news that if Tran Tan Giap was found, Jazz must be the first person to be told. Everyone was holding their breath and hoping the killings had stopped.
As he left Bam Bam’s office, he phoned Sharon and asked her to check out the name of Tran Tan Giap and see what she could find. He said he was on the end of the phone if she needed him. Tony had taken himself off to check out an address he found written on a piece of paper found in the burnt-out house. Again, it was a waiting game. He wished it worked like on the films, where information was got instantly. Tomorrow should bring forth some news.
He checked his phone and saw he had four missed calls from DCI Radley. “Yea gods, that man is stalking me,” was all he could say. In reality he knew his time was limited, the case would have to be handed over to the murder squad now. He realised they would already be at Ilford Police Station setting up. Still, he reckoned, there was time to get this Tran Tan man and avenge Alice, placate DCI Radley, solve the gang murders and keep his reputation for always catching his man. He smiled ruefully and thought, who the hell did he think he was, superman?
FRIENDS
He got to the Cranbrook pub about 6.30 p.m. and saw Bob sitting there with a pint of Stella. By now Jazz was exhausted. All the adrenalin that had kept him buzzing and on his toes had vanished and been replaced by cement in his legs. He could hardly walk, he was so tired. He didn’t intent to stay long, just long enough to have a chat and a drink with Bob and then he was off home to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be tough.
Bob smiled when Jazz sat down. He got up and ordered a pint of Stella for him, he knew what he would drink. They had a comfortable friendship that went back years and it was only Bob who stayed a good friend after the incident all those years ago. Everyone else had turned their back on him and life was bad. Bob had taken him out for a drink regularly and checked if he was OK. Jazz would never forget that.
When Bob asked how things were going, Jazz outlined what was happening. The killings had got all officers running around the boroughs; Bob warned that Jazz needed to keep a low profile because the murder squad were now in place and would have him for breakfast if they knew what he knew. Jazz said tomorrow would be the day he landed the big fish. Sharon was working with Steve and Tony was off to an address in Forest Gate, which he hoped will give out some clues. Bob asked where in Forest Gate because he knew that area himself. Clinton Road close to Forest Gate Station was all Jazz could remember. He didn’t think it would amount to much but it was good that Tony was on the case and trying. Sharon and Tony would ring him later and update him. Bob thought that, as usual, Jazz had everything under control and he wouldn’t tell anyone at the station where Jazz was tonight. He slapped Bob on the back and thanked him for being a good friend and got up to leave. It was 8 p.m. and, after three pints of Stella, it was time to go. It would be a very early start tomorrow and he needed to sleep and think.
MRS CHODDA’S HELPER
He let himself in and looked up to see Mrs Chodda at her kitchen door. If she saw his face drop, she didn’t show it. Instead, she gave him her brightest smile and said she had a hot cup of tea and samosas for him. She could tell he was searching for an excuse to not enter her kitchen but she pre-empted him and said it would be for 10 minutes only and then he could leave. With a reluctant smile and more good grace than he felt, he followed her into her kitchen.
She stood there a vision of loveliness, a young woman in a bright blue sari, black hair falling to her shoulders and shining with health. She had a minimal amount of jewellery on, as befits an unmarried woman. Her eyes were looking to the ground in modesty and grace. He groaned inwardly. Not tonight, please, he begged to himself. With a sweep of her hand, Mrs Chodda bade him sit at her table in the kitchen. She went to the stove and called the vision of loveliness to her. The tea and samosas were brought serenely to him and he thanked her. He asked her name and she whispered Sandeep. This struck a deep chord with him. It was a common name but seeing another Sandeep today felt strange. He smiled at her and said how lovely she looked.
With Mrs Chodda ensconced by her stove, Sandeep looked quickly to ensure she was not looking or listening and then whispered urgently to Jazz, “Look, you’re OK but you are too old for me. So don’t think for one minute I am interested in you. You know and I know we are being set up. Let’s just play the game and be pleasant, but bollocks to all of this, I am not fucking agreeing, OK?”
He nearly dropped the cup. Gee, the vision of loveliness had turned into a demon. He stammered to say something and then, choking on his tea, he laughed. He couldn’t stop. This was the funniest ever. There was him thinking he was being set up and she didn’t want him anyway. He tried to look sad at such a comment but it didn’t work. Mrs Chodda was looking now and thinking they were getting on very well. She was pleased. She would invite Sandeep again to her house to see Mr Singh. She would give them a few more minutes to chat.
Jazz contained himself and looked up at a perplexed vision of loveliness and said, “Although I am distraught, I agree with you. I am far too old for you. But I suggest you are careful how you talk to future prospective husbands, don’t get yourself in trouble with your family.”
She smiled and said she was studying law and had no intention of marrying anyone she didn’t want to. Jazz knew all about the problems with old traditions and modern Sikh women. Times were changing. She was feisty enough to get her way, he thought.
Mrs Chodda was very happy indeed. She made Jazz eat some more samosas and got Sandeep to pour him another cup of tea.
“By the most merciful god, Mrs Chodda, these are the best samosas I have ever tasted.” Jazz gratefully sang her praises.
Mrs Chodda beamed with pleasure. She looked at him and then at Sandeep and her smile got broader. After some aimless chit chat and a potted history of how wonderful Sandeep’s family were and how she was a good girl studying hard at law school, Jazz was allowed to leave. He thanked Mrs Chodda graciously and said goodbye to Sandeep, who had resumed her modest look. As he climbed the stairs he smiled but thought wearily, what a day he had had. Murders, marriage, arson, drugs, gang warfare and samosas, what a mixture.
He got a large vodka and sipped it urgently as he sat down and rang Sharon. She was working late with Steve and said it was getting complicated. He tried to ring Tony but there was no reply, it went to answerphone. He figured Tony would have rung him if there was anything to report. He left a message and said to meet him and Sharon in McDonald’s at 7.30 a.m. tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to go into the police station before they had a chance to swap information. He would ring Bam Bam in the morning for an update. He looked at the clock and saw it was getting on for 10 p.m. so time for another cigarette and a large vodka and he would then go to bed. He slept soundly until 6 a.m.
CONFESSIONS OF A SMACK HEAD
He had six voicemail messages from DCI Radley on his phone. The first one was tense but reasonable. By the sixth voicemail he was shouting and ranting and promising to see Jazz stripped of his rank and frogmarched out of the Met Police. Jazz could tell he was not best pleased with him. He sent a text message to his DCI just saying he would see him by lunchtime and explain all then. God, he hoped he would have something worth handing over by then. He got washed and dressed, drank a fanta and felt better for the sugar rush. He had left his room by 6.30 a.m. and started to walk towards Ilford town centre. He wanted to get to McDonald’s before Sharon and Tony arrived. A few minutes to think and a few minutes of peace before the storm. It was going to be one hell of a day and he didn’t want the murder squad to take all his thunder. This was his case and he wanted to finish it his way. If that sounded arrogant then bollocks, he didn�
�t care.
McDonald’s was about two minutes from Ilford Police Station but he hoped no one from the station would see him in there. He was about to go in when he felt a hard tap on his shoulder. Before he turned around, he knew who it was, the smell gave him away.
“Hello, Pete, what are you doing up so early and what the fuck are you doing here?” He turned to see Mad Pete looking worse than ever, something Jazz didn’t think possible, and in a state of extreme tension and panic.
“They’re gonna do ’im in, Mr Singh. They’re gonna come and get me and do me in too. You is gotta help me.” That was a long sentence for Mad Pete and Jazz changed his mind about commenting on the state of him and pulled him into McDonald’s.
They found a table in the corner. It wasn’t too busy yet so no one else had to suffer the smell. He got two coffees and lots of sugar. Mad Pete loved lots of sugar. He ordered a McMuffin breakfast for two with some chips. Mad Pete was trying to control himself but failing miserably. His hands shook and it took a few minutes for him to lift the cardboard coffee mug and sip it. Jazz looked at his hands and nails, there was enough dirt on them and under the nails to grow potatoes. Why would anyone live like that by choice, he asked himself. The council had given him a flat which if kept clean would be very nice. Jazz seemed to remember they also paid for new furniture and a TV and kitchen equipment. He did bloody well and then spent the rest of the time making sure it all got filthy and misused and broken.
Mad Pete had a drug problem that went back more years than Jazz remembered. He had been in prison, in rehab and eventually seemed reasonably clean of drugs. The methadone became a habit but it was a legal habit and so overlooked. He was rehabilitated to Barking and Social Services bent over backwards to make him comfortable. Looking at him now, Jazz wondered if they should have just left him in prison and thrown away the key. He was the most useless article in the cosmos. Something had spooked him, and Jazz waited patiently to find out what.