The Blue Notes (9 page)

So Pepper listened and smiled while Clark expressed her sympathy, poured the tea, and said that she had always been certain that Pepper had nothing to worry about. And then came the question that Pepper had been waiting for.

‘So what happened exactly, love?’

‘Well they found nowt, obviously. But it was odd, because they seemed to be acting on some very specific info. And it was totally mad, like.’

‘How do you mean, mad?’

Pepper watched Mary Clark as closely as she would the nastiest and slippery of cons, and she didn’t care that Clark had noticed. She wanted her to know how it felt. Until now Clark had only ever been playing at coppering, and this wasn’t a bloody game.

‘Those tossers from Professional Standards only had the search team turning over a shitty old shed that my grandfather put up years ago down at the allotments. They seemed to think I was hiding my ill-gotten gains there. Fuck knows why, like.’

‘Jesus, that is odd.’

‘Aye, which is why they must have had some specific intel. And they look like right prats now, don’t they? The search team will be laughing their bloody socks off. All they found was a bit of compost and some old tools. So I reckon that Dixon and Jarvis must have reckoned that the source of that intel was pretty reliable, like.’

‘A trusted informant, you mean?’

Pepper paused, and kept her gaze locked hard onto Clark’s.

‘That’s one possibility, aye. But there are others.’

It was a moment or two before Clark replied. ‘I see, of course. Silly of me. This is all so new to me, love. I suppose that the information could have come from anywhere, couldn’t it? After all, it was wrong, wasn’t it? I’m beginning to think that this was all a mistake. There’s no bloody mole at all, is there?’

‘I wouldn’t say that, ma’am. Not at all, actually. I still reckon that we’ve got someone on the take, in this nick probably, and that this process will flush them out eventually. Dixon and Jarvis might be running around like headless bloody chickens, but they’ll calm down, and they’ll start using the process.’

‘The process?’

‘Oh, aye, the rule book, like. That’s the thing about this job. You don’t need to be some kind of genius to be an effective detective, you just need to follow the procedures. Because there have been hundreds of cases like this over the years, and so we’ve developed ways of investigating them that work, 95% of the time. This’ll be no exception. It’s just the same with burglary, fraud, arson, whatever. There’s a procedure to follow, and it usually gets us a result in the end.’

Clark broke Pepper’s gaze. ‘I see. So what happens next, do you reckon?’

‘Well, there are various options. But if I was SIO I’d probably try to narrow the field down a bit.’

‘How would you do that?’

Had the question come just a breath too quickly? Pepper couldn’t be sure.

‘Well, ma’am, I’d set up an operation against organised crime, probably targeting cash or gear, and I’d monitor every copper and civilian who’s based out of here, both before and after the raid, or whatever it is. That’s our calls, emails, everything they can get. I’d probably put surveillance on any key suspects for the few hours after the briefing, but before the operation, too. So that’ll mean I’ll probably grow myself a shadow, soon enough.’

‘Really? Is that how it’s done? But what if the operation isn’t blown? Would that mean that there wasn’t a mole at all?’

‘Maybe, aye, but not definitely, like. Because the thing about this situation is that most of your suspects are coppers, so the majority will know how this plays out. That’s why you have to make the raid target something that’s really worth having. Use your best intel, maybe even risk blowing an informant, but make the mole react. Put them on the back foot, between a rock and a hard place, like. And I’ll tell you one thing, ma’am.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I wouldn’t want to be in that person’s shoes when it goes off, like. Because now they’ve got to choose which risk they prefer. The risk of being caught, and doing five or six years as a copper in jail, or facing up to what Dai Young will do to them, if they don’t feed him what he wants. If it was me I’d take the jail time, every bloody time. But then I know Dai Young. I grew up with that vicious bastard, remember. I know exactly what he’s capable of doing.’

Afterwards Pepper went back to her own office, closed the door, and quickly scanned her emails. There was nothing urgent, or even interesting. So she booted her computer down, grabbed her bag, and made for the door. When Rex Copeland tried to talk to her she brushed him off.

‘All right’, he called out just as she reached the door, ‘we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

But she didn’t reply, and he knew exactly how she felt. The first time he’d been on the shitty end of an internal investigation, when he’d been at the Met, he kept thinking that he’d landed in some kind of back-to-front universe, where absolutely everything was the wrong way round. He’d been the one in the suspect’s chair, he’d been the one on the sharp end of the copper’s stare. For months afterwards, when he was conducting interviews himself, he had vivid flash-backs, and he often wondered if the whole experience had actually made him a better bobby. He wasn’t certain about that, but he doubted that it had made him a worse one.

So he didn’t follow Pepper down the stairs, but instead walked over to Armstrong’s eternally untidy desk.

‘Step in to my office’ he said, nodding in the direction of the DI’s office. He waited just inside, and closed the door when Armstrong walked in.

‘Are we OK talking about this?’ said Armstrong, when they’d both sat down at the meeting table.

‘You mean is this place bugged? That’s the sort of paranoia that shit like this brings out in people, Henry.’

‘So we’re OK?’

‘I didn’t say that. But who gives a shit? I’m not dirty, Pepper’s not, and if you are I’ll eat two of those disgusting sausage rolls from the canteen.’

‘All right, so what can we do to help Pepper? You name it, Rex, and I’m there.’

‘Appreciate it, mate. And I’m sure Pepper would, and all. Seems to me that there’s only one thing we can do.’

‘Prove that Pepper isn’t dirty?’

‘No, mate, not that. Prove a negative? Forget it, because that’s not what we do. No, the best thing we can do now is find out who this leak is, if there really is one.’

‘Seriously? Professional standards have got a team of ten on this, Rex, I know that for a fact. Christ knows what they’re all doing, like, but what can we achieve that they can’t? Seriously, mate, I just can’t see it.’

‘Come on, Henry. You’re living proof that’s a place for the enthusiastic amateur, even in today’s police force.’ Henry was smiling, so Rex went on. ‘Well, it’s not like you need the money, now is it?’

Henry laughed now. ‘I keep telling you, mate, it’s my dad’s house. Not that you ever bloody listen. So what are you suggesting? Like I say, I’m well up for it.’

‘Well, look, we know this nick better than any of those bastards from HQ, don’t we? And we know the local cons, too.’

‘Aye, we do. But so what?’

‘Let me ask you a question, Henry. Think back over the last few weeks. Have we come across anything unusual, in terms of our caseload? Particularly anything that might connect to Pepper, say?’

Armstrong shook his head. ‘You’re thinking about Davey Hood? No way, Rex. He’s one of the good guys. He just doesn’t know it yet, that’s all.’

‘Maybe, but he’s the kind of bloke who could have been put on this earth to get to Pepper, isn’t he? He’s the bloody strong silent type, and he’s willing to take on Dai Young’s boys. Or at least he seems to be. I’m surprised she hasn’t got a picture of the bloke on her desk already, in a bloody heart-shaped frame, or some shit like that. But what if he’s really some kind of plant? Think about it, mate. Just for a minute. How likely is it that a bloody removal man would ever even think about taking on the likes of Dai Young?’

Armstrong shook his head, but took his time before he replied. He’d told no one about the fact that it was Hood who’d been ripping off Dai Young’s trucking operations, just as Pepper had asked. But he thought about saying something now, just to prove to Rex that he was miles off beam.

‘No, you’re barking up the wrong tree there, mate,’ he said, as firmly as he could.

‘Yeah, well maybe you’re right, but there’s more to that bloke than meets the eye, Henry, I’m bloody sure of it.’

‘No, he’s just a squaddie with a van who likes to help a damsel in distress. He’s not mixed up with a nutter like Young.’

‘You want a bet?’

‘No. I don’t bet, as you well know. Anyway, what are you planning to do about this?’

‘I’m planning to take a special interest in Davey Hood. Dig about a bit, see what I can come up with. You in?’

‘Aye, if you think it will help. What can I do?’

‘Find out what we’ve got on this Hood bloke, and his KA’s, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, OK?’

Davey Hood had noticed the car when he’d locked up the yard and first pulled away in his battered old Mitsubishi crew-cab. It drew out of a space fifty yards behind him, and arrived at the junction on to the main road just as he was turning left. So instead of driving straight home he took a right down a residential street, and kept his speed low. Sure enough the car, a dark blue hatchback, turned after him, and again when he took another right. He knew this street, because he’d grown up at number 11, and he turned hard onto the unmade track that led to the garages behind the houses. He gunned his truck hard, then handbrake turned in front of the garages. he waited, but the blue car didn’t follow him down the track.

He glanced at his watch, gave it thirty seconds and then climbed slowly out of the cab, leaving the engine running and the door open. If it came to it then his old pick-up might be his only weapon. He looked down the track towards the street, didn’t see the blue car, and when he peered cautiously round the corner of the house on the corner it was nowhere to be seen on the street.

He walked back to his truck, and drove back onto the road. Pound to a penny they’d gone to wait at his house, less than half a mile away, so he drove there, but stopped round the corner and walked from there. Sure enough the car was parked, two up, about twenty metres from his front door. Hood was hungry, so he left his car where it was and walked quickly to his favourite fish and chip shop, about five minutes away. He shared a joke with the girl behind the counter, and then sat in his truck and ate. Afterwards he followed a white van into his own street and parked about twenty vehicles behind the blue car. Anyone with half a brain working that kind of surveillance would walk the street occasionally, but he didn’t expect that to happen. After another ten minutes he had a bet with himself about how long they’d stay. It was 6.20pm, and he was sure they’d be gone by soon after seven. So he still had plenty of time.

He knew the woman who lived at 37 to say hello to, so he slipped out of the cab, walked quickly to her door, and kept his head turned away from the blue hatchback. They’d not be using their mirrors anyway, the twats. The door opened quickly.

‘All right, Davey?’

‘Aye, fine thanks, Paula. Can I come in for a minute?’

She smiled, and held the door open wide.

’Of course, come on in. Can I get you a drink?’

‘No, ta. I wanted to ask a favour.’

‘Bowl of sugar, is it? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for months, so there’s no need to beat around the bush, like.’

Hood smiled. ‘I won’t. But it’s a real favour. I wondered if I could borrow your car.’

‘My car? Why? Is your truck off the road?’

‘Aye. Well, no. It’s just that I need to use another car for half an hour, an hour tops. And if I break it, I bought it.’

‘Come in to the sitting room, love, and tell me all about it. I knew you weren’t just a van driver, Davey, right from when you first moved in. You’re undercover, aren’t you? Copper, is it?’

‘No, love, you were right about me the first time. I’m just an ex-soldier who shifts stuff about the spot, that’s all. If I was undercover I wouldn’t need to borrow a car, now would I? It’s nothing, just a little errand I need to run, and not in my own vehicle. Nothing covert about it, I promise.’

She thought about it for a moment. ‘All right, but I’m coming with you.’

‘No, love. I can’t let you do that. It’d be far too risky.’

‘Ah-ha’, she said, ‘so you are up to something. I bloody well knew it.’

Hood smiled. ‘You’re not just a pretty face, are you? All right, here it is. A couple of blokes have been following me, and they’re parked up near my place now. I want to follow them when they leave here, which could be anytime, but will probably be very soon.’

‘Really? Christ. You’re making this up.’

‘I’m not, honest.’

‘All right, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you the keys…’

‘Great.’

‘….on two conditions. First, I walk down to see if they’re there, and second that you take me out for a drink after. Deal?’

‘Deal. But I need you to be quick, and you’ll have to run all the way round the block after. I can’t risk you walking past the car twice. It’s the blue hatchback, looks like a Vauxhall, two up, parked up outside number 17, that sort of area. Just walk past normally, love, and don’t stare.’

Hood stood at the bay window and watched as Paula walked past the car, then crossed over and turned right. A minute later she was back, but still breathing lightly. She must be every bit as fit as she looked.

‘Shit, Davey, you’re right. They look like a right couple of animals.’

‘You mean they’re big, fat and shaven headed?’

‘Aye, how did you know?’

‘It’s a type. They’ll be about as hard as putty, love. Now, can I borrow your car?’

He sat in the purple Fiesta and waited. It smelt nice, but the car was untidy. So he sorted it out a bit while he waited. Paula kept coming over to the front window and waving at him, and he kept shooing her away. He was relieved when, at seven fifteen, the blue car pulled out. He looked over his shoulder before he followed, but they weren’t being relieved by another vehicle. So he settled in a couple of cars behind them, and he was soon certain that he hadn’t been spotted. Hood trailed the car through the early evening traffic to the western outskirts of town, and drove past when the car stopped outside a row of shops. They were all boarded up, except for a corner shop, and Hood expected one of them to pop in there and pick up some snacks. They sounded like snacking lads, from what Paula had said. But when the passenger door opened the man didn’t go into the shop, but walked back to a unit further along, with metal shutters over the doors and windows. He banged on the one covering the door, and a few seconds later it rolled up, and he disappeared inside. Two minutes later he was out again, trotting the fat man waddle back to the car. And then it pulled away, fast.