The Crime Trade

by Simon Kernick

  In fact, everything was going swimmingly for Stegs as he left the Admiral at just after three o’clock. However, ten yards down the street in the direction of his car and booty, that all changed with a suddenness that fate only keeps for those it likes to fuck up big-time.

  The mobile rang, the tinny strains of Mission Impossible coming up from out of his jeans. He fished it out of his pocket and saw that it was a call from home. He took a deep breath, steadied himself so that he was sounding as sober as possible, then took the call.

  ‘Hello, luv, you all right?’

  There was a ferocious hacking sob down the other end of the line, and Stegs initially thought she was having an asthma attack, even though she’d never had asthma before, but then came the recriminations, and he knew she was fine. Physically anyway.

  ‘You bastard!’ she spluttered. ‘You’ve been lying to me all this time.’

  ‘Hold on, luv, what is this? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t play the fucking innocent with me!’ The F-word. The biggest verbal weapon in the missus’s armoury. Like an atomic warhead, kept back only for situations of the utmost seriousness. This, then, had to be bad. And it was. ‘I’ve had a reporter on, asking to interview you. He said you’d been suspended since last week. So, what the hell have you been doing, eh? Getting up in the middle of the night and disappearing like some sort of . . .’ She couldn’t think of the right insult, so instead sobbed loudly again. ‘Have you got a girlfriend or something? Is that who you’re seeing?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘And why were you suspended? That’s what I want to know. It’s the lies, Mark. The way you’ve lied to me, all this time. I don’t think I can ever trust you again. You never talk, you never share anything with me.’

  ‘That’s because I can’t get a fucking word in edgeways.’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Don’t you dare! It’s you who’s in the wrong. You who’ve been lying. I’ve had enough, Mark, I really have. Me and Luke don’t deserve a selfish bastard like you.’

  ‘Look—’

  ‘How do you expect us to live without any money coming in? It’s bad enough as it is, without you being suspended. Oh God! What the hell am I meant to do?’

  ‘I’m suspended on full pay, there’s still money coming in. It’s all right.’

  Her voice suddenly became calm. ‘No, it’s not. It’s not all right. It’s over, Mark.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ he asked, thinking that that was a really stupid question, since it was pretty fucking obvious what she was saying.

  ‘I’m saying I want you out of our house, and out of our lives. Now. Tonight.’

  The full impact of her words hit him then. And something else struck him too. The fact that, when it came down to it, he loved her. He honestly did.

  ‘Please, don’t kick me out. For Christ’s sake, don’t kick me out. I’ll change, I promise. But don’t do this to me. Not now. Not after my best friend’s been killed.’

  ‘It’s too late, Mark. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Where am I going to go?’

  ‘You’ll think of somewhere. You’re a big boy now.’

  ‘I’m leaving the Force. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Honestly.’

  ‘You can stay at our house tonight but I want you to pack in the morning and go. You’ll still be allowed to see Luke as long as you give me notice. I don’t suppose you’ll be applying for custody of him, since you hardly give him the time of day, even in those rare moments when you are around.’

  ‘You can’t fucking do this to me! You can’t!’

  Stegs realized he was shouting and that people on the street were looking at him strangely. He also realized, before he could say anything else, that the missus had hung up on him, the first time she’d done that in years.

  He put the phone back in his pocket and started walking. He walked and walked, wondering how he hadn’t spotted that his missus disliked him that much. He’d win her back, though. When she realized he was going to change, and that he had some money behind him, then she’d come running back. In the end, what was the alternative? Single motherhood. No way. She’d change her mind.

  By the time he got to a pub on the Woodhouse Road called the Dog and Badger, he was feeling a lot better. He went inside and ordered a pint of reassuringly expensive Stella.

  You can knock Stegs Jenner down. Plenty of people had over the years. But he always got back up again. Always.

  43

  According to the Land Registry, 10 Haymarket Road was registered in the name of a Mr Aptar Singh. A quick search revealed he’d never been in trouble with the police before. Number 12, meanwhile, belonged to a Mr Anthony John Cross. Records showed that he’d owned the property for sixteen years, the first eight jointly with a Mrs Angela Nola Cross, the last eight on his own.

  Anthony John Cross. I logged into the database and typed in his name. The long, baleful face of a man in his late fifties, who’d been dyeing his grey hair blond with only mixed success, appeared. No convictions, but he was currently in custody, facing seven charges of possession of a firearm without a certificate, with intent to commit a crime contrary to the 1968 Firearms Act. Date of arrest, 2nd March this year. I found a link to the arrest report. It stated that Cross, a retired career soldier, had been suspected by police of supplying firearms to local criminals either for rental or purchase for some considerable time. It was believed that he’d procured the firearms from various military contacts, and had also been responsible for reactivating replica firearms – a common and easily executable crime – to bolster his collection. Acting on intelligence, officers from Acton CID had raided his home in the early hours of 2 March, arresting Cross and recovering a total of seven handguns of various calibres. Further, more serious charges of supplying firearms contrary to Section 16 of the Firearms Act were expected to follow.

  I sat back in my seat and took a gulp from the cup of coffee on the desk, feeling a lot calmer now that I’d had confirmation from the hospital that the operation on Tina had been successful and that she was going to be all right. Getting back to working on the case was a good way of taking my mind off the tumultuous events of that morning.

  So what did this new information tell me? My initial reaction was that it wasn’t a great deal of help. Since the gun in the O’Brien slayings had been used only a week ago, it was obviously not one of the seven netted by the local police. Which meant that it had either been hired out or sold by Cross between the time Panner fired it into Fiona Ragdale’s ceiling on 27 February and the police raid on his house three days later. Either that or Panner was lying. But how would he have known about Anthony Cross? We were going to need to speak to Cross himself and see if he could provide a link to Murk. Perhaps Murk had been spotted at the premises while it had been under surveillance.

  I looked at my watch. It was almost two o’clock. I really needed to eat. My stomach growled and whined, but the hunger simply wasn’t there, the morning’s drama having played havoc with my appetite. In the end, I got up and bought the last, forlorn-looking cheese sandwich from the canteen and forced it down back at my desk, managing to consume all but a quarter of it. My stomach stopped growling anyway, and it made me feel a little bit better.

  The incident room was almost empty that afternoon, and there was a sense that the O’Brien case was as good as solved. Trevor Murk had been pronounced dead at Charing Cross hospital at ten past twelve that afternoon without regaining consciousness, and DCI Woodham had got a number of mugshots of his printed up from his police record (he had two convictions: one for theft, one for receiving stolen goods, neither recent) which murder squad detectives were showing to real and potential witnesses to see if they could get final confirmation that he was the shooter. I didn’t think that there would be much doubt that they’d get it, which was a testimony to Tina’s detective work. Woodham, meanwhile, was chairing a news conference at Scotland Yard, scheduled for 3.30, in which some of the heat wou
ld finally be taken off the team.

  As for Flanagan, no-one could get hold of him. According to his wife, he’d gone to see the doctor, and that was all she’d say.

  I picked up the phone and called Acton CID. When I got through I introduced myself and was put through to a detective constable called Greg Blake. I told him about the lead that had come up involving the gun Panner had fired, and how it impinged upon our murder investigation. ‘I’m interested in talking to someone who was involved in the raid to see if they remember anything about it that could be of help.’

  ‘Well, you’re talking to the right bloke,’ Blake answered. ‘I was there, but I don’t know how much I can tell you.’

  ‘I don’t know either,’ I said truthfully. ‘Was there any way anyone could have missed anything?’

  ‘No,’ said Blake emphatically. ‘No way. We went over the whole place with a fine toothcomb and we videoed the raid too. We recovered everything there was to recover. It sounds like your man’s lying.’

  I sighed. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ And then something else struck me, something I hadn’t thought about before. ‘Do you remember who else was there from CID on the raid?’

  Blake’s tone turned suspicious. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I’m going to need to make a report of this lead, so I’ve got to cover my arse. You know the score.’

  ‘It was a big op, so it was run by my DCI, Frank Trummer. He was there, so was DC Bradshaw, and me obviously. Half a dozen uniforms and . . .’ He paused at this point. ‘One of my former colleagues, Paul Vokerman. You might have heard about him. He got killed the other day on that Heathrow thing.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘I’ve heard of him. I was sorry to hear about that.’

  ‘He was a good bloke.’

  ‘It always happens to the best. Look, thanks for that.’

  ‘No problem. Anything else you need to know?’

  ‘No. That’ll be fine.’

  I hung up and sat staring at the phone for a long time.

  So it was Vokes Vokerman who was the traitor. I hadn’t been expecting that.

  I was still staring at the telephone when Malik came into the incident room with his jacket on, looking like he was in a hurry. ‘Heard the latest, John?’ he asked me, picking up some papers from his desk. He was obviously going somewhere.

  I swivelled round in my seat. ‘No, tell me. Then I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘I don’t think it’ll be as eye-opening as mine. Trevor Murk . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘He’s a registered informant. Up until very recently, one of his main handlers was none other than Stegs Jenner.’ I think I must have looked confused because Malik pulled a face. ‘What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased. Tina will be. She’s been convinced he was the source of the leak all along.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ I said, ‘it’s just that Panner was telling the truth about that armourer. His name’s Anthony Cross. He was raided at the beginning of this month by Acton CID. Paul Vokerman was one of the men on the raid.’

  He stared at me aghast. ‘You’re joking?’

  I shook my head. ‘I wish I was. I really, genuinely wish I was.’

  ‘You think he lifted the gun on the raid and supplied it to Murk?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes thinking about it. Someone supplied the information on that deal at the hotel to either Nicholas Tyndall or Strangleman Grant, using O’Brien as a go-between. O’Brien was then shot using a gun we believe was once in the possession of an armourer whose home was raided by one of the undercover officers involved in the Heathrow op. The gun never showed up in the inventory, so, yeah, it seems very likely he lifted it.’

  ‘Where does that leave us? That both of them were involved? Stegs and Vokes? Because Vokes got killed on that op, which is why he’s always been above suspicion. If he was behind the robbery, why would he have set it up like that? He was in the room effectively as a hostage. He would have known that when the dealers went to get the gear and Stegs went to get the money that the robbery would occur, as planned, and then his life wouldn’t be worth anything. Why would he have done it? It would have been suicidal.’

  ‘But you remember when we were in the control room last week, watching it all unfold, Vokes didn’t want to be the one left behind. In fact, he was adamant. He even suggested that it would be best if Stegs was the one who stayed.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything, though. I wouldn’t want to stay in a room with a bunch of armed drug dealers, even if SO19 were next door.’

  ‘Maybe he is innocent, but that still leaves a huge coincidence where that raid on Cross is concerned.’

  Malik nodded. ‘I know. Two of them. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I didn’t think even Neil Vamen was capable of that sort of clout.’

  ‘I think we’ve been underestimating him.’

  ‘I’ve got to go and see Jack Merriweather this afternoon. We reckon he’s got some information on the whereabouts of the body of a thief who’s been missing for the last five years. When I talk to him, I’ll see if he knows about any involvement Stegs and Vokerman, and even Murk, might have had with the Holtzes or Vamen.’

  ‘We’re going to have to bring Stegs in now,’ I said. ‘His name’s coming up far too many times.’

  ‘I spoke to Woodham about ten minutes ago. He’s trying to get search and arrest warrants organized for him now.’ Malik put the papers he was holding into his briefcase, and locked it. ‘Listen, get on to Woodham. He’s down at Scotland Yard this afternoon, giving another press conference on the inquiry. Tell him about what we’ve found out about Vokes. And do me a favour.’

  ‘Your wish is my command, my lord.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not trying to order you around. I’m just in a hurry, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s the favour?’

  ‘Can you give me a call and let me know as soon as you’ve got hold of Stegs? I want to be in on the questioning.’

  I nodded. ‘Sure. Are you going to see Merriweather now?’

  ‘That’s classified information, John,’ Malik said, with only the barest hint of a smile.

  ‘Well, if you are, be careful. It strikes me that if Vamen is hoping to be out and about again, then he could do a lot worse than bump Merriweather off. Remember, he’s already tried twice.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d send some goons over to Merriweather like a shot if he knew where he was, but that location’s even more tightly guarded than the jury’s going to be at Vamen’s trial. Me, Flanagan and maybe three other people are the only ones who know where he’s being kept.’

  I laughed. ‘Famous last words.’

  We said our goodbyes, and I picked up the phone and dialled Woodham’s mobile. Although the press conference was still nearly three quarters of an hour away he was already at the New Scotland Yard building where most major Met Police press briefings take place. I told him what I’d found out and what had been discussed with Malik, and he told me he was still awaiting the warrants for Stegs.

  ‘I’ll chase them when I’ve finished the conference. I didn’t want to arrest him, particularly as he’s a copper, but I don’t see we’ve got much choice. The more we dig up on this case, the more shit there is sticking to him. Vokerman can’t talk, but he can.’

  ‘What are we going to do about Vokes? Raid his place too?’

  Woodham made some tutting noises down the phone, and for a moment I thought he was admonishing me about something, but then I realized it must be a habit of his when he was thinking hard. ‘I don’t know. Not for the moment, no. Not until we’ve talked to Stegs. It won’t look too good raiding the home of a recently deceased officer who’s had a long and unblemished career. We’re going to need to be very sure before we go knocking on his wife’s door.’

  ‘But Stegs we can go for?’

  ‘We have to go for him. And the sooner the better. I’ve got DCs Wrays and F
arland keeping an eye on his place at the moment. Apparently, he hasn’t shown his face outside all day.’

  ‘Are we sure he’s there?’

  ‘No, that’s the problem. DCS Flanagan didn’t put anyone on him last night so he’s only had surveillance since this morning. But from now on, it’s twenty-four-seven. When he shows, we’ll pull him in and do the search of his house simultaneously.’ There was a commotion in the background. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go now. There are a couple of people I need to talk to before the briefing. I’ll be in contact later.’

  ‘I’ll be on my mobile.’

  After the call I sat there for a few moments on my own. Was it possible that both Stegs and Vokes had been corrupt? The evidence seemed to point that way, yet there were still unanswered questions, loose ends amid the theories, and it made me wonder whether or not some of them would ever be answered.

  It also made me wonder whether I’d be able to control myself when I came into contact with Stegs Jenner.

  44

  I got to the hospital at ten to six, having fought my way through the tangled and frustrating rush-hour traffic. Tina was in the private room they’d set aside for her, propped up in a half-sitting position. Her leg was heavily bandaged, but otherwise she looked healthy enough considering her ordeal of only a few hours before. Her eyes were shut, but they opened when I came in and she smiled, struggling to get herself more comfortable. I was carrying chocolates and a bunch of flowers I’d picked up on the way, and I put them on the chair before moving in to kiss her softly on the cheek.