NEARLY DEAD: the prequel to The Child Taker (Detective Alec Ramsay Series Book 0)

by Conrad Jones

  ‘Where is your torch?’ the other asked.

  ‘What torch?’ Brian stammered.

  ‘Exactly. What torch. Why are you stumbling about in the woods in the dark?’

  ‘Next to the prison,’ the other officer added.

  ‘You wouldn’t be sending things over the wall, would you?’

  ‘What wall?’

  ‘The prison walls.’

  ‘No. I didn’t know that there was a prison there.’

  ‘You didn’t know there was a prison there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The big building with high walls and lots of barbed wire?’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Brian’s voice sounded childlike.

  ‘What is in the bag, sir?’

  ‘Just stuff.’

  ‘We need to see what’s in it.’

  ‘Don’t you need a warrant?’

  ‘Not if we think you’re in the process of committing a crime, we don’t.’

  ‘I see,’ Brian mumbled. His mind raced for answers. He was useless at lying.

  ‘Put the bag down, sir and step back from it.’

  ‘It’s a drone,’ Brian blurted out. ‘And an entrenching tool.’

  ‘A drone and an entrenching tool,’ one of the officers said, taking the bag from his shoulder. Brian could feel his bowels loosening. He felt like he was going to defecate in his trousers. His life was disintegrating in front of his eyes.

  ‘An entrenching tool?’ the other officer asked.

  ‘It’s a folding spade,’ Brian explained.

  The officer opened it and looked inside. ‘It is a drone and an entrenching tool. Just like he said.’ He took out the folded tool. The blade was thick with soil and something sticky. ‘I’m not a detective, Brian but looking at this and your shoes and your hands, I would have to deduce that you have been digging.’ Brian began to shake. ‘And looking at your neck, I think you’ve been involved in an altercation.’

  ‘I think there’s blood on this blade,’ the other officer said, shining his torch on the shovel.

  ‘Blood,’ Brian echoed. ‘That’s ridiculous …’

  ‘Where were you digging, Brian?’

  ‘Digging?’

  ‘Yes, digging.’

  ‘I was digging?’

  ‘Why were you digging in the woods in the dark?’

  ‘No comment,’ Brian blurted. There was nowhere to escape from their questions. They had caught him red handed. He decided to shut up shop and say nothing. It was better than incriminating himself. If he said the wrong thing, Charlie would hurt him. It was better to say nothing at all.

  ‘You’re not under caution yet, Mr Selby but if you don’t come up with some sensible answers, you soon will be.’

  ‘I don’t want to be under caution.’

  ‘Good, then tell me what were you doing in the woods?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘We’re wasting our time. We’ll have to seal off the woods. Read him his rights. I’ll call this in. They won’t fucking believe this at the station.’

  CHAPTER 4

  Peter Clough came around in his armchair. His flat had been trashed. The settee looked like it had exploded, foam and springs protruded from it at right angles. His fifty-inch flat screen had a hammer through it and the kitchen cupboards didn’t have a single door attached. The contents had been launched all over the flat, across the ceiling, the floor, and the walls. His dining table and chairs had been smashed into pieces, all bar one, which Charlie McGee was sitting on.

  ‘How’s the head?’ Charlie asked as if nothing had happened. He snorted a line of coke from his silver holder.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Peter mumbled. His mouth was parched. He wiped his lips and realised that there was a rope noose around his neck. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ he said as he grabbed at the rope but someone tightened it from behind. Peter was lifted from the cushion and he began to choke.

  ‘Relax and he’ll take the pressure off.’ Charlie said, standing up. Peter relaxed and the rope became looser. He settled back in the chair and looked around, his eyes wide with fear. ‘Stay calm and listen carefully.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to work for me.’

  ‘And I told you no.’

  ‘Look at what is going on around you. Haven’t you got it yet?’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘We could string you up right now. When they find you hanging, they will think you lost it. You couldn’t cope anymore. You smashed up your home and strung yourself up. No one will investigate it. You are recently divorced, you lost your old man, you got suspended from work, you hung yourself. No one will give a fuck.’

  ‘What are you talking about, suspended from work? I am not suspended from work.’

  ‘You will be once we make a few anonymous phone calls to the governor. “Peter Clough has been smuggling drugs and phones into the nick.”’

  ‘No one would believe that. My record is spotless.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they? Are you absolutely sure about that?’

  ‘Yes, so fuck you!’

  ‘Would they investigate the allegation?’

  ‘Of course, they would.’

  ‘Exactly. You’re not thinking straight. You see, we have plenty of men on the inside who will back us up. They might be cons but there’s no smoke without fire. They’ll suspend you straightaway while they investigate, then they’ll interview the cons who come forward with information. They will say that they have bought drugs and mobiles from you for months and you’ll get screwed. You’ll be suspended and then sacked. You might even do time. Then you will top yourself. I’ll make sure that it looks like you did. And that will be the end of poor old Peter Clough and no one will give a flying fuck about it.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Peter tried to shout but his voice broke with emotion. ‘You bastard. Do you think that you can get away with this?’

  ‘Yes. I do.’

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘We need an officer on your wing, Peter and you’re the most obvious choice. Take it as a compliment.’

  ‘I didn’t treat you badly when you were inside.’

  ‘No, you didn’t but some of the other cunts in uniform did and, where were you?’ Charlie scoffed. ‘You were in the canteen turning a blind eye as usual. Now you can turn a blind eye for me. It is easy money and the risks are minimal. Or you can take your chances with the disciplinary but I don’t fancy your chances.’

  ‘I’ll will not work for you. I’ll take my chances. You can say what you want. They’ll investigate and it will be my word against some cons. They’ll take my word over your scumbag mates.’

  ‘There’s a little bit more than just the word of a few cons, officer Clough,’ Charlie grinned.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Do you remember having a chat last week with a con who had been studying Roman history. He’s a nonce in for grooming.’

  Peter frowned. He didn’t see the relevance. ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘You looked at some coins with him on C Wing?’

  ‘Coins?’ Peter was confused but he remembered something. One of the prisoners had shown him some copies of Roman coins that he had been given as part of a history class. They were in little plastic re-sealable packets. ‘I remember. Why are you bringing that up?’

  ‘The coins were in plastic packets,’ Charlie said, smiling. ‘My man reckons that you handled at least six of the plastic packets.’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Those packets have since been used to hold cocaine in them.’ Charlie shrugged. Peter felt his chest tighten. ‘Do you see where this is going yet? We have your fingerprints on plastic packets that will test positive for cocaine. We have cons on the inside, who will testify that you have sold them drugs and phones and bingo, you will get shafted.’

  ‘Bastard,’ Peter said beneath his breath. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. ‘You dirty, underhanded bastard.’

  ‘
Don’t push it, Peter. You need to realise that you are screwed here. You will do as I say or you’re finished.’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Peter closed his eyes and tried to make sense of it all. ‘You picked me because of what exactly?’

  ‘I picked you because you’re vulnerable. We could stitch you up in a few hours whereas some other prison officers would be much harder to bring onboard.’ He gestured to the man behind Peter. He tossed the rope and it landed in Peter’s lap. ‘I appreciate that you’re going to be angry at first. You’ll be frustrated because there is nothing you can do about it but that feeling will pass. Once you get into the routine of taking stuff in for us, you’ll realise that it is [EM7]a doddle and the money is good.’

  ‘I don’t believe that this is happening to me.’

  ‘It is. Get used to it. Worse things could happen.’

  ‘Worse?’ Peter snapped. ‘How could this be any worse?’

  ‘I could make you do it for nothing. Some do. The ones who piss me off. They do whatever I tell them for fuck all because the situation is the same. I have a hold on them and they can’t wriggle free. Doing it for nothing would be much worse, believe me. You are still in the paid category, don’t piss me off and you can stay there. When do you retire?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It is not a difficult question. When do you retire?’

  ‘Four years.’

  ‘Okay, let’s work it out. Four years at a grand a month. That’s forty-eight thousand pounds tax free to put into your retirement fund. I’ll throw in a couple of grand as a sweetener to get a new telly and fix up your kitchen. Fifty-grand, Peter and you get to keep your job and your pension or, I’ll pay you fuck all and you will lose everything. You would probably string yourself up before I could get to you. The choice is clear. Make your decision wisely.’

  Peter squeezed his eyes closed and put pressure on the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. ‘I don’t seem to have many options.’

  ‘You have several but only one works out well and has a happy ending.’ Charlie shrugged. ‘Are you in or are you out?’

  ‘I’m in. I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Good.’ Charlie said, nodding. ‘I’ll be in touch when your first shipment is ready. Let’s go boys.’

  The men filed out of the living room and closed the door behind them, leaving Peter with the shattered remains of his life. He couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid as to be framed by touching those packets. No matter how he replayed things in his mind, the outcome would have been the same. He felt sick. The urge to phone the police was overwhelming but he couldn’t help but think how it would look at work. Accusations of being bent happened to officers every week but even if an officer was cleared, suspicion lingered. And if they didn’t believe him and he was found guilty of smuggling cocaine, he would be on the other side of the bars, which was not a good place to be as an ex-officer. Not if he wanted to remain anally retentive. He would lose his job and his pension and do time. Charlie McGee had him over a barrel and he could only see one way to go.

  CHAPTER 5

  Chris Cornell climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The dark X5 roared into life. He waited nervously for the others to return. The street was deserted, its inhabitants sound asleep, comfortable in their homes behind the curtains and blinds. It had been a long day and an even longer night. Things were beginning to unravel. He could sense that his boss was feeling the pressure and it was making him more unstable than usual. That had a knock-on effect on the rest of the outfit. He was casting aspersions in all directions, everyone was potentially a rat until proven otherwise. Everyone was on edge. The back doors opened and Matt and Justin climbed in. They both looked around to see if they were being watched.

  ‘Where’s the boss?’ Chris asked, peering into the wing mirror. ‘We can’t hang around here too long at this time of night.’

  ‘He’s decided that he is going to take a shit in Clough’s hallway, just to make sure that he gets the message loud and clear,’ Matt said with a shake of the head. He rubbed his eyes. ‘I swear he’s losing his grip.’

  ‘You need to keep opinions like that to yourself,’ Justin said, looking over his shoulder through the back window. ‘He’s in a dark place right now. I have never seen him so agitated. Take my advice, keep your head down and your mouth shut, got it?’

  ‘Got it, calm down,’ Matt mumbled. They saw Charlie approaching the vehicle and waited for him in silence. He opened the door and climbed in, taking out his silver box, he carefully tapped a line of coke onto it and snorted it loudly. Nobody spoke for long seconds.

  ‘Did you do it?’ Matt broke the silence as Charlie squeezed his nose, shook his head and let the drug do its magic.

  ‘Did I do what?’ Charlie asked, a sly grin on his face.

  ‘Did you shit in his hallway?’

  ‘Of course, I did,’ he chuckled evilly. ‘It was a ‘welcome to the company gift’.’ He chuckled again and lit a cigarette. ‘I left him a big steaming welcome gift in his hallway.’ He took a deep drag on the cigarette and then blew the smoke out of the window. ‘Not all companies give new employees a welcome gift, you know,’ Charlie said sincerely. He looked at each man in turn, a serious expression on his face. ‘He’s a very lucky man to be given a welcome gift on his first day with the company. A personalised gift created by the employer himself.’

  ‘He could let it dry out and put it on the mantelpiece’

  ‘He might put it on his shelf next to the window,’ Matt added sarcastically. ‘It would look nice there.’

  ‘He might have it engraved,’ Justin giggled.

  ‘I didn’t get one when I joined,’ Chris joked. ‘You haven’t always offered a steaming welcome gift, boss.’

  ‘Not always,’ Charlie answered seriously. ‘It’s a recent benefit. It hasn’t been available for long.’ He turned to face Chris. ‘If you feel like you have been overlooked, I’m sure that I can muster you one up?’

  ‘No, no, no. It wouldn’t mean the same now, Charlie. Thanks for the thought though. Very considerate of you,’ Chris said, nodding his head in appreciation. ‘Very considerate indeed but I’ll give it a miss.’

  ‘What about you two?’ Charlie turned to face the men in the back seat. ‘Would you like one to take home?’

  They raised their hands in surrender. ‘No need, boss. We feel appreciated,’ Matt said. ‘Don’t we, Justin?’

  ‘Very appreciated. No need for gifts.’

  ‘Not steaming ones, anyway,’ Matt added. The four men laughed as they watched the streetlights whizz by.

  ‘Where are we heading,’ Chris asked. He glanced at Charlie. His boss was looking out of the passenger window, staring into space. Tendrils of smoke curled from his nostrils. ‘Boss?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Where is your car parked?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘At the unit. Matt couldn’t pick me up this morning,’ Chris replied, frowning. ‘Why?’

  ‘Where is your car, Matt?’

  ‘On the industrial estate, around the corner from the lockup.’

  ‘We’ll go there.’ Charlie said, looking back out of the window. ‘It’s late. You can fuck off home once we’re done and I’ll drive this back to my gaff.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Chris said. ‘I’m knackered. It’s been a long day. My bed is calling me. I’ll sleep tonight.’

  ‘Are you sleeping alright?’ Charlie asked. The men looked at each other. No one replied. The atmosphere was tense. He snorted another line. Chris glanced at his boss, a concerned look on his face. ‘I asked are you sleeping alright?’ he said, turning to face Chris.

  ‘Me?’ The driver glanced at him and shook his head.

  ‘Yes, you. It’s not a difficult question. Are you sleeping alright?’

  ‘I sleep okay but it depends how much brandy I have before I go to bed. The more I have, the better my kip is. Sometimes I’m too wired to sleep sober,’ Chri
s said, shrugging. ‘I toss and turn all night if I don’t have a drink. You know how it is, boss.’

  ‘I always said you were a tosser,’ Matt joked.

  ‘Fuck you very much,’ Chris replied, looking in the mirror.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Maybe I should try brandy,’ Charlie sighed.

  ‘Are you struggling to sleep, Charlie?’ Chris felt obliged to ask. Charlie was acting weirdly. Weirder than usual and that was difficult.

  ‘I haven’t slept a wink since that fucking drone got busted last week,’ Charlie sighed. He looked out of the window again and flicked the cigarette into the night. Sparks flew into the air as it hit the pavement. He gazed blankly into the darkness as they faded. ‘Thinking about it keeps me awake all night long.’

  ‘That was a tough one,’ Chris said, glancing at him. ‘Someone must have blabbed.’

  ‘Oh, there is no doubt about that. Someone did.’ Charlie stared at Chris with a confused expression. ‘That is what keeps me awake, you fucking idiot! Knowing that one of my men is a fucking grass keeps me awake at night.’

  ‘Sorry, boss,’ Chris said without making eye contact. ‘Have you got any idea who?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fucking hell, Charlie!’ Chris said, excited. ‘You think that you know who it was?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I can’t say yet. I need more proof.’ The men fell into an uneasy silence. Suspicion seeped through the confined space, no one knew who they could trust. The quiet was deafening. Charlie let the silence reign for a while before speaking again. ‘Do you know how much gear was in that football?’

  ‘No,’ Chris answered. He shook his head and stared forward through the windscreen, avoiding eye contact again. ‘I have no idea what was in it but I’m sure it wasn’t peanuts.’

  ‘There was fifty-grand’s worth of coke.’

  ‘Fifty-grand?’ Chris whistled.

  ‘Yup. Fifty-grand,’ Charlie said, turning to the men in the back. ‘We would have made ten times that on the inside.’