The Last Big Job (53 page)

‘
But he was also an agent provocateur,’ Gillrow said, ‘always
pushing others to do things, giving them ideas and drawing them in,
so eventually they’d get caught by me.’

Simply because there was a tape running, Henry bit his tongue.
Agent provocateur - another big no, no. Informants must never -
ever - set a crime in motion. Yet here was an ex-DI blandly
admitting allowing one to do just that. No wonder the police
service was in the state it was in. Bastards like Gillrow, Henry
thought, are the ones who’ve spoiled it for us today.

‘
And no one knew about this, I take it?’ Danny
said.

Gillrow shook his head.

‘
Your bosses? Colleagues?’

Another headshake. ‘Strictly between me and him.’

‘
Idiot,’ Danny said under her breath.

‘
Some of the stunts me and him put together would make your
toes curl,’ Gillrow said proudly. ‘We just went ahead and did it.
It was the only sure way of getting bad guys caught and locked
away. I got credit and Fitch got cash. I was only doing my job - a
bloody good job at that,’ he concluded defensively.

‘
By breaking the rules?’ Danny sneered.

‘
Listen, love - it was the only way. I put some right toe-rags
away. They have all the advantages and the cops don’t have anything
but red tape and bureaucratic shite. I got results and the guilty
got sent down.’

‘
All well and good,’ Henry remarked. ‘But you say Fitch got
paid from the fund. Surely some of your managers must have known
what was happening, must’ve authorised payments . . .’ Henry’s
voice trailed off and he made the connection as Fitch smiled. ‘You
managed the informants’ fund, didn’t you?’

‘
Controlled it. Authorised payments. Balanced the books. Piss
easy.’

‘
Idiot,’ Danny whispered again, beginning to hate
Gillrow.

‘
What happened with Crane, then?’

Gillrow shifted uncomfortably at this question, something
Henry was pleased to see. ‘It was just that one or two things came
together for me at that time, personal things.’ He sighed and
looked deflated now, shaking his head sadly. ‘No excuse, I suppose
- but the wife ran up some horrendous debts on the Visa and Access
cards. I had no chance of paying them off. I had some gambling
debts, too. The usual shite, I suppose. I put in for promotion for
the extra money and didn’t get it.’

‘
So you went completely bent?’ Danny could not prevent herself
from blurting out unprofessionally.

‘
You can say what you like, you bitch. I had my
reasons.’

Danny was about to lash back. Henry put up a hand to quell
her.

‘
So along comes Malcolm Fitch and tells me he’s fallen in
cohorts with Billy Crane and Don Smith - both excellent blaggers
and safe-crackers. He said they were planning to do a Building
Society in Blackburn. I saw a window of opportunity to wipe off a
few debts, so I went to see Crane. I told him I had enough to pull
him there and then on conspiracy - and gave him an alternative,
which he took.’

‘
Which was?’ Henry and Danny said in unison.

‘
To go ahead and do the job and split the take with me,
fifty-fifty. Thirty grand each. I told him I’d do a proper official
job on it, on the face of it, but I’d make sure he got away so long
as he gave me half, as well as a prisoner - Don Smith - which is
just what happened.’

‘
Why not Malcolm Fitch as the prisoner?’ Henry
asked.

‘
Because I had to deal with him, too. I’d ensure he got away
and then got paid some informants money. I wanted a conviction out
of it. Guess I was just an old-fashioned jack at heart. I liked
seeing people behind bars.’

‘
So neither one of them knew you were dealing with the other?’
Henry queried, trying to get his head around this. ‘Fitch didn’t
know you were two-timing him with Crane; Crane didn’t know you were
dealing with Fitch.’

‘
Not initially, no. Crane eventually found out that Fitch had
snouted on him because I think he opened his big gob once too often
in a pub and the wrong people heard him. It got back to Crane, who
was in prison by then, and I heard he promised he would kill Fitch
for it one day - which he did.’

Henry guffawed. ‘And yet he was happy to drop his mate Smith
in it,’ he said incredulously. ‘Honour amongst thieves, my
buttocks!’ He took a breath. ‘Let me get this straight. The deal
was, you fixed it for Crane to get away from the scene of the
crime.’

‘
Yes.’

‘
Then you allowed Fitch to do a runner when you were
transferring him back to the police station?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
And Don Smith got caught and convicted.’

‘
Yes.’

‘
So Fitch got his informants money, Crane got thirty grand, so
did you, and Don Smith got a prison sentence. . .?’

‘
That’s what should have happened - except it went belly-up on
the night.’

‘
How? Why?’

‘
OK,’ he swallowed, ‘they all three break into the Building
Society. The safe gets blown. I’m next door in a greengrocer’s,
watching all this on a monitor. I’ve set up the police operation
and told everybody that the information is that all three offenders
will come out of the back of the shop next door, which was an
insurance broker’s.

‘
Crane grabs the money and hustles the other two out the back
door - where they are met by every cop and his gun - and meanwhile
Crane exits out the front door, blasting fuck out of it with a
shotgun and running. He had a clear, pre-planned escape route, all
the way back to his car. All he had to do was jump in and fuck off.
I would just tell everybody he was unidentified.’ Gillrow looked
glum. ‘But I cocked up big-style. There was so much going on in my
head, trying to cover all the angles that I’d forgotten to stand
down you and your mate from covering the Cosworth. It totally went
out of my head. When Crane got there, he ran into you - and Bob’s
your uncle.’

Although it had happened almost thirteen years before, Henry
Christie’s memory of that night was just as vivid as ever. The
vision of his best friend taking the shotgun blast and almost dying
from it would live with him always. And the fear of that night
would, too. Even as Gillrow had been relating the story, Henry’s
heart had started beating quickly and adrenaline was pumping into
his veins. He could taste the fear he had tasted on that night.
Feel the metal of his revolver in his hand. Hear the blast of the
shotgun. See Terry Briggs writhing in agony, almost
dying.

He said nothing, but Danny saw him looking strangely at
Gillrow.

‘
What happened to the money?’ she asked.

‘
We had a pre-arranged drop in a dustbin. I collected it after
Fitch had done a “runner” from me. That’s the cash that paid for
the deposit on this place. I put thirty grand into an offshore
account for Crane. The extra seventy grand you talk about is legit.
Came from a wealthy but dead uncle. Check it out.’

Danny was going to ask a question about his relationship now
with Crane, but Henry had had enough, as evidenced by the words
which he growled out. ‘You are a piece of shite!’

Henry rose quickly from his plastic chair, sending it
clattering behind him. He dived across the gap to Gillrow, grabbed
his T-shirt and chest skin underneath and hauled him to his feet.
The older man whimpered in fright as Henry pushed him right up
against the balcony rail. Henry was livid, literally purple with
rage. Danny had never seen him like that.

‘
My friend nearly died for you that night, for your greed, for
your corruption. I should throw you off here, you slimy bastard.’
Spittle from Henry’s mouth landed in little white bubbles on
Gillrow’s face, the two men were so close.

‘
Henry! Henry let him go,’ Danny said firmly. She laid a
calming hand on her lover’s shoulder. ‘He’s definitely not worth
it.’

Henry drew back, smouldering. ‘I haven’t finished with you,
Barney. Not by a fucking long chalk. I’ll show you just how I get
results by operating with red tape and bureaucracy. The secret is
to make it work for you ... and I’m very, very good at
that.’

Chapter Twenty-One

‘
Have you returned to earth from the Planet Zog, yet?’ Danny
asked Henry in a gentle manner.

They had walked briskly back from Gillrow’s apartment to Los
Cristianos, not having realised at the time - because they were
having so much fun - how long they had stayed at the ex-detective’s
place. They had left at 11.45 a.m. and needed to make the midday
meeting with Loz, having arranged to see him at Henry’s hotel room
for some further conversation. Ideally they would have preferred to
have been in the room, waiting for him, inviting him into their
lair, which would have given them the psychological advantage. Now
they would be turning up late and flustered.

It was well after twelve when they got into the centre of Los
Cristianos, both sweating profusely with the exertion. Henry had
not spoken during their journey and Danny had let him have the time
and space to brood and reflect. He had been very upset and made
angry by Gillrow’s confession - quite understandably - and Danny
accepted that. She would have been upset too. As it was, Gillrow’s
total disregard for proper practice coupled with his dishonesty
made her despise the man, rather than want to throw him over a
balcony rail.

They were in the hotel, walking up the flight of steps to
their rooms on the first floor, when Danny decided that Henry’s
angry silence had gone on long enough. He needed to be in the right
frame of mind for their meeting with Loz Brayfield and not take the
legacy of his interaction with Gillrow in with him. Hence her
playful jibe about that well-known fictional planet.

‘
Yeah,’ he said, and breathed out with relief. He had been
carrying the tension with him all the way from Playa de las
Americas and Danny had managed to break it with these words. His
whole body relaxed visibly. His shoulders fell and a smile returned
to his face. He shook his head wryly at his own stupidity. ‘I’d
have had some explaining to do if I’d let go, wouldn’t I? I guess I
just let the bastard get to me.’

They paused on a landing where the stairs did a 180-degree
turn and grinned at each other.

‘
He got to me, too,’ Danny admitted. ‘I could have slapped
him. We need to sort him out good and proper.’

Henry placed his hands on her shoulders, gazed into her eyes
and said, seriously, but happily, ‘I love you.’

Her eyes shone brightly, captivating him.

They kissed and embraced quickly.

‘
Work to do,’ she said as they parted.

‘
Let’s go and see what our tame toss-bag has for us now,’
Henry said.

They turned, Danny ahead of him, and began to walk up the
short flight of steps which would take them up to the first
floor.

Loz was sitting on his backside on the corridor floor outside
Henry’s room, knees drawn up, arms folded across them, forehead
resting on his forearms, sighing with annoyance at their lateness.
He had purposely been early for this rendezvous, eager to collect
what he had come to regard as his winnings. Another thousand
pounds. Only he had no idea what he was going to tell them today
for his money. He had already divulged most of what he knew about
Crane. He thought he would let Christie ask the questions - which
would give him more chance to ogle the woman detective, Furness.
Loz could still feel the outline of her bush in his hands and the
feel of her soft tits from when he had grabbed her. The memory made
him shudder with delight. Maybe he should insist on payment in
kind. He sniggered to himself, imagining her giving him a blow job,
then looked quickly along the corridor, thinking he’d heard someone
coming. But there was no one in sight - just a shadow. .
.

Ivankov had watched Loz leaving Uncle B’s, scuttling down the
street like some sort of weasel. It was obvious that Loz was
nervous, evidenced by the glances he continually threw over his
shoulder, pausing at shop windows, sneaking furtive looks from side
to side whilst pretending to inspect the goods on display. Ivankov
wondered what he was playing at.

So far, the Russian’s discreet investigations had brought him
as far as Loz and the information had been: find Loz and you find
Billy Crane. But Crane was not on the scene. There was a whisper
about a villa on La Gomera, but nothing more concrete than that.
And Ivankov was now getting impatient. He had to get face to face
with Crane very soon to satisfy Drozdov. The sooner the better.
Having observed Loz, on and off, for over a day, it was getting to
the point where Ivankov was going to ask some very direct questions
of him. And then dispose of him.

Tailing Loz was easy for Ivankov amongst the holidaymakers.
Loz led him through the streets of Los Cristianos, down to the
beach-front and along the promenade to a large, modern hotel
positioned on a rocky headland across the small bay from the
harbour and ferry terminal.

At some point, Loz seemed to have decided that his
anti-surveillance tactics were no longer needed and openly walked
up the steps leading to the pool, no more looking back, just sheer
cockiness. Ivankov followed him around the Lido, which was crowded
to bursting with prostrate, sun-worshipping individuals of all
shapes and sizes, into the hotel. Inside it was dark, cool and
air-conditioned, all smoked glass, shiny metal and creeping vines.
Loz headed straight for the elevators. Ivankov peeled away to the
reception desk and picked up a car-hire brochure.