Influence

by Andrew Snadden

  “If that's true, then why have we got Kennedy in custody for supplying five to six grand’s worth of 'China white' as you put it? It's hardly low key is it Jamie?” Anaura enquired feeling doubts about the legitimacy of Poultan's claims.

  “Well, after laying low for a month or two, Luke took a phone call in another room when I was at his house. When he returned he told me and a couple of the other guys that we were back in business! Have I given you enough now?” Poultan said.

  “I'm not sure I believe you Jamie. It seems to me as though you're just using this dirty cop story to divert our attention away from you!” Anaura replied.

  “I swear on my life that it's true, I swear!” said Poultan in a panic.

  “Well you swear on a lot Jamie, doesn't mean you're telling the truth though!” Richards said.

  When it was clear that Poultan really did not have anything else left to say, Richards escorted him back to his cell. A few minutes later he returned to the interview room where Anaura was sat waiting for him.

  “Jesus Christ Ian, what the hell is going on?” Anaura asked with confusion and worry.

  “I don't know mate. And I don't know how we're meant to find out who it is either; bloody hell it could be anyone couldn't it?! That's even if he's telling the truth!” Richards replied.

  “This is not what we needed! As if things weren't complicated enough already! Ian we can't trust anybody but ourselves with this stuff until we find out who we are dealing with!”.

  Richards sat down and the two detectives looked at one another across the table; they both needed a break!

  Elm Farm Cottage

  Chapter Twenty Six

  At eleven thirty pm on Wednesday 28th August, Foster pulled up in a lay by on Heathling Road, a few miles north of the City. He switched off the engine and reached into the back of the passenger seat to remove the Sig hand gun he had hidden. He pulled the magazine out and checked that the moving parts of the gun were all still in good working order. Failing to check the condition of your weapon before a job could result in the gun having a stoppage at a vital moment if something wasn't right.

  The action of the gun's slide was smooth and slick; satisfied he replaced the magazine into its housing and made the weapon ready by pulling the slide back, thus loading a 9mm round into the breach. He took a pinch of powder from the bag of rapidly disappearing cocaine and put the gun down his trousers in preparation for the jog to Pearson's house that was ahead of him. He got out of his car and clambered over the fence that led into the open country space before setting off towards his target. Foster moved swiftly through the field until he was within a quarter of a mile of the house and slowed down to walking pace to ensure he could approach without detection or being too out of breath.

  Twelve minutes later he reached a set of bushes that lined the length of Ridge Road and peered through them to check his position in the lane. A hundred meters to his left, Foster could see the silhouette of a house in the moonlight, and in front of him another brightly lit house. He stealthily walked along the row of the bushes to prevent being seen by the occupants of the bright house until he was opposite the cottage up the road. It was Pearson's house! The small light over the door shone down onto a plaque that said 'ELM FARM COTTAGE' in big letters on it, confirming that it was the right address.

  Foster moved out from the bushes and gained access to the rear of the cottage. There wasn't a light on inside the property; this was a good sign, it meant that Pearson was asleep and would be easier to get to. Foster crept over to the rear window and forced the old wooden frame open with a screw driver. He climbed through and onto a kitchen work top, closing the window gently behind him. As he silently climbed down from the work top, he removed the Sig from his trousers without taking his eyes of the kitchen's barn-like door. Foster raised the gun up to his eye line and disengaged the safety catch. Just as he had been trained to do, he began to move tactically and methodically through the downstairs rooms, with his gun raised up in front of him, ensuring that each one was clear before he moved onto the next. Only a fool would have gone upstairs without first making sure that Pearson hadn't fallen asleep in the lounge.

  Without a sound, Foster stealthily moved towards the staircase, walking in a slightly crouched style that meant his movements were slow and precise; and more importantly silent! Just as he was about to place his foot onto the first step, he felt severe pain shoot through his head as flashbacks of killing Mahood and Sykes abruptly appeared. He stopped and wobbled on his feet as he raised his left hand up to his brow. The feeling was excruciating.

  As the agony began to subside, it was replaced with anger as the self-hate for being unprofessional again welled in Foster. He clenched his fist and shook his head in an attempt to compose himself. There was no way that he was going to get this one wrong. Foster steadied himself and made his way up the stairs one by one, and like the downstairs he slowly opened the door of each room and cleared inside them until he reached the final room of the cottage. He gently cracked the door open and began to move through the gap.

  Foster opened the door a little further whilst raising his gun up into the dark void ahead of him before moving swiftly and purposefully into the large room and towards the bed where he was greeted with a perfectly made, untouched bed. Pearson wasn't there! Foster kicked the bed in a rage questioning where he could be. Just as he was about to smash the room up in frustration, he saw the reflection of light gliding across the ceiling and the sound of a car engine. He ran to the window and saw Pearson climbing out of his car and walking towards the property.

  Foster looked at his watch, it was just before twelve am, the Op pack had said to go to the house at one am, Foster cursed himself for the amateurish mistake. Downstairs he could hear Pearson entering the front door. Foster sat down in the chair that was in the corner of the room and waited. As Pearson walked up the stairs, Foster could hear his heavy footsteps reaching the top and heading towards the bedroom where he was. The door opened. Foster pointed the gun at Pearson's moonlit torso. Pearson flicked the light switch on and as the halogen bulbs suddenly illuminated the room, he was greeted with the sight of Foster sat in the chair looking directly at him.

  “Who the fuck are.................”.

  Foster instantaneously leapt from the seat, firing two shots in rapid succession before he had fully got to his feet, leaving Pearson unable to finish the sentence owing to the blunt 9mm bullets slamming into his chest and bouncing off his spine and ribs before exiting his body. The blood sprayed up against the white horse hair plaster wall behind Pearson before he was thrown up against it from the impacts. As he slid down the wall still alive but severely injured, Foster charged towards the heavily breathing man who was struggling to fill his lungs with air, and pulled the trigger repeatedly. The last three remaining bullets burst from the guns barrel and hurtled towards and into Pearson's chest creating catastrophic injuries. Foster continued to pull the trigger until he realised the clip was empty a number of clicks ago. A third round would have finished Pearson off, but Foster was not satisfied with that and wanted to make a real mess of him. With only a total of fifteen rounds, Foster was lucky that he hadn't loaded them all into the magazine or he would not have had any left for the others as a result of his trigger happiness.

  Pearson's body settled with an audible final exhale of breath. Foster checked him for signs of life; there were none. He gave a quick glance around to make sure he hadn't left anything, the pause almost allowed the pool of blood that was moving across the pine floor to touch his shoes. Foster swiped his foot away. There was no way he would make the same evidential screw ups he had with Sykes. To be completely sure, he checked that the chair he had been sat on was clear of anything incriminating before returning back to Pearson's body to admire his handy work on the villain.

  A few minutes later, Foster suddenly realised that he had been stood there for far too long and snapped into action, jumping over the large pool of blood, racing down the stairs and out of
the front door. After flying out of the cottage's garden gate and almost slipping, he turned right and headed up the lane, where after fifty meters he cut through the hedgerow. Foster broke through the bracken and ran as fast as he could across the field towards his car in the secluded lay by. In the distance, the familiar sound of an Armed Response BMW X5's fog horn and sirens signalling other road users to move out of the way could be heard. He started to run even faster. On reaching the lay-by, Foster tripped and skidded along the gravelly floor, grazing his knee in the process. He climbed to his feet and got into the car and sped away along the country lane towards Heathling Village at warp speed, using the main roads at that point would have been a bad idea.

  Driving through the winding roads of Heathling, Foster reflected on how he had enjoyed killing Pearson, the rush of pulling the trigger was better than using an archaic knife. Foster smiled with the knowledge that he would be home safe and dry before his former colleagues on the firearms unit and CID would have worked out what had happened. The likelihood was that they would put the incident down to an armed burglar or fellow criminal. 'The Chief and Drayson will be really happy with this one” Foster said to himself as he entered Heathling Village and picked up the road that would eventually lead him safely home.

  To congratulate himself, Foster took a hit of the cocaine and then yelled out with euphoria as he turned up the CD player and excitedly bounced his head back and forth to the hard pumping music that was booming out of the car's speakers. It had been a productive day at the 'office'!

  Unwelcome News

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The following morning, Anaura sat in the Supervisor's office with a splitting headache. After the less than fruitful interviews with Kennedy and Poultan, he had taken a few well-earned days off and told the rest of his team to do the same. However when he was at home with Laura, he could think of nothing but what Poultan had said to him about there being a corrupt copper within the Gang. If there was one thing that Anaura hated; it was a corrupt policeman. Seeing that he was becoming obsessive, Laura left the kids with a babysitter and the couple had gone out for a meal at a Chinese restaurant in Lymindale, a medieval village out of the City. Although the conversation was light hearted, Laura knew that he was still worrying about work.

  An hour after they arrived home Laura asked him to discuss what was bothering him. At first he was hesitant but soon came out with it. He explained to Laura that during an interview with Poultan after the car chase (which hadn't gone down well with Laura) he and Richards were told that there was a dirty copper within the Gang's outfit. Laura looked shocked before she said “wait a minute Peter!” and asked him whether Poultan could be believed or trusted; he was after all, a criminal. Anaura hadn't thought of it from that angle and when Laura expressed concern that the information may have been used to take his attention away from the Gang, sending him on a wild goose chase, Anaura reflected that he may have rushed to conclusions through stress.

  “Peter think about it. If you were in trouble and a copper offered you a deal, wouldn't you say anything to help yourself? It's highly possible that he was just trying to influence you to save his own skin.” She said.

  Anaura thought about it and realised that she may have had a point. After Laura's sensible advice and three days’ rest, he was back in the office and firmly setting his sights on the Gang once again. Although the idea of a corrupt copper still troubled him, he knew that wasting time looking for what could turn out to be the bogey man, was potentially lost time. It was better to focus on the Gang because if they caught them, they would catch their alleged copper too, as there was no way that they would go down without him. And besides Laura was right, it may have been a load of rubbish that Poultan was spouting anyway.

  Anaura reached into his locker and pulled out a small bottle of paracetamol and took two tablets that were washed down with a swig of coffee. He returned to the Op Spear related paper work and began to read, pushing through his headache. So far they had a low level drug dealer, a decent level one and a little bit of intelligence that could have been true or not. However one thing that hadn't been a load of rubbish was when Poultan had inadvertently mentioned Cooper's home address and then the harbour. This reminded him that he needed to reassess whether the Observation point was still worth having twenty four hours a day as Cooper, or any of the others, hadn't been seen going near the harbour since the Surveillance crew had followed him there at the beginning of the month. Anaura was beginning to wonder how much significance it really had. Poultan may have alluded to the harbour, but it was not as though he was fully privy to the conversation between Cooper and Kennedy anyway.

  He leant back in his seat, squeezed his eyes and decided to take a rest. Richards had warned him about burning himself out or rushing into things head strong. Once again Anaura began to ponder whether dropping Surveillance had been a good idea. In his haste he naively thought that Kennedy would have given him something solid when he realised that he could be facing a long time inside; but he hadn't. Anaura was starting to realise that it was true what people said........'Rome wasn't built in a day'. After all the years of experience and a normally level head, he had done what he never thought he would; charged in like a bull in a china shop and in turn made some poor decisions. Anaura started to see how the Gang had always evaded Drayson. They were just too smart and their dealers were just too scared of them to say anything, even if it meant a very long prison sentence.

  “PETER?!!!!!”

  Anaura heard Richards’ asking for him from the main office. He got up still squeezing his eyes to relieve the pressure, and walked over to the door to see what Richards wanted.

  “What's up Ian?” Anaura said with a slight despondent voice brought on by feeling as though he had screwed up the investigation.

  “You're not going to like this! Pearson's dead; murdered!” Richards said.

  “You're joking, how, when, where?!” Anaura asked, his headache instantaneously lifting with the shock of the revelation.

  Richards explained that he had just seen it on the BBC news and checked the incident logs which confirmed it.

  “WHY THE FUCK WERE WE NOT TOLD EARLIER! THE BLOODY PRESS KNEW BEFORE WE DID!!!!” Anaura shouted as he booted the chair in front of him, sending it crashing into the desk.

  Severely agitated, he spun on his heels and stormed back into his office and picked up the phone to Steiner. When he answered, Anaura barely gave him a chance to think before demanding to know why they had not been told about Pearson's murder straight after it had happened. Steiner, like so many times before, calmed him down and reminded him that no one knew that they were investigating the Gang and that he had only just found out at an emergency command meeting himself. Anaura, still reeling from his headache and the news, demanded to be given access to the crime scene to which Steiner replied that Major crime would be dealing with it. It was a murder after all and not a drugs related case. Anaura replied that Pearson was one of his suspects and that it should remain as part of his case.

  “How do you propose to investigate a murder as well as run a huge drugs operation Peter?”

  “Listen Jason, this case should be ours! There could be a link, something we could use.” Anaura protested.

  “NO PETER!” Steiner snapped

  The line went silent for a moment before Steiner huffed.

  “Peter, I know you want this operation to succeed, I really do, but you have to realise that no one is going to be comfortable with you dealing with a murder investigation at the same time as Spear, something would get missed. No; you need to focus your attention on the other members, like Bradford for example. You can't do that whilst investigating a murder can you??”

  “I could, but I understand why you're saying I can't.” Anaura said feeling dejected.

  “I'll tell you what Peter. I'll pull some strings and get you access to the crime scene to see if there's any evidence of a link. Maybe it will set your mind at rest if you see that it was probably j
ust a burglary that went wrong!”

  “OK Jason, thanks.”.

  “Peter, had you thought about taking a little bit of time off? You know, get yourself in harmony again. You sound a little stressed!” Steiner suggested.

  Anaura told Steiner that he already had but would consider another day after he had visited the crime scene. He put down the phone and felt the stress washing over him once again. The operation was spinning out of control and it seemed as though there was nothing he could do to stop it. He picked up his phone to call Laura to express how unhappy he was. She asked him whether it was time to 'hang up the gloves' and ask to be reassigned but he replied that he couldn't and needed to see it through. Laura feeling a deep sense of concern for her husband told him that it was high time that he sort a quieter posting once he finished the operation, or his health would seriously suffer. Anaura finished the call by telling Laura that he would be home on time that night and that he was even considering another couple of days off. Laura told him she would make something nice for dinner and how it would be nice to see him again properly after the week he had spent sleeping in the office and how he had done nothing but worry on his time off.

  Feeling a little happier after speaking to Laura, he got up and went outside to join Richards and the other officers. Valera, who was now back on duty with Usher after the assaults, asked how he had got on with Steiner. Anaura replied that they would not be keeping the Pearson job but that they would have the opportunity to attend the crime scene. Richards replied that at least that was something, to which he just pulled a forced smile and a shrug of the shoulders.

  Seeing that Anaura was far from his usual happy self, Valera and Usher offered to make everyone a drink while Richards said that he would get everyone a bacon sandwich from around the block. Anaura thanked him and then gave him a wink before he collapsed into a nearby chair, huffing with frustration and sheer exhaustion.