Undercover (25 page)

Read Undercover Online

Authors: Bill James

‘The message is passed up the line and reaches a lad or lass in the nick who knows Mallen has been sent
sub rosa
to another area and another police force to do undercover. He or she rings the other force and asks what Mallen is doing back home in a crazy van. Isn't he supposed to be quietly embedded in one of their major drugs firms? Should he be here? Is this a collapse of security – the undercover man joining up with the family man? Has he been rumbled and followed and are these door-steppers after him?

‘Now, as I understand things from Maud, the suspicion is that Tom Mallen lost his cover somehow and was shot by a renegade police officer or officers in that other force who has, have, a lot to hide, such as an established, lucrative commercial treaty with Leo Percival Young, ensuring clandestine police aid to him and his firm. Lucrative to both sides. Suppose this officer, or one of these officers, takes the call about Mallen from the local force here? As a matter of urgency, the officer tells Leo he's just heard that there's a spy cop in one of the firms, the spy's duties lately to involve driving a white van advertising Acme Lawn And Garden Services with a phone number that doesn't exist, but which has been tried by our sceptical neighbour.'

Belinda said: ‘A bit far-fetched?'

‘Which bit?' Iles said.

‘Tortuous,' she replied.

‘Things always get tortuous in undercover. And sometimes just torture,' Iles said. ‘You go clumping and obliquing about there, spouting questions, quickening people's curiosity, more or less fingering him. Are you surprised he's dead?' he said.

‘With subtlety,' Belinda said. ‘We did our inquiries with subtlety.'

‘I'm sure that would be so,' Maud said.

‘Oh, it must be OK, then,' Iles said.

‘In a way, I admire you for your concern, Mr Iles,' Belinda said.

‘In
which
way?' Iles said.

‘Yes, it's admirable that you behave as if you're the only one who would know how to conduct a sensitive trawl for information,' Belinda said. ‘It shows confidence. It shows, well, yes, a sensitivity to match the sensitivity of the task'.

‘The task shouldn't exist,' Iles replied. ‘Undercover is shit. No amount of sensitivity or any other ivity can put that right.'

Belinda didn't pause, but went on chattily: ‘Well, anyway, we found that the husband/father in the Mallen family was a sergeant detective officer, Tom Mallen, and that he'd been away from home for a while, and was away again by the time we returned. We were told there'd been a birthday party for the young son, Steve, and that his father had made a special trip home for the occasion. There was a general feeling among neighbours that his duties elsewhere involved secrecy, which would account for the strange, seemingly non-police van. Of course, as soon as I heard from our people that the man was police, I assumed an undercover project and ordered exceptional care in the way questioning was conducted from then on by the ITAR unit.'

‘With sensitivity, I expect,' Iles said. ‘That was the word, wasn't it? But by then most of the fucking damage had been done.'

‘At this point, I felt I could see some of the picture,' Belinda replied. ‘It's why I spoke of Vincent Jackman's – VLJ's – guess in the Citroën about the fuel “adjustment” as being so spot-on. It seemed to me that, as we can all see now, the van had been sent to watch Emblem Court by Leo Percival Young, possibly to check on private, off-limits dealing done by the man we'd identified from the Lexus reg as Claud Norman Rice. Handling such an important task for Young would seem to prove that Tom had become a trusted operative.'

‘A trusted operative who had become
so
trusted that he had to be shot pretty soon afterwards,' Iles said. ‘What had intervened?'

‘The assignment at Emblem Court might have finished very quickly,' Belinda replied. ‘Tom Mallen, acting as if for Young with the Acme van, decides then that he can get home for the boy's birthday and back again without compromising his undercover identity. He wants to assert temporarily something of his real self – the father/husband self. I imagine many undercover people feel this kind of urge occasionally. It helps them ring-fence their real personality, and their sanity. He buys the mountain bike as a present. These items don't come cheap – usually hundreds at least – but he's determined to make a strong, clear message for the boy. The bike says, “
Here I am
,
home with you
,
your father doing fatherly things
,
and I've arrived in time because it's vital a dad should be with you on the right day to celebrate the occasion
.
It's a priority
.” Most probably, Tom needs this reassurance, this statement of his category and solid status in an ordinary family, more than the boy does. Later, Tom drives to a lay-by with his wife, Iris, and we assume this was for love-making to mark his return, and which might have been difficult in a house full of kids – their own and the party guests. He had arrived before any of the children assembled for the pizzas, so there might have been earlier bonking in the house. We've heard of a bedroom light switched on. Possibly, his wife wanted the second session as a means to bring this outlandish, possibly sinister, van within her, as it were, range, her control. It's Mrs Mallen's attempt to reclaim Tom from something so flagrantly part of the job. Maybe we can all understand that. And he, in fact, might have anticipated this reaction from her and had already cased the lay-by on his way to Wilton Road. This sojourn in that lay-by is the equivalent to the mountain bike.'

‘It is?' Iles said.

‘He's saying in this fashion, “
Iris
Mallen
,
I am Tom Mallen
,
Mallen
,
Mallen
,
your husband
.
It's why we're here
,
darling
.” He'd regard this as crucial, to counter those troublesome Press stories about undercover men forming relationships within the target group or firm so as to prove their genuineness. This van-shag has overtones, has inspirational symbolism. Then, he ships his wife back home to Wilton Road, says goodbye to all, and starts his journey to Midhurst. In a service station not far from there he takes a moderate amount of petrol aboard. He has probably already refuelled when not under surveillance, most likely after the lay-by lay. He now puts enough in the tank to make it seem he's only been as far as Emblem Court. He behaves “as if adjusting”. Aren't I right, and this was brilliant decoding of a situation by V.L.J.? The van goes on to Midhurst, and is possibly left there. Vince finds himself in more or less open country near the house and exposed. Wisely, he departs, but, as he does so, sees the headlights of what appears to be a saloon car leaving Midhurst, though he's too far off to get a proper view. This we now assume was Tom on his way home in a different vehicle.'

Maud said: ‘Perhaps Leo's wife, Emily, was in for a busy time at the museum next day and Leo wouldn't want Tom disturbing their kip.'

TWENTY-FIVE

AFTER

H
arpur said: ‘Let's sum up what you'd discovered from the van episode, then, Belinda, shall we? Sort of tabulate.'

‘Harpur's like that,' Iles said. ‘For Col, itemizing is a fetish, a passion, a true and powerful passion. Give Harpur a handful of numbers and he'll soon find paragraphs and sub-paragraphs to cement on to them. It's his comparatively minor equivalent to building the pyramids.' The ACC's voice began to boom and slither depending on which way he pointed his mouth, taking in Belinda, Maud and Harpur. The film room's marvellous acoustics seemed to fix on different prime qualities in his tone and emphasize one or the other according to the angle it came at them from. It made Harpur think of what he'd read about Cinemascope in the 1950s and 60s, when sound effects for the extra-wide picture used to attack the audience from surprising directions, and at all kinds of pitch. ‘Mind you, it's not Harpur's only fucking passion, of course, oh no,' Iles said, ‘fucking is another of his fucking passions, particularly if he can wangle sly, cajoling closeness to, say, the wife of—'

‘As I see it, Belinda,' Harpur said, ‘what you knew after this excursion can be listed as one: your importer/wholesaler target, Cochrane/Spence, did deals with Norman Rice. Two: via Tom, the police might also get to know this eventually, or sooner. Three: Leo Percival Young suspected—'

‘Wangle sly, cajoling closeness to, say, the wife of a higher-placed colleague, much higher-placed – an accredited member of the Association of Chief Police Officers, often shortened to ACPO, as you'll be aware –' Iles continued, ‘who used to trust him, and who was willing to tolerate his oddities, clothing and minimal education, and even to regard him—'

‘Three: Leo Percival Young suspected this dealing went on and had sent Tom in the van to check,' Harpur said. ‘Here we have careful, fair-minded leadership. ‘Four: this suggested that Norman Rice—'

‘Even to regard him, in certain limited respects, obviously, as a friend,' Iles stated. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, Col. Ingratitude comes instinctively and as of right to you, the way bullshit does to Archbishops. I see a special—'

‘This suggested that Claud Norman Rice was nominally part of Leo's outfit, but in Emblem Court had been acting privately, underhandedly, treacherously,' Harpur said. ‘Five: once you discovered Tom was a police officer you would deduce that he—'

‘See a special vindictiveness in his behaviour,' Iles said.

‘Deduce,' Harpur replied, ‘that he had achieved a considerable degree of acceptance.'

‘As though to give me appalling emotional pain – cause it to
me
, personally and uniquely – had become an essential element in his disgusting pleasures,' Iles said. ‘He was choosy. It had—'

‘A considerable degree of acceptance within the firm,' Harpur said. ‘He had been entrusted with—'

‘—to be my wife,' Iles replied. ‘This has become clear, because, although Maud here – quite a passable looking piece, no moustache, of good career and financial standing, commendable arse, able not only to manage the screen controls herself, but to coach you, Belinda, in this skill – yes, although Maud has these qualities and is more or less chucking herself at him, her breath flagrantly fondling his dewlap at one stage, he refuses to be pulled, despite his present single status and untethered girlfriend, plus a generously colluding offer from me for him to neglect his duties in that other region temporarily, so as to have a lovely, unhurried bang session, unhurried bang sessions, with—'

‘And now, Belinda, to list what you did
not
know, even after your ITAR foray and discoveries,' Harpur said: ‘One: was Rice acting on his own behalf or as an agent, fetcher-and-carrier, cat's-paw, for another or other interest/interests? Two: if so, which? Three: what was Mallen's cover name in the firm – because, of course, nobody in the Wilton Road area would know it, including—?'

‘A lovely, unhurried bang session, unhurried bang sessions, with Maud,' Iles said, ‘she employing many intriguing, intimate techniques, probably already familiar to Harpur from years of unscrupulous research, but not to be undervalued on that account, for instance, Maud gleefully yet respectfully taking Col's—'

‘Including his family at number eleven,' Harpur said. ‘Another unknown. Four: what was Leo Percival Young's reaction now it had been established by Tom that a firm within his firm did function as had been rumoured and was hijacking very desirable trade?'

‘Belinda, I'd like you to think about that woman,' Iles said, his voice-timbre suddenly back from its obsessive whine or howl to mere contempt.

‘Which woman? Maud? Your wife?' she said.

‘Mrs Mallen,' Iles said. ‘She and Tom tellingly re-ratified their love in that lay-by ceremonial conjoining, and possibly earlier. Perhaps she took some genuine comfort and reassurance from this. She could accept his departure without quite so much anxiety and angst. Then, whoosh! The next day, you and your cohort arrive and knock doors in a widespread, thoroughgoing swarm style, vigorously trawling for information about eleven and Sergeant Tom Mallen, whose name they'd get from neighbours and/or central address records. You say you didn't go to eleven yourselves. That's something, I suppose. But, of course, householders who'd had a visit would be curious, perhaps worried – including, probably, the one who might have phoned the local police – and several of them were likely to ask Mrs Mallen what it was all about, ask also whether she knew of this sudden disturbing invasion – sinister invasion. Her happiness, maybe already dodgy and frail since Tom had gone back to undercover duties, would instantly crumble.

‘She'd be terrified, and so would anyone given such reports. The situation is worse than before his return home.' Iles began to do present tense, for increased impact – like Wolsey did in the long interview. ‘She has guessed the kind of work Tom is at elsewhere. She'll realize he perilously imagines himself secret and secure. Now she's confronted by the fact that strangers have been around the place hunting him and anything about him in what will look like a very organized and determined pattern, speaking snippets into pocket recorders using unlocal accents to record their findings. She'll want to warn Tom, won't she, and fast? But she doesn't know where he is and has no phone number for him. These are standard, basic, undercover precautions. Families and lovers must not have the power to initiate contact. Calls might come at awkward times, and lead to dangerous nosiness among members of the firm. They'd speculate that these calls are not from the background he has spun them. Communication can be only single direction – from Tom to her when he thinks he's got some secluded, unbugged minutes, not her to him. She has to wait for a bell. She'd probably have sensed that the phone number on the van was a fiction. She might not even have made a note of it. And, if she had, and dialled, she'd find it to be what she expected, a dud, a nothing, a mask, confirmation of a
cul de sac
. Meanwhile, she knows Tom's got big jeopardy and might not be conscious of this.'

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