Wicked Game

by Matt Johnson

  ‘So, that confirms it. Monaghan is telling the truth.’

  ‘Probably…’ I paused. ‘I still have this doubt in my mind, though. Grahamslaw seemed convinced that nothing had been reported stolen.’

  ‘They’re covering it up. Nobody would want it going public that sensitive files were in the hands of the IRA.’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ I said. ‘Grahamslaw implied that what’s being said on the news isn’t right. This isn’t the work of the IRA.’

  ‘What kind of bollocks is that? Look, I suggest we meet for a longer talk.’

  I agreed. Kevin suggested that Harlow Common was as good a place as any. Hidden away in the dark, we would be far away from prying eyes. There was a car park in the centre shielded by some trees. I headed there as soon as I finished work.

  It was dark when I arrived and the car park was empty. I switched off the engine, climbed out of the little Citroen and watched the stars as I waited.

  A few minutes later, a familiar car pulled in. It was Kevin.

  He got out and walked across to where I was standing. Even in the half-light, I could see that his normally affable face was lined with worry.

  ‘Monaghan’s come through,’ he said without any greeting. ‘Special Branch have housed the cell. It’s Declan Costello, remember him? Dominic McGlinty is with him and a sleeper called Michael Hewitson.’

  ‘How do you know that? I only saw Grahamslaw this afternoon. I would have hoped he would mention it, at least to give me some reassurance.’

  ‘No idea … maybe it happened after you saw him. And I guess Monaghan has a source.’

  ‘I see. Well, I remember Costello, all right. Mad bastard. It was him that shot down the heli over the Armagh lakes. Maze prison escapee, if I remember right. Never heard of the others.’

  ‘McGlinty’s new. It was his brother that got himself killed by the ARV crew a couple of weeks back. Hewitson is a sleeper, a Londoner who they’ve brought in to do errands.’

  We began to walk down a path leading away from the car park and deeper into the surrounding woods.

  ‘You had a chance to think about what I told you on the phone?’ I asked, ‘Grahamslaw knowing about the Special Branch break-in? What Monaghan said seems to be kosher.’

  ‘You doubted him? Christ, Finlay, is that why you haven’t relocated your family yet?’

  ‘Be fair, Kev. We both had our doubts, and I wish it were that simple. Jenny doesn’t know how we’re connected,’ I said.

  ‘Well you’d better tell her … and sharpish.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘The way I see it, it’s got to be the IRA who nicked the ROSE files. They’ve got enough details to work out where we might be but not our home addresses. That means that they don’t have anyone inside the job. Our best hope is that this bunch are the so-called Real IRA. If we can take them out and recover the files, we might be OK. If the mainstream IRA have our names, well, we’re fucked, ceasefire or no ceasefire.’

  ‘They haven’t come after you. So what makes Monaghan say you’re a target, too?’

  ‘ROSE sorted both of us out with police jobs, boss. Stands to reason I’m at as much risk as you.’

  Kevin seemed satisfied that he had it all neatly worked out. It was understandable – in a tactical situation, the first solution is often the best one. Thing was, we didn’t have all the pieces to the jigsaw. So there was no way we could really know what was going on, who was really behind the killings. The IRA explanation was just too easy. It wasn’t that I had any better ideas. Maybe I just had more imagination.

  ‘Mac Blackwood’s death came as a bit of a surprise,’ I said.

  ‘What happened?’ Kevin asked.

  ‘It was a couple of weeks ago, apparently. Grahamslaw told me it was a suicide bomber in India.’

  ‘India … no shit. Wonder what he was doing there?’

  ‘Mercenary work, Grahamslaw reckoned.’

  ‘Has it got anything to do with Bridges’ and Skinner’s deaths? I mean, it is the IRA we’re up against, isn’t it?’ Now Kevin sounded as uncertain as I felt.

  ‘I thought so too. Now I’m not so sure. Grahamslaw said it runs deeper than the IRA settling old scores.’

  ‘What did he mean by that?’

  ‘He didn’t say…’ I paused, looking into Kevin’s worried face. Should I tell him my suspicions? I decided he had a right to know. ‘There is one other thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I asked him about the embassy.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘It’s another connection – we were all on that job.’

  ‘Mac wasn’t,’ said Kevin.

  ‘That’s what I said to Grahamslaw. But then I remembered later that he did a lot of the research for me. He went and found another building with similar windows, for example. So we could work out the frame charges.’

  ‘Shit, I’d forgotten that. There’s me thinking it’s a simple case of an IRA grudge. Now you’re telling me it’s something to do with the siege.’

  As we walked side by side in the dark, Kevin shoved his hands deep in his pockets and brought his shoulders up towards his ears.

  ‘It’s just a theory, Kev. But it’s a hell of a coincidence, Mac getting himself blown up just two weeks before Bob Bridges. I’ve been thinking about that one Arab who survived. I wondered if he was out of prison.’

  ‘Can we find out? I could call the prison service.’

  ‘They might report that you’d been asking.’

  Kevin paused for a moment, deep in thought. He turned to face me. ‘So, even if SO13 make some arrests soon, we’ll still not be certain what this is all about?’

  ‘Unless they recover the ROSE files at the same time,’ I suggested.

  ‘And if they don’t, we still won’t know for definite who is behind it all. Costello will never talk and I doubt the others will, either. I think I agree with Monaghan … we should grab them ourselves, before SO13 go in.’

  It was difficult to see Kevin’s features in the darkness, but something told me he was serious.

  ‘We won’t have long,’ I said at last, not believing I was even entertaining Monaghan’s and now Kevin’s ideas.

  ‘According to Monaghan, they’re not planning on immediate arrests. They want to build a picture of what the terrorists are up to, find out who their local contacts are.’

  ‘That’ll give us a chance to do something first.’

  ‘You’re in then?’ Kevin’s teeth and the whites of his eyes flashed at me.

  I paused to think before replying. ‘I’m starting to come around to the idea. I’ll try and tell Jenny tomorrow.’

  ‘Monaghan will be pleased,’ said Kevin.

  ‘Won’t he just.’

  We walked on a few paces, both of us now deep in thought. With each step into the darkness, I realised how limited my choices were. SO13, the people who could protect us, may not be able to fix this. Monaghan had been proved right and Kevin’s instincts were correct. If I was to stay alive, if I was to save Jenny and Becky, I couldn’t stay the comfortable Desk Inspector I had become. I would have to do something.

  ‘Where’s the cell, then, Kev?’

  ‘Nightingale Estate, Stoke Newington,’ Kevin sound more animated now. He knew I was in. ‘Alma House. It’s a tower block, something like thirty floors, our boys are in a top-floor flat.’

  ‘On my ground? Bloody hell, right under our noses. Are all three of them there?’

  ‘Just Costello and McGlinty. Hewitson lives in Kentish Town.’

  ‘How’d the branch find them?’

  ‘Hewitson got himself nicked for flashing. SO13 let him run and followed him. The surveillance team saw Costello turn up at the house and then followed him to the flat. Bloody lucky they were.’

  ‘You seem to be well informed.’

  ‘Like I said, Monaghan has a good contact.’

  ‘What’s the chance of us getting near the flats?’ I asked.
>
  ‘Fuckin’ easy,’ Kevin was excited now. I couldn’t say I shared his feeling. ‘But the surveillance team will see us.’

  ‘I’ve an idea. Like I said, the Nightingale Estate is on my ground. I’m late turn tomorrow. I’ll wander over in uniform and take a look inside one of the other tower blocks. We get trouble with the pirate radio boys putting up aerials. I’m pretty sure that all the blocks are of the same type. If I get a chance, I’ll have a look at Alma House itself.’

  I was drawing on my memory of old skills. As a troop commander I had been one of the operational planners. Now that we needed a plan to get at the terrorists, I knew it was going to fall to me to come up with one. This was why Monaghan had come to me. Kevin was the more deadly side of our little team. He would be the one to depend on in a fight. And he would do the interrogation. I couldn’t torture a man. Kevin could.

  Within a few days, he probably would. I looked up at the strip of star-speckled darkness between the tree-tops and heaved a sigh. There was no other way.

  Kevin broke my reverie. ‘But how the hell are we going to grab one of the paddies from under the eyes of Special Branch?’

  ‘I think there might be a way,’ I said.

  ‘I wish I could see it. They’ll have the SO19 firearms teams ready, surveillance teams all over the place. Christ, even if they don’t clock us going in, we’ll never get out with them.’

  ‘I’ve got a couple of ideas. First, we only try for one prisoner. We pose as undertakers. Take an empty coffin in and a full one out. Might just work.’

  ‘That’s pants. Chances are we’d have our pictures taken as we left and there’s always the possibility we’d be compromised. What’s the second idea?’

  ‘Airborne approach. Heli-cable onto the roof at night. Take the target away tied to the cable. Keep the chopper high enough and they wouldn’t even hear it.’

  ‘Sounds simple.’

  ‘Best plans always are, old son. All we need is someone with a helicopter.’

  Kevin sniggered. ‘A minor problem, boss.’

  We sauntered back to the cars, chatting over the details. We’d need abseiling kit and a long enough cable. We’d also need an escape plan in case we were compromised. I promised to give it some thought. It was a familiar feeling – deep in the logistics, my confusion and fears seemed to have disappeared. I was now a full part of Monaghan’s covert operation.

  Whether it was our age, the focus on our plans, or the cunning of the stalker, I don’t know. But neither of us saw the figure crouched in the darkness behind my car.

  Chapter 42

  Torchlight flicked between my face and Kevin’s.

  I ducked down quickly. The movement drew the beam to me and in that instant Kevin lunged forward. There was a thud and a muffled cry as the beam suddenly swept skywards.

  The torch fell to the ground. I reached for it and shone it in the direction from where I could hear Kevin struggling to restrain what sounded like an angry wildcat. I could see it was a woman. She was kicking and scratching at Kevin like a demon.

  ‘Get off me, you bastard!’ the figure screamed. I recognised the voice immediately. Jenny.

  I shouted at Kevin to let her go. He didn’t react. I winced as I saw a fist connect with her face. Before he could do any more damage, I seized hold of Kevin’s arm and pulled him back. He tripped and fell onto his back. Sooner than I could blink, Jenny kicked him hard in the ribs and then piled in again. In the darkness, with only the torch to see by, I struggled to keep them apart.

  ‘Kev. Stop!’ I yelled. ‘It’s my wife. It’s Jenny.’

  My desperate plea had the desired effect. The two adversaries lay back on the damp grass, breathing heavily.

  I shone the torch at Jenny. She looked a mess. Her t-shirt was torn and her long hair was stuck to the sweat that covered her face. As she swept the hair away I could see a red swelling already starting to appear beneath her left eye.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here, Jen?’

  ‘Perhaps I should be asking you that question.’ She literally spat the words at me.

  I crouched down for a moment, not quite sure what to say. Just what was she doing here? She must have followed me somehow.

  ‘Where’s Becky?’ I asked, stalling while I thought what to do, what to tell her.

  ‘With my mother. So what the hell’s going on here, Bob? Why are you meeting this … this thug, in the middle of a common at night?’

  As she finished the question she aimed another kick at Kevin. He saw it coming and rolled out of harm’s way.

  ‘He’s in the job, Jen. Same as me. We had things to discuss. You met him the other day, when Monaghan called. Remember?’ I shone the torch in Kevin’s face.

  ‘Yeah, I remember him.’ She kicked out again. ‘Do you make a habit of beating up women? Bastard!’

  ‘Jenny. Cool it,’ I said. ‘In the dark, he didn’t know it was a woman.’

  ‘Well, who did you think it was? I might have been someone walking their dog. Why attack me like that?’

  I had to be careful what I said. As I hesitated, Kevin got in before me.

  ‘I’m real sorry, Mrs Finlay. Thing is … your husband and me … well we have reasons to be a bit jumpy right now.’

  ‘So, you’re in on it are you? What are you? His alibi or something?’ Jenny turned to face me. ‘I know what you’re up to, Bob. I might not have caught you tonight, but I know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Jenny,’ I pleaded. ‘Hush it. We don’t want the whole world hearing us here.’

  ‘Quiet? Why the hell should I keep quiet? I know Bob, I know.’

  ‘What do you know Jen?’

  ‘You’re shagging some tart. It’s no use denying it. I’ve had you followed, I’ve got the evidence.’

  For a moment I was stunned. She had me followed, got the evidence? Evidence of what? I wasn’t seeing anyone else. What was she talking about? I’d been taking precautions to avoid being followed. Surely not, I thought, she couldn’t have been?

  ‘You can’t have any evidence, Jen. You’re crazy. What do you mean you’ve had me followed?’

  ‘Explain why you’re always home late these days then? Explain the text messages on your phone? “We need to talk.”’ She quoted the message, her tone, sarcastic. ‘I bet you needed to talk, don’t take me for a fool, I know the signs.’

  Kevin spoke again. ‘That text was from me, Mrs Finlay. It was me asking your husband for a meeting, not some woman.’

  ‘Well … what about the coming home late? … And you’re always too tired for me.’

  ‘My fault again,’ Kevin continued. ‘Finlay and me have had some things to take care of, work things.’

  ‘Look. I don’t know who you are, but would you kindly shut up. This is between my husband and me.’ Jenny turned back to face me again. ‘Well, Robert? Got a voice of your own or is your pet gorilla gonna do all the talking?’

  ‘What can I say, Jen? What were you expecting to find here? Me meeting another woman? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ It was my turn to be angry now. I had enough to worry about without my wife racing round making accusations like that. I’d never known Jenny be so way off the mark. A part of me almost wanted to laugh; when would I have time to see another woman?

  Jenny must have caught the drift of my thoughts because her facial expression changed from one of anger to one of embarrassment. ‘Look … can we talk about this at home?’ she said.

  ‘Have you really had me followed?’ I asked her.

  ‘No. I was bluffing. How the hell would I afford a private detective?’

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jenny stood up and brushed herself down. ‘That doesn’t explain what you two are doing here though, does it? And don’t give me any more bullshit about police business. I’m not as green as I am cabbage-looking.’

  I laughed and looked at Kevin. ‘What do you think, Kev?’

  ‘What the hell. She was going to find out anyway.’
/>   ‘Find out what?’ Jenny interrupted. ‘You’re not gonna tell me you two are gay or something?’ She looked at me and took a step backward. ‘Oh, Christ. You’re not are you? That’s it … oh fucking shit … I was right.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, hold on there.’ I laughed at the irony of the situation. ‘No, it’s much worse than that.’

  ‘Worse … what could be worse than finding out my husband is having it off with another bloke?’

  ‘I think we’d better sit in the car.’

  I opened the passenger door for Jenny. She climbed in without making any further comment. I shut the door, walked around the car and joined her in the front.

  As Kevin opened one of the rear doors, Jenny turned to me. ‘Not him. It’s you I want to hear, not him.’

  ‘Just be patient, Jen. Kevin, tell her will you?’

  Kevin sat in and closed the door behind him. ‘Did you watch the Iranian Embassy siege on the telly?’ he asked Jenny.

  ‘Before we go any further, what’s your mobile phone number?’ Jenny twisted around in her seat to face him.

  ‘What do you want that for?’

  Jenny smirked sarcastically. ‘I trust in God, everything else I check. Remember that one, Bob?’ She turned and the look in her eyes told me there was no humour behind her question.

  As Kevin related his number, Jenny pulled a piece of paper from her trouser pocket and appeared to check it against another she had written down. ‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘Perhaps it was you sending the texts. Now what has the Iranian Embassy siege got to do with this?’

  Kevin continued. ‘Remember the SAS entry team – the guys that went through the windows to take out the terrorists? That’s how your husband and me are connected.’

  ‘One of them got burnt, I remember it. We all watched it on TV. So what connection have you two got to that?’

  Kevin remained silent as what he had said sank in.

  ‘Wait on,’ said Jenny. ‘You’re not gonna tell me that you two were involved in that?’ Jenny turned to me in disbelief. ‘I thought you were in the artillery.’

  I smiled. ‘What can I say?’