Down Among the Dead Men (25 page)

Cooper stands up. She's a solid woman and right now looks like she's ready to take on all comers.

'Me,' she says. 'For one.'

Forty-Eight

While Frank and Harris are interviewing Noone, Terry's in the bar of The Pumphouse all afternoon and by six is well on the way to being completely bollixed.

With everything turning to shit, and work halted on the movie, drink seems like the only sensible option.

After the interview with the police on Monday he'd worried that he'd fucked up more than he already had, but they seemed convinced enough by his story about the affair with Maddy.

For a moment, when the black copper had known he was hiding something, he'd thought the game was up. Blurting it out about Maddy turned out to be the best thing he could have done. When they let him go he could hardly believe it and there was only one thing on his mind.

Get rid of Nicky.

Except he couldn't. He'd bottled it. Terry thinks of Nicky down there now, alone, terrified, in the dark. He might be dead, he might not, but Terry knows he can't go down there again. If he hadn't been able to do it before then he wasn't going to be able to do it now. As he sees it he only has three options.

He can talk, tell the police everything and face the consequences. Who knows, he may get points for saving the boy? It's the only choice that will redeem him but Terry Peters hasn't got that in him. The idea of the shame, of the pure hatred that will rain down on him, is overwhelming.

The second choice is the one he'd tried to do and failed. He'd gone down there again the other night ready to tie up the loose ends. Fuck 'loose ends'.
Say what you mean
.

He'd gone down there to kill Nicky.

And it had been impossible. Terry just doesn't have what it takes, despite what he'd said that night at Paul's house.

'I'll take care of Nicky,' Terry had said. 'I'll do it.'

But he hadn't.

Why the fuck he'd ever kept Nicky in the tunnels – like some sort of pet – he didn't know. Wasn't the whole thing bad enough as it was? Nicky's the only real connection between Noone, Terry and the murders and Terry knows he's risking everything leaving Nicky alive.

But it's Nicky, for Christ's sake. Blood.

The last choice, and the one that's foremost in Terry's mind, is to kill himself. The river's there waiting. It would be so easy to drop over the side and let the Mersey take him. He can almost hear it calling. One seductive step over the rail, a few minutes' struggle in the black water and then nothing. No more pain, no more decisions, no more consequences.

Terry closes his eyes but all he can see is his brother's face.

Tell me what to do
.

Paul had always known what the right thing to do was.

He had looked after him when they were kids, always made sure that little Terry had been included. Paul had given Terry nothing but trust and love and in return Terry had abused his only son, fucked his wife and then helped slaughter all three of them. He is vermin. He is less than vermin.

He lurches to the gents and is violently sick.

When he emerges, Noone's in the bar.

'I left him down there, Ben.' Tears are running down Terry Peters' face. 'I left him to die. In the tunnels. He's all alone.'

'It's OK, Terry,' says Noone. 'Let's get you home.'

Forty-Nine

Cooper gets back to MIT from Ainsdale around six. She's missed the Quinner autopsy but this takes precedence. Ferguson's results will come through anyway, MIT presence or not. Police attendance is more a habit than a requirement and Cooper's confident she can claim that Stella Flynn's revelations about her ex-husband will cover any problems with the autopsy. Getting anything solid to back up the ex-wife's claims will be another story.

As luck would have it she runs into Harris just outside the MIT office.

'It's Terry,' Cooper blurts out as soon as she sees the DI. She'd meant for it to come out differently but she can't help herself.

'What?' Harris is distracted. Apart from the ever-growing stack of MIT emails and memos, her phone is clogged with increasingly needy texts from Linda. Add to that the fact that Frank's gone off at the deep end in the interview with Noone, and the last thing she needs now is some twaddle from Theresa. 'What's Terry?'

'He fucking did it!' Cooper leans in close, her eyes shining. 'He's a kiddie-fiddler, Em!'

Harris raises her eyebrows, not commenting on Theresa's breach of office etiquette in calling her by her first name. 'I didn't see that one coming,' she says. She pushes open the office door and makes her way to her workstation, Cooper following close behind. 'Explain.'

'It gets better,' continues Cooper as Harris deposits her file and phone on the crowded desk. 'He was sniffing around Nicky Peters. I just came from Stella Flynn's place – Terry's ex – and she spilled the lot.'

'Oh,' says Harris, her excitement diminishing rapidly. 'The ex.'

'Wait,' says Cooper. 'Wait a sec. I know what you're thinking, but this is right.'

'And we have some evidence of this?'

Cooper hesitates.

'We can get it.' She starts to speak urgently, as if by simply conveying how much she wants this she can make it happen. 'We have probable cause to seize Terry's computers, search his house. There'll be something.'

'You mean there
might
be something.'

'It's got to be worth a try.'

'And if there's nothing? If Stella's just stirring up trouble? The papers are already all over this one, Theresa. You know what it'll be like. A sniff that we're considering Terry for the deaths will be enough to condemn him instantly.'

'He's guilty,' says Cooper. 'I talked to Stella and she's not making this up. At the very least, with Nicky still missing, we've got to try, haven't we?'

This last statement is the one that hits home for Harris. Theresa's right. They have to try.

The fact that the information is coming from Stella Flynn is still a problem. It wouldn't be the first time that an ex-partner has caused trouble by making baseless allegations. Harris has to persuade a magistrate to sign off on a search warrant. Usually, this is unforthcoming in the absence of any corroborating evidence.

'He was having an affair with Maddy.' Harris is talking to herself. 'Might be enough.'

'And there's a boy missing,' adds Cooper. 'No one likes being the jobsworth who gets someone killed.'

It's a good point.

'Let me talk to DCI Keane. Get a team together to go as soon as I confirm; nothing heavy, this is just information gathering. And keep it small. No uniforms, plain van. The fewer people who know we're looking at Peters, the better, at the moment. If he is involved we have to be ready to move quickly.'

Harris locks eyes with Cooper. 'If Peters does have Nicky and he gets wind that we're looking at him, it could put the boy in more danger.'

'What choice do we have?'

Harris sits down. 'Let me think this through.' She's quiet for a moment or two. Then she picks up her phone.

'We'll have to grab Peters at the same time,' she says, picking out a number on her phone. She looks up at Cooper as she puts it to her ear. 'DCI Keane's not going to like this.'

Fifty

Frank has had days as stressful as this before – the day of the vinegar incident springs to mind as a case in point – but so far Thursday is really shaping up to take the prize.

The Quinner investigation, two further lines of enquiry opening up after the interviews with Terry Peters and Ben Noone, and then being sandbagged by Searle and Moreleigh over tomorrow's press conference.

Oh, and he's almost forgotten being put on the toilet floor at Bean by the mystery Yank tourist.

So when he leaves the meeting with Superintendent Searle to find Harris, Cooper, Rimmer and Rose all clamouring for attention like a pack of hungry chicks, Frank's initial reaction isn't good.

'Later,' he says, after unloading a selection of his favourite expletives in Rose and Rimmer's direction. As the more junior of the four they cop it first. It's unfair, but Frank's just not in the mood for fairness. All he wants is to get a beer in front of him and forget about MIT for a few hours.

It's Harris who gives him the wake-up call. Almost pushing him into the privacy of one of the interview rooms she closes the door.

'On Sunday you told me straight not to let my personal life affect my work. Now I'm telling you the same. You may be a DCI but as a friend I'm telling you to shut the fuck up and listen to what we've got to say. Just because you're having a bad day doesn't mean you can opt out. Now, if you stop dicking about and start thinking, you'll see that this case is unravelling fast. If we act,
now
, instead of whingeing like a grounded teenager, we could make some real progress. Theresa and the others have fresh, proper information.
The case is breaking in front of you, Frank. Don't fuck it up by acting like a complete tit.'

Five minutes later all members of the MIT unit are in the briefing room. A chastened Frank – Harris being completely right about everything – is all business.

First up is Cooper. In a few short sentences she outlines the developments from Stella Flynn and the preparations she and Harris have made for gathering evidence from Terry Peters' house. The request for a search warrant is in with the magistrate and Harris is expecting an answer soon. She'd stressed the need for expediency in the emailed brief and followed it up with a call.

Frank scratches his head. 'You're right,' he says. 'Let's do it. Just as you've arranged, small team, no waiting. As soon as this meeting's over you go.' He looks at Harris. 'I think we might still be barking up the wrong tree with Terry but we can't take that chance. Get the search warrant. I'll deal with the fallout from Searle.'

Harris says nothing but Frank can tell she's happy with the outcome. For a fleeting second the unchivalrous thought occurs to him that Harris is manipulating the situation to harm him with Searle. He dismisses the idea as quickly as it arrives and turns to Ronnie Rimmer.

'Before we move on to Peters, let's hear your news, Ronaldo. You look like you're going to wet yourself.'

Rimmer's less assured than Theresa Cooper but he manages to give Frank the gist of what led him and Rose to Niall McCluskey.

'In his mouth?' Frank looks sceptical.

'That's what he says.' Rimmer jerks a thumb downwards. 'We've got him downstairs in case you need to talk to him. I think he was happy to be somewhere safe.'

'And he's saying that Noone did this? After Quinner asked him to play the heavy?'

'Not quite. He says they followed Noone, lost him, and then thought they'd picked him up. When McCluskey went down Oil Street he thought he was following Noone but couldn't swear to it.' Rimmer hesitates. 'He thinks he was tasered.'

Frank stands a little straighter. 'Oh?'

'Says he felt like he'd been punched in the chest but there's no
markings on him. According to him, that is. I haven't checked yet. But he brought up the word.'

'Good,' says Frank. 'Very good. Is McCluskey willing to be examined by a doctor? There might be evidence of being tasered.'

'We'd have to put some pressure on,' says Rimmer. 'The feller's shitting himself. I'm not sure he'd give evidence against the guy he thinks cut his finger off.'

'Still . . .' says Frank.

'Yes, exactly,' says Rimmer.

It's Harris who speaks next.

'We've got to bring Noone in as well.'

To her surprise, it's Frank who's against it. The guy who's been pushing Noone as 'the one', isn't sure.

'We can't,' says Frank after a long pause. 'I want to, but we can't. On the face of it we have hearsay evidence against Peters and Noone, but the witness statement against Noone comes from a known criminal.'

'With a missing finger,' says Cooper.

'Agreed,' says Frank. 'Which can't be a coincidence. But with Noone being so heavily lawyered already, and with McCluskey being sketchy on the ID, I want to make sure we have something firm before we bring him in. The idea of this fucker sliding away again is giving me the heebie-jeebies. I'd like a little more before we move on Noone.'

Tread lightly
.

The phrase slides into his head and Frank curses himself inwardly. Is this how it happens? How you start moving from being the copper to being the politician? For a moment he sees himself as the old Frank would have seen him: the spineless pole-climber making sure he can kick down.

Fuck it. It can't be helped.

He turns to Rimmer. 'Good work on this. We'll take in Peters and see what turns up. In the meantime I want Magsi and Flanagan to watch Noone overnight. You can get some officers back in to take over later; I'll square the overtime with upstairs.'

Frank looks at Cooper.

'That's all. Go and get Peters.'

Fifty-One

Noone's not driving his own car. Not this time. Since the killings last weekend he's already learned a lot and is determined not to make any more rookie errors.

He doesn't need to hot-wire anything. A street acquaintance in Madrid had told him the best way to get a car was this: you find a house in a middle-class neighbourhood that looks like it has several people living there who drive cars. If there's only one car on the path, knock. Carry a clipboard or a file, something that looks like you might have a reason to call. If there's someone in, make some bullshit excuse about a charity or sales and move on. When you find a house that doesn't answer, break in and take the car keys. Most people leave them in the hallway or kitchen, somewhere they can get to them easy.

This is the second time Noone's tried it and it's worked exactly as described both times. After leaving Stanley Road with Eagles he gets a cab to Aigburth and nails a car second house he tries. On the way back into town he texts Terry Peters and finds that he's at The Pumphouse. In total it takes him less than an hour from leaving Stanley Road to arriving at the pub.

The interview with Keane had been interesting but, like a great shining neon sign flashing in front of his eyes, Noone came out with one thing on his mind: stop Terry.