“I know he’s involved in people trafficking with a handover tomorrow,” said Amy.
“But that’s it?”
“I can’t go into operational details but that’s the summary.”
“Okay.”
Clare leaned back in her chair, wondering exactly how to break the news.
“I hate to be the one to say this,” she said at last, “but you’ve got that all wrong.”
* * *
If you’d asked me a week ago whether I ever wanted to see Clare again, I’d have assumed you were either deluded or simply trying to make me cross. But now, having said my farewells, I was already starting to miss her. I agreed with Danny: there was something about her tone of voice that was a cause for concern. She sounded depressed, as though she was on the verge of disappearing completely. I hoped she was okay, and that wherever she was now, she was taking care of herself. I just wanted to give her a big hug, which is pretty much my answer for everything.
“So, everything’s nearly finished?” I said to Danny, as he paused typing on his notebook keyboard.
“Pretty much,” he said.
“And you’ve got enough to nail March for ever? How long do you think he’s going to go down for?”
Danny closed the lid of the computer.
“It’s not quite that simple,” he said.
“In what way?”
He just looked at me.
“Things have changed.”
“What things?”
He sighed deeply.
“Make me a cup of tea,” he said, “and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Five minutes later there were two steaming mugs of PG Tips between us.
“So?” I said.
“Do you want the long version or the summary?”
“Summary first, then the long version if it needs explaining.”
“Okay, the summary. March is innocent and his life is in danger, so we need to make sure nobody kills him.”
“Whoa, stop you there.” I wasn’t expecting that. “Sorry, for a moment there I thought you said...”
“I did.”
“But... What?” I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep and was having a surreal dream, but then nothing over the last week had made much sense, so any dream was likely to be more logical.
“I know, it sounds ridiculous,” said Danny. “But ironically it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“But how? I thought he was arranging the people trafficking and murdering Steve and Leah.”
Danny was shaking his head, lips pursed.
“Do you want the long version?”
“I better had.”
“Okay.” He took a breath. “Well it all goes back to last year, when he got suspended. He wasn’t far short of retiring but if he’d been found guilty he’d have been locked up at worst, or at the very least thrown out of the force and lost his pension.”
“But he was guilty.”
“Exactly. And he knew that protesting his innocence was only going to get him so far. He’s undoubtedly got friends in high places, but when the time comes he’s going to find they disappear faster than, I don’t know, a cream cake on a Weight Watchers away day.”
“Than a what?”
“Sorry, I was being creative.”
“But surely Weight Watchers would be avoiding cream cakes? Isn’t that the point of it?”
“It is, but it was an away day. Anyway, doesn’t matter, back to March.”
“If you could.” Although now you mention it, I could have quite fancied a cream doughnut.
“Okay. So anyway, March tried keep a low profile for a bit but then started to fight back. He decided that the only way to fight the allegations was to prove that he was one of the good guys.”
“Which he clearly isn’t.”
“We know that, but we’re not the ones making the assessment.”
“And hence the homeless shelter?”
“Exactly, although I’ll come on to that. On the face of it, it appears he thought a bit of charity work would stand him in good stead at the hearing. The trouble was, it was so out of character, nobody was going to believe him.”
“That’s because he’s a twat.”
“Again, an astute observation.”
Still none of this was making any sense.
“But you tracked him to Germany. He was at the centre of a people smuggling ring,” I said.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Are you saying he wasn’t?”
“No, but it’s a bit more complicated. Here’s where it starts to get a bit interesting.”
I took a sip of the tea. Danny did the same. It was still a bit hot but neither of us complained.
“Fundamentally, he’s a detective,” Danny continued. “Trafficking’s been going on for years. It’s grown a lot since the Wall came down, but it’s nothing new in itself. It’s a huge industry. I thought March was trying to get a slice of it, trying to earn his fortune.”
“Surely he was?”
“No. He was coming at it from a different angle. He was going deep undercover, getting close to it so he could blow the ring wide open. It already existed. He was never the organiser. He just managed to worm his way into the group so that when the time came, he could expose the lot of them, proving to everyone that not only is he on the side of the angels, but that he’s a bloody good detective in the process. Working freelance to bust a major crime syndicate. That goes in front of the review board and he’s reinstated, charges dropped, free to carry on and take his pension.”
“Jesus.” This was a lot to take in. “But what about Steve and Leah?”
“That’s what got us onto it.”
“Sorry, I’m missing something.”
“It’s what Clare always said. Never assume anything, question everything. We couldn’t understand why March was getting involved in the band, and thought he was responsible in some way for what happened to Steve.”
“And Leah.”
“And Leah. He said he was trying to get involved in the arts. But actually, he was just getting close to Seb.”
“What’s Seb got to do with it?”
“He’s as bent as the rest of them. March has known him for years so presumably knows exactly what he’s into. And presumably he thought if he could involve a Government minister, then it’d be extra brownie points come the day of the big reveal.”
“But that still doesn’t explain Steve and Leah.”
“No, but here’s how that worked out. Leah was the illegitimate child, trying to find her father. Then, as she got close to him, she realised what he was up to. She spent time in a homeless shelter. We thought that’s where she met March, but actually it’s where she first came across her father. We already know he was the type of guy who’d play the field and get a woman pregnant. It transpires he wasn’t averse to exploiting the homeless, taking vulnerable young girls and abusing them until he got bored and moved onto the next one. Developed a bit of a taste for it. The younger the better, if you know what I mean. The shelter was a front. But not a front for March. March got involved as part of his investigation.”
“But Holly?”
“Holly thought the world of Seb. She was always daddy’s girl, completely devoted to him, utterly blind to any evil. It was like she’d been brainwashed. She just wanted to prove herself to him. Then suddenly Leah turns up, gets close to Holly, reveals she’s her sister and she knows what their father’s up to. Leah had to go. And poor Steve was a witness to it, so that was the end of him too. Holly had to kill them both.”
“Shit. So, where’s Holly now?”
“We think she’s Seb’s representative in the trafficking set-up. Jacqui and Mikołaj are both looking for girls for prostitution. Seb’s just looking for himself, because he’s an evil bastard with a wandering eye.”
“And March?”
“March saw what was going on. He knew them all, independently. Seb was an old friend. I expect he’s provided all sorts of serv
ices for Jacqui before, protection, whatever. And he’s the kind of sleazebag who spends disproportionate amounts of time in massage parlours. So, we think he dropped hints that he’d like a bit of the action and became a kind of go-between. But when the time comes, he’s planning to expose the lot, and walk away the hero.”
“Fuck.”
The tea was definitely drinkable now, but it had taken on a funny taste.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“As far as we know, the handover goes as planned tomorrow.”
“And then?”
“At some point March switches sides. Announces to the world that he’s the one who’s blown the whole thing open.”
“Isn’t that entrapment?”
“Arguably but not really. I doubt anyone would care. You’ve got a brothel, a strip club and a paedophile in the heart of Government. I think that trumps everything.”
“But can’t you prove that’s what he’s up to? Not only get the others, but also show March up as the kind of duplicitous bastard who’d try to save his own career by sacrificing everybody else?”
“That’d be nice. The risk is, whatever happens he’s going to be seen to be the hero and it’ll look like sour grapes for me.”
I could see Danny thinking. There was something on his mind.
“There’s another problem,” he said at last.
“Go on.”
“It’s just that he’s playing an incredibly dangerous game. We know what these people are capable of. They’ve killed Steve and Leah and they tried to kill me. And if they saw March talking to me, which seems more than likely, then just maybe they’ve realised what he’s up to.”
“Oh shit.” I didn’t dare mention Mitch.
“Exactly. Which is why his life’s in danger now. He may be a scumbag but he’s our scumbag. And bizarrely it’s now up to us to save him.”
46
Sunday, April 10th, 1994
I’M not sure if Danny slept at all, but I managed a few hours, enjoying a dream in which I was walking through the middle of a delicious giant cream doughnut, until I got to the end and a man started shooting at me, which wasn’t so nice.
He was on the phone when I made it through to the front room, but ended the call when he saw me.
“Just trying March again,” he said. “There’s been no answer all morning.”
“That’s not good. What time is everyone supposedly at the parlour?”
“Aurelia said seven this evening.”
“And you’re going to follow?”
“I’m going to have to.”
“Well, I’m coming with you and that’s not up for debate.”
He started to protest but I raised my hand to stop him.
“I’ll just make tea and then I’ll feel a bit more human,” I said.
The tea on its own wasn’t enough, but after a steaming hot shower I felt as ready to face the world as I ever would be. Part of me was excited that it was nearly over, but a bigger part of me was terrified about all the things that could potentially go wrong. I wished Clare was with us, but understood why she’d had to leave. I’d felt safe when she was with me, but now all we had for protection was our survival instincts.
Danny was just ending another call when I returned to the front room. He looked pale.
“That was Aurelia,” he said. “They’ve moved the meeting forward. It’s all happening at one.”
“Wow. What’s the time now?”
“Just past eleven.”
“Shit. I’ll get my shoes.”
“I’ll try Amy.”
I’ve got several pairs of DMs in various colours, and while they all largely do the same thing it’s nice to have the choice. They’re just so comfy once you’ve broken them in. I’ve never been one for trainers. Today was definitely a black day, to match my black jeans and jacket. I could hear Danny getting ready in his room, so took the opportunity to load a film into my new Nikon F4 and attached my 80-200mm autofocus zoom. It’s not the equipment I’d normally use in the studio, but the geek in me was deeply in love with it, and it was a good excuse to get it out. It seemed the best for a stake-out, potentially at a distance. Photography was of secondary importance, though. My main objective for the day was just to look after Danny.
“Did you get through to her?” I asked when he reappeared.
“Not yet but I’ve left a message. I’ll keep trying.”
“How exactly are we going to do this?” It seemed like a reasonable question, but if I expected a detailed plan I was about to be disillusioned.
“We’re just going to park up, keep an eye out for any movement, and then follow them,” said Danny.
“Okay. And then what? Assuming they’re going to a handover somewhere, we do what? Just wait outside, taking pictures? We can’t exactly barge in.”
“No, that’s when we need Amy.”
“But what if you can’t get through to her?”
“We’re knackered.”
* * *
DS Amy Cranston stood in front of the whiteboard in an operation room at New Scotland Yard, finishing her briefing to an assembled team of specialist firearms officers.
“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, but I have to say this,” she said. “You may only use such force as is reasonable in the circumstances in the prevention of crime, or in effecting or assisting in the lawful arrest of offenders or suspected offenders. Now, any questions?”
There was a general murmuring but nobody raised their hand.
“Okay. All good. We’ll rendezvous at sixteen hundred. Officers will follow from Euston and then radio through their destination, which is where we come in. Take care, ladies and gentlemen. Have a good lunch and I will see you all this afternoon.”
The room cleared until the only other occupant was her partner, Anil.
“Nervous?” he asked, walking across towards her.
“Maybe. It’s just ironic really. The first big op I’ve headed up since taking over from March, and guess who’s at the centre of it.”
He laughed.
“And there was me thinking we were going to take him down. Where did you find out all that other stuff?”
“Just a source. It seems to stack up, though.”
“Is he trustworthy?”
Amy picked up her bag and looked at her colleague.
“First, he’s a she. And second, no, not in the slightest. In fact, she’s one of the least trustworthy people I’ve ever met.”
“Wow. But you’ve just told an entire room...”
Amy cut across him.
“I know. Because despite what I just said, I do, bizarrely, trust her entirely over this. She didn’t have to come forward and it was a massive risk for her to do so.” She paused while she put some document folders into her bag. “March is still bent, though. You do know that? And we will have him one day, even if not over this.”
DC Jachuck nodded, a smile breaking out.
“I very much look forward to that.”
* * *
By just after noon we were parked on Eversholt Street about sixty yards away from the front door of the parlour, although I wasn’t about to get out to measure it. It was close enough that we had a clear view of anyone leaving the building, but hopefully far enough away to stop us looking suspicious. Thankfully the rain was holding off for once, so the windscreen remained clear. Danny kept trying to call Amy on his mobile while I sat behind the steering wheel, camera in hand, ready to give chase at a moment’s notice.
“Where do you think Clare is now?” I asked eventually, to help pass the time.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know. Maybe Germany? She can speak a bit of German, I know that.”
“I don’t know how she does it.”
“What? Speak German?”
“No, stupid. All the travelling. It’s like she can just pass through borders, turn up when she wants, disappear when she wants.”
“She’s very resourceful. I doubt it’s too har
d anyway. You just hire a car, one way rental, show a passport and you’re away. We know she’s got access to passports when she needs them.”
“And driving licences. What was that one she had in Paddington?”
“Charlotte Sadler.”
“That’s the one. Do you think we’ll hear from her again? Would you ever try to find her?”
“I hope so, but no, there’s no point looking. If she wants to disappear she’ll do it properly. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Danny tried Amy again. There was still no answer but he left another message. I was feeling increasingly anxious. I was rather relying on her turning up with the full SO19 firearms unit, but currently we didn’t have so much as a traffic warden.
At just before quarter to one, a large black Mercedes pulled up outside the parlour.
“Here we go,” I said.
I got my camera ready, finger on the shutter, ready to raise it up to eye height and fire off some pictures as soon as anyone emerged. But the car just sat there. Nobody got in or out. Time seemed to be passing slowly. As the clock ticked round to one I started the engine, ready to leave the second there was movement ahead of us.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking behind.
The rear passenger door on the Mercedes opened. I raised my camera, ready to shoot. But suddenly somebody was banging on my window. I turned to look and my heart nearly stopped at the sight of a gun barrel pointing straight at me.
I screamed and panicked, and instinctively dropped the clutch, causing the car to launch forward. I floored the accelerator, ducking my head in case somebody was about to take a shot at us. For a split second, I had visions of a Hollywood-style car chase, blasting through the streets of London, pulling handbrake turns up one way streets, but it was only for a fleeting moment. Within twenty yards I was slamming the brakes back on to avoid hitting the Mercedes that was now parked across the middle of the road. I looked over my shoulder. The first man was walking back towards the car, gun still outstretched, getting closer. I thought about reversing hard towards him but then the bastard shot my tyres out. I hate it when that happens.
“Oh shit,” I said. “Sorry, Danny.”
He reached out to hold my hand, and gave it a squeeze.
Out Of The Red Page 27