There was never a good time to be sat around the chief constable’s conference table.
Jo’s presence here was rarely for a pat on the back or to present one of her crime-cutting ideas. Either, in the chief officers’ eyes, she had royally fucked up or, as was the case today, something devastating had happened and it required the collective brains to stop it getting any worse.
She was surprised that it wasn’t the actual chief constable chairing the meeting. Most of her senior colleagues accepted his invisibility when it came to operational matters but if the execution of an undercover officer working on a Sussex operation didn’t make him step up, what would?
‘Right. I think we’re all here,’ said the chair. ‘Shall we introduce ourselves? I’m ACC Leon Mills and I’m the duty chief officer this weekend.’ He turned to his left.
‘Chief Superintendent Jo Howe. Divisional Commander for Brighton and Hove and Gold Commander for Op Eradicate.’
‘DS Nick Dillon. I am, er was, Pete McElroy’s cover officer.’
‘DCI Claire Jackson. Senior investigating officer.’ 78
‘Superintendent Gary Hedges. Strategic firearms commander.’
‘And on the screen?’ said Mills.
‘DI Bob Heaton, I’m the covert operations manager for this deployment. I’m sorry if I cut in and out. The hospital Wi-Fi’s not great.’
‘No problem, Bob. I hope you’re on the mend.’
‘Thanks, sir.’
‘And I’m DCC Nigel Hughes, Cheshire Constabulary. Ged, or Pete as we know him, was one of ours.’
‘Thank you Nigel. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say how sorry we are for your loss.’
The deputy chief constable gave the faintest of nods.
‘Claire, if you can tell us where you are with the investigation and what, if anything more, the force can provide.’
Claire took the meeting through the various lines of enquiry, what her priorities were and how she had drawn in staff from across the region.
Gary talked through the armed policing plan which, until Claire came up with any viable suspects, amounted to armed response officers cruising the city poised to respond while trying to reassure the community they had their backs.
‘Nick, can you tell us about today’s events and what Ged, er Pete, was doing?’
‘Sure, thank you. As you probably now know, Pete had infiltrated an organised crime group led by Nathan Challenor. It was all to do with getting into the higher echelons of those subject to Op Eradicate.’ Jo felt all eyes fall on her. She shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Yesterday, he received an invitation from Challenor to go to the Brighton v Liverpool match at the Amex. He told Pete he’d introduce him to some useful contacts. Usually I’d have run it past DI Heaton but, as we know, he was rushed to hospital so I couldn’t get hold of him.’
Jo looked up at Bob.
Nick continued, ‘I agreed that, providing it was literally a networking meeting in a crowded public place, the risks were low and he should go.’ 79
‘I’d like to come in on that. Was that a formal risk assessment?’ said the Cheshire DCC.
‘Nigel, would you mind awfully if we leave that side of things to the IOPC?’ said Mills.
Jo winced at the mention of the Independent Office for Police Conduct, as did Bob. A couple of years ago they’d been responsible for the closest to a miscarriage of justice Jo had ever been involved in, resulting in Bob serving time on remand.
The DCC was about to reply, but Mills ploughed on.
‘What happened at the game then?’
Nick recounted how Pete had travelled by taxi, but his covert microphone had stopped working so Nick had no idea what happened or who he met before they realised this and he had switched earrings at half-time. He said that Pete had instructions not to travel in any vehicles but Nick could tell, once the comms had been restored, that he had no other option. He took a sip of water. ‘I heard all the conversation while they were in the car. It seems Challenor was drunk, or at least over the limit. I tried to text Pete to tell him to get himself out of there but the message wasn’t delivered. Next thing I hear is two thuds then a crash. Presumably that was Challenor’s car hitting the truck after they’d been shot.’
There was reverential silence as they all bowed their heads.
‘Jo, anything to add from a divisional or Eradicate perspective?’
‘Not a lot. We know Nathan Challenor of old. He’s the highest level in the Organised Crime Group who we’ve identified. He kept his network on a tight leash, and we were starting to look at him for any connections with Lizzie Reed’s murder and the attempted murder of Bob.’
‘Really?’ said the ACC.
‘Really,’ she said as if talking to one of her sons. ‘I’m convinced they are all drugs related and that he was the controlling mind. Or one of them.’
‘And did Pete uncover anything to corroborate that?’
Bob chipped in. ‘If I may, sir, no, not yet but we were optimistic he would one way or another. Can I add that whilst Nick wasn’t able to get 80hold of me, if he had I would have authorised the football visit.’
Nick looked at the screen and nodded a thank you to Bob.
‘OK. What I need to establish is whether there is any current threat, how we play this in the media and what we tell our staff. Here and in Cheshire,’ Mills added in what seemed like an afterthought.
‘In terms of the current threat,’ said Jo, determined they’d hear it from her, ‘I’m sure Claire will consider which of Challenor’s rivals had the capability to do this.’ She waited for Claire’s nod. ‘It’s highly possible that he was the target and Pete just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s nothing to suggest that he was compromised so, whilst we can’t rule it out, we have to be looking for another gang and to prevent reprisals.’
The group chatted around this point for a good ten minutes and agreed that was the likely scenario.
ACC Mills paused. ‘Here’s what we are going to do. Jo, you’re not going to like this, but we must show strength. I’d like you to tone down the outreach aspect of Op Eradicate for the time being and concentrate your resources on coming down hard on anyone, and I mean anyone, involved in drugs. Users, street dealers, gang members. We need to send a strong message that we will not tolerate such violence.’
‘But, sir …’
Mills held up his hand. ‘No, Jo. I agree these three events could well be linked so we must show them who’s boss. I’m not having a bloodbath on my watch. Please brief the council chief executive before you front the press conference, but if we can have a word in private first. Thank you everyone else. You may go.’
Jo shuffled uncomfortably as the ACC stood up and made sure the video conferencing monitor was switched off once, other than the two of them, the room was empty.
‘Cup of tea?’ he said.
‘I don’t drink tea but I’m fine. I’d rather just get on if it’s OK with you.’ 81
Leon Mills sat back down opposite Jo, the huge mirror-polished table a welcome barrier.
‘Are you OK with the press?’ he asked.
She allowed her eyebrows to shoot up at his patronising tone. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m assuming we are just throwing them some titbits so they don’t create the story for themselves.’
‘Yes, indeed. It’s unlikely we’ll get drawn on one of the dead being an undercover police officer. There’s nothing to suggest that’s out there. Fob any questions around identification off with the old “next of kin are being informed” line.’
‘But they’ve already been told I understand.’
‘Yes, but the press don’t need to know that. Anyway, just the basics. What I really wanted to talk to you about was the viability of the whole operation. Make no mistake, the IOPC will be all over this and that includes whether the undercover deployment was proportionate.’
‘But …’
Mills lifted a finger. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely support the experiment of reducing crime by collapsing the drugs market, but a lot of people are getting twitchy.’
‘Who exactly?’ said Jo, more abruptly than she’d intended.
Mills broke her gaze, pretending to flip through his notebook. ‘Well, the Police and Crime Commissioner, the Home Secretary – as I told you after Lizzie’s murder – and several of the Sussex MPs, one of whom I don’t need to remind you is the current Policing Minister. We have to play these people very carefully if we are to keep our funding level.’
‘But, sir, don’t you see, a little investment cuts crime which cuts demand which cuts costs. It’s a win–win.’
‘But not at any price. We’ve had three murders and one attempted murder in a few days, all with one thing in common. Op Eradicate.’
‘What are you suggesting? Wave the white flag?’ Jo could barely get her words out. Of all the chief officers she’d worked with, Leon Mills was the most affable, but he still lacked backbone. She wondered whether they had 82them surgically removed on day one of the Strategic Command Course.
‘I’m just saying, we are going to be under a lot of scrutiny for the next few months and maybe we should pause and try more traditional methods to reduce crime. Frankly, those who sign the cheques don’t share our patience for long term strategies. They need results yesterday. Or sooner if you can manage.’
Jo had had enough of this. She didn’t need a lecture on politics, or on the merits or otherwise of her flagship project. She was the one beaten up at each monthly performance meeting when burglaries went through the roof or robberies soared. Who did they think was committing the crimes, her own officers? She had done the research, scrutinised policing models across the globe and always came back to the same conclusion. Operation Eradicate worked and would continue to work. She knew she wasn’t going to get the top-cover she needed, so had to leave before Mills converted his mealy-mouthed suggestion to end the operation into a direct order.