Authors: Mark Timlin
'So,
what do you reckon?' asked Sean.
'At
least two weapons used, maybe more,' said Sally Cooper. 'Those two…' she
pointed at Ali and Geezer, 'shotgunned, and him…' she indicated Tommo lying on
the floor, 'handgun, I imagine. So that means there were at least two, maybe
three or more, who knows? We'll have a better idea after the PMs.'
'Quite
a party,' said Sean.
'Anything
found?' asked Childs.
'Like?'
said Cooper.
'Money
or drugs. Weapons. Anything really.' 'Not so far. But there's plenty of illicit
fags and booze from the Continent.'
'So
you think this was something to do with smuggling?' asked Sean, hoping that it
was.
'I
dunno,' said Cooper. 'No. My gut says drugs. I know French contraband is big
business, but it doesn't smell right. Anyway, Customs are coming down later.
They might have some ideas. What about you?'
'We'll
go and talk to Jenner again. By the way, are Area Drugs about?'
'In
the cafe on the corner. They want the bodies out of the way before they'll soil
their dainty little hands.'
'Sounds
about right,' said Childs. 'Always were squeamish buggers.'
'Yeah,
I know,' said Cooper. 'I was with them for three years.'
Sean
smiled. Nice one, Bobby, he thought.
The
three of them divested themselves of their coveralls and went looking for the
drugs squad. They were indeed ensconced in a greasy spoon just across the road,
two rough-looking individuals in scruffy clothes and two days' growth of beard
who welcomed Cooper like an old friend. 'Christ, Sally. Be careful, they don't
serve croissants in here,' said the most raggedy of the pair in a broad Welsh accent.
'Graham,
you look as lovely as ever,' she said to the one who'd spoken. 'Going to get me
a cup of tea?'
'Earl
Grey?'
'It's
getting old, Graham. Leave it.'
She
introduced Pierce and Childs. Graham was Sergeant Graham Jackson, and his
companion was DC Paul Brant.
Jackson
sent Brant to the counter for refreshments and when he returned, the five of
them huddled around a single table. 'So,' said DS Jackson. 'What do you
reckon?'
'We've
heard that a drug deal that went pearshaped down near Basingstoke three days
ago was run by a bloke called John Jenner and that this is where the gear ended
up,' said Sean. 'But you know all about that.'
Jackson
shook his head. 'It's news to me.'
'What?'
said Sean suddenly confused. 'But it's your snout gave us the info, surely.'
Again
Jackson reacted negatively. 'No mate, sorry. We've been rummaging around in
Hackney for the past week helping out Operation Trident. We just got a call to come
see what's been did and what's been hid with that trio of likely lads over the
road. This is murder squad business. We're just here to annoy Sally really.'
'Christ,'
said Sean, looking at Childs in bewilderment. 'Then whose fucking snout is it
then? Sorry,' he said to Sally.
'I've
heard the word before, DS Pierce.'
'Sean,
please.'
She
smiled and Jackson, Brant and Childs all exchanged looks that Sean didn't
notice.
'John
Jenner, eh?' said Jackson. 'Bloody hell. I thought he was out of our hair for
good.'
'How
come?' asked Childs.
'He's
got cancer,' said Brant. 'Terminal.'
'Shit,'
said Childs. 'And they told me there was no truth in the power of prayer. No
wonder he looked so rough the other day.'
'You've
seen him?' said Jackson.
'Just
for a minute. Renewing an old acquaintanceship, as it were.'
'Do
you reckon he's got it in him to do that over there?' Jackson stuck his thumb
in the direction of the warehouse.
'Doubtful,'
said Sean.
'It
doesn't take a lot of strength to pull a trigger,' said Sally Cooper.
'No.
That's true,' said Sean. 'And it looks like there were at least two of them.'
'He
always had a gang,' said Childs. 'And that sod Chas has a mean streak.'
'I don't
believe it,' said Jackson shaking his head. 'They were old mates, him and Ali
and Tommo. They've been working together for more years than I've been in the
job.'
'When
thieves fall out…' said Sally.
'No.
It just doesn't make sense, unless Ali or Tommo or both of them suddenly
decided to turn Jenner over. But why would they? They've all been feathering
their nests very nicely since God was a child, thank you. Why now? When
Jenner's on his last legs?'
'Precisely,'
said Brant. 'Now would be the best time.'
'I
still don't see it,' said Jackson. 'I know it makes sense if you look at it
that way. But Jenner's is just a name that's come up from Christ knows where.
He's been quiet for ages. There's plenty of other villains who'd do those three
over there for fourpence and never turn a hair.'
'Well,
we'd better get on, I think,' said Sally Cooper, finishing her tea. 'There's
going to be a mobile HQ on the carpark over there as soon as. My guv'nor and I
will be running that in tandem with Brixton nick. You boys are more than
welcome to hang around but you might be better served checking on your own
snouts. What do you say?' "
'We
say good riddance to the lot of them,' said Graham Jackson. 'We've got plenty
enough to do without worrying about dead drug dealers. It's the live ones we're
interested in. But we'll keep in touch, Sally. Anything we hear we'll pass on.'
'That'll
be a first then,' said Cooper,
'Funny,'
said Jackson, and with a nod to each, he and Brant left.
'Not
much help, were they?' said Childs.
Cooper
wrinkled her nose. 'Not much, but they've got some good intelligence and when
they're prepared to share they might come in useful.'
'Did
you believe that about it not being their snout who gave up the info?' asked
Childs.
'I
do, as it happens,' said Sally Cooper. 'Graham never was one for hiding his
light. If it had been one of his, he'd've let us know soon enough.'
'It's
a bloody mystery then, isn't it?'
'I
don't think there's much for us here,' said Sean. 'We'll leave you to it,
Sally. But we're going to have a good nose round over the next few days and
we'll check back.'
'Thanks,'
said Sally Cooper. 'You do that.'
The
three of them went out into the freezing morning and parted company by the police
lines. 'Don't be a stranger now, Sean,' said Sally Cooper as she ducked under
the tape.
The
two cops watched her walk away and even under the thick clothing she wore they
could see that her figure was quite something. 'You've pulled there, son,' said
Childs.
'Don't
be daft,' said Sean, but he'd felt it too. He'd have to do some checking on
Sally Cooper to see if she was available or just flirting.
They
drove back to Streatham in silence. 'Shall we have a word with Jenner again?'
asked Childs on the way.-
'No,'
said Sean. 'Let’s see what's going on back at the factory first.' 'Do you think
it is contraband?' asked Childs. 'Don't forget the French -registered Range
Rover Jenner's got.'
'Could
be. Mention it again to Customs if you like.'
'Fuck
'em,' said Childs. 'Miserable bastards won't return my calls. Let them work it
out for themselves.'
Mark
stayed in bed late that morning. He didn't want to face anyone. All he could
think of as he lay in his bed was his meeting with Linda that afternoon and
what had happened the night before with Martine. Maybe he should've been kinder
in his rejection. Or maybe he should've let her have her way with him. He knew
it wasn't the end of the matter, and whatever way he'd played it, trouble would
surely follow.
Around
twelve, his door burst open and John Jenner came in waving the early edition of
the
Standard.
'What the fuck did you do?' he demanded.
'What?'
said Mark, sitting up in bed, assuming Jenner was talking about the previous
evening's disaster with Martine. But he threw the paper on to the bed open at
page three. The headline read:
SLAUGHTER
AT LOUGHBOROUGH JUNCTION Mark picked it up and read the piece. 'Christ,' he
said. 'Is this who I think it is?'
'Yes,'
said Jenner. 'And they were killed the day you collected the cash. Did you do
it? You were carrying.'
'No,'
said Mark. 'Course I bloody didn't. What do you think I am?' 'I know what you
are,' said Jenner. 'Did you do it?'
'What?
Kill the lot of them? I don't think so.'
'Get
up and get dressed. I want to talk to you downstairs,' said Jenner and he
stomped out of the room.
Mark
read the story again and his stomach churned as he took in the details. Christ,
he thought. It must've happened just after I left.
He
could still smell Martine's musky perfume on him, so he went to the bathroom
and washed and shaved, before getting dressed and going down to the living room
where John Jenner and Chas were waiting for him. Before he left his room, he
stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the washing basket.
'Look,
Uncle,' he said when he got down there. 'This was nothing to do with me.'
'Course
it wasn't,' said Chas, but Mark could see that Jenner was still in a rage.
'Don't
you believe me?' Mark asked him. 'What possible reason could I-have for doing
it?'
'A
quarter million quid's worth of charlie,' said Jenner. Suddenly he exhaled.
'Sorry, Mark,' he said, 'I know it wasn't you, it's just I've known those three
for more years than I care to remember. It was a shock. We were friends. I even
went to Tommo's youngest's christening or whatever they call it in Muslim.
'I
know, Uncle,' said Mark. 'But it must've happened just after I left. It didn't
say anything about any drugs on the premises in the paper.'
'Fat
chance. Whoever did this had them away.'
'Who
do you reckon?' asked Chas.
'Dunno,'
replied Jenner. 'But I'm bloody sure I'm going to find out. Mark, I want you to
go and have a look see.'
'What?
With half the Bill in south London on site? I don't think so. Anyway, what the
fuck will I be able to find out?'
'I
don't know. I just want you to go. This afternoon.'
'I
can't.'
'Why
not?'
'I've
got an appointment.'
'What?
With the bloody dentist? Cancel the fucker.'
'No.'
'It's
that fucking Linda Pierce or whatever she calls herself now, ain't it?'
'That's
none of your business.'
'But
this is our fucking business. If they killed Ali and the rest they could come
here next.'
'That's
what you haven't been telling me about, isn't it, Uncle? Whoever's out there,
killing people. That's why you've got a car full of security parked outside
night and day. Well, if you're not prepared to fill me in, I'm not prepared to
run your sodding errands for you.' And with that, Mark grabbed his coat and
keys and left.
It
had started raining again and the bare branches were dripping. Mark felt as if
it rained every day of his life. A few days ago, things had been simple. The
scruffy flat in Canvey, his battered TV and his record collection. Fish and
chips and a harmless flirtation with the girl behind the counter. No worries,
no stress, as long as he didn't dwell too long on the past. But now the past
had come back and hit him four square between the eyes. He could just piss off
and get lost again, or he could face up to who he was, and what he was and
maybe make something of his life at last.