DS Sheridan stared at the screen on his desk. Didn’t see what was on it. Instead he thought about the phone call from Tom Killgannon.
He looked over at Blake. She was sitting at her own desk opposite him, peering into something, reading glasses on the end of her nose. She wasn’t given to displaying much frailty, knowing how difficult it still was for a woman to be treated equally in the police force. So this admission that she couldn’t see perfectly was, Sheridan had always believed, a huge one on her part.
He hadn’t told Blake or their superior DCI Harmer about the call. He had tried to, but couldn’t decide on the best course of action. For both the assignment and Killgannon. He needed help to reach a decision.
He gestured to Blake. ‘You busy?’
She turned round, closing her screen, taking her glasses off straight away. ‘Why?’
‘We need to talk to the boss.’
She frowned. ‘What about?’
He stood up, looking round the office. ‘Tell you in a minute. Come on.’
Keeping the frown in place she followed him as he knocked on Harmer’s door, waited to be summoned, entered. DCI Harmer sat behind his desk. He looked like a squash player in a suit, or a well presented hedge fund manager, about as far away from the rank and file as it was possible to be. He also bore an unfortunate resemblance to a red-haired Muppet. Hence the nickname Beaker.
‘DS Sheridan. DC Blake. What can I do for you?’ He gestured for them to sit.
The office looked like it was waiting to be featured in Middle Management Monthly magazine. Sheridan imagined Harmer standing against a filing cabinet, file open in his hands, trophies and framed certificates in shot behind him, smiling sideways at the camera. His mass of red hair untameably unruly, undercutting the confidence he tried to exude. All he needs is googly eyes, thought Sheridan.
‘Got a problem, sir.’ Sheridan was aware of Blake looking at him, still frowning.
‘What kind of problem?’
‘The Killgannon assignment. Operation Retrieve. He’s been compromised.’
‘What?’ said Blake.
Harmer leaned forwards. His action was swift but designed not to crease his freshly laundered shirt. His voice serious. No doubting he was a copper now. ‘In what way?’
Sheridan addressed the two of them. ‘He worked undercover in Manchester a few years ago. Infiltrated Dean Foley’s gang. Got high up, the right hand man. His testimony put Foley away.’
‘I know. And a shipment of money went missing, didn’t it?’ said Harmer.
‘It did,’ said Sheridan. ‘But the drugs that were due to hit the street were all impounded. The money was never found. Foley swore he didn’t have it. Didn’t matter. We still made the case against him. Thanks to Killgannon’s hard work. The whole network collapsed.’
‘Commendations all round, yes. So what does this have to do with Operation Retrieve?’
‘Foley’s in the same prison as Cunningham, sir. And he’s made Killgannon as the man who put him there.’
Harmer sat back, let out a stream of air, eyes narrowed, face pinched. It was as extreme as he got in showing emotion. ‘Shit.’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Blake. ‘Why didn’t I know about it?’
‘Phone call. Not so long ago,’ said Sheridan, covering up the fact that it wasn’t just immediate and he had been trying to decide what action to take and had not come up with anything. ‘I couldn’t tell you in the office. Sorry. Anyway, he says he thinks he was recognised, sold out to Foley.’
‘Is he safe?’ asked Blake.
‘He doesn’t think so. He wants to come out now.’
‘What about Cunningham?’ Harmer this time.
Sheridan shrugged. ‘We’ll have to try again later. Use someone else. Or get Cunningham transferred, take Killgannon with him.’ He stopped talking, realising how ridiculous that sounded.
Harmer stared at the desk. ‘All that work, all that planning . . .’ He looked up. ‘Why didn’t we know this? Wasn’t there a risk assessment done? Surely this should have been looked into. Rule one stuff.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Blake. ‘It was done thoroughly. Then I went through the whole thing myself. Double checked. Nothing, no one was flagged.’
‘I checked since I got the call,’ said Sheridan. ‘Current prison population for Blackmoor. Foley’s been there a while.’
Blake looked between the two of them. ‘I don’t know how that happened. It shouldn’t have happened. Seriously, there’s no way that could have happened. No way.’ Incredulity was giving way to anger.
Harmer sighed, shook his head.
‘Look, I know this is all cloak and dagger and stuff,’ said Blake, ‘And we have a strict set of guidelines to comply with before putting an operation like this into motion. But could someone have hidden Foley’s name from us?’
‘Why?’ asked Harmer.
‘I don’t know. Is there some reason he wouldn’t show up? Is he some kind of asset? Something going on above our pay grade, perhaps?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Harmer. ‘There shouldn’t be. We’d have been told about it before we launched this operation. I’ll look into it.’
‘What do we do in the meantime, sir?’ asked Sheridan.
‘We’ve got to get him out,’ said Blake.
Another sigh from Harmer. ‘Let’s see. How close has Killgannon got to Cunningham?’
‘Physically very close. They’re sharing a cell.’
‘Brilliant. Perfect.’
‘But Killgannon’s in fear for his life now. Foley’s recognised him. He’s just waiting to see what he does next.’
‘Who in the prison knows that he’s one of ours?’ asked Harmer.
‘No one,’ cut in Blake. ‘We didn’t want his cover blown or for him to be compromised in any way.’
‘So you two are his only line to the outside world?’
‘It’s the way he’s always operated, sir,’ said Sheridan. ‘He insisted we didn’t change that. He’s always got results in the past doing it this way.’
‘So if we got him out, how long would it take to get someone in the same position with Cunningham again?’
‘Killgannon is a perfect asset,’ said Blake. ‘Might take us months to find a replacement as good. But he’s compromised.’
‘And he might only have a small time to live if Foley gets to him. ‘I’ve just called a couple of detective mates who know more about Blackmoor than me. Apparently Foley pretty much runs the place. He’s still in charge of what’s left of his empire, runs it from his cell. And no doubt he’s got everything inside sewn up as well. It’s his caged city. Killgannon’s just a tenant.’
Harmer almost smiled. ‘You should have been a writer, Nick.’
Sheridan felt himself redden.
Harmer steepled his fingertips. Thought. ‘I say we keep him where he is,’ he said eventually.
Sheridan and Blake exchanged glances. ‘What?’ said Sheridan.
‘We may never get a chance as good as this again,’ said Harmer. ‘Not this close. Not without a lot of work. Let’s see what Killgannon can get for us. If he gets what we need and we get those locations sooner rather than later, great. We get him out.’
‘And if Foley gets him first?’ asked Sheridan.
Harmer sighed. ‘It’s regrettable, but . . .’ He shrugged. ‘He knew the risks. He’s deniable. Like you said, Nick, no one but us knows he’s in there. And Blackmoor’s one of the privately run prisons. At arm’s length from the Home Office if there should be a death. They could take the blame, not us. I’m thinking operationally here.’
‘Or we get him out,’ said Sheridan. ‘Start again with someone else. Keep an asset intact to be used again.’
Harmer stared at the desk. ‘No, we keep him in.’
Sheridan frowned. ‘Sir?’
‘Monitor the situation, get regular status reports, updates. If it looks like Foley’s getting too close then we’ll pull him out. Straight away. But we have to weigh everything up.’
‘So what do I tell him?’
‘To stay where he is for the time being. We appreciate his situation, but we’re at too crucial a juncture to jeopardise the operation. If he does his job efficiently, he’ll be out in no time.’
Would you like to tell him yourself, sir? thought Sheridan. But he said nothing. Instead he stood up, knowing he was dismissed. ‘Right sir. I’ll do that.’
‘Good.’ Harmer gave a smile. It was the kind Pontius Pilate would have made.
Blake was already out of the door and on the way back to her desk. Sheridan watched her go. He went back to work. Knowing that the next phone call he made to Killgannon he might be sentencing him to death.