The Detective Jake Tanner Organised Crime Thriller Series Books 1-3 (DC Jake Tanner Crime Thriller Series Boxsets)

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Lovely. You sound like a wonderful father.’

  Jake scratched his jaw. ‘You got any?’

  ‘None. Never been married either. Single pringle is the phrase, I believe. But the old body clock’s running down on me.’

  ‘Never say die,’ Jake said. More and more Bridger reminded him of his dad.

  He must have voiced part of this thought aloud, because Bridger said, ‘I remind you of who?’ his voice laced with surprised.

  ‘My dad,’ Jake replied sheepishly, feeling a wave of embarrassment roll over him.

  ‘I suppose that’s a good thing. I’ve always been under the impression that dads are like arseholes.’

  ‘Erm…’

  ‘Everyone’s got one, and also they’re arseholes.’

  ‘You didn’t get on with yours I take it?’

  ‘Not from the little I saw of him. Left me and my brother when we were young. But I guess I turned out all right. How about yours?’

  ‘Dead.’

  Jake found the monosyllabic response to that question always shocked people, as though it was taboo to speak it so frankly and abruptly. They always looked at him with an expression on their face that asked whether he was all right mentally. Everyone except for Freddy and Bridger. Jake supposed it was because, in both men’s eyes, dead was probably the same word they would have used to describe their relationship with their own fathers.

  ‘What happened to him?’ Bridger asked.

  ‘Car accident on the way to picking me up from a football match. I was fifteen. Never kicked a ball since.’

  ‘Shit, man, that’s heavy. I’m sure he was a wonderful bloke.’

  Jake turned his gaze from Bridger and looked into his lap. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, deeply, smoothly. ‘He was. The best.’

  ‘You miss him?’

  ‘Everyday.’

  ‘It gets easier. Trust me.’

  Jake grunted. If there was anything he could do to have his dad back with him, he’d do it and not throw the relationship away. Jake thought Bridger’s attitude was somewhat blasé, but who was he to judge? He didn’t know the ins and outs of Bridger’s relationship with his dad, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘I think maybe after all of this is done,’ he said in the end, ‘we should get a beer somewhere.’

  CHAPTER 40

  DECISION

  Never before in her illustrious career had DCI Pemberton been forced to make as tough a decision as the one in front of her now. Candice Strachan had just confessed to being the fourth member of The Crimsons, to having a role in the robbery and kidnapping, to helping them smuggle themselves out of the country, to aiding and abetting their crimes. And Pemberton hated her for it.

  But now Candice was the victim. She was going to die. The collar would detonate if the final key wasn’t found. There wasn’t enough time on the countdown for Jake or Bridger to retrieve the key from Danny and return to Farnham. There wasn’t enough time to find Danny and the rest of the brothers, arrest them and then bring them back to the garden. Whichever way she looked at it, she was faced with an impenetrable brick wall of indecision from every angle. If she remained inactive, Candice’s blood would be on her hands.

  ‘PC Mooney,’ she called to one of the uniformed officers who’d been standing on the outskirts of the garden; he came rushing over.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ His face beamed and his cheeks shimmered with a thin layer of sweat.

  ‘I need a vehicle. A police escort vehicle. Something big. Something that’s going to be able to transport Ms Strachan over there.’ Pemberton nodded in Candice’s direction.

  ‘Are… are you sure, ma’am? Would we not be able to use the OED’s van?’

  Pemberton shook her head. ‘It’s not the right kind of vehicle. That’s just a Transit. We need something that we can isolate Candice in. The same thing we use to transfer criminals from prison to prison. You know what I mean?’

  Words weren’t making sense to her. It was like the events of the past few hours had destroyed the synapses in her brain that controlled all thought processes and communication. All her training and use of police jargon had flown out of her head.

  ‘I think so…’ Mooney said, nodding, uncertain of himself. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll sort it out. When do you need it?’

  ‘Ten minutes ago.’

  Mooney started off, speaking into the radio pack on his shoulder. He was authoritative and calm and, to Pemberton’s surprise, able to concisely tell the person on the other end what they needed. A prison transport vehicle. Of course it was, idiot.

  Pemberton wandered back to Candice, who was still sobbing and pleading on her knees.

  ‘Pl-Ple—’ she began but was cut off by Pemberton’s hand.

  ‘Stop. Just stop. We’re doing everything we can for you. God knows you don’t deserve it,’ Pemberton added. She had lost all prudence in her voice; it was now filled with disdain. She no longer cared for the spite in her words. ‘I’ve had an idea that’s going to get you out of that thing.’

  Candice looked up at her, eyes beady and bloodshot. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’ve received reports that your sons have stolen a vehicle, been involved in a road traffic collision, shot at a police officer, and—’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Candice whispered, her voice trembling as it turned into a whimper. She tried to move her hands, but they were still wrapped behind her back.

  ‘You know what their next moves are,’ Pemberton continued, ‘because you’re a part of this. Which boat are they getting on, Candice?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  Liar.

  ‘Do you remember when I told you that I had an idea?’

  Candice nodded.

  ‘Your survival hinges on your next choice. Do you understand?’

  Candice nodded again, but this time she pulled her gaze away from Pemberton.

  ‘We have a special vehicle we can transport you in. Now, we would usually move you to the station, but these are extenuating circumstances. And I’m the person in charge of making the decisions for said extenuating circumstances. How lucky you are.’ Pemberton was enjoying the delicacy of this revenge, and she was savouring every moment of it. ‘This vehicle… it’s safe, robust and will keep you isolated. It’s got a lot of petrol inside it, and it’s fast. Do you know what that means, Candice?’

  Candice didn’t reply. Pemberton eyed her for a moment before continuing. A part of her wanted to leave Candice there, stranded, helpless. To use it as a form of punishment. It was what she deserved. It was her own fault for becoming an accomplice in such a heinous crime in the first place, regardless of her motives. But then the prospect of disciplinary hearings and potential dismissal if anything happened to Candice were enough to convince her otherwise.

  ‘It means that we can transport you to wherever your sons are. You might want to protect them, but remember who put you in this situation. They did. So it’s in your best interest to tell us where they might be, because if we can find them, we can find the key, and if we can find the key, we can get you out of this – and then you’ll be able to live longer than the countdown timer indicates. How does that sound?’

  Candice opened her mouth and voiced something, but it was weak, inaudible.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Do it!’ Candice screamed, thrashing her body left and right. ‘They were talking about boarding a boat in Portsmouth sometime in the afternoon. They needed to give themselves time to get there.’

  ‘And were you supposed to be joining them?’ Pemberton toyed between placing her hands on her hips or folding her arms. In the end, she went with the former.

  ‘Yes. I’m s-s… I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s a little late for that now.’

  Mooney arrived behind her.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said, hovering a few feet away. ‘I’ve just spoken to HQ. The vehicle you requested is on it
s way. ETA five minutes.’

  CHAPTER 41

  FINAL GOODBYES

  The Crimsons reached the end of the arterial road’s tail and were on Queen Street, right in the epicentre of Portsea. Directly ahead of them, half a mile away, was a tower block that jutted out of the flat skyline like a pimple on a teenager’s face. To their right was HMS Nelson, Portsmouth’s home to the Royal Navy. Danny glanced out of the window and glimpsed a short view of the base’s gate. A sense of elation washed over him. The finishing line was in sight. But it wasn’t without its risks. Only moments ago their endeavours had almost been cut short, and any one of them could have been knocking on death’s door.

  After the incident, Danny had closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, prayed to God. Whether the big man upstairs had heard him, he didn’t know, but he felt like there was a spiritual awakening beginning to bubble in the bottom of his stomach. Somebody was testing them – testing him. Throwing obstacles in his way, making him a better criminal for it. But, at the same time, somebody was watching out for him, guiding him through those obstacles. Danny liked to think it was their dad, the man who’d taught him everything he knew about explosives and engineering. For all his faults as a father – the abandonment, the drinking, the abuse – he’d taught Danny the most important life lesson he could’ve learnt.

  ‘Never give up no matter what stands in your way,’ his dad had said as he rolled a cold tin of Stella in one hand, cigarette in the other. ‘Life’s full of shit, but you just gotta wade through it.’

  As they sped down the road, nearing the end of Queen Street and the towering block of flats, Danny realised they were wading through a different type of shit: students, families, groups of teenagers, boys, girls, men, women, children, all enjoying the sun and stifling temperatures in their T-shirts and shorts and skirts, ice creams in hand along with bottles of water and buckets and spades, preparing for a day of luxury, freezing water, sand, and the delight of spending a nice afternoon in the company of everyone else from the town in close proximity with one another on Southsea beach. Danny couldn’t think of anything worse.

  He stretched forward and pointed to a junction a few hundred yards away. ‘Swing a left up here.’

  ‘I thought we needed to go straight,’ Michael began.

  Before he knew it, they were at the junction, and Michael showed no sign of following his instruction. Danny lunged forward between the seats and yanked on the steering wheel. The car swerved to the left, and the two brothers fought over control.

  ‘I said turn left,’ Danny hissed. ‘There’s been a change of plan.’

  ‘What do you mean, change of plan?’ asked Luke, twisting in the seat. ‘Since when?’

  Danny ignored his brother and pointed to another sign ahead, barely visible behind the arms of a tree. ‘There’s a car park up there. Follow the signs for it.’

  ‘Danny – what’s going on? Where are you taking us?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Shut up and wait,’ Danny snapped.

  A few seconds later, Michael pulled into the car park. It was old, disused and riddled with potholes. At the back of the car park was the rear fascia of a car wash – the sun danced on the great plumes of spray and water vapour and created several rainbows that glided across the surface. Michael found a free space in the centre of the park and eased the car to a stop, then cut off the engine and waited. The air around them fell silent, save for the repetitive, monotonous din coming from the jet power washers on the other side of a brick wall which drowned out the sound of sirens and helicopter blades in the distance – the sound of the Queen’s constabulary hunting them down.

  ‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ Michael remarked.

  ‘We’re not getting the ship here,’ Danny said plainly.

  Both brothers looked back at him, eyes wide. Michael opened his mouth, ready to unleash an expletive, but Danny allayed him with a wave of the hand.

  ‘Let me explain, before you start kicking off. The police aren’t thick – they’ll have worked out where we’re going by now. Even with our help from the inside. It’s not long until this place will be on complete lockdown – they’re already above us. So we need another way out of the country. And I took the liberty of booking another set of tickets for us.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Southampton.’

  ‘Southampton?’ both brothers repeated.

  ‘All we need to do is get out of this shit heap, change our clothes, hop on a bus and get on the boat. Perfect escape. The police will find this thing, immediately search it and the rest of Portsmouth Harbour for us, and then look on the ship. By the time they’ve done all that, we’ll be long gone,’ Danny explained. He felt the smile on his face growing larger. But he was the only one smiling. He was the only one who appreciated his brilliance, his genius and his forethought.

  ‘You lied to us, Dan. When were you going to tell us?’ Michael said.

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘Yeah, right at the last fucking minute. What else aren’t you telling us?’

  Danny’s fingers ran over the key in his pocket.

  ‘What about Mum?’ Luke asked, his voice weak, almost childlike.

  Danny clipped him round the back of the head with his free hand. ‘Don’t call her that. That woman has never been a mum to us. Just because she thought she could redeem herself by helping us with this don’t mean she gets that privilege.’

  Michael twisted in the seat and glared at Danny, his nostrils flaring. ‘Answer the question, Danny. What about Candice?’

  Danny broke away from Michael’s gaze and stared into his own lap. ‘She was the one who came up with the idea,’ he lied. ‘Well, both of us did. She knew about it all along. I told her not to mention it to either of you.’

  ‘Unbelievable.’ Michael rolled his eyes. ‘So you trusted her more than you did us? When’s the boat leave?’

  ‘At three. It’s a cruise to the Canaries.’

  Michael checked his watch. ‘Just under two hours. What are we going to do in the meantime?’

  ‘We’ve got to get there,’ Danny said. ‘The bus’ll take fucking ages.’

  ‘What about Mum?’ Luke repeated. Danny suppressed the urge to clip him round the head again. ‘Will she make it in time?’

  ‘Of course she will, mate. If all’s gone to plan, they’ll have found the keys by now, removed the collar, started interviewing her to make sure she’s not involved with anything, maybe even given her a once-over by the medic or ambulance staff, and then they’ll send her on her way. Then she can make her own way down. And if there are any issues, our man in office will help expedite her experience.’

  For a split second, Danny believed his own lie.

  ‘How do you know? What if they don’t find the keys in time?’

  Danny placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder and squeezed. Lying to his youngest brother hurt the most – Luke was the most gullible, the most naïve – yet it had to be done if they were going to start new lives for themselves. ‘I know you’re worried about her, kid. But give the police some credit – the keys are piss-easy to find. I mean, Grandma Paula could find them, and she was almost as blind as a fucking bat,’ Danny said with a smile. ‘Remember when she’d try and make us a roast? Absolute fucking carnage, but she still knew where everything was, eh?’

  Luke chuckled, bearing his white teeth. ‘Yeah, I guess…’

  One brother down, one more to go.

  Danny turned his attention to the last one that needed convincing. ‘Micky? You coming?’

  Michael sighed. ‘Not got much choice, have I? I’m having my fair share of this money regardless of where we end up.’

  ‘And you’ll get it. Down to the last penny.’

  Split four ways, as agreed.

  Danny waited until his brothers had started to undress themselves before he began. He unzipped the front of his overalls and rolled the top half over his shoulders. As his hands ran down his arm, he massaged the tender brown and yell
ow bruises on his skin, grimacing slightly in the pain. Then he pulled the overalls down his waist in the small confines of the back of the Saab and stuffed them into the footwell. Beneath his overalls he’d been wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie. He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit, removed the final collar key and slid it into his pocket. It rubbed against his skin, pinned next to his wallet.

  ‘What are we doing with those?’ Michael asked, pointing to the machine guns by Danny’s lap.

  ‘Those? Keep them here. Leave everything except for the bags.’

  Danny opened the car door and slung the bags containing the jewellery over his shoulder. As he was about to close the door, he gave one last look at the red devil mask. It had been with him from their first heist to now. And it had served him well. He’d enjoyed witnessing the horror on the faces of those he was robbing. He’d been born into nothing, and he adored the anonymity that it invoked, like a backward version of Batman – and now he was going to spend the rest of his life overseas, hidden further beneath that cloak of anonymity, soon to be sipping on tequila sunrises on the beach.

  Michael, slamming the driver’s door shut, brought him back to reality. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Then on his other.

  ‘Time to leave this world behind us, mate,’ Michael said. ‘For good.’

  ‘We’ve got another one waiting on the other side of the Atlantic,’ Luke added.

  Danny turned to him, perplexed, and then broke into a fit of laughter, bent double with his hands placed on his knees, gasping for breath. ‘The Canary Islands are on the same side of the Atlantic as us, dickhead!’ Danny let out another howl of laughter, and he was surprised to find Michael joining him. Soon after, Luke saw the funny side of it and together the three of them laughed. Danny couldn’t remember the last time they’d all done that – briefly forgotten about everything going on, focusing on just the three of them and their bond. It filled him with pride.

  After the laughter died down and they suddenly remembered where they were, Danny said his final goodbyes to the mask and started off towards the Hard Interchange, a bus depot situated on the water’s edge. Danny had done his research beforehand. The X4 bus from Portsmouth to Southampton ran every half an hour.