Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (11 page)

‘Good evening, Superintendent Williams.’

‘Good evening, Mr Darrow.’

‘Do you mind telling me what is going on?’ Eric Darrow had phrased the question politely, but his manner of asking was anything but.

Trevor had seen many ‘super’ criminals in his time, but none quite like Eric Darrow. Yet his physical presence wasn’t impressive. Five feet eight inches, he might have once been as blond, slim and athletic as his son. If the stories he liked to tell about his past glories as an international rugby player had any truth in them, he may have been even fitter. But now, in his early fifties, his body had run to fat and he was at least two stone heavier than when Trevor had last seen him. The final vestiges of colour had left his thinning, silver grey hair. His eyes were as blue and as bright as Trevor recalled. They were also as vicious.

Trevor saw nothing to alter the impression he had formed the first time he had met the man. Eric Darrow was the same slimy bastard he remembered from ten years back, when Darrow had evaded every single question he and Peter had asked, never giving a straight answer to any one of them, while repeating his threat to sue them, the force, and use his connections to ‘have their jobs’.

Darrow’s eyes flicked over the room. Trevor knew he’d changed even more than Darrow, since they had last met but that didn’t stop a sick feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.

What if Darrow recognised him – or Peter? Then he realised. He was a professional police officer yet Darrow had the power to intimidate him.

What chance did the Kelly’s of this world have if even he, with the full backing of the police force, couldn’t stand up to and confront the man?

Darrow posed in front of the lift that opened on the walkway that ringed the room. He looked down on the customers and police officers who were standing on the floor of the casino, three feet below him. He was obviously trying to emphasise his status as owner of the casino and also give the impression that it was he, not the police, who were in control of the situation. He barked an order. A few moments later a bouncer ran up to him and handed him a radio microphone. Darrow switched it on and addressed the room as if he were a politician at a rally.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, no one regrets this interruption to your evening’s entertainment more than me. The police have informed me that a human body part has been discovered in the car park outside the casino. They refuse to tell me anything more – or what part of the human body the part is.’ He paused. If he had expected laughter he was disappointed.

‘The officers insist on taking the names and addresses of everyone here. I realise this is an infringement of your civil liberties, but the police have the power to detain potential witnesses to what may – or may not –’ he laid heavy emphasis on the last three words, ‘turn out to be a criminal offence.’

A hubbub broke out.

‘The police have also insisted that we suspend all gaming.’ Eric Darrow held up his hand as people began to shout questions. ‘I doubt they have the authority to do so, but to save any unpleasantness I have agreed. I have instructed my staff to give everyone a voucher on leaving the club, which will entitle you to ten pounds worth of free chips the next time you visit.’

The police officers began to divide the people into groups,

Alexander Markov, Peter and Trevor were moved into one group of twelve men. Justin Lebov and Andrew into another. Rookie constables moved along the groups with notepads and paper, taking down names and addresses. Most customers tossed business cards at the officers but the police had been well briefed. They took no card at face value and demanded corroboration from a second document.

Trevor studied the line and saw that it was going to be a slow process. He watched Peter push a cigar in his mouth only to receive the customary, ‘No smoking,’ reprimand from a bouncer.

Before Peter could give his ‘this is just my dummy’ reply, an officer came running from the back corridor and Trevor knew that neither he nor Peter would see their beds before dawn.

Chapter Eleven

Hours later, after everyone in the casino had been ‘processed’, a short journey in the back of a police van, and two and a half hours spent in a waiting room with ‘other potential witnesses’, Trevor, Peter and Alexander were escorted out of the ante-room and away from the half a dozen self-proclaimed ‘hard cases’ who ‘had previous form’. It took another ten minutes of ‘shuffling’ before they ended up in the same room as Dan and Andrew. Dan closed the door. A few seconds later Bill appeared, grim-faced and exhausted. He pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down.

‘What the hell’s going on …’ Peter began.

Bill silenced him with a curt, ‘Alfred’s dead.’

‘I found his body.’ Trevor was relieved that he could finally tell Peter and Alexander.

‘I phoned Dan as soon as Trevor passed on the news.’ Andrew’s face was ashen, drained of colour.

Trevor wondered if it was down to the strain they were under or the fluorescent lighting.

Dan picked up the thread. ‘The locals moved in and took control of the casino before I had time to call them.’

‘What body part was found?’ Alexander asked.

‘Lee’s arm.’ Bill leaned his elbows on the table.

‘It’s a Triad torture,’ Dan explained. ‘If they think someone has betrayed them, they kidnap them and ask which part of their body they can do without. They remove whichever leg or arm the victim decides on, wait a week or two for the wound to heal, then return and ask them which other part they can do without. Sometimes the victims are kept alive for months before being killed or starved to death. They usually start with the left arm. That’s what we found.’

‘Has it been identified as Lee’s?’ Peter didn’t want to believe it.

‘It has his ring on the index finger and the Rolex we issued strapped to the wrist. There was blood in the back room the Chinese had hired. Not much, but enough to cross match. We’re waiting on results. But don’t get your hopes up. It’s Lee’s all right. Locals think they put down plastic sheeting when they severed his arm. We’ve had wind of it happening to Triad members before – but not anywhere as public as a casino.’

‘Lee could still be alive?’ Andrew asked earnestly.

‘As Dan said, it’s almost certain he is.’ Bill covered his eyes as if the light was too strong – it wasn’t. ‘Locals have everyone they can spare out looking for him. But we’re dealing with the Chinese. They could have hidden him in any one of a thousand places around the Bay and, that’s without starting on the yachts. Eighteen have sailed out in the last two hours. He could be on his way to France, Ireland or the Med.’

‘What happened to Alfred?’ Peter asked.

Trevor related in a few words how he found him.

‘We won’t have the PM results until tomorrow. As Trevor said, there was a needle in his arm. But from the angle there is no way that he injected himself. There was also a swelling on the crown of his head and bruising on his back, so he was assaulted before he died. If he was lucky, he didn’t know what was happening to him.’ Bill tensed the muscles in his jaw. ‘And that’s not all.’

‘What can be bloody worse than this …’ Peter began.

‘Maria Sanchez and Michael Sullivan were found floating in a stolen tender on the bay ten minutes ago. Both had been shot in the head.’

Andrew swayed and gripped the back of his chair. ‘There’s no mistake …’

‘Not a chance,’ Bill muttered.

Trevor stared down at the floor.

Peter bit the cigar in his mouth in half. He spat the threads of tobacco that clung to his lips into a tissue. ‘There’s a leak inside the force.’

‘It looks that way,’ Bill concurred.

‘What about the others? Are they still out there?’ Trevor asked.

‘We’ve pulled in everyone who wasn’t at the casino tonight. Tony, Tom, Veenay and Hassan are in safe houses.’

‘You’re watching them?’ Peter asked.

‘Every operative on this case was thoroughly screened,’ Dan insisted. ‘I staked my life – and yours – on your collective integrity.’

‘Justin?’ Alexander looked at Bill.

‘Justin is with the rest of the Albanians, in a cell. One of them was carrying half a pound of heroin.’

‘Typical,’ Alexander said, ‘no finesse or style.’

‘Solicitor’s getting him out now,’ Bill said. ‘There are a couple more things. We checked everyone’s families. Lee’s wife is missing. According to a neighbour she left the house in her car around midnight. The neighbour was still up; Lee’s wife’s saw her light, knocked on the door, gave her a key and asked the neighbour if she would feed their cat. She explained that she’d had a call from a hospital to say Lee had been in an accident and she didn’t know when she’d be back. Her car was found abandoned at the local hospital, a twenty-minute drive from her house.’

‘There was no sign of her?’ Peter said.

‘As
yet
,’ Bill emphasised.

‘What about our families?’ Trevor asked urgently.

‘All fine, all being watched,’ Dan reassured him. ‘But Kelly has disappeared from the massage parlour.’

‘Was she reported missing?’ Peter clenched his fists.

‘No. After you called Andrew, we sent in two men. They visited an hour apart. Both asked for her. Both were told that she wasn’t working because she was ill.’

‘She was fine when I was with her,’ Peter said fiercely.

‘Upstairs are pulling in every undercover officer and closing down this operation with immediate effect.’

‘Isn’t that rather drastic?’ Alexander asked.

‘Not when you consider what happened to Alfred and Lee,’ Bill answered.

‘They were both murdered by the gangs they infiltrated,’ Peter murmured more to himself than anyone else.

‘Thank you for stating the obvious, Sergeant,’ Bill snapped. ‘That’s why we’re holding the men who accompanied Alfred to the Gents. Locals have taken the tape from the CCTV in the bathroom, hopefully before it could be tampered with. We’re waiting on forensic tests. We’re not expecting fingerprints but we might strike lucky with DNA.’

Trevor said, ‘Lee is in the hands of the Triads and they have to be behind the abduction of his wife. Alfred was killed by the Yardies. Maria and Michael were almost certainly shot by the Columbians, all of which means that whoever’s behind the sale of Black Daffodil has tipped off the gangs. The undercover operatives were targets – not of whoever is marketing the formula of Black Daffodil – that person or persons is far too clever to point the finger at themselves – but the people they penetrated. And everyone else who has made contact with a gang will remain a target until we unmask the leak and show the gangs how they have been used.’

‘If they’re prepared to be shown.’ Bill looked doubtful.

‘No one will cease being a target because “upstairs” has chosen to shut this operation down,’ Peter stated. ‘The Russians know Alexander. The Albanians know Justin. And, as they’re sitting here and not lying in the mortuary like Alfred, Michael and Maria, or locked up somewhere and being tortured like Lee, that means either their contacts are slower off the mark, or the gangs haven’t been informed that they’re undercover cops yet.’

‘We need to find out who is behind this leak,’ Trevor looked to Bill.

‘How?’ Bill asked.

‘Leave Peter and me out there for another twenty four hours,’ Trevor suggested. ‘But bring in Alexander and Justin. They’re working with gangs that aren’t going to shy away from murder. Peter and I have been working with minor dealers. We haven’t reached the big boys but our faces are known. Every local dealer on the Bay – big and small – must have been alerted to our quest for Black Daffodil by now. We’ll start by calling on Chris and Sarah …’

‘They are all right?’ Peter checked.

‘They were both fine when I came in here. I risked telephoning them. I warned them to keep their doors and windows locked. I also took the precaution of ordering an out-of-town team to move into an empty flat on their floor.’ Bill turned to Peter. ‘What do you think of Trevor’s idea?’

Peter glanced from Trevor to Bill and finally to Dan. ‘Trevor’s right. We’ve played the part of lone operators moving into existing territory. We’re no threat to anyone other than the small-time dealers who supplied us with Black Daffodil. And, if there is a local police informer, the chances are he’s passed on information about us and Chris and Sarah working for a Mr Big.’

‘Whoever passed on information about Alfred, Lee, Michael and Maria wasn’t local,’ Dan warned. ‘He or she had gold star information on our operation.’

‘There could be two informers,’ Peter explained with unusual patience – for him. ‘One who leaked information about this operation, and possibly another who has access to information about police operations on the council estate. You must have been concerned about that scenario. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have imposed an information blackout on the local force about Chris and Sarah.’

Dan nodded cautiously, ‘Agreed.’

‘It can’t hurt Trevor or me if the smaller dealers assume we’re are part of a bigger operation, especially if they believe we have serious muscle behind us. The other informant we’re looking for has to be someone in on this operation. But who is he – or she – going to pass on information about Trevor or me to? The small fry won’t dare tackle us after that last show in the tower block. And, as we haven’t approached any of the big dealers or gangs, they have nothing on us that they could see as a threat.’

‘Peter has a point.’ Dan said to Bill.

‘There’s one person they haven’t thought of,’ Bill observed, ‘and that’s whoever’s behind Black Daffodil. Because he is set to make millions from a deal with the Russians – provided we don’t interfere.’

‘But if we flush out whoever it is, we will close the case,’ Trevor said optimistically.

‘At considerable risk to yourselves. Do you two really want to go back out there?’ Bill asked.

Peter left his chair. ‘Think about it, Bill, what have we got to lose? Only our lives and you told me mine was expendable.’

‘Yours,’ Bill replied, with a ghost of a smile, ‘not Trevor’s.’

‘Call a taxi to take us back to the hotel,’ Trevor suggested. ‘We’ll drive up to the estate tomorrow and talk to Chris and Sarah. If they haven’t tracked down the main supplier of Black Daffodil on that estate you can pull them out.’

‘And then?’ Dan asked.

‘Peter and I keep asking questions and see what we come up with until tomorrow evening when we’ll think again.’

‘Ask questions? Who are you going to ask?’ Bill demanded.

‘Eric Darrow for one. It’s his city. Even if he isn’t mixed up in Black Daffodil I bet he knows who is.’ Peter went to the door.

‘Sergeant …’

‘I know. Go easy. Don’t I always?’ Peter gave his superiors a broad, artificial smile.

‘No you don’t.’

‘Twenty four hours isn’t long. We’ll do what we can.’

‘I’ll keep him in check.’ Trevor joined Peter. ‘Send for that car. I’m sleeping on my feet.’

Peter lay on the emperor-sized bed in his suite. He was bone weary, physically and mentally but couldn’t stop tossing and turning. He stared up at the ceiling, grey, shrouded in shadows, then looked at the illuminated clock built into the headboard. The hands pointed to four thirty. He turned over his pillow, hit it several times, moved his head to what he hoped would be a cooler, more comfortable spot and closed his eyes, only for his mind to be drawn into a kaleidoscope of images.

Chris being beaten to a pulp by the thugs who had broken into the flat – Kelly huddled on the floor, head in hands as she sobbed her heart out for Jake Phillips because he was one of the few people who had ‘been kind to her’ – Alfred laughing as he walked to the door at the back of the casino, sharing a joke with men who were about to murder him. Maria and Michael playing the gaming machines in the casino, engrossed in conversation with their new Hispanic friends, never dreaming that less than twenty-four hours later they would cease to exist – Lee, serious and studious, walking towards the private room surrounded by Chinese gamblers.

Peter opened his eyes and looked at the clock again. Four thirty-five. Only five minutes since he had last checked the time. He pictured Daisy, her eyes flashing in anger in the restaurant when he was being his usual thick-skinned, pig-headed self because he didn’t know how to tell her he loved her. Would she be getting a call from some low-life, as Lee’s wife had, telling her that he was hurt and in hospital and needed her …

He moved his pillow again. The room was hot – airless. He couldn’t breathe but he never could in air conditioned rooms. He left the bed, pressed the electric button that opened the balcony doors and stepped outside.

He had told Dan about Daisy – even going as far as putting her down as his next of kin, an honour that had been Trevor’s until now. But whereas Trevor had asked Dan if Lyn was safe, he hadn’t dared ask about Daisy because Andrew and Bill would scoff at the notion of him – the ultimate hard-headed cynical copper, having a girlfriend he actually cared for. Had Dan ordered a guard on Daisy? Was she in danger?

The false dawn that precedes the real one tinged the eastern horizon, painting the chill dark sea with even icier fingers. What was it about the sea that sent the price of property on the coast soaring out of the reach of most mortals? The eternal shifting movement of the waves? The white crests that foamed and dissipated only to reform in eternal motion? The plaintive cry of the gulls? The astringent smell of salt-laden air? He should know better than to ask. Philosophy wasn’t good for someone in his line of work at any time, but was particularly unnerving in the early hours.

Police officers should be doers not thinkers. Thinkers had a habit of working situations out for themselves which led to disobeying orders – and pissing off superiors.

He left the balcony door open and returned to the bedroom. Picking up his cell phone he reached for his wallet, took out a disposable Sim card and removed the original. After inserting the new card he went into the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the shower and dialled Daisy’s number.

Daisy heard the telephone and cursed. She fumbled blindly for the phone and it crashed to the floor. Why did people have to fall sick in the middle of the night and make her drop the phone and, what was even worse, open her eyes to find it.