by J Paton
It was DI Thompson who asked the next question. “You gave Mr. Corrigan information to share. Why didn’t you come forward with it?”
I looked at him, weighing up how much I was prepared to share because of his civil tone. “I was aware that Isaac and Ferron had reached out to Detective Chief Inspector Parks in regard to the events at New Year and some misconceptions about Ferron’s relationship with Mr. Critchlow, a Dom from Dom’s Haven. Once I was aware that this all tied back to the same club I was looking at in regard to Immanuel’s disappearance, Ferron bravely shared his story with me.”
A small smile appeared on DI Thompson’s face. “Thank you. Can you tell us why you think the two incidents are connected? Bearing in mind that neither have been confirmed.”
Clever!
I put my mug down and lifted my copy of the file. “Turn to page one and I’ll walk you through my thought process.”
Tucker
After what I’d learned from the men at The Playroom, I’d worked hard all weekend to keep my concerns to myself. The elusive Phil Knight hadn’t been able to attend the club, or talk to me when Nathan had asked Sam to ring him. It seemed that Phil had been caught up with something else. But he had offered to meet me the next day. The only problem was that I had no way to explain to Jup that I needed to go out at short notice, or to prepare him if I had the man come to the house. Therefore, I’d had to decline.
It appeared that he was extremely busy, and could only meet late Thursday afternoon. I’d texted him via the number Nathan had given me and agreed to Thursday, concerned how tricky it was going to be to account for my whereabouts if anyone asked, or if the team was put on call for something. That also didn’t take into account how I was going to explain it to Jup without going into detail about why I wanted to talk to him in my home and not at work.
Yet, I’d been left with no choice, not when the emails I’d sent to DI Thompson remained unanswered, the read receipt showing that he had seen them. And no matter how many times I told myself to let it go and focus on something else—anything else other than Ferron’s case—I’d failed miserably. I was desperate to know what the next steps might be given the new information gleaned from Isaac and Nathan. Men were out there, possibly suffering. That fact stopped me from turning my back on what should have been none of my damn business. Isn’t protecting the public your business?
“What are you thinking about, Sir?”
Jup’s soft voice drifted past my thoughts. “Just about the week ahead, that’s all.” The lie fell far too easily from my lips when the truth would take the smile off Jup’s face. “The weather forecast suggests that we’re going to get a good stretch of hot weather. Do you think it’s time I bought some furniture for the back garden?”
The second I’d suggested it, Jup got up from the breakfast table, his curls falling in disarray around his face as he dropped his chin to his chest. He trembled as he dithered on the spot.
I waited him out, having learned that if I gave Jup time to process he’d explain what was bothering him.
“What if someone… sees?” He lifted his head to meet my gaze for half a second before his eyelashes lowered to hide the terror that I’d already seen.
I rose from my seat in a slow, practised move, so as not to scare him. Gently tucking Jup into my side, I stroked his quivering back. “We’ve talked about this. The back garden is completely enclosed. I let the trees grow. So unless someone is over ten feet tall, they’re never going to be able to peek over the top. It’s safe out there.” I lightened my tone, the lingering maudlin feelings I still carried from the week before, making me push Jup that little bit harder.
We’d spent the whole weekend cooped up inside when the weather had been glorious. For the first time in a long time, it irked me that I hadn’t been able to sit and relax outside with a beer.
I tapped the end of Jup’s nose. “Think about it, for me.”
The body pressed against mine rippled with tension. “Okay, Sir, I’ll think about it.”
Seeing that as a win, I let it go for now. Brushing a soft kiss over the top of Jup’s head, I released him.
I took a quick glance at my watch and sighed. “It’s time for me to leave. I’ll message you when I get to work.” It was cowardly not to mention Thursday. I knew it was. But broaching the subject later seemed like a good idea when I had other things to worry about. Like my boss’s return from his holiday this morning, and how I was going to explain that I’d done the exact opposite of what he’d told me to do. I’d considered staying quiet on the subject, but the ramifications would be far greater if he found out and I hadn’t confessed first.
Several minutes later with my feet dragging, I was out the door, keeping my mind firmly on garden furniture. Should I just order it and try to coax Jup out into the back garden?
Sweat beaded at my hairline, and I cursed up a blue storm as the traffic slowed to a crawl out of Wapping, the heat inside the car increasing. The long list of jobs I’d planned to work through had been forgotten again, Jup requiring all my downtime. So, I hadn’t remembered, until now, that I’d wanted to book the car into the garage so that they could check the air con. It had stopped working the previous week.
“Shittin’ bastard,” I mumbled, my slick palms sliding over the steering wheel as I finally parked at New Scotland Yard. The large neo-classical building had seen extensive remodelling and upgrading in recent years, and the armed response unit I’d been allocated to on my return to London was located in a part of the huge building.
I entered the office without having had time to grab a coffee, an angry voice demanding, “Parks, get your backside in here, now.”
Just fucking perfect! Looks like you don’t need to worry about fessing up.
Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing to look in my direction. I kept my expression neutral as I strolled over to my desk. Shit! Shit! Shit!
No matter how many times I’d given consideration to what today might bring once I confessed, there’d been too many variables to prepare, but I hadn’t considered someone getting to my boss before I’d had a chance to.
To give myself a moment, I removed my armoured jacket and slung it over the back of the chair, the people around me resuming what they were doing. There was curiosity though, in the couple of glances I got as I walked towards my boss’s open office door.
Preston’s voice carried across the room. “Looks like someone’s about to get their arse kicked for a change.”
I hesitated to suck in a breath and counted to ten before swinging around and sending Preston a withering look. Only once the other man had looked away did I continue on to the DS’s office.
Well, fuck! What did the Assistant Chief Constable want?
There were three men sat in the office, and only one of them that I didn’t know. They were all staring directly at me, their seats positioned to face me in a move that could be perceived as intimidation. The DS sat behind his desk, a man on either side of him. The man to his right wore a navy suit, the colour matching eyes that held no warmth.
Dismissing him for now, I turned my attention to the Assistant Chief Constable in an attempt to gauge how far I was going to have to climb to get out of whatever hole I’d landed in. Was this because I’d gone over my boss’s head, or was it something else? My gut said the latter, but it was anyone’s guess.
Of the men in the office, it was only the DS who gave anything away, his tight mouth and grim expression showing his displeasure, which in itself proved how bad things were.
Assistant Chief Constable Kelly was a paradox. He gave off the aura of a hard-nosed, unapproachable copper one minute, then the next became good-humoured and friendly. On the few occasions we’d had contact, I’d been on my guard around him, never sure which side I’d be faced with.
The urge to leave the door open due to the warm temperature inside the room was countered as Preston’s voice carried through the open door. It seemed from the volume of his voice that he wanted to b
e closer to the action, and was now within earshot of the doorway.
The last thing I wanted was to have my arse handed to me on a plate in front of the team. “Should I shut the door, Sir?”
The DS nodded, his lips thinning into an even straighter line, if that was possible.
I closed the door and stood with my back to it. I stared straight ahead, years of training keeping me silent while I waited for one of them to be the first to speak.
When my boss gestured at the man I hadn’t met, I shifted my gaze to the sharply-dressed man.
“This is Detective Chief Inspector McHart. He was assigned to Mr. Robertson’s case after the interview.”
The tone of his voice told me all I needed to know. Busted.
I waited, sensing the other shoe was about to drop. My heart beat hard against my rib cage as the Assistant Chief Constable shifted forward in his seat, an unfathomable expression on his face.
His silvery-grey hair was cut short, accentuating his sharp features. I would have placed his age as being somewhere between late forties to early fifties. He was tall and lean, giving the appearance that he spent time in a gym to keep fit. His uniform fitted him to perfection and didn’t have a single wrinkle. The shirt beneath his jacket was a brilliant, almost blinding, white, and appeared to have been starched to within an inch of its life, given the way it left a tell-tale red mark on his neck where it rubbed.
DCI McHart said, “Can I ask, Detective Chief Inspector Parks, what your interest is in this case? You appear to have taken it upon yourself to get involved in something that has nothing to do with you or your team.”
He had an unfortunate nasal voice that instantly grated on my nerves. The tone he’d used to speak to me was more suited to addressing a disobedient teenager who needed bringing down a peg or two, rather than a full arsed grown man of the same rank. The only positive thing from him speaking, if there was a positive, was that he’d confirmed my suspicions that DI Thompson had indeed landed me in it. I just needed to ascertain how deeply.
I kept my expression blank as I met his gaze head-on, showing no external signs of my anxiety as I recited the events leading up to Ferron having attended the police station. “On New Year’s Eve the armed response team were called to a hostage situation in a warehouse building in Notting Hill…” As I walked them through what had happened, they all wore varying degrees of disinterest, which begged the question why none of them had stopped me from talking.
With my mouth dry, I swallowed and wet my lips, a droplet of sweat sliding down the centre of my back.
“Thank you for that incredibly detailed report. What it doesn’t explain to me, is why you made a decision to ignore a direct order from your superior?” the Assistant Chief Constable questioned in a soft voice that didn’t mask the icy condemnation.
The room temperature dropped several degrees as the icy blast found its target—me. I braced myself for the possibility of being suspended for my actions.
“No, Sir, it does not.” My mind raced to come up with a plausible answer that would limit the damage. “Mr. Robertson, as I explained to my superior and DI Thompson, was skittish about coming in and telling his story. He placed his trust in me and I wanted—”
“What has what you want got to do with anything? The answer should be nothing. You were given a direct order from a superior. You were to hand over the information to the SIO involved in the ongoing case, were you not?” The Assistant Chief Constable’s voice went up several octaves as he stood. Ugly splashes of colour appeared on his cheekbones, his eyes glittering with anger.
The part of me that had always struggled with someone openly challenging me was gripped and held with an iron-clad control as I maintained my stance in front of a man who seemed to want to provoke me. “Yes, Sir.”
“You’re fortunate that your insubordination hasn’t got you suspended pending a review of your behaviour. Carl is happy to let it drop. I, on the other hand, am not. With that being said, the Gods were smiling on you when it came to your wish to stay involved in this case. DCI McHart has put together a case which shows justification for an office to go undercover.”
I wasn’t sure if I so much as blinked or took a breath as the Assistant Chief Constable hammered nail after nail into my composure. How did he know about my previous work undercover? Was he going to suggest I go back undercover? Why the fuck was he talking about this in front of other officers who weren’t connected to undercover work? The questions went on and on, running through my mind at lightning speed.
No senior ranking officer would make this kind of error. Would they?
His next words had the air in my lungs seizing.
“DCI McHart wants to place an undercover officer into Dom’s Haven. Mr. Robertson’s story is compelling and, together with the additional information Mr. Corrigan provided, warrants further investigation. I’ve decided that as you’ve displayed such a keen interest in this case, and given your previous experience in undercover work—”
It was a total car wreck, and I found myself jumping into harm’s way. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but for operations of this kind the undercover officer’s identity isn’t usually known.” I got no further, the Assistant Chief Constable’s face turning a dark shade of purple as he got in my face, fury evident in his tight expression.
“Are you looking to find yourself suspended?” His voice was like the lash of a whip.
It was on the tip of my tongue to give a flippant reply that it would be better than the alternative, but I refrained from doing so, swallowing the words trying to get out, “No, Sir.”
Is this really happening?
Tucker
The tension in the room seemed to increase with every breath I took as the Assistant Chief Constable motioned for the other men to leave the room. “Out now.”
There was no chance to take a decent breath as I stepped aside to let the men pass. My ears started to buzz as the boss’s gaze met mine. I thought I saw regret before he opened the door and walked out. DCI McHart paused next to me, shook his head, and then stomped out of the room, leaving me alone with the still furious Assistant Chief Constable who’d returned to his seat.
The sound of the door clicking shut had my heart lodged somewhere in the back of my throat. Was I really going to have to go back undercover? Surely, that’s not what he’d meant? With that came another thought hot on its heels.
How the shitting hell was I going to explain all this to Jup?
Motherfucker.
Who’d look after him?
Each thought left my mind whirling, solidifying the deep sense of dread that had started to form in the pit of my stomach when the Assistant Chief Constable had mentioned undercover work without any consideration of the implications.
What the fuck was going on here? After removing levels of secrecy there to protect officers, a potential return to that type of work was tantamount to putting a target on my back. Was he an incompetent arse? I’d never heard anything to suggest he was, but this said differently. Unless there was a different motive, but if so what could it be?
Assistant Chief Constable Kelly’s hard stare remained on me, his gaze unfathomable. The seconds lengthened before he finally spoke, and when he did I wished he’d stayed quiet. “You’re insubordinate. You’re disrespectful of your seniors, and you have the nerve to call me out in front of junior officers. But you’re right, I spoke out of turn.” He sounded pissed off rather than apologetic as he sat back in his chair.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” I tried to inject sincerity into the apology, even though I was a long way from feeling it. “This wish for me to return to undercover work—”
“I don’t wish for anything.” His lips peeled back. “You will return to undercover work. A search of the database shows that not only do you have previous experience in this field, but that given your sexual preferences you won’t have any issue fitting in with…” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, his expression still unreadable
—something I was starting to hate. “You’ll be seconded into special ops, end of discussion. I’ve already contacted the head of the department. He’ll be getting in touch with you in the next twenty-four hours.” There was such an element of glee in his voice that it caused my eyes to narrow a fraction.
What was I missing here? Was the aggression and posturing just because I’d challenged him in front of other officers? And why was a senior ranked officer interfering in this case?
The uneasy feeling about this case had stuck to me like super glue all weekend, turning a minor irritant into a major one. Could they really force me back into undercover work? I eyed the Assistant Chief Constable, the rigid set of his jaw causing a sinking feeling. It looked like it.
I had little recollection of the remainder of the discussion, my head full of unanswered questions, ones that made little sense. By the time the Assistant Chief Constable left the room, Carl returning straight after, bile was coating the back of my throat, making it impossible to swallow without the urge to pay a visit to the bathroom to vomit.
Only it seemed the arse kicking wasn’t over as Carl returned to his seat. “Shut the door, Detective Chief Inspector Parks, we’re not finished yet.”
My full title. That wasn’t good!
Resigned, I did as he’d asked, shutting the door and then turning to face my boss. I had a heavy sense of regret at pissing him off and possibly wrecking our working relationship. None of which had been at the forefront of my mind when I’d gone and done the opposite of what he’d requested of me.
“Why the fuck couldn’t you just do as you were told? Why? It looks like I’ve lost one of my best men, and for what? I’ll tell you what! Because he thought he knew better.” The rant continued for another couple of minutes. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m not sure there’s anything I can add. I think you pretty much covered it.” I kept my tone respectful, hoping to escape as my mouth started to water unpleasantly.