STATUS DRIFT: A gripping undercover detective crime thriller, page 6
‘I came for a good night out with my pals and you have royally fucked that up. I don’t take kindly to people I don’t know asking for my number, and especially someone who rings it to make sure it’s kosher. To do that in front of the Old Bill leaves a sour taste. My instincts are telling me you’re used to a bit of confrontation and getting your own way. Now, I don’t mind that in a fella unless it affects me. Tonight it has. You owe me a clear two grand on top of the monkey you’ve given me. I only have your number so I reckon this will be resolved by me taking your bike until you bring me the cash. Call when you’ve got it and I’ll tell you where to come get your ride.’
With that he hands Kat fifty quid and sends her to get more drinks. I’m in a tight spot and he isn’t going to budge. I don’t have access to the money now. I only have the bike as a means of collateral. It’s a gamble. If I give it up he may never call and ditch the phone just to teach me a lesson for embarrassing him in public, getting police down, and chinning his henchman. On the other hand he may just think it’s an easy bit of pocket money and I’ll turn up loaded and ready to settle my account. I prefer the second option and decide to take it.
‘I’ll leave you my bike. Show you I’m a man of my word. I know how much a bike means to a man and I trust you to look after mine for a night. I’ll have the money for you tomorrow. I just need to know where to bring it and who I’m talking to.’
He shifts his feet and rubs his broad chin as he nods.
‘Good choice. Call me tomorrow, I own a bar and club in Euston called Harvey Browns. Come down at happy hour from 9 p.m. If you bring the cash, I’ll have the bike delivered to a place of your choice. If you don’t show up, then that’s your funeral, pal. This must be one of those times you wished you hadn’t been such a fucking gentleman helping a lady. Now, until tomorrow, give me your keys. I saw you come in so I know your bike. As for who I am, that’s none of your concern.’
He’s finished his speech. I’ve no intention of telling him about the adaptations to it. I don’t expect to see the bike back in one piece. At least I’ll have proved Little Chris right, albeit sooner than he expected. I throw Razor the keys and he makes a clean catch and throws them to Trigger who does the same.
‘Till tomorrow then.’ I turn to leave. Kat is coming out with another full tray. ‘I’ll leave that to you this time.’
‘Good choice.’ She’s concentrating on me but not enough to engage me in further conversation.
I’m on my way out. I need to contact Winter, get scooped up by her lot and brief her on how she needs to come up with two grand and a further grand for me to go out on the piss tomorrow night. All in all, a good night’s work. Contact made, number obtained along with a further meeting. All is well in my world.
8
I’ve taken the back roads away from the Ace Cafe. Although I look strange carrying my lid, dressed in full leathers without a bike, I’m glad to be clear of the target area. I see my lift. Winter is en route, which is interesting. She’s decided I need closer supervision. I walk past the car and see DI Hudson and another I don’t know. I walk further down the road and turn right. They follow and I get in the back.
It’s seconds before Hudson’s sounding off.
‘What the fuck happened back there and where’s your bike?’ Hudson’s tone isn’t conducive to my mood.
‘Why are you asking that question? You should have seen all that was happening. Where were you when I was about to get the shit kicked out of me? That’s the question. I want to know, pal.’
‘It’s “sir” or “guv” to you. Now answer the question. Where is the bike?’
Hudson isn’t driving. He’s delegated that to a DC who has taken the sensible approach – do her job and drive. She looks like a deer in the headlights. If her gut is telling her what mine is, she’ll put her foot down and head to the meet point for the debrief, on the hurry up.
I lean forward to the back of the headrest that supports Hudson’s neatly combed head. ‘If I were you, sir, I’d look straight ahead and say nothing until we meet your boss. You’re a wannabe who’s been sat on their arse whilst I’ve been at the coalface supporting your fucking job. Now, if you want this to be your first success at playing DI then give me some space, sit back and shut the fuck up, guv.’
He takes the message. First sign of weakness. I would have told the DC to pull over and taken the conversation outside. Horses for courses.
The ride is continued in silence apart from Hudson telling the DC which way to turn. I’ve been a twat to him but I haven’t calmed down yet. I’m still in role. I need the space to look out the window and move through the evening’s events in my mind before I see Winter and give her the good news that she’s about to meet my superintendent, tell him the bike’s gone, and that I need three grand cash by tomorrow night.
I’m unsure whether they’ll look at this as opportunity or discipline me for loss of police property. By discipline me, I mean put me in front of a central disciplinary board to get rid of me from the job. It’s all about reducing numbers. I need to get my game plan on for a night on the tiles with a bunch of villains who consider wringing your neck as an acceptable form of handshake.
There’s a twenty-four-hour Starbucks up ahead. We’ve been on the M1 for twenty minutes and Chiswell Green is the meeting venue for Winter. Works for me. The DC can drop me back in Watford. The DC pulls in. The car park is full but it’s only 10 p.m. so that’s expected.
‘Put the car there.’ I point to a spot; she hesitates and looks at Hudson.
Hudson says nothing and she parks up. The venue is full of people using the free Wi-Fi and sipping hot drinks. The spot I’ve chosen isn’t conducive to patrons but is beneficial to us should we need to make a hasty exit.
‘Latte for me,’ I say to Hudson as I walk towards Winter.
He hesitates. He was about to meet Winter who’s occupied a rear table where no others are sitting, making conversation easier. She’s already got herself a drink. Winter has chosen the dominant seat leaving three spare. I pick the one next to her. It gives the appearance I’m her go-to man. In a way, I am, but she won’t see it as such this evening.
‘Evening. I see you sorted yourself out with a drink whilst the troops were out doing your work.’ I’m smiling.
She says nothing other than looking up and taking a smug sip. She has froth on her top lip and I don’t mention it. I wait for the cheap thrill of her licking it off.
‘Pass me a serviette will you.’
I reach behind me and grab a fistful and hand them over. She takes one and wipes her mouth.
‘So you managed to hit things off pretty well I hear? A fight, uniform called in, and I see you’re without the bike. Great job, well done.’ She begins a slow handclap.
The others have returned now. Hudson has slopped his drink though, which makes me happy. Winter kicks things off.
‘Right, what went on out there? I will hear from you first.’ She nods in the direction of Hudson.
Unusual to hear from the guy sat on his arse with no idea what was talked about. I sit back, wait for the response. I know it will be good. He takes a sip of his coffee and spills more down his chin. The drip runs off onto his Berghaus coat.
‘We arrived as agreed. DS Batford entered the target area. He milled around looking at bikes then went into the café. We lost him briefly as the instruction was to remain static with no foot follow. He came out carrying a tray of drinks followed by Mills. They appeared to be in conversation. Visual got lost due to a passing lorry. We then saw Batford being held by the neck by Snowy. Batford broke free and sent him into the bike behind him. Mills intervened and that’s when the uniform I had called turned up in case we needed Batford out.’
Hudson finished his appraisal and all eyes turned to me.
‘My turn then? The acting inspector’s script reads well. I won’t go over that again. However, I must make recompense for the damage to Razor’s bike. We agreed he could keep my bike as a surety. I gave him five hundred notes as a goodwill gesture. He wants a further two grand tomorrow night. Oh, I got his mobile number, so all is good. I just need the money for him and a thousand pounds flash money for me.’ I pick up my latte and raise it, smiling in the direction of the wide-mouthed frogs in front of me.
Winter is the first to fire her salvo. ‘That bike was Met Police property. Not my agency’s but yours. Your problem, not mine. Any “flash” money is coming from your pot. That includes unauthorised payment offered or otherwise to the lead subject in a criminal investigation.’
She’s had her say. Now it’s back to me.
‘I’ve done what you asked. I have the main man’s dirty phone number and a meeting with him tomorrow night where I plan to party and earn his trust. If I don’t turn up with the money, then your job is dead and buried. I don’t give a flying fuck whose budget covers what. Let me know by 0900 hours tomorrow whether I need to collect it or not and from where. I need a lift home. I’m tired and on overtime so it’s in your interests, ma’am.’
I leave her with that and start to get up.
‘You’re not going anywhere, Batford. Until we’ve sorted this issue out you’ll sit your arse down. Let me remind you, this is my job. I’m in control of what happens on it. You had too long a leash last time. This time you’re on a retractable one. I will enquire about the money first thing tomorrow when the commander calls me for an update. If she’s in agreement, then cash will be drawn and you can sign for it, no problem. If she says no, then we have to look at the options. So get to bed and rest up. Tomorrow will be a long day. I will call you once I know anything. Now if you’ve nothing else productive to say, I will leave and Hudson will get you home. Hudson, a quick word outside before you go.’
They both depart. The driver says nothing. I’m glad. I have no desire for conversation, just Scotch and a bed to crash in. I can see Winter and Hudson talking animatedly outside. I can’t hear what they’re saying. Hudson is now on his phone and walking further from the car. His lips aren’t moving. The phone stays stuck to his ear. The other person has answered, as his lips have started to move. He’s too far away for me to read them. The conversation is brief. He strides back towards Winter. Both nod at each other then she leaves. Hudson returns to the car and gets in.
I look at the detective. ‘Guess that’s our cue to leave.’
She raises her eyes and pours her coffee into a takeaway cup she’s retrieved from the counter.
‘Where to?’ Hudson says, looking in the rearview mirror.
I’ve moved behind the driver for more legroom and commandeer the whole of the back seat. It feels good to stretch out. ‘Watford train station. I’ll get a cab to where I need to be.’
Hudson nods to the driver and we set off. He’s on his phone typing away. I shut my eyes and let my body be taken by the motion of the car.
I am bitter. I have neither the temperament nor skill to maintain a relationship, friendship, or otherwise. I scraped through on selection for covert duty, the assessing psychologist questioned my ability to stay calm under duress. She was right, but the course leaders decided to take the risk. The country’s in desperate times. I’ve been performing the role for a number of years and the psychs have been told to use discretion widely. My attitude isn’t conducive to twenty-first-century policing. I know that but see it as a strength. Criminals don’t give a shit about political correctness or public feeling. I consider my failings to be a skill set. I always get the job done to everyone’s advantage. I’m here to protect and serve society, after all. I haven’t forgotten that I am a member too.
I’ve shaken off my alternate persona. I’m back as myself and rest my head against the blacked-out window, shutting my eyes to the world.
9
‘Where are we going? This isn’t the way back.’
‘You don’t give the instructions. I do. Now shut the fuck up.’
It isn’t Hudson speaking.
The car lurches forward and accelerates, weaving between cars. I’m woozy but can see from the back seat. My head feels disconnected from my body. My vision is as hazy as a fogged camera lens. I’m on a three-lane carriageway; the motion makes me want to retch but I’m aware my situation wouldn’t be helped by that. The car doesn’t remain in one lane for long and the front seat occupants constantly search their surroundings as we progress on an unknown route. Every now and then the driver glances into the rearview mirror. His face is a blur.
I hear the indicator click as I slip between a conscious and unconscious state. The car exits left, slows and turns left again. I can see the tops of tall trees through my limited view and nothing else. We’re on the edge of a wood. The car now rocks and bounces in rhythm with the rutted road. Treetops increase in density as the car slows to a stop. The engine stutters to silence. A door opens and closes. I can hear feet on dried leaves then feel hands on my feet, pulling.
My legs exit first. The back of my skull follows and greets the car doorframe with a thud before it hits earth and my legs are dropped. I can’t open my eyes; they’re sore and stinging. I can taste blood and my neck feels damp. The smell of earth and pine enter my nostrils and bring some relief from the memory of my nose being covered. If I’m to die now I can think of worse places to be. I lie still. My options limited.
There is a familiar scent from the car that I can’t place. It’s not the smell of the upholstery, which stinks of smoke, it’s a soap smell that’s mingled with a deodorant or aftershave. The man towering above me is distorted but I can make out swirls of smoke and I hear him cough. My vision becomes steeples of light. I can make out signs of the sun breaking through the tree canopy.
I feel sacrificial. I squint and, in my frailty, decipher a face. A man. His hands are different shades of dark and toned streaks. He’s undoing his trousers and starts straddling me. I’m on my back. I realise my hands are bound. Light streams through the trees and dazzles me as my vision adjusts. My breathing has become laboured. I shout but my voice is feeble. It’s useless. I feel a warm jet of fluid across my face. No matter how hard I close my mouth it finds its way in. He’s waterboarding me with his own piss. Behind him appears another person; smaller with a demure sway to their walk. The form gets closer and stands beside Mr Pissmeister. The stream of urine stops but he shakes every last drip onto me, laughing. I force open my eyes the images appear clear.
Both have exposed ribcages from where they’d been blasted by Big G’s men with a twelve-gauge shotgun. What was a heart is a mangled bloody mess of sinew and muscle tissue. Blood seeps from the open chest wounds. The female form is Zara Stone, the other Terry Sullivan aka Barclay. I push into the ground to get away from the shattered human form in front of me. Stone has blood-streaked hair and an exposed jawline where the shotgun pellets have eaten half her face. The left eyeball hangs loose yet still moves as she turns in my direction. The blood from her face has formed a river as it runs down the valley of her torn clothing. Her jaw opens and she speaks as she bends closer to my face.
‘All right, lover? Thought we’d say hello after you fucked off and left us for dead. Guess what? You were right; I never should have met Barclay again, like you said. But I was lonely, scared, and he was the only one there for me. We were a good team, me and you, and it’s time to team up again and go to work.’
Her tongue is out and licking the top of what would have been her upper lip but is now shattered bone. From behind her back she produces a sawn-off and pushes both barrels into my forehead and leans in further. I can feel the two circles of metal digging into my skin as she puts pressure on the butt.
‘I want to see you suffer as you cross over to the dark side with me. I can watch, because I’m already dead. I wanna feel your blood cover my face and enter my head like you’re a part of me again. This time I’ll make sure we can’t be separated. Thing is, lover, we were meant for each other but you just couldn’t see it. Well now it’s time for me to do the educating. You just shut up and take notes. See you soon, babes.’
Stoner winks once with her good eye, then pulls the triggers.
‘Stop!’ I sit up and smash my head on the roof of the car.
‘What the hell are you on? If you need more room, fucking ask and stop kicking me in the back.’ Hudson looks away and then turns back to me.
‘We’re here, time to get out.’
I say nothing. I exit the car as quick as I can. Sweat’s forming on my brow and stinging my eyes. I bail out and they drive off. A cab waits in the rank and I jump in the back and give him my address. I struggle with the key to the communal door of the converted house but eventually open it and step inside. Mine is the first-floor flat. I climb the stairs and insert the other key and get inside, double-bolting the door. I know it was only a dream but the realities of the situation they were in before they died have never left me. I had to leave her. I told her to stay away. She went against that advice.
I was always taught to remind a suspect that their lawyer’s advice is just that. They need to make their own mind up whether they take it or not. Stoner didn’t. She paid the ultimate price. She should have been a means to an end for me. A snout. Nothing more. But it felt good having her around. She deserved better. I feel vulnerable. A feeling I’ve struggled with historically. I’m hoping I didn’t say any names out loud or talk in my sleep. My bag’s here. Mike must have sorted that out.
I throw the keys down on the side table next to a two-seater sofa. The brown leather looks as though it’s been savaged by a cat but is still usable. Shabby chic. The living room overlooks a quiet residential street. I leave the living room and move along a short landing. A bedroom is situated opposite the stairs. The bathroom is at the back off the kitchen, and off that is a door that leads to a covered wooden glasshouse. From there steps lead down to the garden below. I need to be aware of how to get out of the place in a hurry. Especially after Edinburgh.
