The Last Big Job (29 page)

‘
Don’t know if it’s in your field, Gary. Some electronic gear
- faxes, phones, about fifty Toshiba laptops . . . that kind of
stuff.’

Thompson considered it. ‘You never know, could be of
interest.’ He scratched his nose.

‘
I’d be happy to exchange if you felt you had anything
worthwhile,’ Henry suggested.

‘
Let me think about it . . . but for now, let’s get down to
our original business, shall we? Whisky, I think.’

Henry glanced out of the window across Piccadilly. He was not
sure whether he covered the shock he felt inside as his throat
constricted and his heart fluttered. Detective Superintendent
Rupert Davison was crossing the road and heading towards the
hotel.

Henry turned quickly back to Thompson, who said, ‘Christ, that
coffee’s gone straight through me. I need to piss. Be back
shortly.’

‘
Don’t call me shortly,’ Henry laughed - slightly
hysterically. He watched Thompson walk across the cafe and down the
toilet corridor. Then he spun round to see Davison trotting up the
hotel steps, about to blow Henry’s cover as wide open as the legs
of a Manchester tart.

The three men were sitting at a table in the garden, under
some trees. It was getting hotter by the minute on La Gomera, but
the shade from the foliage kept the men cool, as did their long,
iced juice drinks.

Hodge had calmed down considerably since his earlier outburst,
having been coaxed and soothed by Smith in particular.

‘
What we need to do now, Colin,’ Smith explained, ‘is start to
ask you questions so that we can put a plan together. There’s lots
of things we need to know about this money run. Routes, personnel -
such as, who are the guys you usually do it with? What are their
capabilities, their strengths, their weaknesses? Then there’s the
technical side of things. What sort of vehicle do you use? What
kind of boxes is the money carried in? Will they present any
problems to us? How do we get them open? Do they spray dye? All
those sorts of things. What do you wear? We’ll probably need to
know the exact details of your uniform, headgear. What protection
do you carry? How is your journey monitored? What is usual and what
is unusual? Can you get away with stopping en route? How lax, or
tight, are your procedures? Are the cops informed of your journey?
What is your emergency drill?’ Smith shook his head. ‘Lots and lots
of things. . . literally anything we can think of which will help
pull this job off with the minimum of fuss and force. And, of
course, anything you can tell us that we’ve missed. That’s what
today is about - chatting to you. Getting to know you and you
getting to know us. When we’ve done all that, found out everything
we need, we’ll get back to Los Cristianos and you can have some
more fun at our expense while we plan the job.’

‘
I think I should be involved in that.’

‘
You’re right, Colin, we will consult you, but in the end it
has to be a plan we are happy with because we are the ones who need
to get away - and the getaway is obviously part of it. So, yeah,
you’re dead right ... but let me and Matt get our heads together
first and then we’ll run it past you for your approval. How does
that sound?’

Hodge nodded, believing his control was
reappearing.

‘
Just remember, Colin,’ Smith said, ‘you’ll be walking away
with twenty-five million in your hands.’

A smile crept over Hodge’s greedy little face.

Smith and Crane stood up. Smith said, ‘We’ll be back in five
minutes with a tape-recorder. We don’t want to miss
anything.’

They left Hodge at the table.

Once out of earshot, Crane growled, ‘He gets nothing ‘cept
for
a bullet in the head.’

Henry slithered down in his chair, squirming with acute
indecision, wishing that hell would open up beneath him and drag
him down into a fiery dungeon. Should he try to hide himself by
turning his back on Davison and hope he did not get spotted,
or
should he go and meet the guy and drag
him across the foyer
and into the
restaurant opposite and risk drawing unwelcome attention to the
situation?

All it needed was for
Thompson to
have someone sitting in the cafe who Henry did not know,
surveilling him, and he was knackered.

He groaned inwardly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught
sight of the gung-ho Superintendent walking boldly towards him.
Henry half-expected the idiot to call out his name.

Then his eyes flickered to the toilet corridor. Gary Thompson
emerged from
the men’s cloakroom, hitching
up the last inch of
his flies and
adjusting his tackle.

The two men were on a collision course, Henry at the apex of
it.

Thompson stopped unexpectedly in the corridor and extracted
his mobile phone from
his jacket pocket,
put it to his ear and turned round, sticking a finger in the other
ear.

Henry saw his chance. He shot out of his seat and walked
swiftly towards Davison, almost colliding with him. Out of the
corner of his mouth Henry whispered urgently, ‘Follow me, don’t
speak.’

Davison’s face dropped the beaming smile it had been
displaying. He slotted in behind Henry just as Thompson turned and
ended his phone call.

Henry moved quickly across the wide foyer
and hit the stairs by the reception desk. He bounded up on to
the first-floor landing, decided not to stop there and went up the
next flight on to the second floor. Davison appeared a second or
two later.

‘
You have almost compromised me,’ Henry spat venomously into
Davison’s surprised face. He forced his room key into the man’s
clammy hand. ‘Go to my room and stay put until I get there.’ He
sneered with disbelief at the Superintendent, heaved his way past
him and headed back down the steps.

Thompson was sitting at the table, looking slightly agitated
and annoyed.

Henry sat. ‘Sorry - forgot my diary.’ He smiled at Gary and
breathed out as he thought, Just what the hell am I doing this
for?

Henry spent a very productive hour with Thompson doing
business. They parted amicably, Henry a little bit more impressed
with Gary than he had been previously. He seemed to have a fairly
cool, logical head on his shoulders and bargained hard without a
trace of embarrassment. Henry played the game with him even though
he knew he could have given the whisky away for free. What was
important was that Thompson believed he was buying stolen goods and
that he was starting to trust Frank Jagger. The ability to build
trust was an integral part of an undercover officer’s skills. It is
always the first step in a relationship and once the trust is
built, then it’s very easy to set someone up for a fall.

They settled on £3.50 a bottle because Henry gave the
impression he wanted rid of the stuff as soon as possible. A
deposit was to be paid in a couple of days’ time - in cash - prior
to the delivery of the first part of the goods. Henry negotiated
this short time delay because he wanted to ensure that from this
moment on, each stage of the process of luring Thompson into a trap
was properly documented and recorded for future evidential
purposes. That also meant proper back-up for Henry and the
technology to go with it.

‘
Speak to you soon,’ Thompson smiled, shaking Henry’s hand.
The big BMW pulled up outside the hotel on the double yellows,
having responded to a phone call from Thompson a few minutes
earlier. Henry wondered what Gunk and Drozdov had been doing to
pass the time; if they had been cruising around they could easily
have spotted Davison’s arrival. Henry prayed they
hadn’t.

He accompanied Thompson to the hotel steps, but did not wave
him off - that would have seemed too normal for a crim; however, he
did make sure Gary got in the car and it moved away into the
traffic. Henry twirled round, forgetting the pain in his body, and
headed purposefully back into the hotel, building himself up for
the coming encounter with Davison.

Halfway across the foyer, his mobile chirped its idiotic,
irritating ring in his pocket. He kept striding and answered it.
‘Jagger.’

‘
Connor.’ It was the DCI from Greater Manchester.

Henry halted mid-stride. ‘Go on.’

‘
Just to say I went looking for the sealed master tapes.
Neither one is in the tape library - or at least if they are,
they’re not where they’re supposed to be. Can’t find them, in other
words.’

‘
You’re saying he’s got the masters, as well as the working
copies?’

‘
I’m saying the masters are not where they should be. You make
your own assumptions.’

Henry thumbed the call-end button. A feeling of savage anger
gushed through him. Two minutes later he was outside his hotel room
door, rapping with his knuckles. ‘Come on, open up, it’s
me.’

‘
You’ve taken your time,’ Davison bitched on opening the
door.

Henry burst in, taking the man completely by surprise. In a
flash he overpowered Davison and spread him across the double bed,
one forearm crushing his windpipe, his free hand bunched into a
fist which hovered only inches away from Davison’s face.

‘
Not only have you nearly just blown my cover sky high, but
you nearly got me killed last night, you prick! You lied to me by
saying you hadn’t mentioned my statement to Thompson and Elphick,
didn’t you?’

‘
No, Henry,’ his victim spluttered with difficulty. ‘I don’t
know what the hell you’re on about, but if you don’t let go of me
now you can wave goodbye to your job and your pension.’

‘
Bollocks!’ Henry rasped, spittle coming out with the word. He
applied more pressure to Davison’s windpipe and re-bunched his fist
for effect. Davison’s eyes squinted in anticipation of the punch.
He struggled, attempting to break free, but Henry’s heavier bulk
kept him pinned there. Henry moved his face even closer to
Davison’s. They were nose to nose. Davison picked up every nuance
of Henry’s sheer anger.

‘
I know what you’re about, you bastard,’ Henry uttered through
clenched teeth. ‘You’re trying to save your career at the expense
of every other fucker around you. You’re a dangerous bastard and
someone should have put you out of this job years ago; but I’ll
tell you something. . .’ Henry’s voice lowered into a growl. . .
‘you’re mixing it with someone who’ll take you on, because when
I’ve finished with Gunk and Gary, I’m coming for you and I’m going
to take you down - and out. Got that? You are dead meat as far as
the police service goes.’

Henry eased off with a glare of disdain, leaving the higher
ranking officer sprawled across the bed, massaging his throat,
looking angrily at Henry’s back as he left the room.

Chapter Twelve

Take-off was never a problem for Danny; it was the slow glide
back towards ground as the plane lined up for the runway which gave
her the, sharp pain in the middle of her head. She swallowed in an
attempt to put some balance back and squirmed uncomfortably in the
narrow seat. She adjusted her long legs once more, trying to keep
her knees out of the seat-back in front of her which, as the flight
had progressed, seemed to creep closer and closer to
her.

But how could she possibly complain, as three days after
discovering the identity of the third corpse, and for the second
time in her career as a Detective Sergeant, she was travelling
abroad at the firm’s expense? The first time had been a ‘jolly’ to
Florida to pick up a reluctant witness, a journey which had turned
out to be a nightmare of the first degree. Now she was very close
to landing at Reina Sofia Airport on Tenerife for a job which she
hoped would be less fraught with danger than the American trip had
been. That trip had been done on Business Class, this one was
economy-sardine. The difference was incredible and not just the
price variation. Danny did not really mind though, because when she
landed she was going to be put in a decent hotel, would probably
have the opportunity to do some sunbathing, be able to pick up some
duty-free cigarettes and perfume on the way home - and in between
all that have a chat with former Detective Inspector Barney Gillrow
about one Malcolm Fitch, deceased, who, it had transpired, used to
be one of Gillrow’s informants.

When Danny had suggested the idea of a trip to Tenerife, she
had expected out-and-out resistance. However, as the investigation
was getting nowhere fast, the SIO in charge was more than happy to
authorise the journey even though two other detectives had just
returned from the island having drawn a blank with the
drug-connection theory to the triple murder.

After Danny finally got her hands on the RCS file on Fitch, it
was obvious that Gillrow was his handler. The file was extremely
sparse, with few entries of any real note. Danny sniggered when she
read it because these days, informant handling at any level was
strictly controlled and very bureaucratic. Logs were kept of every
meeting, all monetary transactions were scrupulously recorded and
verified and nothing was left to chance.

Gillrow had been operating in the days of laxity when
procedures were loose and open to all kinds of corruption. Exactly
the reasons why things had needed to be tightened up. Too many cops
were splitting money with their snouts, too many were getting
involved in sexual relationships with them, and too many jobs were
going bandit, either before or at court.