The Blue Notes (14 page)

Sunday, 19th April

9.57am CID office, Carlisle Police HQ

As soon as Pepper arrived at work she filed yet another intelligence report on Dai Young, not that it would do any good. She’d been trying to get him moved into the top tier of target criminals in the county for months, without the slightest success. To her disgust he was still in the same category as the kind of cons who were no more than kids really, and whose criminal enterprises would never add up to more than the usual depressing litany of sad, stupid shit. Society deserved to be protected from them, because they were every bit as selfish as Dai Young, but what they weren’t was as ambitious, or anything like as dangerous. They didn’t give a shit about anyone, but none of them would ever really kill anything dead, other than their own childrens' aspirations. But Dai Young was different. A different animal entirely.

She wasn’t surprised when an email from Superintendent Clark showed up in her inbox, suggesting a coffee up in her office.

‘I didn’t realise that DC Armstrong was involved with that young volunteer that Professional Standards has been talking to’, said Mary Clark.

‘Involved is probably a bit strong. But he’d like to be, and after riding to her rescue like that I’ll bet he’s well in there now. And she seems like a nice kid.’

‘Innocent, too?’

‘Oh, aye, no question. Those bully-boys from Professional Standards just tried leaning on her, because they always knew that the fact that her phone was used proves absolutely sod all. It was clever of whoever did it, especially because our own CCTV in the building was down at the time.’

‘So what happens next?’

‘They keep looking, and they keep digging. They’ll just keep digging away at everyone who was in the building at the time that Josie’s phone was used, and they’ll take it from there. Because they have narrowed the field now, they really have.’

‘I was in the building at the time, Pepper.’

‘Were you?’

Pepper expected to get away with the lie, because Mary Clark still seemed very much like a civilian in uniform, more at home with the supply chain than the chain of command, but this time she was wrong.

‘You already knew that, didn’t you?’

‘I did, aye. It was young Henry who found out about the lights, remember, and he printed out the list of everyone whose smart card says they were here at the time the phone was used.’

‘I see. And is it common knowledge, this list?’

‘Not as far as I know. But does it matter, Mary? It’s not you, is it?’

‘No, of course not. But it’s not very nice, being under suspicion.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Oh, yes, I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. Of course you already know what it’s like being quizzed by those two, having them going through your whole life like that.’

‘I do. But don’t worry, they’ll leave you alone when they’re sure you’re clean. And I’m just grateful that I wasn’t here at the time, that’s all. Or they’d be all over me like a cheap suit now. That Dixon really fancied me for it, I could just tell. What a plank. Thick as they come, that bloke is.’

‘But you still think they’ll catch the mole?’

‘Aye. Maybe not immediately, but soon. Because whoever it is has got themselves jammed up between us and Dai Young, and that’s not a healthy place to be.’

‘If it is Young who’s behind all this.’

‘Of course it is, love. But short of him painting that fact in bloody ten-foot high letters on the castle walls I don’t think anyone believes me. At least not yet, they don’t. But when the pressure builds on Young, and it will, then he’ll chuck his mole straight under the bus, if he thinks it’ll do him any good at all. And then, if they don’t top themselves before it comes to trial, that poor sod will be looking a long, shitty stretch inside. Civilian or sworn officer, the beak will chuck the book at whoever it is, you mark my words.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. I almost feel sorry for whoever it is.’

‘Don’t waste your sympathy, love. I stopped feeling anything other than contempt for cons years ago, and you’ll learn to do the same. Because whoever has been feeding intel to that psycho is as good an accessory to everything that Young has done from the time our mole started on the informing job, right up until the moment that he or she gets caught. And that’ll be a right lot of nasty shit, believe you me. So save your sympathy for orphaned polar bears, and all that old bollocks.’

Davey Hood didn’t mind working on a Sunday, in fact he’d quoted especially low for this job. Partly because he liked the client, an old chap who was moving in with daughter in Dalston, and partly because he liked to keep himself busy. The lads did too, he knew that, and the three of them had a laugh as they loaded the old man’s modest possessions carefully onto the van. And Hood wondered, as he often did, what he’d actually have at the end of his life, and who, if anyone, he’d have to leave it to.

Afterwards he drove the lads back to the yard, so they could all get changed and then go for a couple of beers, and maybe catch a bit of footy in the pub. He wasn’t bothered about the game, but the lads enjoyed it, and the
craic
was usually good. He had a thirst on him now too. So Hood didn’t think anything of it when he had to pull over to let a couple of fire engines go by, heading in the same direction as he was, but when he saw the smoke rising from among the terraced streets he knew for certain what had happened, and why. And the lads knew it too.

He stopped at the cordon, got out of the cab, and talked briefly to the young copper who was keeping the gawkers at bay. The main building, where he kept the other van and the stuff he was storing for clients, was already well alight, and both fire crews were already going to work. Not that there was much point. Then he walked back to the cab, and as he approached the driver’s door both lads said ‘shit’ in unison. Not because their place of employment was being destroyed before their eyes, but because of the expression on Davey Hood’s face.

They’d both seen that expression before. But not for a long time, and only when they’d all been a very long way from Carlisle. But another war was coming, and it didn’t need Tony Blair to tell any of them why this one would be a just war. It was all soldier simple. Davey Hood would defend his homeland, and they would both stand alongside him.

When Hood climbed back into the van he didn’t say a word. He just put it into reverse, and carefully turned round in the street. Then he drove to the pub, bought the lads a pint, and a sandwich to go with it. No-one said very much as they ate and drank, but then no-one needed to.

‘You know who did this, don’t you, Davey?’

‘Aye, Alan, I know.’

‘And we’ll not let it stand, will we?’

Davey Hood didn’t answer, and after a moment or two both men realised that there was absolutely no need. There was only one possible response, for a man like Davey Hood.