COVER BLOWN: covert police work clashes with a murder investigation Page 9

  Moretti collapsed into his favourite leather tub chair and gazed at the tumbler of whiskey. The day had been long but rewarding. They’d re-interviewed Buchanan who’d maintained his solicitor’s advice of no comment and stuck to it this time. No explanation for the contents of the pannier, which were now in the system for forensic examination. They hoped something would come back that would lead to a further charge against Buchanan even if it wasn’t related to their investigations.

  An internal appeal had been raised and placed on the Police Intranet system with the hope that any borough that was dealing with a serious sexual offence that factored rope, tape and a knife, should contact Nash’s team. They were running out of time to hold Buchanan. Nash would have to make a decision whether to charge or bail soon, or to consult with the CPS with what they had.

  Moretti noticed an internal light was on in Tabatha’s boat. He toyed with his glass and grabbed the bottle and another tumbler. He wanted company that wasn’t a police officer, but quickly realised it wouldn’t be a good idea. He needed a clear head for tomorrow and on previous encounters with Tabatha that had proved a rarity. He’d met with Jade Williams’s parents’ today and it had been a tough meeting. Many questions had been asked as to the strategy the team had, and whether they were linking the two cases together as they’d read of a similar murder in the Metro paper. He’d managed to assuage them as best he could. Nash was unavailable but knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain that position for long. They needed results and fast. Moretti had stood the team down at 8 p.m. He was aware that some of the staff were in need of an evening at home and as both cases were in the same state, he saw no reason why they shouldn’t. Nash would’ve done the same, he was sure, and he’d seen no reason to bother her.

  He got up, found his bag and took out his daybook and pen. He took both along with his drink over to a sofa near to his turntable. He placed everything he’d carried on a low table and flicked through his albums until he found one that suited his mood and requirement to think. Otis Redding was his choice of company.

  He gently extracted the vinyl from its paper bed and placed the record on the turntable’s felt mat. He lowered it carefully, as though he was placing a sleeping baby back in a cot. He let the needle drop and sat back down. He picked up his book and pen and found a page with a comparison diagram he’d drawn up of the two victims’ lifestyles. The only similarities being they were professional women, single, lived and worked in London and owned a cat. He put it back down, picked up the phone and called Tabatha.

  * * *

  Nash had just started to boil some pasta after a Wing Chun workout with the wooden dummy training tool that occupied a corner of her living room. Her covert phone’s screen blinked for attention. The name Denny appeared on the screen. It was Harris. Nash had his pseudonym programmed into her phone. It helped her remember to use it. Nash glided her thumb across the screen to answer.

  ‘What you up to?’ Harris asked in a jovial but inquisitive tone. Nash recognised his voice.

  ‘I’m at home, trying to eat after a workout, you?’

  ‘Well put him down. I’m at the coalface and need some help.’

  Nash ignored the remark and kept the phone at her ear as she stirred the pasta.

  ‘You’re kidding me? I’ve been in senior management meetings since I left a search and I’m knackered. Is there no other poor sod you can drag out at this time of night to get you home?’ Nash said.

  ‘I wish, but sadly not. Your man has called. He wants another meet but insists on you being there. Look, I know it goes against the grain and you’ve done what was asked, but it should be a quick ten-minute link then away. He’s a little skittish now business is up and running between us. He wants to know you’re still in the picture to hold his hand. Not that I’m suggesting you’d wish to. So, how about I get you in… five minutes?’

  ‘Are you outside my flat?’ Nash asked.

  She looked out of her living room window where she saw the unmistakable form of DS Harris waving back at her, all smiles and confidence.

  ‘Where else would I be? Shift your arse, Pip, and don’t wear anything fancy.’ Harris laughed.

  Nash shook her head in his direction and let the curtain drop. She killed the gas and the boiling water cut to a simmer. She dressed in a loose pair of yoga trousers and a warm top to match. She slipped on some trainers and grabbed a body warmer. She grabbed the phones Harris had given her. She hadn’t explained the number to Moretti yet as she’d had other priorities to address, but she hoped she wouldn’t be in need of it tonight.

  Nash jumped in the back seat of Harris’s car and spread out across the length of the seats. Harris was a stickler for cleanliness, as were most of the villains he associated, professionally, with. Cars that appeared clear of crap were less likely to be searched, or so the theory went. As Harris drove, Nash stared out at the lights of London. She wondered whether she’d get a spark of light that would capture the essence of her own investigations and shine the way towards a suspect and a result at court. Not that she could do anything about that at present, but such was the flexibility the job expected of its officers, regardless of rank, when specialist work required immediate attention.

  Harris prepared for the meeting by listening to music on the car’s stereo and kept himself to himself as he drove. Every now and then he’d glance in the rear-view mirror. Nash knew this was only to make sure she was awake, or to make certain they weren’t being followed. They arrived at the shop in good time. Nash sat up and glanced over at the shop window. She felt safe to observe thanks to the privacy glass in the car. A slither of light provided by the cracks in the shuttered frame indicated someone was in. All good, so far, she thought.

  Harris dumped the car in a side street and they walked around to an alleyway at the rear of the shop. He casually strode towards a steel reinforced door; an entrance he’d obviously used before as he hit the steel with the side of his fist. Mace answered it quickly and they entered. He embraced Harris like a long-lost friend and Harris reciprocated. Nash declined Mace’s advances by folding her arms as though she was cold. They were shown into a small back room.

  Mace opened a door onto a set of wooden steps that descended into a basement area. He went first. Nash and Harris followed.

  ‘For my own piece of mind put any phones on the table and remove batteries,’ Mace said as he pointed at chairs that surrounded a wooden table for them to sit. Harris emptied his pockets and placed two phones down.

  Nash brought out the Nokia Harris had given her and an identical iPhone Harris had acquired to replace hers. Mace’s eyes fixed on the Nokia. She ignored him despite seeing his attention drawn to it. She put it down to a habit of his trade. Nash made a show of turning her iPhone off. Mace reached above a run of cabinets and produced a metal detection wand similar to the ones used in the custody area.

  ‘A small precaution before we begin.’ He gesticulated with the wand for Harris to raise his arms to the side.

  Harris looked away and raised his arms nonchalantly. Nash shook her head and tutted but did the same. Mace, now satisfied, began to relax and moved to place the wand away.

  ‘Not so fast,’ Nash said.

  Mace paused, mid stretch, and turned back to face her.

  ‘Now it’s your turn. I need to be satisfied the way is clear for conversation,’ she said. She smiled at the owner and widened her eyes.

  Mace shrugged and handed the wand to her. Nash handed it to Harris. There was no way she was getting close to the sweating bulk of Mace. Harris took the wand and handled the scan. Mace lowered his arms and once Harris had finished, he handed the wand back.

  ‘We’re good to go,’ Harris acknowledged.

  Mace poured each of them a drink and raised his glass.

  ‘To business, salute,’ he said before downing the drink.

  Harris raised his glass and took a sip. Nash left hers alone. Mace looked at her as if he’d been insulted.

  ‘I like to keep a clear
head while business is discussed,’ Nash assured him.

  Mace shrugged but accepted the explanation.

  ‘So, I have good news for you, my friends. I have another supplier who is interested in coming on board with our profit-sharing venture. They have a steady flow of product that will service each of our premises well. In this day and age too many people like to talk to police and it is only a fool who keeps all his stock in one place, no?’ Mace said, while raising his palms towards the two of them and cocking his head.

  Harris nodded in agreement and waited for him to continue. The more he let him talk the better it was for his investigation. Harris wasn’t wired because he had Nash to corroborate anything said, if it came to that. He was very glad he wasn’t after Mace’s apparent change of tactic. Harris breathed deeply. It was all going better than he expected and he felt relaxed enough in the company to know he wouldn’t be needing backup tonight. This was a good thing as there wasn’t any. For the moment this was just an exploratory sit-down and nothing more. See what was being offered and take things from there.

  ‘What kind of product are we talking about?’ Harris asked, keen to establish they were still singing off the same hymn sheet.

  ‘IPhones, the latest. All boxed and ready to go. We will make sure each one is unlocked to any network. I am assured they are, but you can’t trust some people to be telling the truth,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Harris nodded his appreciation while he stifled a laugh. If only the owner knew. Harris also knew Nash would not stop laughing if he set her off, so he took a deep breath, coughed and bashed his chest.

  ‘Sorry, strong stuff that,’ Harris said as he pointed at his glass.

  ‘It is my own vodka brought over by family when they last visited home. So, are you in the market for expansion? Price we negotiate, but what you say?’

  Harris looked at Nash who gestured with a flick of her chin that it was down to him to take the decision. Nash had made a point of saying as little as possible. Last thing she wanted was for Mace to believe her presence would be at every meeting. She’d enough of her main work to deal with, and she felt a nagging guilt that she wasn’t focussed on it now.

  ‘Show me what you’ve got,’ Harris said.

  ‘I knew you’d want to see for yourself before making decision. You’re a wise man,’ Mace said as he rose up and went to a cupboard.

  He produced a sealed box and brought it to the table.

  ‘This one is for you. A gesture of goodwill and you can see they are legit. All top of the range.’ Mace pushed the sealed box towards Harris.

  Harris tapped the box with his fingers as he mulled over what was being requested. He bided his time as to whether he would open it or play it a different way. He was conscious of giving the appearance he was who he was purporting to be, a man much like Mace. This was no street drug deal.

  ‘You’ve been straight with me since our mutual friend here introduced us. I also know where you operate. I’ve no reason to think these phones are anything but the real deal. One question,’ Harris said.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘How can I be confident they won’t come back on me or anyone I sell them to?’

  ‘My boy will make sure they are all set up and the boxes resealed. Professionally, of course, you understand. Like the one you have now. This isn’t the first time we have worked this system. It is tried and tested. Nothing to worry about for you or the customer. They get the latest in perfect condition. So, what you say? Name the volume of units you require.’

  Harris sat back and turned the box over in his hands as though he was preparing to throw an American football. Harris had him just where he wanted him. He knew this wasn’t Mace’s first foray and was grateful he’d admitted as much. There’d been a series of lorry thefts where pallet-loads of phones were robbed. An inside man had been put in the warehouse by a crime family. They in turn learned which transport took which products and the route. All that was left was for the driver to be relieved of the cargo before it reached its destination.

  What the family hadn’t bargained for was a team of undercover officers to work the same warehouse and plant a shipment of phones on a rigged lorry. Rigged for sight and sound. Harris knew where this phone had come from because the last three digits on the serial number of the box told him this was from the last lorry jacking. The driver was an undercover police officer. The cameras mounted all over the lorry cab and container recorded the rest, as did the surveillance team who’d observed the robbery with the knowledge there was to be no arrests at that stage. Now Harris had the last link in the chain, the man who sold them on. All was looking good in DS Carl Harris’s world.

  ‘I’ll take eighty percent of what you’ve got, and you hold twenty. That way the risk is on me and not you. But I’ll need the profit split in my favour,’ Harris said as he waited for the bartering to begin.

  Nash, who was as much in the dark as Mace, sat back and observed the play. Business was as good as done and she didn’t need any long celebration.

  ‘Sixty-forty in my favour as I have taken the greater risk in obtaining the product. I will have the units delivered to you at the end of the week,’ Mace said, reaching across the table to shake hands with Harris who’d nodded in agreement.

  Harris beamed inside, as he knew the reason for the delay in delivery. It was down to the warehouse where they were stored being in Kent. He knew this, as that was where the phones had been taken after the robbery, and the place was now under police observation. Harris now knew they’d all be moved sooner rather than later and the operational team would be overjoyed that the job was panning out better than they’d all hoped at the start.

  Nash stood up. Harris took the opportunity she’d presented to make their exit and conclude business. Mace went to place his hand on Nash’s shoulder but she deftly ducked away.

  ‘I’m all sweaty after a run. A pleasure to do business as always,’ she said, as she smiled and went for the door Harris held open.

  ‘I knew you were a shrewd woman the first time I saw you,’ came Mace’s reply as he watched her leave, closely followed by Harris.

  * * *

  Their car was still where they’d left it. Home was exactly where Nash was going and not on a celebratory bender with Harris. She got in the passenger seat this time and Harris knew she’d something she needed to voice.

  ‘You knew what that meet was going to be about didn’t you?’ she enquired, as they stopped at the first set of lights they met.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just how far down the road is your operation, Carl?’

  Harris wiped his mouth and checked the side mirror before moving off.

  ‘Look, you won’t be in any evidential chain. Not with the evidence the Ops team have on this firm. I needed you there tonight and it was a huge success as–’

  ‘As you knew that boxed phone was nicked and which job it was from. You had all the evidence you required sat in your bear-like paws,’ Nash said, looking side-on at Harris as he drove.

  ‘What’s eating you?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s eating me is that you dragged me along to a meeting you knew was going to go your way despite the fact I told you I have a double murder investigation on my books. I only came because you said it would ease matey boy’s mind if he saw me again. Well, from what I could see, he didn’t need any reassurance. You pulled me along on one of your jollies for what? To gloat? Give it the big I am? What the hell’s got into you?’ Nash said.

  Harris checked his rear-view mirror. He’d heard enough. He swung the car over outside a kebab shop. People lingered on the pavement and the staff looked hassled.

  ‘Out with it, Pippa, because I’m not up for a car journey with you chewing at my ear because your investigation has hit the skids where mine happens to be taking off. We’re all under pressure for results. Contrary to what you may think, I know you understand the role and know when to shut up. If you can’t take the responsibility of the undercover wor
ld anymore just say and I’ll revoke your ticket. Shame though, as that course isn’t cheap,’ Harris said.

  ‘Isn’t cheap? It’s you and Tiny that run it and you make money off it too!’

  ‘Bollocks! That money is for fuck-up fines and it all goes to charity, and you know it. So, what’s up?’

  Out here they were the same. Rank didn’t matter. They were still hyped up from the meeting and not back in the role of being police. Nash ruffled her hair and let the seat’s neck rest support her head as she stared ahead.

  ‘I enjoyed tonight, all right. I miss this work. Those carefree times where results mattered but no one was dead at the end of it. No grieving families and answers you can’t give. It’s the first week of March and my team have had no downtime from the last job. They’re on their knees but still doing all they can. I feel knackered, if I’m honest, and could make a mistake if I’m not careful.’

  ‘Like Pussygate you mean?’

  Nash looked at Harris who had his eye on a set of legs that extended from a short skirt that had drifted into the kebab house.

  ‘Exactly. JJ is one of the best I have. It’s just not like him to make those kinds of errors. Even Moretti had a pop at me the other day and it’s been ages since he’s done that.’

  Harris withdrew his gaze from the legs and back into the car. He’d been listening. He’d never ignore a friend even if his body language indicated otherwise.

  ‘For what it’s worth I do remember the days of running a team, not murder, pro-active,’ he said. ‘It was easier then. I had the staff and the cash to give out as much overtime as we could muster. Times have changed, Pip. The staff and the money ain’t there anymore, as we both know. Especially being a DI. I stay in this role because I love it. I get a buzz from it. When I get jobs like these, I know I’m doing decent work so I don’t give a fuck about anything else. Probably why I’m out here now and not at home. You’re different though. You’ve got brains and you’re a decent copper who cares. Just don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ Harris finished speaking and let out a sigh. More from tiredness and a release of adrenaline now the night’s work was done.