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Influence

Page 20

by Andrew Snadden


  “Are you OK boss?” Enquired Williams.

  “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just not sure we're going to win this one!” Anaura replied.

  “Why is that sir? We're doing alright aren't we?”

  “Yeah you guys are, it's just that I'm not. Put it like this, by now the rest of the Gang will have heard that one of theirs is dead. The news will panic them into hiding or laying low as they'll be worried that someone is moving in on them. This was operation our window; a window that is now starting to shut!” Anaura said before standing up and telling the Intel officers to have a long break while he and Richards went to the scene.

  Anaura smiled at the officers, attempting to hide his stress induced, depressed state. He wearily returned to his office and closed the door, something he never usually did unless he was having a meeting. The four Intel officers looked at each other and pulled concerned expressions. Over the weeks they had grown fond of Anaura helped by his friendly and approachable nature and it was disappointing to see him feeling so low.

  PC Crane turned to the other three Intel officers and said that he had an idea and told them to follow him to the lounge area to discuss the plan he had come up with. He stood up whilst the others asked why he was being so mysterious and ushering them to the lounge instead of just coming out with it there and then.

  “I don't want Anaura to hear what I've got to say as I don't think he would be very happy with me. But we might just be able to help him and this operation!” Crane remarked with a smile.

  Real Problems

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The very same day, Drayson was on his way to speak to the Chief Constable about a matter of urgency, when his pay as you go phone rang, and despite driving and risking a ticket, he answered it. Before he even removed his phone, he knew who it was.

  “WHAT IS GOING ON ROBBIE?” Bradford screamed down the phone, prompting Drayson to takes his eyes off the road to turn the volume down on the handset.

  “I was just about to call you Ryan. I know, I can't believe it either. I'm going to speak to the Chief now and then I'll get to the crime scene to start finding out who did this!” Drayson replied, feigning a distressed voice.

  “THAT AINT BLOODY GOOD ENOUGH ROBBIE!” Bradford screamed back at him.

  “Right Ryan, you're going to have to calm down mate! It looks like he was shot in a Burglary so it could have been anyone couldn't it?! What would you have me do? I'm trying to get on the case to find out who did this, that's all I can do!”

  “Robbie, I don't like this, not one bit! Nick has gone missing, now Larry's dead, something ain't right!” Bradford said.

  Drayson responded by telling him that he would establish what was going on and reassured him that Sykes may still have just disappeared for a while to get away from his wife and that it wasn't completely out of character for him. He then began telling Bradford how there was a Russian drug syndicate moving into the area and that they could have been responsible. Bradford went silent at the other end of the phone, he had bought the story, but Drayson knew that time was running out and that he would need to keep him sweet until Foster could get to him.

  Before he finished the call, Bradford asked whether he should get a gun or leave the city. “NO” Drayson replied in a panic knowing that it would make it impossible to take him out. Just as Bradford was about to hang up, Drayson said to him “Remember Ryan, this is your city, it doesn't belong to a bunch of dirty Russians!”. The parting words had more of a positive affect than anything else he had said as the sycophantic sucking up appealed to Bradford's grandiose nature. He finished the call less than a hundred metres away from the gates of Headquarters. He parked his car up and headed to the Chief's office. He needed to be on this murder case but not for the reasons he gave Bradford; no, he needed to be on the case to ensure that there could never be anything linking him to the murder, soon to be plural. He needed to control what was investigated and what wasn't.

  Drayson walked into the Chief's office and was warmly welcomed by him and his assistant. As he took a seat, the Chief informed him that he would be looking to promote him as soon as possible as the current Assistant Chief's retirement was imminent. Drayson smiled before asking the Chief whether he would be able to do him one last favour. The Chief nodded with an open expression. Drayson subsequently told him that he wanted to have one last bit of glory under his belt and that the Pearson murder would be perfect. He explained that he still had a little while left until his promotion and that his successor as head of SOCU already had enough on his plate. The Chief sat back for a minute before asking Drayson if he really wanted the hassle. He nodded back with enthusiasm before asking if he could also have an appraisal of the operation that was already running on the Gang as it would help him find out if there was a link. He then went onto say that the two investigations ought to be combined and headed up by someone more experienced than Anaura; someone like him. The Chief agreed and told Drayson to get on it right away. He thanked him and left the office with a smug smile. With the murder investigation under his watchful eye and Anaura under his control, he would be well and truly back in business. He may have still had the issue of sorting out Foster post killings, but he would now be able to ensure that his tracks were covered.

  Drayson headed back to his car with a slight spring in his step and stopped to speak to any passing officer or member of staff who crossed his path being the excellent PR man he was. As usual he was demonstrating his ability to survive, to adapt. If there was one person that had the ability to come up smelling of roses; it was Drayson, and as he smiled and gushed his way past his fellow colleagues he reached his car and climbed in feeling relief washing over him.

  The first port of call was to get to the murder scene to start influencing the investigation's outcome. The second, was to finally rid himself of the rest of the Gang and that annoying thorn in his side-DI Peter Anaura. And the third was to make sure that Foster could never speak on what had been discussed between them. As he pulled away Drayson had a eureka moment................. Foster was an addict, a loser, and unfortunate accidents happened to addicts and losers every day; especially if they ended up taking a bad batch of drugs and overdosed in the process!

  One problem sorted! Two to go!

  Just a Burglary

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “Jason?”

  “Ah, alright Peter? Have you calmed down yet?” Steiner asked.

  Anaura apologised to Steiner for his earlier outburst over the telephone and explained that the decision to block him from the murder case had come across like he was just being obstructed by Command. After a pause, he then told Steiner that in the cold light of day, he accepted that he couldn't deal with a murder in addition to the operation. Steiner gave him a wink and shook his head.

  Accompanied by Richards and Steiner, Anaura entered Elm Farm Cottage and walked to the kitchen where a Scenes of Crime Officer, was dusting down the forced kitchen window, looking for fingerprints and traces of a suspect. Richards asked the forensic officer whether he'd had any success to which the forensic officer replied that apart from a few screwdriver marks and a footprint there was nothing of note and that he believed that the offender must have been wearing gloves.

  “Well that's a good start!” Anaura said sarcastically, still feeling slightly depressed from the knowledge that Op Spear was beginning to come apart at the seams.

  The forensic officer responded with a 'nothing I can do' gesture which made Anaura smile back at him as he realised that he had been unnecessarily rude to him. The three of them left the forensic officer and made their way around the rest of the downstairs of the cottage, each room providing the same lack of hard evidence that the kitchen had. They approached the stairs, then Steiner looked at Anaura and Richards with raised eyebrows and stated that it had been years since he had attended a murder scene and that he was quite excited to see what lay upstairs. Richards laughed and replied to him that most of the murders that Vice attended, generally turned out to
be drug overdoses; so this one would be a change.

  “Ah gentlemen” Drayson said, instigating the three men to look up.

  “Great, what's he doing here?” Anaura whispered to Richards as Steiner greeted Drayson with a handshake.

  “What brings you here sir?” Steiner asked with a smile.

  “This is my case, I'm running it. You know, one last bit of glory before I start the boring game of police politics!” Drayson said in a self-important tone.

  “Well at least the case is in good hands then.” Steiner responded.

  “I suppose I better let you boys through to have a look then. Bit gruesome if you know what I mean, clearly a failed burglary?” He said without a shred of emotion or empathy for his old friend that he'd had killed.

  The three men passed by him, with Anaura and Richards pulling forced smiles at him. Drayson feeling smug, waited a moment before he drooped the next bombshell.

  “Oh by the way Peter, we'll be working very closely from now on, I'm going to be overseeing Op Spear!” Drayson said with an expression of satisfaction, knowing that the news would crush him.

  Anaura replied “Yeah, whatever!” sarcastically as he looked over the bannister at Drayson who was now halfway down the stairs. Drayson stared back at him, but before he could say anything back to him, he had disappeared behind the wall as he headed towards Pearson's bedroom. The air of contempt that Anaura displayed towards the news, wound Drayson up no end and he gritted his teeth, hoping that he would get an opportunity to ruin Anaura's career as soon as possible.

  On entering the bedroom, the three men were met by Foster's bloody handy work. By now Pearson's body had turned a pale blue and the copious amounts of blood that were on the floor were now beginning to congeal and dry. Richards was the first to say anything, remarking that he doubted that it was a failed burglary. Anaura pulled a screwed up expression and looked at Steiner who appeared just as perplexed at how the murder scene was being considered a burglary.

  Steiner approached one of the nearby detectives and asked for more information as Anaura and Richards discussed the scene.

  “I can't believe Drayson's calling this a burglary!” Richards whispered the second Steiner had walked off.

  “I know Ian, this doesn't make a shred of sense.” Anaura replied.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Steiner asked as he returned without Anaura or Richards noticing.

  The two detectives replied that they were discussing why it was being called a burglary. Steiner smiled and explained that one of the neighbours had seen Larry Pearson pull up and then heard loud gun shots a few minutes later, and how it was indeed beginning to look like a failed burglary. Richards asked why that meant it was a burglary to which Steiner enquired what else he believed it could be. Someone had broken in and was caught in the act by Pearson who was killed as a result, there was nothing else to suggest otherwise yet, Steiner hypothesised.

  “Jason, why would a burglar carry a gun, and even more importantly why would they have pretty much left everything in the house virtually untouched? Seems like a gang related execution to me.” said Anuara.

  “OK Peter, who was it then? The Gang have no competition here in the City or we would know, and you tell me who else would be stupid enough to do this other than a half-wit burglar who didn't know who it was they were burgling. And anyway at this stage there's no evidence to suggest it was a gang land killing.” Steiner commented.

  “I'm not buying it!” Anaura said as he walked around the room looking at the scene.

  “Jason, we've got two spent 9mm shell casings over here by the seat, the seat itself appears to have slid backwards from the dusty marks on the floor, and there are another three casings by the body. Looks to me as though the killer was sat down when he fired the first two shots and then finished him off from close range; how many burglars do you know of that would sit down, wait for the owner and then kill them instead of trying to escape! And are you trying to tell me that it's likely that an untrained burglar could fire two accurate shots from over ten meters away?” Anaura exclaimed.

  “Do we know how many holes are in him yet to start making judgements on accuracy? No! Do we know for sure that he was sat in that seat? No! Why couldn't he have fired the two shots from near the window when he was disturbed? And I would hardly say that he displayed that much marksmanship from that kind of distance.” Steiner said.

  “Are you an expert in firearms Jason?” Anaura remarked, regretting the sarcastic comment the moment he had said it.

  “OK Peter I'm getting tired of this, I know you're very stressed. However it appears to me as though you've just got the hump that Drayson has taken over and that you're not doing as well as you'd hoped with the case. Is that why you're picking holes in this? Perhaps it was more than a burglary, but until there is something solid to confirm that, it isn't. This is Drayson's case now and we're to stay out of it. I suggest you drop the attitude before he has you thrown off Operation Spear!” Steiner said as he angrily stormed out of the room.

  Anaura began to follow Steiner out of the room as if about to start a fight with him, however Richards got in his way, putting his hands up to Anaura's chest and telling him to chill out. Anaura swore to himself as Richards stated that it wasn't worth losing his job over. Anaura patted Richards on the shoulder and asked his friend to tell him if he had lost his edge and whether he had bungled the whole operation. He shook his head and replied that Steiner was probably just letting off some steam after being shouted at earlier. Anaura folded his arms and looked down at the floor before reaffirming to Richards that he definitely felt as though there was something seriously wrong with the murder. Richards agreed and then frowned at Anaura who asked him what was up.

  “Peter, do you remember what Poultan said to us?” he asked.

  Anaura placed his hand to his head and replied “Oh God, please tell me this crap isn't linked, please! You don't think that the coppers somehow had him killed do you?”

  Richards raised his hands up in front of himself and pulled a blank expression, replying that perhaps they should be discussing it with someone like Drayson as he was running the show. Anaura huffed and shook his head and said that he didn't trust Drayson with most things, let alone that type of information. Richards implored Anaura to reconsider as Drayson was running things now, and hiding it could land them both in the shit. He nodded back in acknowledgement before saying that they should head back to the base before they had to endure him or Steiner again; enough was enough for one day.

  As they walked past Pearson's body, Richards crouched down next to it to have one last look.

  “I'm sure you would be saying the same thing as us if you still could!” Richards said in a tongue and cheek manner.

  Anaura looked across to Richards and raised his eyebrows. The sad but obvious truth was; the dead couldn't share their secrets.

  The ‘Cliffe's’ Edge

  Chapter Thirty

  Foster pulled up to the car park in West Ording Forest. The killing of Pearson had been surprisingly easy. There were no blood stained clothes to worry about, no stupidly discarded weapon and unlike the Sykes job he had no painful flashbacks or doubts about whether what he had done was right. In fact he almost felt a sense of pride whenever he recalled how he had performed like a highly trained assassin. However Foster was now growing impatient, he wanted to be back in the force and although the past month had been both exciting and terrifying, time was ticking slowly. He may have felt more in control than he had before but the reality was that he wasn't.

  He opened the box for what was to be the final time. Within seconds of peering inside, the cold realisation that he had used all the cocaine hit him. He may have believed that he would be able to resist but on seeing that it was all gone, the temptation and addiction flared back up with a vengeance. You always crave what you cannot have. Foster would never be able admit it to himself but it was a habit that would not be so easily conquered. The frustration boiled up inside hi
m, he needed a hit fast and without thinking and being driven by addiction he dropped the box back into the hole and rushed off without remembering to rebury it.

  An hour later, he banged on the heavy doors of the Cliffe pub where there was a lock-in being held. When the landlord opened the door to see who was knocking, Foster pushed past him and stormed into the pub to ask whether anyone had some cocaine he could buy. The locals were shocked to see him after his long absence, looking so clean. No one answered which prompted Foster to ask again with a little less politeness. Taking umbrage to the way Foster had spoken to them, a well-built local hard man stood up and approached him with his arms open before asking Foster to meet him outside. No one else got up from their seats or took notice. It was obvious that it wasn't the first time this type of thing had happened in the pub.

  The two men arrived outside, and before the largely built man with tattoos running up his neck could say anything, Foster punched him with a powerful right cross. As the man fell against the wall, Foster charged towards him and kneed him in the testicles, causing the man to double over in pain. Foster grabbed him by the sides of his head and thrust it backwards so that it smashed into the pubs window and bent him the wrong way over the window ledge. Within a second of the glass shattering the man fell to the ground and Foster followed up with two kicks to his stomach. He lay there groaning as Foster reached into his pockets and stole his wallet, and to Foster's delight, a gram of cocaine.

  As the locals came piling out of the pub after hearing the window smash, Foster was already on his toes and running away towards the railway crossing. They would never catch him. After taking the long way back home to avoid being seen by any of them, Foster walked straight into his kitchen and emptied the contents of the bag he had stolen into a dirty glass and poured half a pint of vodka over it. He downed the cocktail and immediately refilled the glass with more of the spirit. The short lived abstinence had actually made him crave the powder and alcohol even more.

 

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