Despite being more prepared than he’d ever been for a trial, Bob had been at his desk since 7 a.m. The events of the last few weeks had shaken not just him but the whole force. The Crown Prosecution Service remained sure that, in light of Ged’s murder, they had an arguable case to persuade the judge to admit the undercover evidence anyway.
As he cross-checked the contents of the exhibit box with the schedule, he was interrupted by a gentle tap on the door.
DS Luke Spencer’s usual pristine appearance had given way to a grey two-piece suit which was passable at best, a pastel green shirt in dire need of an iron and a black tie which seemed as if it had been knotted by someone in boxing gloves.
‘Mate, you might want to have a shave before we head off. And maybe swill some Optrex round those eyes.’
Luke didn’t react, just stood in the doorway, his Adam’s apple throbbing above his unbuttoned collar. Bob sprung up and dashed round the desk. ‘Sit down, sit down,’ he said as he shut the door and closed the window blinds against prying eyes. ‘What’s the matter? Is it Leo?’ 166
Luke sniffed and nodded.
‘I know it’s easy for me to say but he’s safe. Yeah, that was a fright, but you can’t let them win.’
‘I know, I know, but what if they take him for good next time? Judy won’t let him out of her sight and she blames me.’
‘I suppose that’s natural but once we bang these bastards up, you’ll have nothing to worry about.’
Luke gave Bob a look which said We both know that’s not true.
‘Should I speak to Judy?’ This time Luke threw Bob a different look. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe not. Look, help me with this lot, take your mind off it a bit. I just want to check we’ve served all the unused material we should have. Can’t lose this on a technicality.’
Five miles past the Hickstead showjumping ground, en route to Croydon Crown Court, the A23 traffic came to a sudden and total stop.
‘Good job we left early,’ he said to Luke, who seemed distracted tapping messages on his phone. A quick glance at the screen told Bob he was trying to appease his wife, so he pretended he hadn’t noticed.
After fifteen minutes, they’d still not moved an inch and Bob was starting to get concerned. ‘Luke, can you get on to comms and find out what’s going on?’ Bob rubbed his arm, then tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. He tried to fill in the gaps when he heard Luke say, ‘Oh I see … Anyone injured? … Christ, poor bastard … How long?’
As Luke finished the call, Bob said, ‘Well?’
‘There’s an artic jack-knifed and overturned a couple of miles up here. The driver’s in a bad way. Looks like we’ll be stuck here for hours.’
Bob looked in the mirror and saw the traffic stacked up behind. ‘Better give the court a ring,’ he said, more to himself than Luke.
Scrolling through his contacts, he found the number for the court’s CPS office. It rang and rang. He checked his watch: 9.05 a.m., so there should be someone there. After it automatically cut off, he tried again and again but still no one picked up. 167
‘You haven’t got a mobile number for the caseworker have you, Luke?’
‘I don’t think so. Let me see if it’s on the footer of any of his emails.’
While Luke checked, Bob looked around. People were out of their cars, stretching their legs and chatting to one another as if long-lost friends. Bob would have liked to join them but he needed to get a message to the court that he’d be late. Just then everyone looked up as the thump thump thump of a helicopter ricocheted the air around them.
‘Sorry guv, nothing.’
‘No worries. I’ll get someone to see if they can get a message to him.’ Bob was about to call the CID office when Unknown Caller flashed up on his phone. He looked at Luke, shrugged and tapped ‘accept’.
‘DI Heaton.’
‘Where are you Mr Heaton? We’re waiting for you at court.’
‘Sorry, who is this?’
‘Lance Redmond, CPS.’
‘Well good morning to you, Mr Redmond. I’ve being trying to contact you. Currently, DS Spencer and I are stuck in traffic on the A23 with all the exhibits in the boot of our car. The way things are looking, I think we might be here for some time.’
‘Well the judge is already getting very anxious. Defence counsel are talking about making applications to dismiss the case given your absence and that of the other police witnesses.’
‘What other police witnesses? One’s dead so I’m sure he can be excused, but the others should be there.’
‘I’m afraid not. They’ve all called in sick.’
‘What? All of them?’
‘Every one. Even that cover officer on whom we were so relying.’
‘How didn’t I know that?’
‘I have no idea, but I’ve come in to a string of messages to say each of them has gone off with this, that or the other. The judge wants to hear from us on what we propose in fifteen minutes and he’s determined to start the trial today.’ 168
‘Hold on. You’ve got to give me more time. I’ll find out what’s going on. I’ll see if I can get out of this jam somehow. I’m sure there’s a way round this.’ He ended the call and turned to Luke.
‘He’s changed his tune. Look, everyone’s thrown a sickie. Find out what’s going on. I need them all spoken to and at court ASAP. I’ll try to get the chief crown prosecutor in to bat for us.’
Bob ignored the gridlock surrounding him as he tried to pull every string he could think of, including Jo Howe and ACC Leon Mills, but no one seemed to be getting anywhere and the minutes were ticking away. He sensed that Luke was having no more luck as he was locked into a rhythm of dial, wait, redial, wait, try new number, repeat.
After forty-five minutes of dead ends, Bob knew he was coming to the end of the line. On seeing the other carriageway empty of traffic, in a last throw of the dice he called a traffic sergeant friend to see if they could be picked up and driven down that side of the road. He punched the dashboard when he was told that was where the air ambulance had landed so nothing was passing any time soon.
Then his phone rang. Unknown Caller. He checked his watch.
‘DI Heaton.’
‘Yes, it’s Lance Redmond. I’m afraid you’ve had your chance. The judge has dismissed the case.’
‘You what?’
‘There’s no need to shout. The judge has dismissed the charges against all the defendants and they are being released as we speak. I did warn you.’ It was Redmond who hung up this time, which was just as well given the invective that came from Bob’s mouth. He looked at Luke whose face, despite the region’s top drug dealers now being out on the street, showed a flicker of relief.
In all his years working with the street homeless and drug addicts, Scotty had learnt that appointment times were a movable feast, sometimes by days. He was surprised therefore when, bang on midday, Spanners shuffled 169across the road from the Brighton Centre towards where he stood beside Shelter Hall. He flicked his head, indicating that his guest was to take the east steps down onto the beach, while Scotty himself took the west ones.
Scotty then turned and headed for the subway that led from the beach under Kings Road – far from inquisitive eyes.
Scotty checked for any rough sleepers. Happy they were alone, he beckoned Spanners into the shadows.
‘Bit of a bombshell you landed on me in front of the boss the other day.’
‘Well, you did push it. What did you want me to do, lie?’
‘You wouldn’t be the first. Anyway, tell me what you know about that bastard we found at the tip.’
Spanners took him through everything that had happened in the squat and how he’d tried to save the man’s life. He choked a little when he recalled how no one had seemed that bothered that the man had died.
‘You do know who it was, don’t you?’ said Scotty.
Spanners shrugged. Scotty was about to go on when a figure came towards them, boots shuffling among the discarded food wrappers. ‘You got any gear, mate?’ slurred the interloper.
‘Is this who you’re serving up to?’ Scotty shouted at Spanners, dragging him forward.
‘Oh, fuck, Sergeant Scott,’ said the would-be drug buyer as he spun round and ran at a pace that belied his wasted appearance.
For a second both Scotty and Spanners chuckled. ‘Not sure we’ll be seeing him back here for a while.’
‘Does everyone know you?’
‘I hope so. Anyway, as I was saying, did you recognise the bloke who died?’
‘No. Well he looked familiar but he was fucked so, well, I don’t know.’
‘I showed you a picture of him when I took you out to Shoreham. Remember? That was the bastard who killed my … the drug worker.’
‘Oh shit. Of course. In my defence, it was bloody dark in there. I’m 170certain I’ve never seen the other geezer before though.’
‘What about those other two who OD’d the other day? They were regulars. Do you know what happened to them?’
‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’
‘We know how they died but what we don’t know is why. They were doing well and it seems a bit of a coincidence they died so soon after that bloke.’
‘Maybe there was a connection, maybe it’s a coincidence. Want me to find out?’
That took Scotty aback. He’d asked many a drug user for information but none had ever volunteered quite so readily. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘The way I see it, you lot have got no hope of finding out what’s going on. If you had someone on the inside who could find out, maybe it might just save a life or two. Makes sense?’
Scotty’s heart leapt at the thought that he might just be able to find out who was behind Lizzie’s murder and, with a fair wind, he might get to them before his detective mates. He pushed Bob Heaton’s warnings about running unofficial informants to the back of his mind.
‘You sure?’
‘If you want.’
‘What’s in it for you?’
‘I get to live,’ said Spanners.
Scotty nodded then took Spanners by the hand and pulled him in for an embrace, whispering, ‘Thank you mate. I owe you,’ as he released his grip.
For the remainder of the two hours it took for the traffic to clear, Bob was raging at whoever would take his calls. He insisted Luke give him personal contact details for all the police witnesses, even those in covert roles, as it was impossible to believe so many officers were genuinely sick on the first day of a major trial.
He didn’t want to be accused of bullying the genuinely ill, but he 171wanted answers and was determined to see the rat he could smell.
For wily, streetwise cops, their efforts were pitiful. The range of ailments, from diarrhoea to bad backs and migraines, lacked more imagination than a 1970s soap opera storyline. Equally superficial were their excuses as to why they’d not told him directly. It was not only in the regulations, but also common decency to let your boss know you were off sick, especially on a day like this.
The crash had been just bad luck, but Bob still felt that the morning’s events leading to the judge pulling the plug on the case had more behind them than he could put his finger on. Judges never worked that quickly.
Luke had taken over the driving, leaving Bob to make some calls. The last one, before he sulked on the journey back to Brighton Police Station, was to Jo’s PA. He’d already texted her the bad news but wanted to speak to her face to face.
Jo spun her chair round when Bob appeared.
‘Come in, and shut the door.’
He did as she asked, then pulled up Gary’s chair. After all these years, he’d only recently stopped waiting to be invited to take a seat.
‘I can’t believe it, ma’am.’
Jo coughed and pointed to the closed door.
‘Sorry. I can’t believe it, Jo.’
‘Better.’ She tried to lighten the mood but with her personal and professional lives crumbling around her, that was a struggle. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’
Bob took her through the morning’s events, giving particular emphasis to the formulaic excuses each of the officers gave for being sick.
‘Something’s up,’ he said.
‘I agree,’ she said. ‘I’ll buy one, or even two, forgetting to call you. Especially the ones who were puking, but all of them? That’s never happened.’
‘I reckon they’re scared. You should have seen Luke this morning. 172What happened to his boy has destroyed him. They don’t want the same to happen to them.’
‘They’re all grown-ups and they all know we can look after them if they feel under threat. Withdrawing labour is not what we do.’
Bob’s expression said it all. If the last two years had taught them anything it was that nothing and no one could protect even the burliest of cops against an ingenious and determined force.
‘What about the crash?’ asked Bob. ‘Coincidence?’
‘It’s early days yet. The headlines are the driver died at the scene. That does happen, and hundreds, if not thousands, of motorists will have had their plans disrupted. However, if whoever is behind recent events is as connected as they must be …’
‘And ruthless.’
‘Yes. If they are as connected and ruthless as they seem to be, we can’t rule out that the crash was staged to trap you before you got to court.’
‘They must have had great intelligence. Sure, there’s only one sensible route to drive to Croydon Crown Court, but they’d have had to know when we left, et cetera. Who’s to say we wouldn’t have already passed where they chose to stage the crash?’
Jo gave him a do catch up look.
‘What?’
‘These are clever people. I take it you left your phone behind, Luke too? I take it you scanned the car before you set off? And, how about your counter-surveillance tactics? All up to scratch?’
‘You reckon?’
‘I don’t know. All I’m saying is that if we assume that they’re this determined to pull the plug on anything connected to Eradicate, there must be a serious reason for it and that must be money. Big money. So, if what we are doing is affecting their coffers so much, they’re going to protect their investment.’
‘Right.’
‘And that means they’re not going to stop. I don’t want to bring this 173back to me but if they can engineer Darren’s arrest, then what else can they do?’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Let’s do what we are good at. Get out and pay them all visits.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Let me finish. Get everything you can on all the officers’ phones, pay them the welfare visits they’re entitled to and get all the CCTV around their homes checked. I want to know who they’ve been speaking to, when, where and how, and then we might just pick up some patterns.’
‘You going to authorise all that?’
‘No. I’m not nearly independent enough to satisfy the legislation. We need to find someone who’s removed enough to be objective.’
Just then, Gary Hedges barged the door open, bellowing down his phone which was wedged between his shoulder and ear, his other hand clutching his laptop case. As he caught sight of Jo and Bob, he mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
‘Speak of the devil,’ said Jo, stifling her laugh when she saw Gary’s face drop in dread.