In Too Deep (Knight & Culverhouse Book 5) (15 page)

S
tanding
outside the large iron gates to Gary McCann’s house, Culverhouse pressed the button on the intercom and waited for a response. As the speaker clicked and crackled, he spoke before the person on the other end could even get a word out.

‘McCann, open up. We need to talk.’

‘Sorry, who’s this?’ McCann replied, in a falsely jovial voice.

‘You know exactly who it is. You’re looking right at me,’ Culverhouse said, raising his middle finger to the pinhole camera in the intercom unit.

A couple of seconds later, there was a loud click and the gates started whirring open. By the time Culverhouse had got to the end of the drive, the front door had also opened and the imposing figure of Gary McCann stood waiting for him on the doorstep.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Culverhouse. It’s been a while. Coming to check that my tea and coffee making standards are still up to scratch?’

‘Not for me, McCann. I wouldn’t trust you to pour me a glass of water.’

‘Let me know if you change your mind. I can promise you the milk’s nowhere near as sour as you seem to be getting in your old age.’

‘We all age at the same rate,’ replied Culverhouse. ‘Well, most of us do anyway. And how is the present Mrs McCann? She home from school yet?’

McCann smiled with one corner of his mouth. ‘She’s twelve years younger than me, Detective Chief Inspector. I’m quite sure you’ve got better jokes than that in your arsenal.’

‘Oh, I’ve got plenty. Let me in and I’ll tell you a few.’

McCann stared at him for a few moments before smiling and stepping aside, closing the door behind Culverhouse as he made his way through to the large living room.

‘Come on then. Let’s hear your best joke.’

Culverhouse sat down on a leather chesterfield, making his best display of flicking some dust from the armrest. ‘I’ve got a belter for you, actually. A proper side-splitter. A councillor, a hospital trust board member and the dodgiest fucker in Mildenheath walk into a bar. You heard that one?’

McCann remained quiet and calm. ‘I can’t say I have. Tell me more.’

‘I was rather hoping you could finish that one off for me, actually. Because, try as I might, I can’t find the fucking punchline for the life of me. In fact, some might say it’s not very funny at all. Some might even call it a bit of a con.’

‘I couldn’t possibly say, Detective Chief Inspector. I don’t know anything about cons,’ he replied, as calm as ever.

‘Of course not, McCann. Of course not. After all, you’ve never been
convicted
of one yet, have you?’

McCann smiled again. ‘Feel free to keep trying, though. The apology letters look fantastic on the wall of my office.’

‘Believe me, there’s only one thing I intend to nail to the wall of your office. Two, in fact.’

‘Careful, Detective Chief Inspector. That sounds almost like a threat.’

‘There’s a difference between a threat and a promise, McCann. Now. Tell me about Pevensey Park.’

McCann stretched, resting his arm on the back of the sofa and leaning back comfortably as he spoke. ‘Somehow, I’ve a feeling you know more than I do. Or at least you think you do. But I’ll give you the facts as they stand.’

‘Changing the habit of a lifetime just for me,’ Culverhouse said. ‘I am honoured.’

McCann chose to ignore the remark. ‘The hospital’s going to close. There’s not a whole lot we can do about that. Bigger decisions at higher levels. That’d already been decided before I got word of it. The only question is what’s going to happen to the land. The local council are keen to see more housing in the area, what with the shortage and all, and they asked Avalon Construction to tender for the building work.’

‘This is the same Avalon Construction that you own shares in, is that correct?’

‘I have a small, non-controlling and non-voting stake in the company, yes. As I do in many companies.’

Culverhouse nodded. ‘And what can you tell me about Callum Woods?’

‘Who?’

‘The footballer.’

McCann laughed. ‘Not a whole lot. I don’t follow football. What’s that got to do with the hospital development?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to find out,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Because Avalon Construction built his home in the East Midlands, a fair distance from here. They’re also contracted to build his extension, and they recommended the firm of solicitors he’s using to organise it.’

McCann shrugged. ‘Avalon has a lot of customers all over the country, Detective Chief Inspector. We’ve probably built houses for hundreds of footballers.’

‘Yes, but this one was the unfortunate target of an article by Tanya Henderson a year or so back, in which she almost singlehandedly ruined his career. The same Tanya Henderson who we believe was investigating the hospital development plans, and who was brutally attacked on her doorstep in front of her four-year-old daughter a few nights back.’

‘Well, that all sounds very tenuous to me, I must say.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it does. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? A big wide circle of coincidences and events, but no direct cause and effect. That’s the way all good corruption happens.’

Gary McCann leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows now resting on his knees. ‘Let me tell you now, I know nothing of any footballer. I know nothing about Tanya Henderson. All I know is Avalon were asked to bid for the construction of houses on the hospital site. That’s it.’

‘Which is something you’d be very keen to see go through, isn’t it?’ Culverhouse said. ‘I mean, that deal’s worth more than twenty million quid. With your seven percent stake in the company, you’re potentially looking at, what, well over a million. Possibly more. People have killed for a lot less.’

‘I’m sure they have. And you and I both know I’m not exactly whiter than white, but I can promise you I know nothing more than the fact that the job was tendered for. There are people with far bigger stakes in Avalon who stand to make a lot more than I do, which, I must add, is a hell of a lot less than you think. If you think all of that money’s going to go through the books, you need to think again.’

‘How do you mean?’ Culverhouse asked, his interest piqued.

‘Listen, the money that’s paid to Avalon is one thing. That’s what’ll be down on paper. But there’s a whole lot more floating around in the darkness behind that. Legal fees, administration costs, consultancy services... All bywords they use to mask payments to interested parties. And besides, how difficult do you think it is to hide ten or twenty grand in cash in the middle of a multi-million pound development plan? I’ll tell you — not very.’

Culverhouse leaned forward, meeting McCann’s eyes. ‘What are you saying? There are bungs involved?’

McCann laughed. ‘If there’s a council planning and development meeting, there’s a brown envelope floating about. Trust me on that one. Nothing’s completely above board with those bastards.’

‘Hang on a sec,’ said Culverhouse, frowning. ‘Why are you telling me this? You’re an Avalon shareholder. You make a nice bit of money out of every building contract they get. Why would you want to put that at risk by tipping me off about backroom deals?’

‘Because, Detective Chief Inspector, it’s those backroom deals that mean I’ll be left with a lot less than you think I will. Sure, the development might be worth twenty mil. And seven percent of that is, what, almost one and a half mil. But I only get a dividend on profits. If that profit’s all been eaten up by consultancy fees and administration charges that are being paid out to the main players, how much do you think I’ll be left with? Believe me, I’m a minor player. I have no say in what Avalon do. And I definitely have no say in what happens to the hospital. That was decided a long time ago.’

‘By who?’

‘By the hospital trust and the council. If you want to find the really corrupt bastards, just look at them.’

‘
T
hat doesn’t really tell
us a whole lot more than we already suspected,’ Wendy said when Culverhouse told her about his visit to McCann’s house.

‘No, but it confirms it. And I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that we can’t believe a bloody word he says. And usually you’d be right, but I saw it in his eyes. He’s seriously fucked off about it as well. He knows he’s owed more money than he’s going to get out of this, and he knows it isn’t the first time it’s happened.’

Frank Vine laughed. ‘Bloody hell. Gary McCann turns whistleblower. Never thought I’d see the day.’

‘Oh, he’s far from innocent, I’m sure. Might be worth us having a closer look at what else he’s been up to. Feels like he opened up a little too easily for my liking.’ Culverhouse paused for a moment, thinking. ‘I wonder if he’s preparing himself for a plea bargain, getting himself some brownie points.’

Before Culverhouse could say anything else, he was interrupted by his mobile phone ringing. Picking it up, he looked down at the display.

‘Right. Knight, see what you can find out about the hospital trust. Who the directors are, the decision makers, all that. And find out who would’ve been the decision makers on the council’s side. We need to do some digging into these bastards.’

Culverhouse walked into his office, closed the door behind him and pressed the
Answer
button.

‘Helen,’ he said, quietly.

‘Jack. I got your message.’

He remembered leaving a long, rambling message a few nights ago after one too many whiskies, and he tried his hardest to remember what he’d said. ‘Oh. Right.’

‘Listen, you need to let this go, Jack. We both do. For our sakes and for Emily’s.’

‘I know. I just need to know where she is. I need to see her. It’s... It’s killing me.’

Helen was silent for a few moments. ‘Jack, Emily isn’t with me. She hasn’t been for years.’

He swallowed. ‘What? What do you mean?’

There was a brief pause, and then Helen spoke. ‘When I left, it wasn’t just because of you. It was because of me, too. I couldn’t cope. Not with you, not with her. Not with life in general. When I left the house, I went straight to my parents. I told them... I told them some things that weren’t strictly true. I shouldn’t have done it, but it was the only way I could be free. For myself.’

Jack could feel his jaw clenching.
Try to stay calm. Don’t lose your rag.
‘What did you tell them?’

‘I told them you’d been abusive, that I felt scared and threatened. I knew they wouldn’t be rushing to get in contact with you if I said that, and that if you came to them, they’d turn you away. They just wanted the best for me.’

He stayed silent for a few moments, trying to compose himself. It was an immensely hard thing to do. ‘That’s why they wouldn’t take any of my calls. Why they said I shouldn’t try to chase you.’

‘Yes.’

‘So when you left she was just thirty-five miles away?’ He couldn’t believe it, could hardly even get his head around this new piece of information. ‘How long was she with them for?’

There was a pause. ‘She’s still with them, Jack.’

He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. All those years, all that time spent wondering where she was…

He took a deep breath before saying, ‘I’m going over there.’

‘No, you can’t.’

‘Try and stop me, Helen. I’ve waited long enough for this. I need—’

‘No, I mean you can’t because they’ve moved. They don’t live in that house any more.’

‘Where do they live?’ he asked, calmly.

‘Not far.’

He shook his head as he pressed his fingers into his eye sockets, trying to push back the confusion. ‘How the hell did you manage it? Thirty-five miles, for fuck’s sake. How the hell did I not bump into her?’

‘Because you didn’t try to find her, Jack,’ came the quiet reply. ‘You didn’t try. I knew that if you really wanted to, you could find her. And that if it got to that stage then you probably deserved to find her, because it would have shown that you actually, finally cared enough to go out of your way for us. But it took you eight and a half years, Jack. Why do you think I was so angry when I came back? What do you think it was like to find out how little you cared?’

He let out a huge breath. ‘I did care, Helen. I
do
. I still do. Why do you think I’ve had people running around Spain trying to find you?’

‘Listen,’ Helen said, ignoring his question. ‘Every Thursday and Friday she goes skateboarding at the skate park near where they live. She’s there in the evenings, usually from about eight o’clock until ten. She’ll be there tonight and tomorrow. Jack, don’t go wading in. Please. But I know you want to see her, to see that she’s alright. Promise me you’ll keep your distance.’

He could feel his breath catching in his throat. He decided to say nothing about the fact that she was spending evenings out in a skate park on her own at her young age. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or be sick. Perhaps all three. ‘How long ago did you last see her?’ he asked, his voice almost cracking.

Helen was silent for a few moments. ‘Too long.’

O
nce he’d managed
to steel himself enough to leave his office and re-enter the major incident room, Culverhouse made his way across to the door on his unsteady legs, flinging the door open in his usual brash style.

‘Right. Sorry about that,’ he said, trying to sound as normal as possible. Where were we?’

‘Mildenheath Hospital Trust,’ Wendy said, standing in the middle of the room with a look on her face that said everything had changed. ‘The board of directors. Three guesses as to who’s the highest ranking medical specialist on the board, the person who’d have the most sway over the decision to close the hospital or not.’

‘Go on.’

She sighed. ‘One Julian Mills.’

‘
I
t seems pretty fucking
clear to me,’ Culverhouse said, the veins starting to appear across his forehead. ‘You’d expect the senior consultants to be the ones who’d want the hospital to stay standing, so imagine the sway he’d have by speaking out in favour of knocking it down.’

‘But it doesn’t quite make sense,’ Wendy said. ‘Why would he? Like you said, you’d imagine that he’d be completely against the plans. He’d stand out like a sore thumb if he went against that stereotype.’

Culverhouse stood with his hands on his hips, trying to stop himself getting any angrier. ‘He’s a clever man, Knight. He knows that all he needs to do is admit to some of the benefits of merging care services, the cash-strapped NHS, all that bollocks. Or even just put forward arguments in favour of keeping the hospital open, while making those arguments majorly flawed, so they’re shot down in flames by the “opposition”. There are a hundred and one ways of doing it. It goes on all the time.’

‘Why don’t we have a closer look at his financial records?’ Debbie Weston suggested.

‘Worth a shot,’ Wendy said, turning to her, ‘but it’s unlikely to show anything. This’ll all be done under the radar somehow. Cash, gifts, favours in kind. They’re not going to be that blatant about it, that’s for sure.’ She glanced at her watch. Shit. She hadn’t realised how late it had got. Xav would be at the restaurant shortly.

‘What about phone records? If we can find a direct link between Julian Mills and someone on the inside, that might open up a new line of enquiry.’

Steve Wing chipped in. ‘But what would that actually prove? It just shows that he knows another bloke’s phone number. What are we actually accusing him of?’

‘Any number of things, Steve,’ Culverhouse said, rounding on him. ‘Corruption, illegal payments, potentially even fraud. Or how about that poor bloody woman lying in a coma in hospital?’

‘We don’t know he’s involved in that, though,’ Steve said, suddenly sounding unsure of himself.

‘Oh come on, Steve. Join the dots. Julian Mills is on the board of directors for the Mildenheath Hospital Trust. The same hospital they’re trying to get knocked down so they can build a housing estate worth twenty million quid. A housing estate that’s being built by a company whose shareholders include the dodgiest fucker south of the North Pole. And this whole charade was being investigated by a woman who’s randomly attacked — and almost murdered — on her own doorstep. Not only that, but she’s currently in the loving care of the specialist brain injury unit at guess-which-hospital, being looked after by guess-which-consultant.’

‘Yeah, and that’s exactly what I mean,’ Steve said, standing up. ‘Isn’t that all just a bit too convenient? Why have her put in that hospital? Why not just finish her off? Why hasn’t he finished her off yet, if he’s got all the means at his disposal?’

‘Steve, look at the facts,’ said Culverhouse. ‘The attacker was disturbed. That’s why Tanya Henderson didn’t die. It’s sheer luck — or bad luck, however you look at it — that it’s her local hospital that has a specialist brain injury unit. But it’s hardly a coincidence — it’s the hospital Julian Mills works at, and the reason she discovered the whole scandal was because she lives locally, so she was bound to be sent there. I bet Mills thought all his Christmases had come at once when she got admitted.’

‘And who was it who suggested putting her into an induced coma?’ Wendy added. ‘The nurse said herself that in her opinion, Tanya should’ve been kept out of a coma, or at least brought round sooner. With Tanya Henderson unconscious, he had her exactly where he needed her. Maybe he was planning to keep her in a coma until this whole deal had been signed off, I don’t know. Maybe she was going to take an unfortunate turn for the worse in the middle of the night at some point. Maybe he was half banking on her waking up and not remembering a thing. Who knows? He didn’t plan it to work out this way, so he was playing it by ear as much as the rest were. And it’s hardly surprising he re-induced the coma as soon as she started mumbling about Pevensey Park.’

‘Would it be fair to say that you agree with me then, Detective Sergeant Knight?’ Culverhouse asked, his hands still on his hips.

‘Hey, I’m just throwing the theories out there. There’s nothing we can prove,’ replied Wendy, shrugging.

‘No, but we don’t have much choice, do we? Tanya Henderson is lying in that hospital bed being looked after by a man who’s potentially involved in the reasons for her being there in the first place. If we’re right, he’ll want her dead.’

Wendy looked at her watch again. Xav would definitely be at the restaurant by now. He was always slightly early. ‘Guv, I don’t think you’re wrong on this. Far from it. But we have a pretty major problem — there’s no evidence. We can’t just go wading in, throwing about accusations. And I’m sure Julian Mills won’t just be taking bungs in his joint bank account. It’ll be far more complex than that. We’ve got no way of proving it.’

Culverhouse smiled. ‘We don’t need to prove it.’