by L M Krier
He knew he was in for a long session. As long as it took to get over the hump they seemed to be stuck on. He was going to do what he should have been on top of all along. Oversee the operation, rather than trying to do too much of the groundwork himself. That was what his role was meant to be. To use his experience to spot things that had slipped past his team members. It was why he held the senior rank.
And now the germ of an idea was planted in his brain, he had a feeling they had all been taking too much at face value.
He stopped to pick up a hot meat pie on his way. Ate it quickly in his car on the station car park, so he didn’t risk dripping gravy all over his office after Mrs Skinner had cleaned it. She’d have been in and done her work by that time of night, so he should be able to work through without being disturbed for as long as it took him to make some sort of progress.
He and the team had so nearly fallen for accepting that the person of short stature they’d heard about was blind, because of the dark glasses and white stick. Now he realised they’d also dismissed him out of hand as being the Big Man in person, without even considering him as a possible.
Hearing the way Flip’s father had used the term in praise of him achieving great things made Ted realise that they’d all been taking it too literally. It was a common enough phrase for a person in charge. Perhaps they’d thought the short man was too obvious. He fervently hoped they hadn’t subconsciously dismissed him simply because of his size. That was the sort of prejudiced judgement he despised.
Somewhere in all of the statements so far, which Ted was starting to wade through, there was a reference to the Big Man being capable of slitting someone like a kipper if crossed. Kane’s tongue had been cut out by a razor-sharp implement. And their eye witness in the park had seen the small man pointing a stick towards the cuckoos there, shortly before he threw the severed tongue at them.
But what if it hadn’t been simply a white stick? What if there had been a blade attached to it? Or a knife in his hand? Something the cuckoos could see but that the woman who’d witnessed the incident, standing further away, couldn’t?
Ted knew the team had been working hard to try to find any mention on file of a person of short stature involved in drugs or other crimes. So far without success. He intended to spend time running it through the system again on the off chance, but he doubted that the man would be brazen enough to be appearing in public if he had a record of any sort. If he really was the boss of a sophisticated drugs operation, he would have known there was a risk the police were watching his sellers.
The next route would normally be a public appeal based on what little information they had to date. It would be hard to produce an artist’s impression from witness statements. The dark glasses were a perfect disguise. They would have to appear on any sketch but it was likely they were nothing but a prop, worn to distract.
Next there was the “foreign bloke” Kane had spoken of to Ronnie. The one who was present in the car when he was taken to visit the Big Man. Ted was thinking of the man he’d seen in the park, with the dog, when they’d been rounding up the rest of the youths who’d been squatting in Abigail’s flat. The man’s presence there could have been coincidental. It was possible that he was simply someone exercising his dog. But he was there, and on his phone just before Data was picked up and spirited away. There had been something about him that had raised Ted’s suspicions. He may have been there to keep an eye out for any signs of a trap waiting to be sprung. He could easily have been phoning through to tip off other members of the gang if something had alerted him.
He’d been rather overlooked once the team realised Data was getting away and had concentrated on trying to find him and to arrest the others.
All of which suggested that it may well have been the Big Man himself, with one of his “foreign blokes”, who had spirited Data away.
Ted could provide a reasonably accurate description of the dog walker’s clothing and appearance. It would help if he could identify what language he had spoken to the dog in. It certainly hadn't been English. Ted was no linguist. He’d learned some Welsh from his mother as a small child, but that was as far as it went. He could make a stab at repeating the sound of what the man had said. Logically it must have been a command to his dog, which was making a lunge at Ted as he ran past. Something like ‘heel’ or ‘leave it’, most likely.
If Trev hadn’t been currently too furious to speak to him in any language, Ted could simply have had a go at repeating the sounds he remembered and Trev would at least have found a way of identifying the language for him. Or narrowing it down to a few, or even to a region of the world.
The one resource Ted wasn’t short of was time. There was no one to hurry home to. Even the cats would be fast asleep on the sofa, no doubt. He opened a translation app on his computer and, more in hope than anticipation, started entering the likely phrases, obtaining the translations in different languages, and playing the recording of how they were pronounced. Sooner or later, he might hear one which sounded something like what he thought he remembered.
It was gone two by the time Ted had got home but he was still back in before the rest of the team in the morning. He wanted to lay out his theories to them to see if they sounded even more far-fetched in morning light than they had to him alone in his office the night before.
He set out his new theory and what had prompted it, then went on, ‘So we need to find this person of small stature, as a matter of urgency now. But we also need to keep in mind that he might just possibly be the boss, rather than simply a messenger.’
‘Sir, I’ve been trawling the system for short people with a record. I’ve printed off some shots of anyone in roughly the right height range who I’ve not been able to rule out. And that would be because they’re dead, back inside, or definitely known to be out of the country.’
‘Good work, Steve, thank you. Let’s get the last of them carefully checked out. But my gut feeling is that he won’t have a record. I think he’s probably too clever and hides behind the men he has working for them. I suspect they’re the muscle of the outfit. Possibly ex-military, maybe ex-Special Forces. I know lots of people wear army boots, which could account for the footprints where Kane’s body was found. But the man with the dog I saw in the park on Sunday also looked like a former Special, and I’ve seen plenty of those.’
Jezza was frowning at him. ‘Hang on, boss, rewind. What military man in the park with a dog? While I’m desk-bound, I’m collating on this case, remember, and I haven’t seen any mention of some army type in the park at the time of pulling in the others. With or without a dog’
There was an awkward silence for a brief moment. Then Ted said, ‘Sorry, Jezza. My fault entirely. I clearly forgot to mention that in my report and I should have done, of course. I’ll write it up and let you have it.’
‘Boss, excuse me for speaking frankly, but there does seem to be a bit of a lack of communication thing going on here,’ Jezza pressed on. ‘Because now you actually mention your dog man, I remember seeing one near to Abi’s flat when you and I first went there. When we got the first shout. It was when I took Abi out to the car but I was standing outside it because the smell was clinging to her clothes and it was a bit overpowering.
‘What kind of a dog did your man have?’
‘I don’t know much about dog breeds. One of those shepherd types. Like a German Shepherd, only not as hairy. The Dog Section has some of them.’
‘A Belgian Shepherd? Malinois?’ Jezza’s fingers were flying over her phone as she spoke. She found what she was looking for and held it up. Ted went across to look at it and nodded.
‘Yes, that’s the sort of thing. Not very friendly. It lunged at me as I ran past. That’s what made me notice it, and the handler, in particular.’
‘Sorry to bang on, boss, but that makes it slightly worse. That’s the breed of dog I saw the man walking, near to Abi’s flat. I didn’t know, at that point, that we were looking for military types with a dog. T
he only reason I noticed at all was that the man looked like a bit of a hard case, and so did the dog. But the man was carrying one of those dispensers hanging from his belt with poo bags in it, and it was pink. So were the bags. It just struck me as incongruous and a bit funny.’
‘Five eight, five nine, solidly built. Black hair, regulation short back and sides, black stubble. Black cargo pants, black jacket and black military boots?’ Ted asked her.
‘The same. Looks like we missed a trick there, boss.’
‘Entirely my fault, everyone, and I can only apologise. Jezza, you’re absolutely right. No reason for you to have mentioned the first sighting, but if I’d mentioned the one in the park in my report, we’d have been onto that connection much sooner.
‘We’re all busy working on our own and the left hand isn’t keeping track of what the right hand is doing.
‘But back to our Man with Dog. Clearly, we need to find him, if only to eliminate him from our enquiries. Although I think it’s a coincidence too far that he was seen near to Abigail’s as well as in the park on Sunday.
‘When his dog had a go at me, he said something to it in a foreign language. I’m not good at languages. No idea what it was. But I spent a bit of time last night trying to work out what it might be. I looked for phrases like “Leave it” in different ones then listened to them online. Not very scientific, but it was the best I could think of at the time.
‘The trouble is, I found quite a few where the translation sounded similar to me. About seven in all, including Bosnian, Croatian, Macedonian and Serbian. So it doesn’t advance us all that much. Unless we hit a miracle and Forensics can pin down the tread on the military boots from the last murder scene to the forces of one of those countries. Because I’d put money on the man I saw being ex-military.’
‘I’d agree with that, boss,’ Jezza confirmed. ‘There was something about the way he carried himself that said military. Or police, of course, from a specialist unit.’
‘Are we going public with this now, boss?’ Jo asked him. ‘Get some details and artists’ impressions out, of him and the short Big Man?’
‘They’ll go to ground, as soon as we do,’ Ted told him. ‘We ideally need to try to find them without letting them know we’re getting closer. Save the images as a last resort if we can’t find them the old-fashioned way, with a bit of legwork.
‘But that’s not to say we shouldn’t be showing the images around to people we talk to. Just not yet making them fully public. I’ll talk to Uniform to see if we can get some help with it.
‘Steve, is there any way someone more skilled than I am might be able to pin down that language more accurately than I could with my efforts?’
‘Océane will know, if anyone does. If I can record you saying it, as close as you can get, she might be able to identify it for us. Or someone else at Central Park might know.’
‘Good, now we’re getting somewhere. Apologies again, everyone. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office, giving myself a good kicking and possibly murdering the waste-paper basket.’
Jo followed on his heels as the boss headed for his own space.
‘Are you all right, Ted?’ he asked him, pushing the door to behind them. ‘It’s so out of character for you to slip up like that.’
‘I have no excuse, Jo. I let myself get distracted by other stuff and I shouldn’t have done. But so I can deal with that other stuff to stop it from getting in the way of work, come what may, I’m going to be off on Sunday. All day. Off. Invisible. Not to be contacted. And so on. Can I count on you? If things go according to plan then, I might report back for duty on Monday morning with something resembling a working brain. One worthy of a Serious Crime SIO.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
It was late afternoon when Ted’s mobile rang. The display showed him it was Gina Shaw calling him, from Drugs.
She was clearly somewhere she was sure of not being overheard because her voice had none of the false bonhomie of her PR persona.
‘Hello, Ted, Gina here. I have some updates for you so can we meet up again? The same place would be fine, but could we make it later this time? Say nine o’clock? If that doesn’t totally ruin your family or social life.’
He wasn’t about to admit that both of his were currently in tatters, so he simply agreed.
‘I’ve seen your acting skills, which were not bad at all, considering I caught you on the hop. So, what’s your quick change routine like? I’ve heard from Ian and he needs to speak to you. Don’t get too excited. Neither of us has an oven-ready result for you, but we have made some progress. Only Ian is still in deep so you won’t be able to use your businessman talking to PR consultant cover to see him.’
‘What do you suggest? If it helps, I go running sometimes. Roads, parks, that sort of thing.’
She hesitated. ‘The kind of places Ian hangs out generally might be a bit of a risk for a lone jogger, especially after dark.’
‘I’ll probably be all right. I can run quite fast when I have to.’ Ted made light of it.
‘D’you smoke?’
‘Not at all. Never have.’
‘Well, make sure you have some ciggies and a lighter in your pocket. It’s how Ian will make contact with you. I’ll get him to set up a suitable place not far from where we’re meeting, you and I. You’ll need to do your costume change in your car, probably. But it’s also up to him to do the risk assessment, so he’ll only accept your idea if he’s sure it will be safe enough.’
Ted said nothing to that. He knew it was the correct procedure and he wasn’t about to query it. Nor to mention his SFO days which had seen him facing potential danger on a regular basis.
‘I’ll call you later when I’ve spoken to Ian, but you knowing the venue for your meeting with him is likely to be a bit last-minute. I’ve told you before he’s paranoid about his cover, so it may even change several times until he’s happy.
‘I’ll see you in the bar at nine and I’ll have a really eye-popping pitch to show you.’
Bearing in mind Jezza’s valid points about lack of communication, Ted called the team together before they finished for the day, to update them on his plans for the evening.
‘Run that by us again, would you, boss,’ Jo told him. ‘Meeting Gina in a wine bar is one thing. Anyone else around would only cramp your style. But going jogging by yourself in the sort of location undercover Drugs officers are likely to favour isn’t going to be sensible. You surely wouldn’t get either of the bosses to sign off on it, for one thing.’
He saw Ted’s expression and went on, ‘Tell me you weren’t going to go maverick on this one, boss, and not tell them?’
‘Ahh,’ Ted began, before Jezza joined in, eyes flashing angrily.
‘Boss, no way are you going on your own without any kind of back-up. The Drugs officers are used to this kind of shit. You’re not, lately.’
‘It’ll be fine, Jezza, the risk is minimal ...’
Well, that’s going to make a bloody marvellous epitaph for you. “The risk was minimal”. It’s not that long ago that you and I went on the same risk assessment and management course. I must have slept through the module where they said it was perfectly fine to go into a park where drug dealers hang about without any form of back up. And not even carrying a side arm or wearing a stab vest. Which clearly you aren’t planning to do if you’re using running as your cover.’
‘She has a point, boss,’ Jo told him.
Most of the team members were also nodding their heads in agreement.
‘It’s up to Ian how the meeting goes. I can’t risk his cover by having back-up that could be spotted.’
‘Boss, my own family don’t recognise me if I get the bling on and my pimp’s threads,’ Virgil told him. ‘Mike, you’ve seen me in the role and you can confirm that. In a setting like that, no one takes any notice of me, because I is black.’
‘What if me and Virgil happened to be sitting in a car, near where you’re meeting Ian, having a burger
or something?’ Rob suggested. ‘Then at least there’s someone close by if anything should kick off.’
‘It’s not on our patch, for one thing ...’ Ted tried again, to a loud scoff this time from Jezza.
‘What, we suddenly have to go through customs and passport control to go up to Manchester for a burger these days, do we?’
‘Boss, they do have a point,’ Jo tried again. ‘Ian’s on his home turf. Doing what he’s trained for and does all the time. With the greatest respect, if you’ve done undercover in the past, it was quite some time ago. You’re the SIO. Meetings in dark and potentially dangerous parks isn’t really part of your remit, is it?’
Ted looked round at them all. He wasn’t going to win this one. Pointless even to try.
‘All right. Here’s the deal. And it’s subject to Ian’s approval. If he says no, it’s no. Rob and Virgil, in a car, not too close, and eating a takeaway to make it look authentic. I’ll keep my phone on and connected to you. You make a move only on my instruction. Is that clear?’
‘Thank god you saw sense, boss,’ Jezza told him. ‘It’s not just that we’re all quite fond of you, although we are. It’s basically that we’re all too scared of facing your Trev if we let you do something really stupid and get yourself injured. Or worse.’
‘Hi, Eddie, over here!’
Gina was on her feet and waving to Ted from a different table to the last time when he walked into the crowded and noisy wine bar.
This time he’d ditched his work suit and gone for casual; jeans, a polo shirt and a jacket. It would make it easier for him to change into his running gear in the car, once he had final confirmation from Ian where they were going to meet.
Gina greeted him with the same double air kiss as before. Ted saw that she’d already ordered a bottle of mineral water and an extra glass, which sat on the table ready for him.
‘I took you at your word about not drinking. I hope that’s all right? Do you want tapas again, or something more substantial?’