The Controller

by Linda Coles

  “Can I give you a hand,” Amanda enquired, not wanting the little thing to suffer any more.

  “It’s fine thanks, nearly done getting it off. Just make sure the lowlife that does this type of thing gets sent down, would you? Makes me so god damn mad!”

  The anger in her voice startled Amanda for a moment, but she guessed she also never got accustomed to the findings her work brought her each day either. This whole sorry building was full of terror and upset, humans and dogs both included. Then she saw the Jack Russell terrier, he too with his mouth taped closed, and went over to his cage.

  The female officer she’d just been talking to approached her. “Sorry about my little outburst just then. It’s not your fault, but these scumbags will hardly get the gavel rapped at them never mind a decent sentence and it makes my blood boil.”

  “You don’t need to apologise, I feel the same way, I think we all do,” she said, trying to smile in comfort for both of them. “See this little dog?’ she said, pointing into his cage. “He’s called Jack, and he’s missing from nearby to me. Do you think when he’s been checked out, I could take him back with me? I’m sure his owners would be delighted to get him back tonight if he’s okay to go.”

  “Well, it’s a bit irregular, but I’ll double-check with my boss and see. Not my decision to make, I’m sure you understand.”

  Amanda nodded her agreement and smiled at the woman, then turned her attention back to little Jack at the back of his small cage. “Not long now, buddy, soon have you back home where you belong, just a little while longer.” Amanda then moved to one side as the animal officer opened his cage to start her examination. The other Jack was calling her name from the other side of the building so she headed over. He was half hanging outside what appeared to be an internal door leading to the office of the operation. She followed him inside.

  “There’s no doubt about this being a big operation,” he said, pointing to what looked like a ledger. “Look at this, must be old school, they never heard of digital files to keep shit like this? It’s a bit less obvious and a damn site easier to hide than an old book, silly sods.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t have to be bright to be a scumbag criminal like this lot. Just makes it easier for us. What else have you found?” Amanda knew there had to be more. He pulled out the bottom drawer of an ancient, once-grey metal filling cabinet, and beckoned her to look.

  “Shit, how much is in there?”

  “Don’t know exactly but I’d say maybe a couple of hundred thousand, give or take. And that’s not from tonight’s bets because we busted them before it took off. Obviously never heard of a safe either, dumb asses. I tell you, thick as pig shit this lot.”

  “I wonder how long they’ve been in operation. Any idea from that ledger?”

  “Well, that one starts back in 2004 so at least 12 years. Who knows if there’s an older ledger somewhere. They’d have made a mint during that time.”

  “I saw MacAlister being taken away, his face was pure fury. A bit far off the beaten track for him, isn’t it? I always knew he was into bigger things than his betting shop, I’m guessing now that’s just a front. Slippery sod.”

  “Yeah, I saw him too, but he wasn’t half as angry as that big tattooed guy, Tony something or other. He’s the main operator. I think you’ll find MacAlister was just a small part, a way for him to get money without too much dirt on his hands.”

  “That figures. Anyhow, when we’re all done here, I’ve asked to take one of the little dogs back with me, he’s missing locally and I’m sure he’d like to get back home as soon as possible.” Amanda smiled at him before adding, “You’d like him, he’s called Jack actually.” And for the first time that evening, Jack smiled back.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lionel entered the living room of his small terraced house, a tray in his hands, a Rogan Josh on board, and sat down in his rather old fashioned Draylon chair to watch the late news with his supper. Making himself comfortable, he flicked to the right channel with the remote, chewed on a fork full of curry and waited for the program to start. Moments later the familiar music played and the headlines were read out, making his fork pause on its way to his open mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing as the reporter started on the main story.

  “What the…”

  There on the screen was footage of the police at an old barn somewhere, the headlines stating a dog-fighting ring had been busted and locals had been arrested. While the report wasn’t showing any footage of who those locals were, there was footage of the location, somewhere near Chatham in Kent. As the cameras had arrived after the main raid, there wasn’t much they were able to film, and the police kept the reporters behind the restricted area of the scene, but one thing had got caught in their camera lens – a distinctive matt black Range Rover with dark windows was parked under a tree in the makeshift car park, along with other cars. Lionel barely heard what the reporter on the scene was saying but from the footage in front of him, he knew what had gone down.

  “I bloody knew he was involved in some big shit, and I hope they throw the book at him!” Putting his tray down on the coffee table in front of him, he turned the volume up to listen to more about what had gone on. The cameras panned back to show the extent of the area, the RSPCA and police still sorting through what was left behind. The reporter hadn’t got much to say except the raid was thought to be one of the biggest in UK history and arrests were expected to be made. The newsreader moved on to something more mundane, so he picked his tray back up and tried to finish his supper, though his appetite had gone.

  Across town, others were also watching the same report, though they didn’t yet know the half of it. It was only Ruth and a few others that knew that the spate of dognapping had then progressed to supplying live bait for a fighting ring, and as the report had played on, Ruth had noticed the unmistakable short cropped blond hair of Detective Amanda Lacey in amongst the mayhem. She was carrying a little Jack Russell terrier in her arms that had been rescued. She live paused the picture and studied it for a moment, smiling at both Amanda and the dog that she instantly recognised as the missing little Jack.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Look, I’m telling you, I wasn’t there to watch the fight, I was there to watch the raid. That’s why I was sat in a tree!” Pete was being interrogated by the Kent police and he was getting worried he could be in big trouble. His frustration was coming out in his words. The detective carried on his questioning.

  “And how did you know about a raid then, in order to be up that tree in the first place?”

  “Because I was the one who notified the police, like I’ve already told you half a dozen times but you don’t seem to want to hear that.” Pete tried to calm himself a little, his anguish evident, but he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of this detective. He tried again, this time a bit calmer. “Look, you’ve probably already discovered I’ve a juvie record and that’s why I’m keen to keep out of trouble, and why I sent an anonymous tip-off rather than expose myself. Ask the detective I sent it to if you don’t believe me.” Pete rested his head in his hands on the cheap table in the interview room, tired and worried. It had been a long night and right now he wished he’d stayed at home like Jim had suggested.

  “And who would that be, because it wasn’t anyone from this station.”

  “It was my local one, Croydon, her name is Lacey, DS Amanda Lacey. Please, double-check with her, I sent her a link via an email, she’ll verify it.”

  The detective made a note of the name and excused himself to check it out, leaving Pete sitting there on his own, with another policeman guarding the door. Pete rubbed his face and tried to keep calm. What could they get him on? Trespassing? Dognapping? Illegal drone-flying? In theory if they did their jobs well, all three, and probably something else he hadn’t thought of. There was no way he was going back inside so he’d look after himself this time, and that could mean cutting a deal. He pondered on that thought as the detective
came back in the room. He looked pissed at him.

  “Seems you’re telling the truth,” he said. “She’s confirmed your story, though there are some questions she’d like to ask you herself. And I still have some of my own too. Like how did you get that footage in the first place?” Pete knew how this was now going to end up.

  “I’m not saying another word to you. Either charge me or let me go.” He sat back with his arms folded, his body language telling the detective the questioning had probably come to an end.

  “Look lad, we have enough to charge you and hold you on, it’s just how much more we add to those charges, so don’t get cocky with me. This isn’t CSI, it’s real life and you’re in the shit.” He looked at his watch, it was after 11pm. “But it will wait until the morning now so I suggest you make yourself comfortable in your cell for the night, and we’ll take this back up again in the morning.”

  “Then I want to speak to DS Lacey, and I want a lawyer and I’m not saying another word until I have them both.” Pete knew he needed to use his tip-off to help him and Jim out of this mess, and he hoped Detective Lacy would be a bit more sympathetic. He stood and was escorted back to his cell for the night, where he lay awake thinking of the best approach to get himself and Jim out of the mess he’d put them both in. There was only one way to do it that he could see.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Amanda drove back from the Kent police station mid-morning after spending time interviewing Pete and coming to an agreement that both he and his lawyer were happy with. To his credit, he wasn’t like all the other scumbags she dealt with, he seemed quite a gentle soul. Having looked into his background, she saw that he’d just been one of those that had fallen through the cracks of life and had ended up fending for himself from prematurely early on. While that hardened a lot of individuals, for some it simply made life a struggle, succumbing to bullies like Niles who took advantage. They’d managed to come to a deal. He’d be done for illegally flying his drone and trespassing but not for the dognapping. He’d given up the identities of Niles and Vic and they’d been given an early awakening and arrested and charged early this morning, so he was off the hook there. Without his tip-off, they’d never have caught the ringleaders in the dog-fighting raid, resulting in criminal charges being brought against eight men as they had fought to save their own skins and deal. Shame they hadn’t thought about saving the skins of the dogs they’d abused. The law urgently needed reviewing in her mind, they’d get pittance sentences. Even on several offences, they’d only serve a handful of years and they knew it, but the police could only work within the lines of the law, they didn’t make the rules. And little Jack was safely back with his owners, who had understandably been delighted to have him returned fit and well, though a bit shaken up. She flicked her indicator to turn into Richmond Road and pulled up outside Ruth’s place. She’d called earlier to double-check she was there and not at her office, and Ruth was waiting for her.

  “Come in,” Ruth greeted her on the front step. “Can I get you a coffee? If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you could do with one.” Always the direct one.

  Amanda looked at her as she entered the hallway and followed her down to the kitchen at the back of the house. “That bad eh?”

  “I saw it on the TV last night. I’m guessing you’ve been a bit busy all night?”

  “You guessed right there. I’ve just left the Kent police and the individual that sent us the tip-off. It’s been a full-on few hours.” Ruth pointed to a chair and Amanda flopped into it. It felt the most natural thing in the world to do in what was virtually a stranger’s house. It wasn’t lost on Ruth, this woman just seemed to fit right in. Ruth put a capsule in the machine and waited for the familiar plop plop to start.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten much either, want some toast, or a sandwich perhaps?” While Amanda really wanted to take her up on the offer of food, it wasn’t the done thing. She opened her mouth to respond no but Ruth took charge before she could voice her reply.

  “”I’ll put you two slices in and there’s more if you want it,” then took butter and marmalade out of the cupboard and put them on the little table in front of her. Amanda didn’t try to refuse.

  “Thanks, that’s lovely of you,” Amanda said wearily, and gave Ruth a quick smile, watching her make the second cup of coffee, the plop plop starting all over again. With her back to Amanda, Ruth asked, “So what happens now then? The ringleaders have been arrested I’m guessing, the dogs examined and rehomed, then what? How did you find out about the ring?

  “Well, to answer your first question, they’ll appear in court and hopefully end up in prison, but that’s some time away unfortunately, so they’ll probably be back out on the street tomorrow. The dogs may never be rehomed, they may have to be put to sleep depending on whether they can be retrained enough to live a normal dog’s life, but the RSPCA will work hard with them and decide what needs to be done for the best. And to answer your last question, we got an anonymous tip-off, from the lad that actually found the dognapping targets with his drone as it turns out. He sent us a TOR link to the location footage beforehand. He was part of a small gang of three, the local dognappers that were working the town, but when the leader, a man named Niles, got approached to sell the dogs on to the fight ring for bait, he didn’t want to be a part of it. Seems his drone buddy Jim accidentally found the venue while trespassing one day and they put two and two together and did something about it.”

  Ruth sat down with her own coffee, having put two slices of toast on a plate for Amanda. They sat silently for a moment, just the scraping sound of butter being spread atop crunchy toast by Amanda.

  “What is the young lad like? He’s obviously got a conscience, and is clever, not many people are aware of TOR and what it can be used for.” Ruth stared into her coffee thoughtfully.

  “He’s had his share of bad luck, a rough childhood, a stint in juvie, but he seems different than the others we come across. And without his conscience and sending that link, we’d be none the wiser to what was going on. He saved a lot of pain at last night’s event.”

  “And his fate?”

  “He’s cut a deal, so he’ll be fine. He’ll probably get community service for aviation violations or some such, but he’s off the hook for dognapping. He’s given us the brains of the gang so we’re happy.” She took a large bite of marmaldey toast and tried to speak, then gave up. Ruth watched with amusement.

  “I meant to say,” Amanda tried again, “why the interest in him?”

  “Ah, you know. Always on the lookout for bright techies, it’s my business. Maybe when this dies down, I could meet him, maybe give him some work to occupy his mind, keep him out of trouble. He sounds bright, just needs a better direction.”

  Amanda liked the idea of that. Something had made her feel differently about this lad and if Ruth was happy to at least meet with him, maybe she could put the two together and do some good. She drank back the last of her coffee and buttered the remaining piece of toast.

  “More coffee?” Ruth asked hopefully.

  “That would be lovely,” Amanda said, her eyes meeting Ruth’s.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Blue Banana

  Published by Blue Banana

  Also by Linda Coles

  Read on to go back in time ….

  Hey You, Pretty Face.

  Chapter 1

  Sunday 19th December, 1999. Almost Christmas.

  It was going to hurt. She knew it would hurt far more than the act of giving birth itself had done, not an hour ago. But
life for the little one would be so much better without her, with someone else who could take care of her, give her everything she would ever want for, a life the young woman hadn’t a chance to offer her.

  “Goodbye, little one. I’m doing this because I love you, not because I don’t want you. It’ll be better for you this way.”

  She kissed her baby’s forehead before wrapping her tightly in the swaddle she had. The infant whimpered a little. Perhaps she was trying to communicate, asking her not to go. Perhaps they could find a way to be together; it wouldn’t be that bad. But the woman knew it could never be anything else, and as tough as it was, she knew she had to stick to her decision. Inside her, two voices screamed loudly at each other, straining her chest: one urging her to leave her child, the other sobbing, pleading with her not to go through with it.

  Deep down, she knew there was no choice and, mumbling words of comfort to herself, she tried to quiet the voice begging her to stop. With the whimpering child wrapped in a towel and tucked inside her only coat, she placed the tiny bundle inside the porch of the church doorway, tucked away from the relentless biting wind and sleet that was beginning to fall. With the baby safe for now and out of harm’s way, she was sure she would be secure for the night. Someone would surely open the church door in the morning and take her in. The child’s life from that moment on would be so much better than the alternative. She shivered and hugged her arms. She knew she would be cold without her coat, but the little one needed it more. It was the least she could do, her last solo act of kindness for her daughter before she walked away.