Storms

by Menon, David

  ‘Yes, and you gave the team your answers during the briefing’.

  ‘Well it isn’t quite as simple as that, sir, which is why I wanted to talk to you privately about it because you’ll know what to do if I’m right and if I am then the least people who know the truth the better’.

  Jeff gestured for Ollie to sit down in front of his desk. ‘So are you saying that what you said in the briefing isn’t true?’

  ‘No’ said Ollie. ‘What I said was the truth as we’re meant to believe it’.

  ‘You’d better explain’

  ‘Sir, when the pictures of Jackson Williams came through I was immediately struck by something’ Ollie went on. ‘I recognized him. I was a speaker at an association of black police officers dinner a few months back. The man we know as Jackson Williams was there and he asked me a lot of questions about advancing in the force as a black officer. I remember he was very ambitious and I got the feeling he’d do anything to get ahead. His name was Tyler Moore, sir. That’s Police Constable Tyler Moore and I suspect that he’s working undercover with the Gorton boys’.

  Jeff knew all about undercover operations and the obvious need to keep information about them to the tightest circle of officers as possible. But if the identity of this undercover officer had been blown then that would have consequences.

  ‘Ollie, I don’t doubt anything you say but you’ll understand that we could’ve picked ourselves up a bomb here’ said Jeff. ‘Do you have any other means of proving that the man known as Jackson Williams and living with his aunt Melanie Patterson in Gorton is not who he says he is?’

  ‘Yes, sir’ said Ollie who understood exactly why his boss had asked the question. ‘I did some further digging on Jackson Williams. It’s true that his parents died in the hurricane and Jackson was placed in a local orphanage. But the real Jackson Williams was adopted a couple of years later and he emigrated with his new family to the US soon after. They live in Philadelphia’.

  ‘And you can prove this, Ollie?’

  ‘Conclusively, sir’.

  ‘Okay’ said Jeff. ‘Then leave it with me and I know I don’t need to ask but don’t breathe a word of this to anyone until you and I have spoken again about it’.

  People who play games instead of being honest with themselves and the world about their true feelings are just weak. That was the conclusion Tim had drawn from years of slaying the demon of his own desires day after exhausting day. His position was somewhat different from all the others though. Nobody, not even his new best friend Annabel would be able to guess that ever since the fire that almost killed him all those years ago he’d been trapped inside a prison that meant that he didn’t have the choice but to be strong. All the ordinariness of love had passed him by. He’d never felt able to share in all the ordinariness of love that was all around him. Not since the fire had burned everything out of his soul and left him with nothing for the future except the risk of ever being found out.

  ‘So do you think they’ll keep you on at the end of the season?’ asked Annabel after she’d sat down in the coffee shop. They’d arranged to meet outside of work because Annabel saw that as a gesture of real, proper friendship that lasted beyond the end of each shift. She’d had to really pin Tim down about it. He’d managed to slither his way out of two previous arrangements they’d made and that morning she’d checked her mobile for text messages a dozen times. She’d been sure he would back out again with some lame excuse. But no this time he was sitting opposite her with his caramel latte looking spick and span in his short leather jacket, white t-shirt and blue jeans. He looked younger than he did in his uniform at work. But then he looked young anyway. There were few lines on that handsome face. Surely someone must be keeping him warm at night.

  ‘You’d have to ask our glorious leader Marilyn Kent that’ said Tim.

  ‘Leader? She doesn’t lead anything except her own targets whether it’s to do with the job or her own taste for wine’.

  ‘Well I wasn’t being desperately serious’.

  ‘No, but Suzie was yesterday’.

  Yesterday Tim and Annabel had attended the celebratory lunch for Suzie, one of the reception staff who was leaving because her husband had got promotion at work and because that meant he’d be doing a lot of travelling they’d decided that Suzie would give up her job. After all, they didn’t need the money anymore and someone needed to be at home during regular hours for the kids. A good lunch in one of Lytham’s finest restaurants had been enjoyed by all and when even more wine had appeared to cater for those who’d reached the point where enough was not enough, Marilyn Kent, who’d got herself rather more pissed than the rest of them decided to grant proceedings with her pearls of wisdom.

  ‘Now that he’s got you as the pretty little stay at home wife bringing up the kids for him it won’t be long before he’s off shagging’ Marilyn had declared, leaning tipsily across the table and trying to get right in Suzie’s face.

  Suzie, who was known for not taking any nonsense off anyone but who’d had more than one disagreement with her boss, had been waiting to bat it straight back to Marilyn. So she’d taken a deep breath and whilst everyone looked on in silence she said ‘No, he won’t, Marilyn. And do you know why? Because he’s married to me and not to you’.

  Marilyn’s face had been a picture.

  ‘She delivered a classic reposte’ Tim recalled, smiling.

  ‘Oh it was worthy of Krystle and Alexis in Dynasty’ said Annabel, remembering every moment. ‘Did you ever watch Dynasty?’

  ‘Only until someone went up in a space ship’ said Tim. ‘That’s when it all got a bit too daft for me. And I’m not a fan of Joan Collins. She’s a hopeless actress. She just plays a caricature of herself in whatever she does’.

  ‘She’s very good at it’.

  ‘Maybe so but she’s not an actress’ Tim countered. ‘Not really. She can deliver lines but only as herself’.

  Well, thought Annabel. If he is gay he can’t be that gay. All the gays love Joan Collins. Or so she thought. They all love that kind of bad tempered diva. But perhaps there were varying degrees to someone being gay? Perhaps it was more of an a la carte menu than an uptake of the full menu option. She’d often thought about this. In the old days it was all about Larry Grayson and John Inman and the things that were now being found out about the likes of Liberace. With today’s openness it wasn’t surprising when the most macho of men turned out to be gay. And that was good. But where would Tim place himself along this newly liberated line of ordinary men who happen to be gay.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself at the lunch yesterday?’

  ‘That was a change of subject bolt out of the blue’.

  ‘Well you know me’ said Annabel. ‘What comes into my head tends to exit straight away through my mouth’.

  ‘Well didn’t I look like I was enjoying myself?’

  ‘Yes, you did but …. ‘

  ‘ …. but what?’

  ‘I don’t mean to interrogate you, Tim’.

  ‘Then don’t’.

  ‘But it’s just that I feel I know you and yet I don’t think I really know you and I don’t mean that in any kind of malicious or critical way I just mean I want to get to know you more’.

  Tim smiled. If only she really did know him. She may not be quite so keen to get to know him better if that was the case. ‘But you’ve got your meat and potatoes Irishman to know well. And you know him very well’.

  Tim relished being surrounded by wholesome family men at work like Annabel’s Dermot. They were all tall and broad and had wives or girlfriends to go home to. They had houses onto which they built extensions. They went on package holidays to Spain or Greece or Turkey. They had extended families with whom they spent Christmas and birthdays. They’d learnt about sex when they were teenagers and were experienced enough to show their wives or girlfriends a good time. They’d grown up with all the ordinariness of life and love all falling into place like it did for most people. They expected mortgages, kids,
a house in the suburbs. They expected to sit around and moan and whine about inconsequential bullshit without ever doing anything constructive to change the situation they moaned and whined about. They condemned their women for gossiping and yet the wholesome men themselves were the biggest gossips. Tim would like to join them sometimes. He’d love to know how it really felt to have stepped onto the treadmill of ordinary life with such apparent ease. He’d known so long ago that he’d never be able to achieve something so fulfilling.

  ‘Well I’m thinking about knocking all that on the head’ said Annabel.

  ‘What? Dermot?’

  ‘Yeah’.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because his wife is a psycho and would probably beat me up if she found out’.

  ‘You mean someone as good looking as Dermot would have a wife like that?’

  ‘You do recognise that he’s good looking then?’ said Annabel sensing a way through the armour around Tim’s senses.

  ‘Even other men would see that Dermot had a sexiness about him, Annabel’.

  ‘Interesting’ said Annabel who still didn’t know if she was any the wiser about what made Tim tick in the groin department. ‘But back to Dermot. I’d be cutting my nose off to spite my face if I did finish with him because he’s got such stamina and we have the most fantastic sex’.

  ‘He looks like he would be strong in that department’.

  ‘There you go again’.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Telling me a little and then no more’.

  ‘We’re all a puzzle though aren’t we?’

  ‘Well I’m not’ said Annabel. ‘Not where my sexuality is concerned’.

  ‘And you think I am when it comes to that?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think about you, Tim’.

  Just at that moment when Tim was wondering what he could say next to continue confusing her, she got a text from Dermot saying he was going to be free all day on Saturday and asking if they could they get together. She told Tim about it.

  ‘But I can’t’ she said with a long face.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because of Kyle’.

  ‘Well I’ll take care of Kyle’ Tim offered.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure’ Tim confirmed. ‘He has met me before’.

  ‘Yes and he liked you’.

  ‘Well he’s a nice lad and a credit to you’ said Tim. ‘I could take him to the pleasure beach whilst you’re creating your own pleasure beach at home’.

  ‘Are you sure? Fourteen year old lads can be difficult. I mean I’m lucky with Kyle because he’s basically a good lad but he’s shy, Tim. He doesn’t open up easily to people which was why I was pleasantly surprised when he opened up so easily to you’.

  ‘Perhaps I’ve just got the touch’.

  ‘Perhaps you should’ve been a Dad’.

  ‘Oh I don’t know about that’ said Tim. ‘I’ve got to grow up a lot myself before I could even consider that. But look, Kyle and I will be fine. You can have your good time and I’ll make sure Kyle has a day to remember’.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me’ said Annabel who was close to tears. Not even her own family, such as it was, had offered her any help with Kyle since Clive left them. ‘You’re such a nice man, Tim’.

  ‘Hey’ said Tim. ‘It’s what friends are for’.

  Chief Superintendent Geraldine Chambers had a soft spot for Jeff Barton. He was the kind of man she hoped her own son would grow up to be. He was every inch the man but he was modern and full of the values of today. He was sensitive. He gave more than just a passing thought for the welfare of his team and Geraldine liked that. He was the modern kind of police officer. He was himself but with a warrant card. Her son had been on her mind a lot lately. There wasn’t much chance of him growing up to be as open minded as Jeff judging by how much poison his father had poured into his head about Geraldine. She’d never wanted to hurt her ex-husband. That had been the very last thing she would ever have wanted. But he considered the fact that she’d left him for another woman to be a sin that was not worthy of his forgiveness. If he knew the kind of problems she was now having with her partner Sheila it might please him in some way that she was suffering. But you can’t go crawling back to someone you’ve hurt and expect them to offer you sympathy and support because the one you left them for gets a bit too handy with her fists.

  ‘Jeff, I think you already know Detective Chief Inspector Mike Phillips who heads up the unit dealing with gang crime in the city’ said Geraldine once Jeff had joined her and Mike in Geraldine’s office. ‘Please take a seat, gentlemen’.

  Jeff and Mike shook each other’s hands in that very alpha male way when two officers meet. To reflect Jeff’s higher rank Mike addressed him initially as ‘sir’ but Jeff told him to dispense with formalities.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you Jeff that we have a situation to deal with in relation to PC Tyler Moore’ Geraldine went on. ‘And it needs to be dealt with fast’.

  ‘Mike, just how did you come to place a rookie PC in the middle of a potentially very dangerous undercover operation?’

  Mike noted the slight rebuke in Jeff’s voice but he’d been prepared for it. Looking back it maybe wasn’t his best decision to put Tyler Moore in with the Gorton boys but it was too late to waste time on regretting that now.

  ‘Tyler Moore is an extremely able young police officer’ said Mike. ‘He came to my attention during an operation involving a Salford gang in which he put his life on the line in the arrest of the gang leader who was wielding a sawn off shotgun and was more than ready to use it on a police officer who he considered as the enemy. If you don’t mind me saying Tyler Moore is far beyond being labeled as a rookie if you don’t mind me saying. He’s intelligent and very capable’.

  ‘I don’t doubt any of that, Mike, but surely you must have assessed the risks of putting him in there?’

  ‘I did’ said Mike. He shifted in his seat. He was feeling somewhat defensive. ‘And whatever happens is on my head, I accept that’.

  ‘Tyler Moore has been able to provide Mike with a lot of valuable intelligence regarding the activities of Melanie Patterson, Jeff’ said Geraldine.

  ‘Go on?’ said Jeff.

  ‘Well’ said Mike. ‘Melanie Patterson is the undisputed leader of the Gorton boys. Sure it was made out that her son Leroy held the top spot but he couldn’t do anything without consulting his mother first. The Gorton boys used a mixture of violence and intimidation to control what they considered to be their streets and they made a lot of money from the drugs trade on the estate. They’d also started a new line in pimping. Girls, boys, usually addicts who’d do anything to get enough cash for a fix’.

  ‘Nothing new in that’ said Jeff. ‘It’s more or less classic’.

  ‘True enough’ said Mike. ‘But make no mistake, Jeff. Melanie Patterson ruled the Gorton boys with a rod of iron. We knew all about the intimidation and the drugs and the pimping but the reason why I put Tyler Moore in there as her long lost nephew was so that he could find evidence linking her to two murders eighteen months ago. The bodies of two former members of the Gorton boys, Alan Chaplin and Reggie Clayton, were found on waste ground to the side of the A580 going towards Wigan. The pathologist concluded that they’d been burned, probably whilst still alive, and because of the way their skin had burnt and the residue of rubber around their necks, heads, and shoulders, it looked like they’d been subjected to being necklaced. Tyler was able to find out that it had been done because the two victims had been suspected by Melanie Patterson of having talked to the police about the Gorton boys activities’.

  ‘And had they?’

  ‘They’d both approached us but we hadn’t been able to talk to them before they were murdered. But it was enough to convince me and fellow officers that they’d been got at before they’d had the chance to talk to us’.

  ‘It certainly looks that way’.

  ‘Now Melanie Patterson and the
rest of the community on the Gorton estate have remained tight lipped about the murders of Chaplin and Clayton which gave us more reason to believe that our theory was correct’.

  ‘With all due respect’ said Jeff. ‘Why am I only hearing about this now?’

  ‘It was vital with regard to protecting the operation and protecting PC Moore, Jeff, that we kept silent’ said Geraldine. ‘Something could’ve easily leaked out that we had someone in there and he could’ve easily been fatally compromised once we knew what Melanie Patterson was capable of’.

  ‘Okay, point taken, but do we have evidence that Melanie Patterson ordered these deaths?’

  ‘We have her recent admission to Tyler Moore or, to her, her nephew Jackson Williams’.

  ‘Then why on earth didn’t you pull Tyler out once you’d got what you needed?’

  ‘Because there was still more to find out’ Mike responded. ‘Tyler was gathering evidence on all the names, dates and places that would’ve made a cast iron case against Melanie Patterson’.

  ‘But you are going to pull him in now surely?’

  ‘I ordered it twenty-four hours ago as soon as got word from you that Jackson Williams had been identified as Tyler Moore’.

  ‘But I sense there’s still a problem?’

  ‘I haven’t been able to get hold of Tyler’ Mike admitted, a grave look suddenly covering his face. ‘He’s not responding to any of my communications’.

  ‘

  STORMS SIX

  He’d been careless. He knew that. He should’ve known better. He’d been a fucking idiot. The man had looked like some kind of delivery driver and called over to him to ask for directions. He was standing at the back of his van which was parked down a small access street that formed a kind of border between the backs of two rows of houses on the edge of the Gorton estate. Tyler clicked out of being belligerent Jackson Williams and clicked back into being a police officer. He walked over to the man. The back doors of the van were open. The man looked like he was consulting some paperwork that was in his hand and the next thing Tyler knew was a kind of cotton pad being forced over his mouth and nose. Chloroform. Jesus, how could he have been so stupid? He’d fallen into what was, for a police officer, such an obvious trap. He’d read descriptions of this sort of thing so many times in relation to other abductions. Now he had his own to deal with and the fear was racing through him with an intensity he never thought was possible to feel.