Chapter Nine

 

Rob Haines was slowly getting used to the rhythm of not going to work, waking later and watching reruns of classic TV from the past fifty years. He kept meaning to look The Sweeney up on Wikipedia and see how many episodes there were. He was sure that they were starting to repeat.

He knew that he was annoying Jem. She was constantly popping out, to work, to shop, to have coffee with friends. He knew that he should move forward, find a way out of the maze, work out what life held for him.

As fictional detectives rushed across the screen with bad haircuts and wide ties, he went back over the details as he understood them. He had done this too many times before but it was like worrying at a sore tooth. Like pieces on a chessboard, Rob Haines kept on rearranging the facts of his case and his recovery in his mind. He'd pressed the doctors about his memory loss and they thought that some of it might slowly return. But it was as certain as it could be that there would always be a gap in the events surrounding the head injury.

What this did mean, however, was that he was able to remember what had happened over most of his career. Stretching back years, and even decades, he was very clear on the toxic triangle that had existed between himself, Billy King and Reg Patterson. He could even recall that he had been preparing to hand over to Glen Hargreaves.

Now that King and Patterson were both dead and Hargreaves had been arrested, all the focus was on him, the last man standing. The deaths and the arrest had all happened in the big blank spot in his memory so he couldn't be called to testify. He had to hope that he could wait it out and that the authorities would focus on Hargreaves and let him off the hook.

Hiding behind his medical history wasn't his style. He was more of a kick the door in and arrest the bad guys policeman. But after talking with his police fed rep, he had submitted a brief medical statement which said that he had a "traumatic brain injury leading to memory loss and personality changes".

As a car chase unfolded on the TV screen, vehicles that were now classics sliding recklessly around south London streets, Rob Haines decided to be honest with himself. He hated this. He hated being painted as some sort of cripple who wasn't quite himself and couldn't remember what had happened. He knew that if, or rather when, it got out around the station there'd be a mixture of disbelief and sympathy. He wasn't sure which was worse.

But what was the alternative? If he confessed that he knew everything that had happened up to a week before the raid, he would be faced with two unpalatable choices. Either do a series of embarrassing "no comment" interviews which would all but confirm his guilt in the face of the evidence. Or, he could sell all his colleagues down the river and spill everything in the hope that he'd be allowed to keep his pension. And, despite calling in some favours, he still didn't know how much actual concrete evidence they had.

The truth of it was, however much it rankled, being seen as incapacitated by his head injury was his best course. He knew that there would be very little political will to prosecute or investigate him while he was on sick leave. All he had to do now was to find a way to negotiate that into a permanent exit from the force. A permanent exit that preserved his reputation and pension rights.

He was restless, he needed to do something. Reaching for the phone he called one the contacts who'd still talk to him.

'Rob, what's up?'

'I'm feeling a bit at a loose end. Any good gossip? Anything I should know?'

'Well, there is a juicy case floating around the station. Did you hear about the body at the motel?'

'No, haven't seen that one.' Rob didn't want to admit that he had got out of the habit of reading the news.

'Well, they didn't make much of it in the press.' The contact paused for effect. 'But the word is that the body was beheaded. And staged. Like something of out of one of those American serial killer films, from what I heard. Proper spooky.'

'Thanks for that, I could do with a distraction. I'll look it up on the news.' And I'll ask Emma Angel, if she ever comes back. 'And I'll see if my contacts in technical can fill me in a bit more.' He needed a good strong case to work on, to make himself feel more like he used to. And this was perfect.

Once he'd hung up, he used his phone and soon got the basic facts right. The press reports hinted that something wasn't right, but didn't go into the gruesome details.

The front door banged open and Jem came into the hall. He switched off the phone and dropped it on the sofa. 'Hi, Rob, I'm back.'

'Hi.'

She came into the lounge and squinted at the TV. 'That's Dennis Waterman, so I'm going to say Sweeney? Or Minder?'

'Right first time,' Rob said. 'But I think that I've seen it before.'

'Well, that'll happen when you spend all day at home sat on the sofa.' She stopped and studied him closely. 'I suppose there's no chance that you've been out today?'

He shook his head. 'You know I haven't. Just can't take the risk. You know that.'

'I do understand, but I also know that you've got to get out there at some point. I don't know what you're waiting for. Even a walk around the block would be a start.'

'It might get better,' Rob said in a quiet voice. 'The brain is incredibly flexible. No one really knows.'

'Rob, what did the doctors actually say?' Jem's voice was firm but insistent.

'Some things might get better. The brain heals itself. I've had fewer outbursts, I can feel myself becoming more normal, I feel more like more me.'

'Robert Haines, don't you mess me around. You know what we're talking about. Your problem. What did they say about that, the last time you asked?'

'They said it was very rare but if that's what it is, then it probably won't heal.'

Jem sighed. 'So, what are you waiting for?'

'I don't know.' Rob got off the sofa and moved towards the kitchen. 'I just don't feel like the time is right.' He paused to see if the conversation was over. Receiving no response, he said, 'I'll put the kettle on, you want anything?'

The awkward mood was broken when the doorbell went.

* * *

Once again, Emma stood on the doorstep of the Haines' house. This time however she'd phoned ahead and knew what would be waiting for her. She was still apprehensive but her first week back had made her realise just how much she missed her ex-boss at work. She had a list of questions that she needed answers to.

'Emma, come on in,' Jem said, breaking into her reverie.

Soon she was sat on the sofa with a cup of tea and a classic James Bond film was just starting on the television.

'The Spy Who Loved Me,' Rob said from his armchair. 'Classic stuff, mid-seventies, Roger Moore and a Lotus Esprit.'

'Do you mind if we talk while we watch this?'

'No, I've seen it before. Just don't talk over the good bits. What do you want to talk about?'

'I was wondering if you could give me some idea of who's who in CID now?' Rob gave her a completely dead stare, shocked that she'd just come straight out with it. She heard what she'd just said and how tactless it was. 'I mean, if you don't mind. What with you being replaced and all.' Rob continued glaring at her. 'No, forget what I said. I was being silly. Thoughtless.'

There was a tense silence, broken when Rob laughed. 'Oh dear God, I haven't had that much fun in ages. Listen, I've had a bang on the head and my career's probably down the tubes but that doesn't mean I'm holding onto a grudge or anything.' He paused and got a bit more serious. 'Also, I still want to help you. Who have they put into CID now? I know they've booted most of us out.'

'Thank you,' Emma said sullenly. She hated the feeling of being tricked, but it was nice to see Rob in a good mood. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd seen him laugh. Certainly not since he'd had his head injury and in the weeks before that he'd been under a lot of stress.

In the background, Roger Moore was riding across the desert on a camel in full Arab clothes. Her childhood had meant that she'd missed out on the simple pleasures like watching James Bond films on a Sunday afternoon. She did feel weird however that she was doing it with her ex-boss who was now a friend of sorts. 'What about starting at the top with our new inspector, Kevin Slater?'

Rob laughed again, more of a chuckle this time. 'I know of Slater and he's anything but new. He's been around the force longer than I have and that's saying something. I'd have thought he'd be retired by now.' He stopped to think. 'Although I can see that. Old hand, persuaded to delay retirement for six months, set the ship back on an even keel. How is he to work for?'

Emma stopped to think. She thought of her interest in the Callum Frost case and his inability to see anything beyond his own theory. 'He is a bit stuck in his ways. Inflexible. Doesn't seem very imaginative.'

'Yeah, that figures. Most of his life was spent working in fraud and white collar crime. Give him a computer, Internet connection and a load of spreadsheets and he's your man. But finding criminals in the real world?' He shook his head.

Emma considered correcting him and pointing out the real harm that financial crime did. But she knew what he meant – Slater would never be the one who was kicking in doors and organising raids. He'd be in the back office cataloguing the evidence and making a watertight case. 'I think that attitude has bled over into his work,' Emma agreed. 'He likes everything tied up. Because our latest case involves a financial advisor, he's convinced that it's about the money.'

'Is that the beheaded body in the hotel?' Rob asked innocently.

'I see your network hasn't completely dried up while you've been off, sir.'

'Of course not. I like to keep my ear to the ground. And that is a very unusual case. Not the sort of thing that the likes of Slater would be able to deal with. What's his take on it? Something conventional?'

'Yeah, he's going down the route of revenge – either for sex or money. The victim was a financial advisor so he travelled and stayed away from home a lot.'

'And possibly played away?' Rob asked.

'Well, the possibility is there. But there's no evidence. No condoms, wife appears genuinely distraught, but had no suspicions. It's the same with chasing down any money problems. There are no complaints against him so Slater's looking at money laundering. But, we would need to find a second laptop or phone first.'

'And a second phone would also put more life into the theory that he was having an affair.' He paused for a moment. 'And I take it there's no sign of either?'

'There's next to no evidence of anything. The problem is that to all intents and purposes our victim was a perfectly normal independent financial advisor.'

'Who was killed in a less than normal way.' Haines took a deep sigh and they fell back to watching the film for a bit. Roger Moore was now in a nightclub with a beautiful seventies Bond girl. Even the decor looked dated now. Emma could sense that the film was heading to places where no film made today would head.

'How can you watch this, sir? Rob?' she didn't quite know what to call him.

'What do you mean,' he asked innocently.

'Well, it's very sexist, isn't it? All that stuff where the men clap their hands and the girls leave the room so they can talk business. It's awful.'

'Okay. Firstly, this bit is set in Cairo and it was filmed in the mid-seventies. That's pretty much the way the world was back then. And secondly, you see that pretty woman in the glittery black dress, that you probably think is a Bond girl? Well, she's a Russian agent and one who's more than a match for Bond.'

'I suppose that offsets things a little,' Emma said, slightly mollified. 'But that's still no excuse for every other woman to have a bikini. Or for any of James Bond's witty comments about women.'

Haines shrugged. 'It's what I grew up with. I know it's not politically correct or anything like that but I still like it. It's comforting.' A happy pause fell between them as Jaws, the seven foot killer came onto the screen. 'Anyway, how about some quid pro quo? There are rumours around that there's something really weird about this murder that happened at the motel. No one wants to talk about it, but if I'm going to give you the dirt on your new team...' He looked hopefully at Emma.

For her part, she weighed up the options. Even off on leave and under a cloud of suspicion, Rob Haines was still very well connected. He'd find out sooner or later. And she doubted that he wanted lurid gossip. The tension that she'd detected between Rob and Jem was probably from him being bored. Should she tell him? He was an off-duty police officer. More importantly, she was certain that he wouldn't do anything to compromise the investigation and he might even help.

'You're not going to believe this,' Emma said. She briefly outlined what they knew so far about the probable cause of death and how the body had been handled post-mortem.

'So, the chambermaid walked in and the body turned its head towards her and opened its eyes?' Emma nodded. 'All done with tripwires and careful balancing? It's horrific.' He shook his head. 'I mean you expect some sort of dignity in death don't you? I mean, I know we're police officers so we see bodies in all sorts of places, shallow graves, dumped in the rubbish, just left where they are.' He stopped for a moment, lost in thought. 'Could it be a disgruntled undertaker?'

'Disgruntled or psychotic? I could ask Dani whether or not the body was professionally handled,' Emma said.

'Where there any indications from the scene of what kind of person this is? Was he angry, rushed, anything like that?'

'If anything, quite the opposite. From what Dani said he was very meticulous. He custom made some hooks and the bracket to hold the head. Dani was impressed by his skills – he sounds like someone you'd want to do your DIY for you.'

'I'm not too sure about that,' Rob said with a chuckle. 'I tend not to want murderers in my house.' There was a companionable pause between them, broken by Rob. 'Thank you for that. I know that you probably shouldn't have told me about this but I'm going stir crazy in here.' He nodded. 'I'll have a think. See if I can remember someone who fits the profile. I suspect they'd have worked their way up to a crime like this.' They watched the film for a few moments. 'Oh, now here we go. This is the car chase with the Lotus Esprit! This is the famous bit.'

'What, that white car that looks like a wedge of cheese?' Emma asked innocently.

'No taste at all,' Rob said, all mock offence. 'When I was a kid, that car was the one that everyone wanted. You could get a toy of it with all the bits, missiles that fired and all sorts.' He looked closely at Emma. 'You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?'

'Not my era,' she said. 'And in case you've forgotten, I was a little girl, so not so much into the toy cars and James Bond.'

'Yeah, but you must have had friends, all of that?'

Emma shrugged. When the silence stretched a bit, she said, 'Shall we carry on going through the new CID line-up?'

'You always do that,' Rob observed, still watching the film. The car leapt spectacularly off a pier and went under water. 'Whenever there's anything about childhood or growing up, you suddenly clam up. Give a little shrug and change the subject.'

'What can I say? I wasn't that happy as a child.' She paused. 'Well, no that's not true. My parents moved around a lot, were quite chaotic, so I was always in and out of school and changed a few times. Made it hard to make friends.' She took a deep breath. 'But I had a lot of freedom over the summer holidays. Ups and downs.'

'Sounds like an interesting way to grow up,' Rob observed.

'That's one word for it. Anyway, I'm sure I've mentioned that I had a huge row with my parents after my GCSEs and moved out.'

'And you've never spoken to them since?'

'No, not really. I mean it's not like I've cut them off all together. They know where I am and I could probably find them if I wanted to. I've got an aunt, Belle, who's more settled down. I lived there over sixth form and she's always been my next-of-kin contact.'

'You don't even have your parents down as next-of-kin?' Rob shook his head, amazed at the depth of the rift. Something about her demeanour told Rob that the subject was closed. But he burned with curiosity to know the details about the family feud.

'Anyway, that's the whole story,' Emma said briskly, confirming Rob's suspicion that he'd gone as far as he could. 'Is it all right if I pick your brains about the rest of my team now?'

'Of course. Sorry to pry. Who else do you want the official Rob Haines' opinion for?'

'There's a guy called Brian Chisholm, he's in as a detective sergeant. I should know his name but I can't place him.'

Rob gave a low chuckle. 'Old Chisholm. I can't believe he kept his job.' Emma still looked confused. 'If I said Inspector Chisholm? Of the Domestic Violence Unit?'

'Oh, yes. Wasn't he... well, I thought he quit? Under a cloud?'

'He should've done. He took his work home, if you see what I mean. His wife filed for divorce and all the dirty laundry came out. He's just hanging on until retirement really.'

Emma's flesh crawled. She'd been in the same office as a wife beater? She'd taken orders from him, talked to him like a friend? She was now re-evaluating her relationship with the man. He'd come across as a bit of a dinosaur but nothing worse.

Rob saw her reaction. 'Of course, he's a bit of a test case. He had to go on all sorts of awareness courses and everything. I think all the higher-ups are watching him to see if he can be rehabilitated. How do you feel that he's coming on?'

Emma nodded. All her experience told her that once a man was a predator, that was how he'd stay. But, there again, those in charge obviously thought that Chisholm deserved a second chance. What she did know was that she was likely to keep a far closer eye on him in the future. 'I don't know. I haven't had to work directly with him. Now I know though, I'll keep an eye out.'

Her thoughts were drawn, as they often were to Gregory Watts. If her bosses believed in rehabilitation for a policeman, where did that leave him? Emma knew that his current pattern of chasing schoolgirls was already well established. She resolved that the best place for him was behind bars.

'It sounds fairly predictable so far,' Haines said, breaking into her thoughts. 'People who are waiting to retire but no one else wants on their team. But between them, they will bring in plenty of experience. I may not always have seen eye to eye with Chisholm, but he is a solid copper. Who else has been assigned to the sinking ship?'

'It's not that bad!' Emma protested. 'Anyway we've got one new sergeant, some woman Susan, call me Suse, Berman. And, when you give me your opinion, you'd better avoid the word "dyke" or any references to female golfers.'

'I'm not that bad.' Rob held his hands up. 'And it doesn't matter whose bed she chooses to spend the night in. She's proper canny that one. Ain't never going to be a raving beauty but she looks the part to get some credit for diversity. And she's dead ambitious to boot.'

'So, how should I deal with her?'

'Well, try to get on her good side. If she likes you, she'll take you up with her. She's always been right there, knowing what the latest buzz word is, what the management want to hear. Give her ten years and she'll probably outrank me. Don't let me take anything away from her, though. She's a good copper.'

'As long as you stay on her good side and don't get in her way?'

'Now you're getting it.' Rob smiled.

'Shame I don't like her then,' Emma admitted.

Rob nodded. 'She's not one for doing the right thing and sod the consequences, like you are. Much more in favour of working out the odds and seeing what's best for her.'

Emma went cold. Had he remembered more details about the raid? Even worse, had he figured out who it was who'd shopped him to Professional Standards? Stonor already knew so it'd only be a matter of time.

'Is it true what I heard about Andy Stonor?' Rob asked. 'Down to detective constable.'

'Yep.'

'Figures. I could never turn him, you know. God knows I tried, but with his family history.' He took a deep breath. 'I'll be honest, always gave me a bit of a worry that did. Andy, right there on the inside, knowing everything but not involved.' He rubbed his hand over his hair that was still short and stubbly. 'Oh, I know he would never rat out on a mate, on his team, but you know. It kept me awake some nights.'

Emma sat there, struck dumb. She really didn't know how to negotiate this one.

'What's up? Have I been a bit direct again?' Rob asked. 'I get these thoughts in my head and they come out of my mouth before I've had a chance to think. I did tell you about the fiddle, didn't I? Taking money and information from Billy King in return for an easier ride and some product for him?'

'Yes, yes, you did tell me. Even tried to recruit me, the night before the raid. You probably don't remember, you know, with the head and all.' There was an awkward silence. 'And it did take me a bit by surprise. You just talking about this like we're passing the time of day.'

'Yeah, I know, sorry.' There was another pause. 'What did you say?'

'When?'

'When I tried to recruit you. I literally have no memory of it whatsoever.'

'Oh, I...' Emma was stuck. 'I was going to think it over. You left it up to me. After the raid I was to join the evidence collecting team if I wanted to help divide up the spoils, and if not, I'd have escorted the prisoners back to the station.' She paused, knowing that she'd have to get the next lie spot on. 'I hadn't really made my mind up when it all went tits up anyway.'

And awkward pause fell between them. The raid hadn't gone off okay. The question still wasn't answered and it hung between them. The lie weighed heavily on Emma. She had made up her mind. And her decision had been to betray the man she was now watching a film with.

Eventually the silence became too awkward. 'We've also got a new recruit,' Emma said.

'Huh, what was that?'

'Detective Constable Nicholas Dent. I must be getting old, because he looks like he's about twelve.'

Rob Haines laughed. 'It'll only get worse from here on in. What did you say his name was?'

'Nick Dent. Surely you don't know him?'

'No, not directly. But he must've come up through the uniformed ranks. I can ask around.' He sounded conciliatory, backing away from the previous conflict.

'Thank you. It'd be nice to know who I'm working with.'

Eventually the Atlantis base was being destroyed and James Bond was escaping with his Russian lover.

'I'd better get off,' Emma said, keen to escape before any more awkward questions were asked. On the doorstep, however, she thought she might have one more attempt to mend fences. 'With the advantage of hindsight though, it's a pretty good job that Professional Standards were involved. On the night of the raid, I mean.'

'How do you figure that, then?' All of Rob's good mood had gone. He clearly still saw the past as us versus them.

'Well...' Emma faltered a bit in the face of his antagonism. 'If Professional Standards hadn't been on the ground during the raid, where would we be now? Glen Hargreaves would've walked Pietr Garoza straight through the cordon and out of trouble. You'd have woken up in hospital to him leading CID, completely in the pocket of Garoza. Between them they would, by now, be on their way to turning Bradwick into a major importing hub for drugs from Bristol down to Cornwall. With all the sex trafficking and violence that come with it.'

Rob Haines took a deep breath. He looked uncomfortable. 'Like I say, I have no memories for over twenty-four hours, either side of the raid.'

'What do your contacts say?'

'Well, the doctors and Jem want to keep me insulated from bad memories. Apparently it's better if they come back naturally, not forced. That's why I'm grateful to you for filling me in.' He stopped to think. 'I suppose you could be right. Obviously I never wanted Professional Standards to shut things down. I was working on a strategy to carefully extricate myself from the scheme. Move on up through the ranks. But I suppose you're right,' he finally conceded. 'I had my doubts about Glen, I remember that much. I underestimated how bad he was.'

Emma nodded, and slowly backed away. Something else had occurred to her. Without the involvement of Professional Standards, there was a chance she wouldn't have been with Rob Haines on the night in question. And if that hadn't happened, then the day after the raid, both King and Haines would've been dead and Glen Hargreaves would've had unchallenged control over CID, the drugs trade and Bradwick.

She shook her head as she walked back to her car. However badly her decisions had played out, at least she had avoided that particular outcome.