Time to Play (North East Police)

by K. A. Richardson

  ‘Easy, Marlo. You took a helluva knock to the head. Doc says you’ve got concussion.’ She cracked her eyes open again and glared at Ali, just because he was the nearest thing to her and was stating the obvious.

  ‘Bloody bloke was huge. Was it Connor’s uncle? Is Connor OK?’

  ‘Aye, it was Rockingham, and yes Connor’s going to be fine. Has some bruising to his neck and larynx but he’ll be OK. He’s a tough guy. Said you were like a thing possessed, pulling his uncle off him and putting him in a choke-hold. Little spitfire you are, love.’

  Marlo knew Ali was teasing, ‘Wish I’d just left him to it. My head’s bloody killing me. Was it you who slammed him against the wall?’

  She watched Ali’s eyes darken with anger, and realised he’d been genuinely afraid for her. He nodded with a grim smile, and instantly she knew he’d wanted to do way more than slam the guy against the wall.

  ‘How’d you know I was here?’ It suddenly hit her that she’d arrived at the hospital alone.

  ‘Elvie, she told me you’d left. I needed to see if Rockingham was awake so I could arrange the interview, and I figured I’d pop up and meet you before I went down. He knocked Harry Green out, you know? Harry had let his cop go back to the nick for change-over. He was just gunna wait for the replacement to arrive. Rockingham fooled everyone into thinking he was still out for the count, the sneaky bastard. He’s cuffed to the bed now, like. The nurse didn’t even know how he was conscious. Says he can be taken to court tomorrow, and my guess is, thanks to his behaviour, he’ll be remanded without bail.’

  ‘Should bloody hope so too. You’ll need a statement off me?’

  ‘Yeah, but tomorrow’ll be soon enough. Only reason the doctor let me sit with you was ’cos I told him we were engaged. Don’t think he believed me, like, not ’til Alex backed me up anyway.’

  Marlo blushed, ‘He probably thinks I’m a right slut then. I had to say the same thing to get him to let me in to see Connor.’

  Ali smiled, his face lighting up. I’ve never seen him smile so brightly – solving cases is good for him. I like him… oh, I like him! The thought hit her like a ton of bricks and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

  When his hand reached over and brushed an errant strand of hair from the side of her face, she shivered at his touch. Seeing the look she gave him, he leant over the bed and kissed her.

  Marlo kissed back, instantly wanting more. Nipping at his lip, she moaned as he pulled away.

  ‘Bad girl,’ he said gruffly, ‘Keep kissing me like that and I’ll take you right here and right now.’

  Marlo blushed furiously. ‘Who says I don’t want you to?’ she countered, her words bolder than she actually felt.

  Ali made a strangled noise and purposefully stood and walked to the door. He went to flick the catch on the lock, when the door suddenly opened and Alex walked in.

  Glancing first at Ali, then at Marlo, Alex put two and two together and guessed what he’d interrupted. ‘You two are best keeping that kind of behaviour for home,’ his voice dropped to a cheeky whisper, ‘besides, the locks are shite. Me and Cass nearly got caught twice when she was in.’

  A spurt of surprised laughter burst from Marlo, and Ali grinned.

  ‘Anyhow, hormones aside, the super’s on her way down so be prepared for a grilling. Your sergeant’s on his way down too, Marlo. So,’ he added with a wink, ‘I’d try and control yourselves.’

  21st November, 0940 hours, Sunderland City Police HQ

  Ali sat at his desk, a little on edge as he waited for the interview with Fred Rockingham to conclude. He hadn't trusted himself not to leap over the desk and rip the guy's head from his shoulders after what he'd done to Marlo, so he'd sent Charlie in to interview him instead. His anger had been simmering since the night before, and he knew handing the reins to her had been the right decision.

  It didn't stop him wondering, though. Would Fred give it up, provide them with the coveted information on the people behind the whole trafficking malarkey, or remain schtum and not give them the smallest of bites at the bigger fish. Wouldn't really matter either way, Ali knew. They had him bang to rights for attempted murder of Connor and for assaulting Marlo. He would go away for a good long time regardless.

  'McKay,' he said absently, picking up the phone receiver as it rang beside him.

  'Ali, it's Jacob Tulley from the digital lab. Have you got a sec?'

  'Aye, go on, Jacob.'

  'I’m trying to squeeze in the exam of the PC seized from the address on Wear Street the other day. Just wanted to make sure I have it in the condition it was seized in. The front cover of the base unit is separated and I need to be sure no one's messed with any of the interior components. Chain of command seems solid but I figured a quick question to the source would put me at ease.'

  'As far as I know, that's how it was seized. If memory serves, the cover had been screwed to the table leg. They had to loosen it to remove the base unit. Double-check with Kev Lang - am sure he was the one dismantling. He's on duty now, saw his Romeo in the car park this morning. Talk about a mid-life crisis car, like,' Ali's tone was light: he knew Kevin’s wife had died. Everyone did. He didn't blame him for spending his money on something a little flashier than your average car.

  'Chance would be a fine thing,' said Jacob. 'Thanks, Ali. Catch you later.'

  Ali hung up the phone just as Charlie pushed open the door to the office.

  'Hey, boss. Well that was a complete waste of time. He made ‘no comments’ all the way through. Solicitor's paid for, decent company too. So whoever's pulling the strings is making sure he's not going to speak.'

  'Yea I thought he might go that way. Did he react to any of the names you threw at him?'

  'Not really. Glimmer of recognition at Yolanda but nothing substantial.'

  'We any further forward on getting details for her?'

  'There's six Yolandas registered on the voters roll across the north east. Two are in their eighties and live in care homes, the others either live so far north they're in Northumberland or so far south they're in Catterick. None live near to Sunderland at all. And the information doesn't lend to a large amount of time taken travelling. Elvie said she'd walked on foot to where she hitched a ride in the dive boat.'

  'RIB,' correctly Ali absently, considering what she'd told him. 'How about Gaz? Any leads on him?'

  'Sorry, boss. He's still in the wind. We're running down his known associates, but they were tight-lipped last time we dragged them in. Can't think their attitude will have changed that much between then and now.'

  'Damn, NCA are already going to be pissed with the lateness of the intel. I can see a sit-down with the chief super in my not so distant future.'

  'Did we get anything else from the dive lad? He must know something. This was his dad and uncle for God’s sake. Bit hard to swallow like, him being a dirty cop.'

  'Aye, well we don't know the full ins and outs yet. We've all been given gag orders though: no one but professional standards are allowed to speak with him. He's been suspended pending full investigation, but I doubt very much he'll be coming back.'

  'There's always a choice,' said Charlie, 'he made the wrong ones.'

  'Aye, I know, just a shame, is all. With his dad and uncle as relatives the lad never stood much chance really.'

  'True enough, boss. I've got an interviewee coming in shortly so I'll need to go prep. Catch up with you later.'

  21st November, 1420 hours - detached house, near Hetton-Le-Hole

  Gaz glanced around furtively before slipping into the long driveway that led up to the big house. He didn't even know if the boss lady would still be there, but he was determined to find her if she was, tell her what he knew and leave with her. Since learning of Rocko's arrest, Gaz had harboured dreams that he would be the next boss; that he was next in line to bring the girls into the life for which they'd been brought to the country. He knew it would mean a different location, and he was fine with it. He had no ties to the north
east.

  He'd almost had a heart attack on the spot when he'd wandered down Wear Street the other day and found the brothel surrounded by cop cars. Ducking behind an old van for protection, he'd watched as the cops had marched all of the girls out of the premises and taken the computer from upstairs. And for the first time in a long time, he'd felt desperation.

  This job was his only source of income, and already his meagre funds had run dry. He'd barely had enough for the petrol over here, let alone for anything else.

  Reaching the front door, he tried the handle, not surprised to find it opened with ease. Stepping over the threshold he paused, listening for the slightest sound to indicate that anyone was inside.

  He heard nothing, not even the whisper of a spider crossing the floorboards. It was as if the house itself was on edge.

  He shivered, almost turning to leave, but something compelled him forward. And that something was the thought that maybe Yolanda would trust him and take him with her to wherever she was headed to set up shop.

  Determination flooded through him - he deserved a break, he'd worked damn hard for Rocko, recently, doing all the crap that no-one else wanted to do. He deserved the money, the freedom to shag whichever girl he wanted whenever the need overtook him. He deserved to be part of the bigger picture.

  Pushing open the door to the main reception room, he froze as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

  He felt his stomach bottom out in shock. He knew violence, hell, he enjoyed violence, but never against himself. And this was the first time he'd ever been faced with a gun.

  Gaz looked past the gun, up the man’s arms, and straight into his steely, emotionless eyes. In that moment Gaz realised he knew nothing of violence. This man, standing in front of him with his hand raised steady, and his finger on the trigger, knew all about pain.

  Belatedly, Gaz registered the tell-tale smell of metal in the air - metal from freshly spilled blood.

  His eyes drifted to his left, and he saw the bodies of Yolanda and her two henchmen, a single bullet wound to the middle of each of their heads.

  'Please, no...' begged Gaz, stumbling backwards in a feeble attempt to get away.

  21st November, 1425 hours – detached house, near Hetton-Le-Hole

  The man clicked his jaw twice, steadying himself as a soft pop emitted from the weapon in his hand. He felt the subtle jerk in his hand, comfortable in how it felt. The silencer deadened the noise that would have alerted every house in the vicinity, and he watched as Gaz toppled sideways, his eyes wide, his life already extinguished.

  Such was the nature of the job.

  Quickly, he progressed with a through sweep of the premises; his orders were clear. Make sure no-one was left standing: and he never failed to carry those orders out. He'd done it for years, was the best in the business.

  Happy that the house was now void of life, he did a search and recover for any documentation that could potentially point to those he called 'the management'. What little he found was immediately destroyed in a flash of flame.

  One last check of the reception room, and it was time to leave. He slipped down the driveway using the trees as cover, got into the non-descript ford focus that hovered near the driveway entrance – the false plates meant that even if it was seen it wouldn't be identifiable – turned the key in the ignition, and drove off.

  Another job complete.

  Epilogue

  18th December, 1045 hours - Marlo's flat, Sunderland

  Marlo's stomach hadn't stopped churning all morning. She knew it was just nerves, but it was unsettling.

  Agent Kenton from the Border Force was due to ring before noon to let them know the status of Elvie's immigration request. She'd sought asylum, of the firm belief that if she returned to her village that she would be taken again and forced into the sex trade elsewhere. He'd already indicated there should be no problem, but one could never be sure.

  Elvie was nervous, too. She hadn't moved from her perch on the sofa all morning, sitting in silence and chewing on her fingernails. Marlo would have been worried but for the fact Ali sat next to her, cradling the lukewarm coffee she'd made him almost an hour ago.

  Marlo's head was filled with what if's and maybes. She was terrified something would come up at the last minute and Elvie would be returned to the Philippines.

  They all jumped visibly as the phone rang.

  Picking up the receiver, Marlo listened intently.

  All she heard though were the words '... pleased to grant Elvie Aquino UK residency...'

  She couldn't stop the smile that lit up her face, and when Elvie jumped off the couch and threw her arms around her, Marlo hugged back tightly, tears streaming down her face. Ali grabbed them both, wrapping his arms around them simultaneously and they just stood for a minute.

  When they broke apart, Marlo decided it was time to tell Elvie something she hoped would make the child even happier.

  'You remember you told me about your granddad, the Englishman your gran lost touch with? Elvie, he's not dead. He had a stroke so couldn't write, but he's alive, and what's more he doesn’t live far away. I spoke to his carers this morning, explained about you, and they think it would do him the world of good to see you. Would you like to go and see him?'

  Elvie nodded, obviously not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes were filled with wonder.

  I hope they never stop being filled with so much happiness. Marlo kept her thought to herself and held her hand out and took hold of Elvie's, turning to smile at Ali as they went to leave.

  'You coming?'

  'Can't,' he replied, his voice obviously disappointed. 'Have to go in for a meeting with the super. I believe her exact words to the whole team were 'be there or heads will roll' so I can't really bow out. She's practically blown a gasket over the deaths in Hetton - a professional hit in the north east, no viable leads. It's a certifiable shit storm.'

  Marlo nodded, 'Sorry, love. If the leads aren't there, though, that's not your fault. Don't let her bully you. We'll see you when we get back.'

  'OK, love. Then we'll talk about looking for a place to live. Together,' he said meaningfully.

  Marlo blushed. Moving in together after only a few weeks was rash, impulsive, and a completely out-of-character decision.

  But it also felt completely right, she acknowledged as she left the flat with Elvie.

  18th December, 1045 hours – a care home, Sunderland

  Across town, Connor sat in the green, leatherette chair, staring out of the window at the fields beyond.

  He'd received his marching orders from the police before he'd even been discharged from hospital. He'd known it would happen but it still stung. They couldn't let him keep his job when he'd been swayed into giving intel to a criminal, whether said criminal had blackmailed him or not. Most of the people he'd considered friends, had slowly backed away, not wanting to be associated with a dirty cop, which was what he essentially was.

  He'd managed to avoid criminal charges: the Crown Prosecution Service happy that he'd acted in self-defence where Fred had been concerned, and happy that the information he'd provided on Fred was sufficient that the issue of him passing intel over was lessened to a non-chargeable offence. Not that it mattered now anyway. Fred was locked up in a tiny cell with no release imminent. The judge had ruled he would serve life, no parole.

  Connor was still jobless though. And in a few short months when he couldn’t pay the mortgage on his flat any more, he’d be homeless.

  Marie hadn't spoken to him at all since she'd blown her top at the hospital. She’d accused him of being in with Fred, saying only a partner would pass him information that wasn’t supposed to be shared. She'd already gone back to her perfect uni life, requesting additional financial aid, and had every intention of carrying on without Connor in her life at all, blaming him for the death of their dad, for Fred being a criminal and for their mother being placed in the home.

  Sheila lay on the bed near the window, her head turned towa
rds the window permanently. The nurses said it was shock from the change to her living arrangements. They didn't know if she would improve. It was guilt that drove him to sit with her every day for hours on end. Guilt and the knowledge that he'd finally got his way: his mum was in the home like he’d wanted, so in essence everything that had happened was indeed, his fault.

  Gently, he rubbed his thumb over the razor blade in his jacket pocket, feeling the sharp edge cut through the top layers of skin as though they were nothing more than hot butter. He felt the smallest amount of blood well to the surface, and he smiled. This he could control, when everything else around was falling to shit, he could feel this.

  Closing his eyes, he laid his head back and rested against the chair.

  Life sucked. It was, in fact, a complete load of bollocks.

  His stomach pulled as he shifted position, reminding him he still hadn’t healed. The doctor had said it would take months to heal properly – when Fred had twisted the blade it had caused bad muscle damage.

  He didn’t know what he was going to do now. Nothing was any clearer now than it had been a week ago.

  Sighing he laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  The shit would still be there tomorrow.

  THE END

  A Note from the Publisher

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  Have you read?

  I’ve Been Watching You – K.A. Richardson’s best-selling 2nd part of The North East Police series.

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  Unquiet Souls - "A must read for all crime fiction fans." – Liz Mistry’s best-selling first book in this dark and compelling new crime series.