The Blue Notes (10 page)

Hood watched for another five minutes, then got out of the Fiesta, locked it, and strolled past the shops. There was an alley leading down the side, and he walked slowly down, stopping at the end of the wall. He glanced round the corner, saw there was no-on about, and had a look at the rear doors. All of them were padlocked, but weren’t protected by metal grilles. He pulled the multi tool out of his pockets and loosened the screws holding the padlock plate to the door of the unit that the fat man had gone into. He was pretty sure that, if anyone was really keen to get out, then a really solid kick would burst it right open.

After that he walked back to the car, drove back to Paula’s house, and parked up outside. Sure enough the blue hatchback was in position near his house. So he got back into his pick up, drove it to the yard, and parked it up inside. Then he walked quickly back to Paula’s.

She opened the door before he’d even knocked.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Well I’m not. I’m bloody terrified. You’re having that drink with me right now, Davey. I need something to calm my nerves.’

She gave him a beer, made herself a gin and tonic, and led the way back to the living room. Some music that Davey didn’t recognise was playing softly, and there were a couple of candles burning. He pretended not to notice, and said thanks for the drink.

‘Are you a criminal then, Davey? Is that what all this is about? Have you nicked off the wrong people, or something?’

‘No, nothing like that.’

‘Then let’s call the police, love. Let them take care of it.’

‘No, there’s no need for that. I’ll head off in a bit, and go and stay with a mate. I’ll take care of those lads in a day or two. Let them spend a night in the car first.’

‘You’re not going anywhere, Davey Hood. You’re staying here tonight, and that’s an order.’

He took a sip of his drink.

‘Yes, ma’am. But only if you insist, like.’

Wednesday, 15th April

Carlisle Divisional HQ, Carlisle, 9.01am

DS Jarvis looked steadily at Superintendent Clark as he spoke. ‘I hope that’s all absolutely clear, ma’am?’

‘Yes, I think so. You’re saying that you are now convinced that we do have an officer in this station who is leaking operationally sensitive information to third parties connected with organised crime.’

‘Not necessarily a sworn officer, but someone, certainly. We have intelligence to that effect, and the information is judged to be of very high quality. Grade A intel, that’s all I can tell you.’

‘And you can’t say who that source is?’

‘I can’t, or rather I couldn’t, even if I knew.’

Clark nodded. ‘So the plan is to mount another operation, targeting organised crime, but this time you’ll be monitoring the communications and actions of a large number of personnel based at this station, the idea being to catch the person in the act of passing on operational information. Is that right?’

‘Yes, that’s pretty much it.’

‘But what if our mole makes personal contact with their handler, or whatever it is you call them?’

‘That’s an operational detail, ma’am, and I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with you, I’m afraid.’

‘Because I’m a suspect?’

Jarvis smiled. ‘The only way that we can eliminate you, and all your other colleagues, is to ensure that no specific operational details are shared, ma’am.’

‘So you’ve already begun your surveillance, I take it?’

‘We have, yes.’

‘And can you tell me the nature of the operation that will be mounted?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘That’s big of you, DS Jarvis.’

‘Not really, ma’am. Superintendent Phillips is already in the building, and will hold a formal briefing in ten minutes.’

This time Clark smiled. She should have guessed. ‘So what’s the target?’

‘A business premises in Carlisle, on English Street. Thompson’s, the wine bar, just along from the bank.’

‘I know it. I’ve been there several times, in fact.’

‘Well, it’s owned, or rather controlled, by Dai Young, and above it is an office suite. It’s a straight operation, but in one of the offices there’s one computer, not connected to the network and only accessible by one of Young’s most trusted people, and that holds his whole operation’s financial details. That’s the target. It could be a treasure trove for us, and break his whole organisation wide open.’

‘Young has an accountant?’

‘More than one, actually. He’s not the ultimate boss, remember, so he has to report back, and his masters want to be sure that every penny his organisation earns is properly accounted for. They want to be sure that he’s not stealing from them, essentially.’

‘I see. So this is a real operation, not some kind of ruse to get the mole to expose themselves?’

‘Absolutely not. It’s very, very real, ma’am.’

Clark nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Pepper Wilson predicted that this is what you’d do next. Don’t you think that’s a bit, you know, suspicious?’

Jarvis smiled, then shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I’m not saying that Acting DI Wilson isn’t still of interest to us, but that just shows that she’s a well-informed copper. Plenty of people around here will be expecting this, and that’s why we have to act on real, quality intel. This force has had a pretty bad few years when it comes to coppers getting nicked for a variety of offences, and with mergers back on the table you’ll appreciate that I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that we’re throwing everything we’ve got at this operation. Orders from the Chief himself. My understanding is that, if we don’t catch our mole, then Cumbria Constabulary is facing an existential threat. In a year or two from now, if things go badly, we could just get incorporated into a larger north-west constabulary of some kind. Personally, I’m all in favour, but there are plenty of Superintendents who are shitting themselves about it. Present company excepted, like.’

‘Thanks.

After the briefing, which started at 3pm sharp, DC Copeland asked Armstrong to help him to check the log against some items stored down in the evidence room. There seemed to be some sort of numbering cock-up, and he didn’t want to give any ammunition to some smart-arse defence barrister.

‘Did you do that background check on Davey Hood?’, he asked, as they were descending the stairs to the lower basement.

‘Aye, I did.’

‘And you weren’t the first, I take it?’

Armstrong smiled. ‘You’re right, Pepper had already done the same. Full background check.’

‘I told you so. I bloody told you, mate.’

‘That means nothing though, does it? We’ve had contact with him recently, and he might have been a witness if the assault on you and Pepper ever came to trial.’

‘Maybe, I suppose. Anyway, what did you find out?’

‘Not much. No criminal record, and nothing in his army record, either. A model soldier, by the looks. No CCJs, nothing like that, and no tax returns for his company as yet.’

‘Mr. Clean, then? That’s a surprise. Given how handy he is with his fists I’d have expected a conviction or two for affray, or something like that.’

‘No, nothing. But his KAs are different. The two lads he employs, for example. They’ve both had convictions since they left the army, both for violence. And they’ve both been on addiction programmes.’

‘Smack?’

‘Aye, I’d say so, but nothing against either of them in the last year or so.’

‘Any gang affiliations, anything like that?’

‘Not as far as I could see. Nothing that caught my eye, anyway.’

‘And no connection with Dai Young?’

‘No. I called the intelligence unit, just on the off chance.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing on Davey Hood. They checked, and his name’s never even come up. So he’s clean, Rex, I’m sure of it. And Pepper’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.’

‘You mean he looks clean, mate. That still doesn’t mean he is.’

They were outside the evidence room now, and Armstrong had his hand on the door handle. But he didn’t open it, and instead turned to Copeland.

‘I know Hood’s all right, Rex. For a fact, like. You’re wasting your time on this one, honest.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Sorry, mate. I can’t tell you, but I do.’

‘And Pepper knows this too, I take it?’

‘She does, aye.’

‘And she’s the one who told you to keep whatever it is you know to yourself, I take it?’

‘Aye, it is.’

‘There’s no more to say then, is there? But I’ll tell you one thing, mate. There’s something wrong about that bloke, and I’m going to find exactly out what that is.’

Pepper never liked seeing an email from the Super, especially just before she was about to leave the office. And when she saw the subject, ‘Drink?’, she frowned, and wondered if she could just leave it unopened and head for the door. She hesitated, and then opened the email. It was a chatty suggestion that they could maybe have a quick drink straight after work, or maybe later that evening.

Pepper thought about it for a moment before she replied. They met up every couple of weeks anyway, and it had been a while: but why tonight? The raid was going off, and although neither of them were involved because DI Jane Francis’ team from HQ was running the show, Pepper would still have preferred to be at home, and sober, just in case. But she also knew that Mary was lonely and a bit unhappy. Well, more than a bit, judging by a couple of comments that she’d made the last time they’d gone out. And Pepper knew how hard it was to meet anyone new, especially as a copper. For some reason even blokes who’d never had so much as a parking ticket found women in the job more than a little intimidating. ‘I’m not from the political correctness squad’, she’d said on more than one first date, but it had done sod all good. So she emailed Mary back, suggested they meet at nine, and left the office thinking about who she could persuade to sit for her, at such short notice.

Mary was there before her, as she always was, and as always Pepper apologised for being late. It was the same wine bar that they usually frequented too, and the bottle in the cooler on the table was the variety that they invariably drank. Pepper sat down, thought how badly dressed she looked in comparison with Mary, and even a quick mental comparison of their salaries didn’t make her feel all that much better. But she smiled anyway, and Mary noticed.

‘Looking forward to a glass of wine, love?’

‘Always. Since a couple of my mates stopped exchanging sitting Ben for payment in wine form I’ve barely touched a drop. I just can’t seem to drink alone.’

‘Really? I wish I could say the same.’

‘Well’, said Pepper brightly, ‘we’re drinking together now, aren’t we?’ She sincerely hoped that Mary hadn’t just come out for a moan.

But she needn’t have worried, because it seemed that the Super was in relatively playful mood, and she told stories about a couple of the other Superintendents, including the married one from Personnel who’d almost literally chased Mary round the table in a meeting room at HQ.

‘How did you fight him off? Pepper spray, was it?’

‘No, I just kept moving, and he ran out of puff after a bit. Stamina wouldn’t be his strong point, I’d say.’

‘I doubt his strong point would be much of a strong point’, added Pepper, laughing. ‘Still, it’s nice to be noticed, I suppose. I’m already pretty much invisible to blokes, as far as I can tell.’

‘You? No way, love. I’d kill for your figure. And your looks, too, of course. Tell you what, let’s get our grigio goggles on, and see what happens, shall we?’

‘I know what’ll happen, love. I’ll wake up on my own tomorrow, with nothing but a hangover for company. That’s exactly what’ll happen.’

The two women chatted their way through a second bottle, and Pepper was enjoying herself now.

‘It’s really nice to get out,’ said Mary, ‘this bloody mole hunt is making me nervous.’

‘That’s normal, don’t worry. I remember the first time some con made a complaint about me, back when I was a probationer, and I was shitting myself for weeks. None of the old sweats could understand it. Just goes with the territory, worse luck.’

‘I don’t know, Pepper. I can’t see what all this proves, either way. What if the raid is a huge success? Does that mean we haven’t got a mole?’

‘No, not for certain. But, like I said before, most policing is based on established procedures. You see we learn as time goes on, and the cons never do. That’s what sets us apart. They just keep doing the same stupid shit, generation after generation. They’re the only human beings that actually make you doubt evolution, are the scum-bags.’

Mary Clark laughed, then looked at her watch. ‘Half-ten. They’ll be on with it now, won’t they?’

‘Aye, they will. And I hereby bar you from checking your phone. And I’ll do the same. We’ll hear all about it in the morning, I dare say. And that’ll be soon enough, Mary, believe you me.’

DI Jane Francis didn’t need to look at her watch, because she was getting a countdown in her ear. This was it. The building’s key holder had been knocked up only fifteen minutes before, and hadn’t been out of an officer’s sight until the moment that he opened the door and the search team ran up the stairs, led by two officers from armed response. Jane and her DS, Keith Iredale, followed when the place was secure, and two members of the tech team, who seemed slightly surprised to be out at that time of night without parental supervision, brought up the rear. They were under instructions to remove the hard drive without powering up the target computer, in case it automatically deleted data. They were to then clone the drive, and put it back.

Twenty minutes later that job was done, but as had been agreed in advance of the operation the search team had started going through the whole office. They’d be at it until long after the staff arrived for work the next morning, and Jane was absolutely certain that they’d turn up nothing at all. But that wasn’t the point. Because the only way to offer their informant even a tiny bit of protection from Dai Young was to make it look as if the search was much less clearly directed than it was. Jane Francis was still pretty sure that Pepper Wilson was talking out of her arse with all that stuff about Young being the kind of villain who’d pull your toes off with a pair of rusty pliers, but it did no harm to take precautions.

She left the site at one in the morning, after she’d spoken briefly to Young’s office manager, who arrived looking shocked and surprised. The intel file said that this woman was completely straight, with no knowledge of any of Young’s businesses, and if she did know anything then she was a brilliant actress, Jane decided. Because even after she’d explained that the police were acting on information received, and after she’d quoted the statutory basis for the police’s action and shown her Warrant, the woman still looked utterly bemused. Jane decided to leave her that way, and went back to the station.

The forensic accountancy consultant that they’d hired specially, and at vast cost, was going through the files on the cloned hard drive for the second time when she arrived back at Constabulary HQ.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but there’s nothing of interest here.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. Whoever had this computer, and I’m guessing that it’s a woman, just kept a few personal files on the local hard-drive. There’s no financial data here at all. Quite a few pictures of kittens in bottles and baskets, but that’s about it.’

‘Shit.’ Jane Francis was tired, and annoyed. She turned to the long-haired lad from tech support, whose name she could never quite remember. It was something vaguely American sounding, she thought. Chad, perhaps. ‘Is there any chance that the files are hidden on here?’

‘Almost certainly not, I’m afraid. We’ve got a couple more checks to run, just to be sure, but I’d say that this is your lot. There’s nothing else to find, I’d say.’

‘Any chance that the drive you cloned has been swapped for another one, in the very recent past?’