by Jack Probyn
Benny nodded.
‘Could you tell me what happened, please?’
Benny set the drill down on the floor, pulled his face mask off his head and placed it on the boot of the Ford.
‘I got this importan’ deadline ’n’ that, and I was workin’ ’ard on it. Gotta get me this car fixed by tomorra. But when I was workin’, I ’ear this bang-bang-bang on the shutta, right. I go up to it and this van just pulls in. Fuckin’ fing nearly knocked me off me feet! I tried ta tell ’em to fuck off ’n’ that, but she weren’t ’avin’ none of it.’
‘What happened after that?’ Jake asked, trying to decipher Benny’s vernacular.
‘She done put a gun to me ’ead and told me to change her numba plates.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yeah, she already ’ad the numba plate ready ’n’ that. She just wanted me to put it on.’
Jake turned his attention to the four corners of the workshop. ‘Did you catch any of this on CCTV?’
‘Nah,’ stepped in Benny’s mum. ‘We don’t have none of that. Costs too much to run. We hardly get any business as it is – ain’t nobody gonna wanna steal anythin’ from us anyway.’
That was a lackadaisical view to have on security, Jake thought, but if there was no footage, then he was going to struggle to find the vehicle with its new number plate.
‘Can you describe her for me?’
Benny shook his head. ‘Nah, sorry, pal. She was wearing a balaclava ’n’ that. Din’t fink some broad comin’ in wiv a gun was gonna let me see her face, did ya?’
‘Nothing at all? What was she wearing? How tall was she? What did she sound like? Any accents?’
Benny considered for a moment. ‘She was ’bout your ’ight. Maybe a little taller, I dunno. She was wearing black, and a pair of boots. Fink she might ’ave bin Eastern European as well. Fuckin’ foreigners – scum the lotta them.’
Jake scribbled down the description, ignoring the blatant racism.
‘Anything else?’
‘Nah. Sorry.’
‘Which way did she go after she drove off?’
Back at Bow Green, he’d watched the roadside footage of the workshop for two hours after the van had originally pulled in, but he’d found nothing. Almost as if it had just vanished.
‘She went down the uvva end of the shop, pal. Runnin’ the shop like a conveyor belt, kna’ what I mean? Lost her after I lowered them shuttas.’
Shit. Dead end. He had a blacked-out van, a blacked-out woman and a blacked-out set of number plates.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to thank them both for their time, his phone vibrated. It was an instinctive reaction for him to check it, just in case it was an emergency. Elizabeth. The girls. Everything else.
In that order.
Instead, it was from Liam. It read:
Drop what you’re doing and get to Stratford Flyover. 6 pm. Come alone. Important.
CHAPTER 16
HOMEWORK
Jake was running late. He hadn’t known what to make of the message. What if it was about Drew? And the two of them were going to work against him and Garrison to get them both locked up?
Jake romanticised the idea before dismissing it.
As he pulled into the car park beneath the flyover, all his questions were answered. And it wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. Liam, Drew and Garrison were standing in front of Liam’s car. Did this make him one of the team? Was he now officially ‘in’? Had they inducted him into their secret group?
He prepared himself.
The deafening sound of cars whizzing past a small bump in the tarmac above his head created a din and swallowed the noise of his engine. All three men stood with their hands in their pockets, still in plain clothes.
‘Good to have you join us, Jake,’ Liam said. He was wearing a beige overcoat, but despite his seniority in a professional capacity, it was Garrison who seemed in charge. He was the older and more experienced member of the group – the one who had started from the bottom of the corrupt pile and made his way to the top, and now it was time for the new recruit to come in and do the same dirty work he’d once done.
‘Thanks… I guess,’ Jake replied, not knowing how to respond. Everything about this situation was new to him. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘You could say that. But there are some things you’ll need to pick up fast. We don’t have time to explain a lot.’ Liam turned to both Drew and Garrison. ‘Did you prepare what I asked?’
Both men simply nodded, further raising questions in Jake’s mind. For a split second, he thought his colleagues were about to pull out an arsenal of knives and guns and throw him into the back of their car and drive him out to a remote part of the country.
The reality of it was much worse.
‘Jake,’ Liam said, snapping him from his thoughts. ‘Remember when I told you about your A game?’
Jake nodded.
‘Now’s the time to show us what you’re made of, buddy. Danny Cipriano was murdered by a close associate of ours called The Farmer and his team. They like to keep their identities hidden. None of us knows who he is. But he works for the same employer as we do. The Cabal. A few days before Danny was murdered, he attempted to reveal intelligence and secrets to someone. His death is the result of what happens if you betray The Cabal – and, by extension, us. Understand?’
Liam didn’t leave enough time for Jake to respond; instead, he continued immediately. ‘Now it’s our job, in the positions that we’re in, to pin the murder on someone so we can get it all brushed under the carpet – like Danny was under the cement – before it leaks to the press and the general public.’
Get it all brushed under the carpet – like Danny was under the cement.
Jake stared at Liam in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being asked to turn a blind eye to a murder, to pin it on an innocent person, to become the very thing he’d sworn to destroy, to work for the person who’d threatened his life and his career. He wanted to run away, but his legs weren’t working. He wanted to shout at them and scream at them for ruining someone’s life, but his mouth was sealed shut. He wanted to call the police and grass on them and get them locked away, but his arms wouldn’t work.
Liam’s face contorted and turned into a chuckle. ‘I suppose you’ve got a lot of questions, haven’t you?’
Jake nodded. He did. A lot.
‘It’s probably best if you don’t ask them,’ Liam said. ‘It’s need-to-know. The less you ask, the less you know. And the less you know, the better it is for everyone. Until we know how much we can trust you. For now, we’re gonna need your help with this. And at the end of it, there’s the potential to make an absolute killing. You’d never have to worry about your financials ever again. I know Drew’s already hammered home about how we deal with loyalty in this unit. I don’t think you need to hear any more about it.’ Liam hesitated as he turned his focus to Drew and Garrison. ‘Gentlemen, what’ve we got…?’
‘I’ve got a name,’ Drew said. He puffed his shoulders and chest out, giving him the arrogant air of looking more important than he was. ‘And I reckon it’ll be an easy one too.’
‘Who?’
‘Richard Maddison. The bloke I spoke with earlier. Easiest scapegoat possible. I’m sure we can find a link between him and Danny Cipriano as well. Or make one.’
‘Perfect,’ Liam said, removing his hands from his pockets and rubbing his palms together. There was a bitter wind chill in the air that ripped from one side of the flyover to the other and they were caught in the middle. ‘Garrison. Anything?’
Garrison shook his head. ‘Nothing from me. I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.’
Liam cleared his throat. ‘And, Jake – what about you? Anyone you reckon would be a good person to take the fall. What was the name of that woman you were speaking with this morning? Hannah Bryant, wasn’t it?’
Jake watched Drew’s head snap towards him out the corner of his vision. But th
ere was something else that caught his eye. Drew’s reaction was obvious, given what Jake knew about him. But Garrison’s reaction was more interesting: he gave a side-eyed look towards Drew, which suggested to Jake that he remembered the name well, and confirmed that they were both in on it – and that they were going to have to keep a close eye on him if they were going to keep it a secret any longer.
‘She’s not got it in her,’ Jake said. ‘I can’t think of any link that we could manipulate to implicate her with Danny. I think Richard’s a better shout.’
He hated himself for saying it. He was going against everything he’d ever believed in, and he was being complicit in a crime. He was part of the team who were about to frame an innocent man for murder. It made him sick to the pit of his stomach. But he needed to look on the bright side, the positives. He could use this information against them, to roll over and blow the whistle on his colleagues. But, in order to do that, he’d need hard, solid evidence. And for him to have that, he was going to have to do this longer than he wanted to.
‘Perfect,’ Liam announced. ‘Seems like we’ve got our man. Now, all we need to do is work out how we’re gonna do it. I want you to spend the night thinking about it. Come back to me tomorrow with an idea.’
That was it. Meeting adjourned. Time for them all to go back to their normal lives for the evening. And the last thing Jake expected from the meeting was to be leaving with homework.
CHAPTER 17
WITHOUT A PADDLE
Liam wanted to hear the sound of her voice – yearned for it. It had only been a few days and he was already longing for her. The stresses of the past few hours had got to him. Danny. The Farmer. The Cabal. Garrison. Drew. Jake. Lord Oliver fucking Penrose from the London fucking Olympics Committee. His mind was frazzled from trying to work out what they were going to do next. How much he could trust Jake. How much Drew had told him. How the consequences would be catastrophic if he didn’t cover up the murder as soon as possible. Both Drew and Garrison were liabilities at the best of times – and that was when they weren’t dealing with high-profile crimes like this.
Fuck! He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. He could really do with some Charlie right now. Or Molly. Anything. Something that would take the edge off and make him forget for a short while.
No. No, no, no, no, no. He shook his head. Don’t do it, you silly fucker. Don’t do it. You know what happens when you do.
Instead, as he sat there in the parking space outside his flat, he made a call.
‘Hello, stranger,’ the other person said in his ear.
‘Hello, you. You been missing me?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself too much,’ she said, shooting him down in her usual way.
‘Where are you? You busy?’
‘I might be available for a few hours or an evening. Who wants to know?’
‘I do. I’ve got a big one for you as well. I’m sure you’d love to hear it.’
‘You really know how to turn a girl on, Liam.’
He rolled his eyes in delight. He loved the way she said his name. There was something so raw in it, so sexy – an inflection in her voice that made him want to rip her clothes off. Or perhaps it was because, in his mind, she was already half naked.
‘I’m coming over now. I’ll bring the champagne. Hope you’re feeling naughty.’
It took him fifteen minutes to get to Tanya Smile’s house – four minutes less than it should have done.
As Liam sauntered towards the front door, he banished all thought of The Farmer and The Cabal and Danny Cipriano and Jake Tanner from his mind, slicked back his hair with his fingers, and cleaned his ears.
‘Somebody doesn’t hang around,’ Tanya said as she opened the door to her house in North London. She was dressed in a thin black-and-white-striped T-shirt with a pair of blue denim shorts. Her hair was pulled off her face and tied in a ponytail. She’d even gone to the extent of putting on lipstick for him.
Liam held the bottle in the air like he was a warrior returning with an enemy’s severed head. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he said, winking at her as he wandered past.
Tanya’s house was like a second home to him. He’d spent a lot of time there in the few months they’d been seeing each other. Their relationship was a secret, and they both had to keep it that way. The success of their jobs relied upon one another. Tanya was a reporter for BBC News, and he always tried to give her exclusive breaking news wherever possible. At first, it had been in exchange for a chunk of her bonus, but then, as their relationship developed, it stopped being about the money and started being about their feelings for one another. They’d been in business together for a few years – ever since they’d met at a television awards ceremony, and she’d been receptive to entertaining the idea of forming a partnership.
‘So what’s this story you’ve got for me?’
‘Business… already?’
She grabbed two wine glasses from a cupboard and set them on the counter. ‘You know I don’t like to mix business and pleasure. It makes things messy.’
‘You weren’t saying that the other week.’
She eyed him playfully and then returned her attention to the conversation. ‘What’s it like, on the scale of things?’
Liam moved across the kitchen, found a bag of peanuts in the cupboard and set them in a bowl. ‘It’s the Danny Cipriano scale of things,’ he said. ‘The highest scale there is.’
‘Now you have my attention.’
‘Nice and easy, really. He’s dead. Buried alive in concrete. London Olympic Stadium.’
Tanya froze and held her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God.’
‘I know, right. But it’s a tricky one.’
‘They always are when you’re involved.’
‘What can I say? Danger has a way of finding me.’
‘So… what’s the plan then?’
‘We’re in the middle of finding someone, but we’ll have to see how it goes. But there’s another problem…’
‘What?’
‘The LOCOG don’t want any wind of this getting out. Some flash billionaire prick called Oliver Penrose wants to keep it under the lid.’
Tanya sighed and folded her arms. ‘Then why are you telling me about it?’
‘Because I wanted you to be the first to know. But you can’t say anything until I confirm it’s good to go.’
‘You’re such a tease,’ she said, smirking at him, flashing a set of bright white teeth.
‘Otherwise, we’ll be up shit creek. Without a paddle. Upside down.’
‘Doesn’t sound like a place I’d want to be.’
‘It doesn’t sound like a place you’d want me to be either,’ he said. ‘So you best keep your mouth shut for the time being.’
He moved across the room and kissed her. ‘And I can think of a few extra ways we can make that happen.’
CHAPTER 18
SITTING PRETTY
On the hour-long drive home, Jake had come to an easy conclusion. What Liam, Drew and Garrison were doing was wrong. That much was simple. What they were doing needed to be stopped. Also simple. But what they were doing was of vital importance. Without them realising it, they were contributing to their own demise. For the time being, he just needed to stick with them, gain their trust, make them believe that he was on their side and then use the evidence to his advantage. Like a Trojan Horse, attacking them from the inside. So far, he’d convinced himself that keeping Drew and Garrison’s secret about what they did to Hannah Bryant was a good idea. He just needed to see more of it through. But how far? And for how long?
Those two questions raised an important point.
If he was going to go through with this – betray his friends and… his family – then he couldn’t do it alone. He needed external help, just in case they caught wind of what he was doing and decided to finish him off like they had Danny Cipriano. These people were dangerous, and he was almost certain of the fact that they wouldn’t show him any leniency.
&nb
sp; Jake pulled onto his driveway and wandered inside to the kitchen.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said to Elizabeth after kissing her on the cheek. ‘Where are my girls?’
‘I’ve just put them down.’
‘Let me go and say goodnight to them quickly.’
He gave Elizabeth another kiss before hurrying up the stairs. He dashed into his bedroom quickly, retrieved the cordless phone they kept by Elizabeth’s side of the bed and skipped into the girls’ bedroom. As the thin slither of light split the room in two, he tiptoed across the floorboards, taking extra care to avoid the ones that made a noise – the same ones that were on his to-do list to fix.
Maisie and Ellie were sound asleep, their breathing gentle, soothing, rhythmic. Peaceful. He leant over them, stroked their hair and then gave them each a kiss.
In the corner of the room was a wooden chair that Elizabeth’s grandma had given them before they’d moved into the house. She’d died a week later. It was now considered one of their only family heirlooms, and it was one of the most comfortable chairs Jake had ever had the luxury of sitting on.
He pulled out the landline from his pocket and his mobile from the other. Using his mobile to search for the number of the DPS – the Directorate of Professional Standards – he typed in the digits on the landline then stared at the numbers on the small screen, contemplating. If he did this, there was no turning back. He would commit himself to ratting out the team. By doing this, he was not only putting his life in danger but also his family’s. Elizabeth’s. Maisie’s. Ellie’s.
But he believed in himself to do it unnoticed. Because if he didn’t, then he might as well hand himself over to them now.
Jake stared at the phone a little while longer.
After a few more seconds, he clenched his jaw, dialled the number and waited, the ringing tone sounding in his ears.
‘Good evening, this is the DPS. How can I help you?’