Dead Rat

by Derek Fee

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him that I needed money, but he said he didn’t have any. I told him he couldn’t have the book and phone unless I got paid.’

  ‘How did he react to that?’

  ‘Not well, he needed to purge himself of his crimes. He said he would try to get some money and asked how much I needed. I told him five hundred pounds would be enough.’

  Wilson looked at her. If she’d have gone to the right place she could probably have had a hundred times that. ‘Then he got himself killed. He must have been stupid enough to reach out to Pratley.’

  She bent her head. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go to Pratley?’

  ‘He would have killed me, just like he must have killed Hugh.’

  ‘Why didn’t you give me the book and phone when I was here earlier?’

  ‘When Hugh was killed, he was out of the picture. I still needed the money and I kept it as my ace in the hole.’

  ‘Go and get them for me.’

  She stood up and left the room. He could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs. He’d wasted a lot of precious time because he hadn’t realised the only safe place had been the Parnell house.

  She returned and handed him a woollen pouch. He opened it and took out Royce’s notebook and phone. She had retaken her seat. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Wilson knew that being angry wouldn’t solve anything. ‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ he said. At the door to the living room he turned. ‘I’ve been to Rathlin and I’ve met Pearson. It’s not all crap. I think he genuinely helps people.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  Pratley was in his office when he received the call from Best. He was needed for an urgent conference on next week’s shipment. He put on his cashmere coat and made his way to the car park. Sometimes Best could be a real pain in the arse. Donaghadee was eighteen miles away on the Ards Peninsula. Surely there was someplace closer to Belfast for a confab. It took him half an hour before he arrived in the car park of the Grace Neills pub. He climbed out of his car and was about to enter the pub when Eddie Hills appeared at his side.

  ‘Change of plan,’ Hills said and held out his hand. ‘Car keys.’

  ‘What the fuck,’ Pratley said. ‘I’m here to meet Davie.’

  ‘Davie’s waiting down the coast,’ Hills said. ‘You’re coming with me. Car keys.’

  Pratley put his keys into Hills’ hand. Hills passed them directly to one of the two men standing behind him and ushered Pratley towards a black BMW.

  Pratley had to fight to stop his bowels from evacuating. ‘I need to speak to Davie,’ he babbled.

  ‘All in good time.’ Hills had to force Pratley into the car. A second man sat in the rear.

  They left the car park and travelled along the coast until they turned into a road leading to a deserted caravan park. Hills pulled up at a caravan. ‘Home sweet home,’ he said as he exited the car. Pratley’s car pulled up beside the BMW. Hills nodded at the two men who took Pratley out of the car and went with him into the caravan. Pratley had to be half-led half-carried. Hills took out his phone and dialled. ‘Honey, we’re home.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  Back at the station, Wilson called Browne into his office.

  ‘We have what we need for the Payne murder.’ He showed him Royce’s notebook and phone. ‘The phone is dead. Get Siobhan to charge it and find out what’s on it. Give Harry the notebook and have him go through it. I need you to organise a couple of uniforms. As soon as we’ve got the evidence, we’re going to Musgrave Street to pick up Pratley and Wallace for questioning. Get Lucy too, I want her with us. Tell Harry and Siobhan that time is of the essence.’

  Browne left the office with the notebook and phone in hand.

  Wilson watched Browne issuing orders to Graham and O’Neill. He was growing into the job. Davidson would not be returning to active service, which meant that there was going to be a vacancy sooner than expected. He wondered how Browne would cope with a returning Moira McElvaney. He tried to keep himself busy while waiting anxiously for Graham and O’Neill to finish.

  Graham came to the door. ‘We’ve got them, Boss. Royce’s written up how every bust went down. I’ve only had a chance to look at the first few pages, but there’s already enough to pick up Pratley and Wallace.’ He put some photocopied pages in front of Wilson. ‘I’ll go through the rest and photocopy the juicy parts.’

  Wilson picked up the pages. ‘Good man, Harry, keep at it.’ He started reading. It was apparent that Pratley had been in league with the Rice and McGreary gangs from the beginning.

  He was still examining the pages when O’Neill came to the door. ‘The phone contains video footage from the Bagnell farm the day Payne was murdered. It’s pretty graphic. I’ll print off some stills.’

  ‘Well done, let me have them as soon as they’re ready, the more graphic the better. I need clear shots of everyone involved.’

  Wilson went upstairs and entered Davis’s office. ‘I have enough to bring in Pratley and Wallace for the Payne murder. We have Royce’s notebook and even more importantly a video of Payne’s murder at the Bagnell farm. I’m heading over to Musgrave Street now to pick the bastards up.’

  ‘No, you are not,’ Davis said. ‘Before you arrest serving police officers on their own turf, there are steps to be taken.’

  ‘I’m not arresting them. I’m asking them to come to the station to help us with our enquiries into two murders. Being PSNI officers doesn’t give them a free pass.’

  ‘Same difference, their boss will go ballistic just as I would if someone came for you. Is Kane and PS in the loop?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wilson lied. ‘Ma’am, these guys have been on the take for years. They must have amassed a significant amount of money. It’s possible that their chief superintendent is involved. If we warn them, they’ll run.’ If he were them, he would.

  ‘I’ll have to discuss this with HQ.’

  ‘That’s the last thing you should do.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Then who the hell can I call?’

  ‘Baird is in the loop.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ she scoffed and then looked hard at Wilson. No, you’re obviously not. Since when?’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘You are some boyo. You sit there while I make the call.’

  Wilson listened as she spoke to Baird. She explained the developments in the Payne case and what Wilson wanted to do.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said eventually. ‘Your staff will make the arrangements.’

  ‘Baird doesn’t want you arresting Pratley and Wallace at Musgrave Street. He’s arranging for uniforms to bring them here within the hour.’

  ‘I can live with that.’

  ‘Yes, you can. You are trouble on the hoof, Ian.’

  ‘I know, ma’am.’

  Wilson was standing in the corridor outside the interview rooms and wasn’t overly surprised when only Wallace was marched in by a brace of uniforms. Wilson, Browne and Kane moved to an observation room and watched on CCTV as Wallace, his face as white as a ghost, was led into an interview room and installed at the table. Wilson left and accosted the uniforms as they exited. ‘Where’s Pratley?’

  ‘Not at the station, sir,’ one of the uniforms said. ‘He left some time ago. The chief super is trying to raise him on his mobile. But no luck so far.’

  Wilson returned to the observation room. ‘Pratley’s done a bunk. But we’ll get him.’ He was about to start the interview when O’Neill entered the room and laid a file in front of him. He opened it and looked at a series of pictures from the Bagnell farm. They would make a hell of an impression on a jury, if the case ever got that far. He passed the file to Browne who examined the photos. Wilson didn’t take the file back when it was offered. ‘I think that you’re owed this one. Take DS Kane with you.’

  Browne and Kane entered the interview room and sat across from Wallace, who at this stage was sweating profusely.

  ‘Your
boss has skipped,’ Browne said. ‘He walked out of Musgrave Street a couple of hours ago and I don’t think he plans to come back. The reason I’m telling you this is that you are in a unique position. Whoever speaks to us first will get the best treatment. DS Kane perhaps you could do the honours.’

  Kane turned on the video equipment. ‘John Wallace, you are now under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Colin Payne. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  ‘Do you want to tell us about the murder of Colin Payne?’ Browne asked.

  ‘Solicitor,’ Wallace replied.

  Browne opened the file and withdrew a photo, which he put on the table. ‘I am showing DS Wallace a photo of him in a plastic jumpsuit covered in pig slurry standing over a prone body in a slurry tank. The photo appears to have been taken at the Bagnell farm in Ballyward. The prone figure has not yet been identified but is believed to be DC Colin Payne. Do you recognise yourself in this photo?’

  Wallace sat back in the chair. ‘Solicitor.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what the cons do to jailed police officers?’ Browne said.

  ‘Solicitor.’

  ‘Okay, let’s get DS Wallace a solicitor. In the meantime, we’ll print out a few of the more graphic images. The jury will be very interested in seeing them.’ Browne stood up and started for the door.

  ‘Hold on,’ Wallace said.

  Browne turned.

  ‘Can we make a deal?’ Wallace asked.

  ‘We don’t do deals with scum,’ Browne said. ‘That’s one for the DPP.’ He returned to the table and sat down. ‘Now that we know you were at the farm and involved in Payne’s murder, it’s only a matter of time until we corroborate the evidence from the video we have of the murder. We’re going to dig into every facet of your life, and we’re going to turn up evidence of corruption and murder. Talk to us now and maybe it’ll influence the DPP to go easy on you.’

  Wallace’s head fell. ‘Okay, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything,’ Browne said. ‘Let’s start with Payne’s murder.’ He nodded at Kane to turn on the equipment.

  ‘The three of us were there,’ Wallace said. ‘Pratley, Royce and me. Royce was on the junk at the time and he was fuck all use. We tossed Payne into the slurry tank and stood on his back until he drowned.’

  ‘How did you know that Payne was the whistle-blower?’ Kane asked.

  ‘Pratley was the centre of the whole operation,’ Wallace said. ‘I have no idea where he got the information on Payne, but he has lots of contacts. Royce and I did the heavy lifting. Pratley was the pivot, he took the money from the dealers and divided it up. Some went down to us and some went up to more important people.’

  ‘So there is someone above Pratley?’ Kane said.

  ‘I don’t know, but Pratley was pretty confident we wouldn’t be caught.’

  ‘What did the dealers pay for?’ Browne asked.

  ‘We let the big shipments through and every now and then they let us hit a small shipment, maybe one out of ten. Sometimes we didn’t hand up whatever we seized and sold them back their own junk.’

  ‘Who did Pratley work with?’

  ‘Rice and McGreary and later Best.

  ‘What about Royce?’ Browne asked.

  ‘Royce was a fuck-up. He had some sort of mental problem and Pratley slipped him some heroin. He took to it like mother’s milk. When PS started looking into us, Royce agreed to take the blame as long as Pratley continued to supply him with money and junk. He was kept on the payroll until he disappeared.’

  ‘And what happened when he reappeared?’ Browne asked.

  ‘Yeah, he’d kicked the junk and he was full of remorse for what he’d done. He said he was going to confess and that we’d have to pay for our misdeeds.’

  ‘And that didn’t suit Pratley?’ Browne said.

  ‘Not really, Royce was okay while he was a junkie but not when he was clean.’

  ‘So, Pratley decided he had to die.’

  ‘Something like that. Pratley asked Royce to meet at the pub. You know the rest.’

  ‘You had no part in the Royce murder?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’ll do for the present,’ Browne said.

  Kane turned off the machine.

  ‘We’ll get you a solicitor for the next session.’ Browne collected up the pictures from the file. ‘In the meantime just sit there and think of all the jolly nights you’re going to spend with the boys inside.’

  Browne and Kane left the room.

  ‘That was dynamite,’ Kane said.

  Wilson turned to Browne. ‘We need to find Pratley. Wallace was only a soldier.’ He switched on his mobile and it immediately indicated the arrival of a message. He clicked on it and smiled when he read the message. ‘Peter is out of danger. He’s stable and will be transferred to an ordinary ward tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Browne said. He noticed Wilson wipe a tear from his eye.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  Jennings held his head in his hands. It was Armageddon. Jackson on the run and God knows where, Pratley under guard by Eddie Hills, and Wallace being interviewed by Wilson in Tennent Street. It had all the portents of the end of his world. Had he had left himself too exposed? He was in so deep that he was now responding to events instead of shaping them. Wallace was a very small cog in a very big machine and he was sure that Pratley had kept him ignorant of the bigger picture. One couldn’t say the same about Pratley himself. If Wilson got his hands on him, the whole house of cards could come tumbling down. And that would be the end of Jennings and his dream of becoming chief constable. Pratley had to go, it was a no-brainer. He had passed the word to Best about Wallace being lifted, and that had signed Pratley’s death warrant, as he had known it would. He felt no remorse. This situation meant what the French call sauve qui peut, each man has to do what is necessary to save himself. Best would take care of Pratley, but Jackson was still out there somewhere. And while he lived, the danger persisted. They were beginning to eat their own children. He wondered when it would be his turn.

  Pratley looked out the window of the caravan at the slate-grey waters of the Irish Sea. It was a bright winter’s day and he fancied he could see the lighthouse on the Mull of Galloway. But that might just have been wishful thinking. The last time he’d been in Donaghadee had been with his parents almost thirty years previously. He wondered what they would make of him if they saw him now. They had been so proud when he had passed out of Police College. He’d certainly let them down. The two men guarding him were sitting at the table in the main room playing interminable games of cards. He had been in the bedroom praying that, somehow, he would escape from this predicament., but being a realist he knew he was about to pay the price for his misdeeds. He thought about the house he had bought in Koh Samui and the money he had stashed in Hong Kong. He would give it all up to walk out of this caravan alive. But that wasn’t going to happen. He knew it in his bones and he saw it in the eyes of his captors. He fantasised about overpowering his captors and managing to get away. But this was not a James Bond film where death is avoided by some last-minute intervention. As he stared out the window, a car pulled up and he saw Hills exiting. The Grim Reaper arriving to claim his next client. His stomach churned. He hadn’t flinched when it came to killing Payne and Royce and now the boot was on the other foot. He thought about offering his money for leniency, but he knew the runes had been cast.

  Hills didn’t say anything when he entered the caravan. His men scooped up the cards without finishing the game or speaking. They moved to the rear of the caravan and stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Hills removed a gun from his pocket and wiped it carefully with a rag.

  Pratley watched in fascination. He was going to die.

  ‘You have to do it yourself,’ Hills said. ‘We don’t want to have to force you but will if nec
essary.’ He held out the gun towards Pratley. ‘There’s one bullet in the chamber. In the mouth pointing upwards and it’ll be over in a second. Please don’t try anything stupid.’

  Pratley held out his hand and took the gun. He looked at it. It was his own Browning. They had been to his house and found the gun he had shot Royce with. That would close a loop. He respected their attention to detail. He looked into Hills eyes and confirmed there would be no last-minute reprieve. It was over. Slowly he put the gun in his mouth, pulled the trigger and blew the top of his head off.

  Hills looked at the scene in front of him and nodded. It looked right. There was no need to feel for a pulse in Pratley’s neck, there would be none, he turned to the other men. ‘Make sure there’s no sign of us having been here.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Wilson had gathered the team at the whiteboard. ‘Harry, pick up a couple of uniforms and go to Pratley’s house. He may be there, but I think not. Check the garage for a Skoda. If it’s not there, find out if he has a lock-up somewhere. We need to find that car.’

  ‘On it, Boss,’ Graham went to his desk and got on the phone.

  ‘Rory, get over to Musgrave Street and get Pratley’s and Wallace’s computers. Lucy will go with you, I’m sure she’s interested to see what’s on them. And clean out both of their desks.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Boss?’ O’Neill said.

  ‘Siobhan and I are going to the Royal to see how Peter’s getting on. I’m sure he’d be happier to see a pretty face as well as my old scowl.’

  Reid met them at the hospital entrance and led them to the waiting room for ICU. There was a middle-aged woman sitting there when Wilson and O’Neill entered.

  ‘Detective Superintendent Wilson,’ Irene Carlisle stood.

  ‘Please sit, Mrs Carlisle. I hope you haven’t been here all day.’

  ‘Since DC Graham called me.’

  Wilson turned to O’Neill. ‘Siobhan, would you fetch Mrs Carlisle a cup of tea and a biscuit.’