From the moment last night’s Teams call ended, Bob had been churning over what he should have done differently. How he could have prevented a woman he’d never met from becoming a widow and an unborn child fatherless.
He’d been in charge of the operation. Ged, or Pete to give him his real name, had just been applying his exceptional skills to Bob’s bidding. He was responsible for keeping him and the operation safe and now, with what happened and the leak that he was a UC plastered over every news site, he’d failed at every turn.
Two days on from his own brush with death, his pain screamed louder than ever. The morphine pump did its best, but he was in for a long and frustrating recovery. At least he was alive though, which meant he had a chance to make amends.
A gentle tap on the door and then, before he could object, his favourite nurse, a small woman with a permanent smile but tired eyes, came in.
‘Good morning, Mr Heaton. How are we today?’
‘As well as anyone who’s acrobatted across a Peugeot four-door could be.’ 91
‘See, it’s always best to look on the bright side,’ she replied with a wink. ‘It’s time for your obs I’m afraid.’
While she crushed his arm with the blood pressure sleeve, poked the thermometer in his ear and shone a torch in his eyes, he wondered what the chances of the readings having changed in the last two hours were.
‘How long until I can go home?’ he asked.
The nurse chuckled. ‘The doctor should be round soon but you’ve had a nasty trauma. Don’t be in such a hurry to leave us,’ she said as she made to leave the side-room. ‘Your husband has made that a special request too.’
Bob feigned a laugh then turned back to his phone, horrified at the shitshow that was playing out on social media. What the hell was Darren Howe playing at? It took him just a couple of minutes more before a plan started to form. He flicked to the phone app and tapped a recent caller.
‘Boss. You OK?’ came the reply with more than a little surprise.
‘Not bad, thanks. Listen, Scotty, I know it’s a Sunday but are you working?’
‘Hold on.’ Bob could hear footsteps, then a door closing. ‘Sorry. No, I’m training this morning. Why, what’s up?’
‘Shit. OK, not to worry.’
‘No go on, what is it?’
‘I wanted you to come and pick me up from the hospital but I’ll get someone else.’
‘Blimey, have they discharged you already? They can’t wait to free up beds in that bloody place. Did I ever tell you about my nan? Eighty-five years old and …’
‘No, they haven’t,’ Bob interrupted. ‘I’m checking myself out. I need to do stuff that can’t be done from in here.’
‘But boss …’
‘Mate, if you can’t, you can’t, but spare me the lecture.’
For a second Bob thought Scotty had put the phone down. He was about to do likewise when the sergeant said, ‘Give me half an hour. Text me the ward name and … boss?’ 92
‘Yes?’
‘Have all the rows before I get there. I’m not happy with this and if I get roped in I might just side with the doctors.’
‘You’re a diamond. I love you Scotty.’
‘No you don’t, you owe me.’
True to his word, Bob had driven the hospital staff to the point of surrender by the time Scotty arrived. As he helped the DI out, he shrugged an apology to a nurse who, despite her smile, looked genuinely concerned.
As they turned out of Brighton and started up the A23, Bob piped up. ‘Where are we going? I don’t live this way.’
‘I know you don’t,’ said Scotty. ‘We’re going to meet some people. Springing you from hospital is way above my pay grade.’
‘That’s over-egging it a bit. I did all the springing and I could have got a cab.’
‘Why would you get a cab when you’ve got me for free.’
‘Fair point. Who are we meeting?’
‘You’ll see.’
Scotty pushed on past the Hassocks turn-off then took the slip road marked Henfield. He loved how close to the urban hustle of Brighton these seas of golden cornfields were. He didn’t look at Bob as he waited for a tractor and trailer to clear the mini roundabout, then turned right, leaving his indicator on and slowed to turn into a car park.
‘Rushfields?’ said Bob. ‘You’ve brought me to a bloody garden centre?’
‘I think you’ll find it’s a “Plant Centre, Farm Shop and Café”,’ said Scotty as he spotted a parking space to the right.
‘Well I hope we’re here for the latter, as I’m not in the mood for bedding-plant shopping.’
‘Bit late in the year for that boss.’
‘Whatever.’
Scotty straightened the car and turned the engine off. When he was out, he walked to Bob’s side and opened the door. As he went to take his 93arm, Bob shook him off. ‘Don’t you bloody dare. We might be in God’s waiting room but you’re not treating me like your granddad.’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Scotty as he walked through the gates to check whether their guests had arrived. He was in luck. They’d nabbed an outside table far enough away from most not to be overheard.
‘Ma’am. Sir,’ Scotty said.
‘Don’t make him struggle,’ said Jo, deadpan. She stood and made towards Bob, shambling a dozen yards away.
‘Good luck with that,’ mumbled Scotty, then said to Gary Hedges, ‘Bit my head off for helping him a moment ago. Thanks to you both for coming. I needed someone to talk sense into him.’
‘You might have picked the wrong pair in that case. Actually, it was handy you called, as Jo’s in a right state and needs a focus. And I’ve never been known to turn down a full English.’
‘Is she paying?’ said Scotty.
‘Either her or Bob. I forgot my wallet, as did you I gather.’ He winked.
‘Bugger,’ said Scotty with a grin as he tapped his pockets.
Bob and Jo approached. ‘I can’t believe he made you hobble,’ said Jo, glaring at Scotty.
‘Me neither,’ replied Bob.
Bob lowered himself onto the bench opposite Scotty and Jo reclaimed her place across from Gary.
‘First things first, what the hell are you doing out of hospital?’ she asked.
They all listened as Bob explained his reasons, then talked about aspects of the covert operation that to Scotty were breaking news. Despite the tragedies that had brought them all here, he felt a warm glow. Now, he might finally be able to avenge Lizzie’s death, lawfully or otherwise.
Once the breakfasts had been ordered and served, Jo’s phone rang.
Darren. Despite her conflicting feelings, she let it ring out.
All of a sudden she’d lost her appetite. Shuffling the sausage and bacon around the plate, she was relieved when Gary piped up. 94
‘You not eating that?’
She shook her head and pushed the plate to the middle, whereupon the three men descended on it liked starved piranhas.
‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I need some ideas. We’ve come too far to ditch Eradicate and I’m sensing the eye-catching benefits are just around the corner.’ The others’ conspiratorial looks seemed to question her. Bob spoke first.
‘Don’t you think we ought to listen to the ACC and just ease off for a little while? After all, we’re all going to be busy enough tracking down Pete and Lizzie’s killers so maybe we should take some time to regroup.’
‘He’s right,’ said Gary. ‘Let’s focus on that and meanwhile work out what’s gone wrong.’
‘Who says anything has gone wrong?’
Gary put his hand on her arm which she instantly snatched away. ‘I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong but two murders …’
‘Three.’
‘Three murders and an attempted murder,’ Gary continued – they all looked at Bob – ‘isn’t exactly the hallmark of success. Something has changed and we need to find out what and how we stop it.’
‘If it’s any consolation, we hadn’t tracked down anyone higher than Nathan Challenor, so maybe whoever shot him has done us a favour,’ said Bob.
Jo came straight back. ‘In what world is a murdered police officer a favour?’ Her phone rang again and this time she rejected it straight away.
‘He didn’t mean that,’ said Gary, giving Jo a look which said Everything OK? She broke his stare.
‘Can I come in?’ said Scotty, whom Jo had realised was not used to these heated exchanges between her and her closest colleagues.
‘Of course,’ she replied.
‘Thanks. I might know what’s changed.’
They all looked at him with fixed curiosity.
‘Saira and I met this guy the other day. Goes by the name of Spanners.’ 95
‘Spanners?’ said Gary.
‘Something to do with him being a mechanic.’
‘Imaginative.’
‘Anyway, he says that inmates being discharged from most of the prisons from Birmingham southwards are being offered £500 to come to Brighton and lie low until they are given a task.’
‘By who?’
‘Other inmates he says, but he reckons the screws know it’s going on.’
‘What sort of task are they given?’
‘Attacks, dealing. That sort of thing I gather.’
The three others were stunned into silence.
‘And I take it you’ve fed this nugget into the intelligence system,’ said Jo.
‘Er, not yet. I was going to but …’
Bob slammed the table with his good hand. ‘How many times, Scotty? There is no point in giving you free rein amongst the druggies and homeless if you keep everything to yourself. You have to submit the intel.’
Gary’s glare beat Jo to it in reminding Bob where they were.
‘I’m sure Scotty will do that the second we’ve finished here. In the meantime, tell us what your guy is saying,’ said Jo.
Scotty took them through everything Spanners had told him, including how he felt he was different from the others who drifted through the city.
‘Let’s be clear. He took the money too, yes?’ said Jo.
‘So he says.’
‘In that case, how do we know he hasn’t been used already?’
‘You need to be bloody careful,’ said Bob. Jo raised her hand to him, then killed another call.
‘In truth, we don’t. But why would he tell me about it if he might already be wanted? No, to my mind, he’s looking for a way out and hoping we can break up whatever’s happening before he’s forced into something which lands him back in prison.’
‘Do you think you can keep him onside?’ asked Jo. 96
‘I reckon so. He seems a smart guy and he’s been through some shit. I think I can package it as a lifeline for him. Depending on what you want him to do, of course.’
‘Er, can I just butt in?’ said Bob. ‘If we are talking about running an informant, we have a dedicated unit for that. And Scotty isn’t on it.’
Jo turned to Gary. ‘I don’t think we’re talking about that, are we Gary?’
‘I’m sure we’re not,’ he replied.
‘No. There you go Bob. Just a public-spirited citizen willing to help us protect lives and cut crime. Not an informant, never.’
Bob shook his head in surrender.
‘Good, we’re agreed.’ She turned to Scotty. ‘If you can keep in touch with this new friend of yours and if he happens to tell you what’s going on from day to day, who’s running the show, what he knows about the attacks and, most importantly, who if anyone is taking over from Challenor, that would be fabulous.’
‘And write it all down,’ grumbled Bob.
‘Yes please,’ said Jo. ‘Anyway, as I recall it, ACC Mills asked me, rather than told me, whether we should pause the operation. There was definitely a question in there so, whilst I didn’t say no, I wouldn’t want him to think we are flying in the face of that suggestion. Therefore, everything we do needs to be under the radar and reported to me.’
Gary pointedly looked at the Missed Call: Darren messages totting up on Jo’s phone, then said, ‘With respect, don’t you think you’ve enough on your plate just now?’
‘We are doing this,’ she said, a little too loudly for a public place.
Gary spoke in barely above a whisper. ‘I know we are, but you can trust others to run things for once. We are all behind you, but you do have some pressing domestic problems to deal with.’ She didn’t like the way he emphasised the syllable ‘press’. ‘Secondly, Mills suggested you ease off, not us. And thirdly, operations are my domain, despite you insisting on being Gold Commander for this one.’ 97
‘What are you saying?’
‘Let us get on with it.’
‘But …’
‘No buts.’ Gary raised his hand before she could argue. ‘Trust us, Jo. You might just like what happens when you do.’