The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  Vinnie’s phone rang; he took the call and listened without comment. The surveillance team leader confirmed they had just arrived on plot. He ended the call and Harry raised an eyebrow in question. Vinnie just nodded.

  ‘Ok Sue, let’s go through it one more time,’ Harry said.

  ‘I know I’m to meet Babik and once he’s happy with me, we go and as soon as I can confirm the location of the hostage I’m to text you, and I’m then to text you once he and the hostage are separate.’

  ‘That’s correct. It doesn’t matter if we lose Babik for now; the paramount objective has to be the safe recovery of the hostage.’

  ‘Well, if I’m to wait until he goes out or whatever, there should be no problems; just make sure you have a couple of firearms officers for when he returns.’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ Harry said.

  ‘And make sure you tell them to handcuff me, to make it look like I’ve been nicked.’

  Vinnie nodded at her though didn’t really understand why the handcuffs were necessary. Once Babik was in custody it would be game over, anyway. He wished her luck as she left the vehicle and started to walk towards the bridge.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Harry asked.

  ‘We’ve done all we can, given the time constraints.’

  ‘I mean about Grady?’

  ‘We’ll soon find out.’

  *

  Babik was starting to get cramp, as he had been hunched down behind the hedge for over an hour. Fortunately, the river behind him was tidal and currently at high tide, so it made enough noise to mask any sounds from him. He had a partial view through the privet and had seen the same idiots wandering about over the last 10 to 15 minutes. If that bitch had double-crossed him then she was a dead bitch. He wondered if she would even turn up. That would say it all.

  He had approached from south of the river over a footbridge but had no intention of going back that way. He’d made other arrangements. It was time to tidy up all the loose ends and cash in his ‘insurance’ hostage before he could relocate and start again. It was no big deal, doing that; he’d moved several times before. It was just a pity that he couldn’t keep the old mill going a while longer, it had proved a money-spinner — a fact he had used to calm his own so-called associate, who was starting to moan about the reduction in the number of women Babik needed. It had only been a couple of days; you’d have thought the old mill had been offline for a month, the way he had gone on. And it wasn’t as if it was their only income source. Far from it. Small change, really.

  He truly hoped that Sue hadn’t gone over to the dark side; she had been a good asset and he had hoped their relationship could develop. He’d soon find out.

  He caught a glimpse of her in the distance walking down the path from the railway bridge, heading south towards him.

  Babik pulled some twigs to one side to get a better view. Sue stopped, looked all around and then set off at a slower pace. She was about 10 feet away and Babik had a quick look around. He couldn’t see any of the fake tourists he’d noticed earlier. As she drew even closer, Babik whispered, as loudly as he dare, ‘Slow down and stop in four or five feet, and then face towards the park.’

  He watched as Sue came to halt just a foot or so to his left, and then turned her back to the hedge and looked towards the park. ‘Don’t turn around.’

  ‘OK,’ Grady said, quietly.

  Babik pulled a silenced Glock pistol from his rear waistband. Glock barrels did not normally accommodate silencers, but this one had a replacement barrel with a threaded end. The extra length did make it a more cumbersome weapon and he nearly hadn’t bothered with the silencer: it didn’t really silence very well. They did eliminate a lot of the muzzle flash on discharge, which was probably why they were manufactured as flash eliminators. ‘Silencer’ was a common misnomer, but every little helped, he reckoned.

  He pointed the long weapon into the hedge and aimed it at 45 degrees, towards Sue’s back. ‘Don’t speak, just nod or shake your head, and do it just so. Any over the top movements, and you and I will have a problem, got it?’

  Grady nodded slightly. Good.

  ‘Have they accepted you back into their filthy arms?’

  Grady nodded slightly. Good.

  ‘Do they believe the scam, that you are an undercover working against me?’

  Grady nodded again. Good.

  Babik knew that if this was true, then there was loads of potential in keeping hold of Sue, but if she had buckled and blown him out, then he could be in deep shit. He instinctively glanced behind, to make sure the tethered canoe was still there. His contact, who’d knocked on her door, had stolen it from a local canoeing club and left it exactly where Babik told him to. Reassured by its presence, Babik turned back towards Sue and tightened his finger around the trigger. The answer to his next question would determine whether he pulled his index finger all the way, or not.

  ‘Are you here on your own, as instructed?’

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Look, it’s not what you think,’ Grady said.

  ‘I told you not to speak,’ Babik said, as his right index finger started to tense further around the gun’s trigger.

  ‘I know, but…’ Grady started, before cutting herself off.

  ‘I’ll ask you again; are you alone?’

  Grady shook her head slightly. Not good. Babik was deeply disappointed and started to pull the trigger.

  ‘It’s not what you think, we need to talk, but not here,’ Grady whispered.

  Babik stopped his finger. There was only one position on a Glock’s trigger, no secondary position. Just pull and fire. But as it had no safety catch fitted, the trigger required a serious squeeze to complete its action. Designed to stop mistakes. If you fired a Glock pistol, it was because you intended to.

  ‘They are everywhere, you need to stay hidden, I’ll walk away, I’ll see you at our favourite pub in one hour and this time I’ll make sure I’m alone,’ Grady said.

  Babik released the pressure on the trigger and took his finger out of the trigger guard altogether. She’d said the right thing, but only just in time. And as she had no idea of what was pointed at her back as she spoke, he believed her. ‘OK, walk off; I’ll be gone before you know it.’

  Grady nodded and started to amble further down the path. Once she was gone, Babik replaced his gun in his rear waistband, took out his mobile and sent a prepared text.

  He re-read it as it went from his phone’s screen. Earn your money, now.

  *

  ‘Can you still see her?’ Harry asked, as Vinnie took the field glasses from his eyes and ducked back into the car.

  ‘Just… on tiptoe,’ Vinnie replied.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing, it’s as the intelligence detective who is maintaining the visual on her, said. “She just remained static for a couple of minutes, but no one approached”.’

  ‘What do you think she is doing?’

  ‘Probably just scoping the area out and making herself visible to Babik in case he’s hiding somewhere. But it has clearly not drawn him, as she has started walking further into the park now.’

  ‘Do you think he’s here and has clocked the firearms officers? After all, they aren’t trained in surveillance.’

  ‘Don’t know, but you don’t need to be surveillance trained in order to bumble about a park,’ Vinnie said.

  Then, Harry’s radio erupted into life. ‘Unidentified male has just emerged from a hedge and is running west towards the pub, towards your location, Mr Delany.’

  ‘There’s your answer,’ Vinnie said as he jumped from the vehicle, stood tall and trained his binoculars on the park. He could just about make out a figure, male, running towards them. He could also see three or four firearms officers trying to catch him. Vinnie kept losing sight of the fleeing man as he ran in and out of his field of vison. He threw the binoculars down; it would be easier without them.

  He heard the sound of car tyres squealing to a standstill in front
of the pub, before the Intelligence officer’s voice came back over Harry’s radio. Harry was standing next to him now, with the volume increased. ‘Male is now headed towards the footbridge.’

  Damn. They had no one at the other side. Vinnie watched as one of the firearms officers sped onto the bridge and after the fleeing suspect. He was closing on him. Harry shouted into his radio for all patrols to make their way across the river by road to intercept, but Vinnie knew it would be an unnecessary order. Everyone would already be on it.

  Then, everything went quiet and Vinnie could no longer see the fleeing man or the cops chasing him. ‘Come on, Harry,’ Vinnie said, as he jumped into the driving seat of Harry’s car. He knew the area only as well as Harry did, but he had scrutinised the map and knew roughly how to drive to the other side. However, as soon as they set off they found themselves behind one of the surveillance vehicles, so just tagged on behind.

  Two minutes later, the cop who led the chase on foot shouted over the airwaves that he had caught the man south of the river, on the main road in Lower Penwortham, and had been joined by a colleague. They had the man under control.

  ‘What about the hostage?’ Harry said as Vinnie increased the car’s speed.

  ‘I know, but they were just reacting to a fleeing suspect, you can’t really blame them,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘I just hope the bastard’s got even the smallest of consciences,’ Harry said, as Vinnie started to brake. He could see the commotion up ahead, on the pavement, by a bend. The suspect was on the floor up against some railings, two firearms officers had weapons drawn and pointed at him as a third was searching him.

  Vinnie and Harry approached on foot as the third officer shouted, ‘Clear,’ and the first two lowered their weapons. Vinnie took his phone out of his pocket and showed Harry the photo message Jim Day had sent him just before they raided the mill.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘Shit indeed,’ Vinnie replied, as he let his phone hand drop to his side before turning to the prostrate man, and asking, ‘Who the fuck are you?’

  The man was being helped to his feet by the first two cops, who had by now holstered their weapons. ‘I thought 200 sounded a lot; the bastard never mentioned cops with guns, I’ve nearly shit myself here,’ the man said.

  ‘Which bastard?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘That bastard,’ the man answered, as he pointed to the picture still visible on the screen of Vinnie’s phone. Vinnie groaned as realisation set in. He glanced at Harry, who had started an over-the-top head rub.

  ‘He paid you to do what, exactly?’

  ‘Just to run over the bridge from behind a hedge near to it, when he texted me to do so. I didn’t ask why, not for 200 quid.’

  Vinnie smiled and noticed Harry stop his comfort rub. At least they would have his phone number.

  ‘Might be a burner,’ Harry said.

  ‘I know, but if we are quick, we might get a location.’

  ‘Give me your phone,’ Harry said to the man, before adding, ‘I’ll sort this via the chief’s office, it’ll be quicker that way. You get hold of Grady.’

  Vinnie nodded, and put a call into Grady. But before he could speak, she did. ‘I know what’s happened, or should I say, I’ve guessed.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘On my way to meet Babik.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘Can’t tell you, boss.’

  ‘Look here, Susan, you are hopping one-legged on a tightrope as it is; I need to know where and how.’

  ‘I can tell you the how; he was behind a bush, a different bush. I never saw him but I heard him. He’d clocked everything, that’s why I can’t tell you where, I’ve got to go alone, too risky otherwise.’

  ‘Now look here, DS Grady—’ Vinnie started to say.

  ‘Sorry, boss, you’ll have to trust me. It’s now way too dangerous for anyone else to be seen near me, and please don’t ring me. You could put my life in danger if I’m with him. I’ll ring you as soon as I can. Got to go.’

  Vinnie just stared at his phone’s screen as the call ended, and its display returned to the photo of Babik.

  ‘What?’ Harry said.

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car,’ Vinnie said, and restrained himself from adding, “and prepare to give that head of yours a serious rubbing”.

  *

  Babik smiled to himself as he paddled upstream and threw one of his phones into the River Ribble.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Christine drove back into Manchester and briefed her editor, June, who had simply told her to ‘keep on it, but be careful’. She omitted the bit about young Iqbal thinking she was a cop. She hadn’t actually lied to him but she hadn’t corrected him either. June wouldn’t have approved, Christine wasn’t sure she did, either. The last thing she wanted to do was to end up in the same category as that slug John Debroski.

  She wondered how the women were doing, and shortly afterwards received a text from Bob-A, thanking her again and letting her know that they were getting ready to board their flight. She was pleased, and not least because the text meant she was keeping in touch. Next, she called Vinnie, as she desperately wanted to chat to him about Boldo, to see if he was known. All her initial checks had been fruitless, but she’d only done the obvious so far. Vinnie sounded stressed and was obviously busy, so she didn’t stay on the line; she said she’d speak to him later on.

  For now, she would do what checks she could from her desk, and then head up to Preston later to see what she could find. She’d surprise Vinnie after that, and hopefully they’d be able to meet up locally for a drink. Apart from enquiring about Boldo, she wanted to spend a little bit of time with Vinnie; since they had got together they had rarely actually been together. Then the holiday had ended up on the cutting room floor; not the best of starts. She hoped it wouldn’t always be like this, she hoped things weren’t doomed from the start.

  June broke her reverie by arriving at her desk with two mugs of coffee. ‘My, I am honoured,’ Christine said.

  ‘This whole slavery and forced sex trade stuff is really bothering me. It needs exposure.’

  ‘That’s what I was telling you,’ Christine said.

  ‘I know we’ve had the Iqbals’ trial here in Manchester for the domestic slavery thing or whatever the official name for it is, and then the trial in Preston for a brothel full of trafficked women, but I’ve made some calls around and it seems it is not as rare as I thought.’

  ‘To be honest, June, I hadn’t realised either. It’s under the surface, and under-reported.’

  ‘Bit like the sex gangs involving predominantly young Asian males and even younger white isolated females,’ June said.

  ‘Similar, in not having been brought out into the open anything like soon enough, but different in that culture and race are a different issue. I think those in authority with regard to the sex gangs, were over-sensitive to the race thing; scared of being called racist.’

  ‘Whereas, here we have vulnerable young women, predominantly from poor former eastern bloc countries, being exploited by organised criminals using their Roma culture against them,’ June said.

  Christine thought about that, these matters clearly had more in common than she had realised, even though a reluctance to grapple with the issue due to race was probably absent this time. ‘I think there is a willingness to deal this time, but I wonder if the authorities have either underestimated the potential size of the problem, or are just too under-resourced to give it its full attention.’

  ‘Well, if Iqbal is correct, this Boldo character is the top slime ball, so if we can out and embarrass him, the authorities will have to pay more attention — that’s if they are not already. Perhaps we are doing the cops an injustice,’ June added.

  ‘It would make a powerful documentary.’

  ‘Just mind how you go, and keep me informed,’ June said, before shuffling papers to indicate that she was going.

  Christine asked her if she had spoken to Vi
nnie’s boss; June said that she had, and that a press conference had been held already. It involved an appeal for a vulnerable missing from home, or ‘high risk MFH’ as the cops called it.

  Christine thanked June, who then wandered back towards her office and Christine returned to her computer. She started to type ‘Boldo’ into the search engine.

  *

  Babik rowed inland for about 500 metres before abandoning the canoe by a shallow bank, just before a further footbridge. It was a short walk from the footbridge into the end of Bank Parade, a dead end that led back into the urban areas of Frenchwood and Avenham, south of the city centre. From there, he rang one of the many city centre taxi firms and a cab was with him in minutes. He took the short ride to his and Sue’s favourite pub, where he’d have plenty of time to make sure she was on her own — this time.

  The pub was right in the city centre, on Church Street, but at its eastern end. West led into the main areas, east was quieter and the clientele more regular. Sue and Babik liked the pub because it was anonymous. Most of the regulars didn’t actually know each other, but they did recognise each other. A nod was all that was needed to ensure acceptance without intrusion. Any strangers in there would stand out immediately. And if they were cops, the chances were that at least one of the daytime drinkers would recognise them as such, and they would be outed. The pub had changed its name more than once over the years, but not its customer base. It also only had one entrance and exit: another advantage.

  After ten minutes, Babik was settled with a drink at a table against the wall with a great view of the doorway. He’d not noticed anyone who didn’t fit in, and had received and given the appropriate nods of recognition to the 20 or so drinkers there. Most stood at or near the main bar. He felt his gun push into the small of his back as he leaned back into his wooden chair, he was reassured by its presence, but sure he wouldn’t need it. Sue could have easily given him up at the park, but she hadn’t. And his decoy had worked perfectly, though he owed him a further bung if he ever saw him around town in the future. The poor bloke must have had one hell of a shock.