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‘I’ve been there.’
He glanced back. ‘Or alternatively, you could be on a slab. Like Reg Cowling. You thank your lucky stars it’s me you’re dealing with, Pen, and not some other coppers I could name. Now, I’m pretty certain John Sagan’s employers, these people whose identity you’ve so jealously protected, will already be asking lots and lots of questions about how the police discovered who the bastard was. You’ve already twigged that, else you wouldn’t be hiding out in a shithole like this. But that won’t be enough. They might have you marked as a tough chick who even gangsters shouldn’t mess with, but you’re still a flyspeck at the end of the day. So at a rough guess, love, I’d say you need to get yourself and, more importantly, your kid out of London. Right the way out. Right now.’
‘Everyone I know is down here, Heck!’ she shouted as he stepped out onto the balcony.
‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Some of them might even miss you.’
‘Piss off, you flatfoot bastard!’
Back in his car, he sat brooding. Penny had easily slipped the armed guard Gemma had posted at her flat the previous month. He’d spent the last two weeks looking for her before he’d finally learned she had a loser of a brother and had located her here in this scum-hole apartment. Cops who knew her less well than Heck might never have traced her, but the underworld would, and sooner rather than later. So it was definitely in her interest to skedaddle out of the capital as soon as possible. But if she didn’t – and she was a silly, obstinate bitch – he didn’t really intend to strike her off the grass register. Penny had long been one of his most reliable informers. He knew this indiscretion of hers had been a one-off. She’d never pulled a stunt like this before, and would be unlikely to do so again; Sagan had hurt her in a uniquely terrible way, after all – Heck understood her desire for revenge. On top of that, there might be even more she could tell him about Sagan – she clearly had her ear to the ground in the right places.
But then again, should this level of chicanery really go unpunished?
Another problem lay with the Organised Crime Division. While the Serial Crimes Unit were still officially heading up the enquiry into John Sagan – now entitled Operation Wandering Wolf – with Gemma herself as lead investigator, OC were still going ballistic about the shooting of detectives Cowling and Bishop and constantly harassing her with demands for information and requests to get involved. Gemma had resisted up until now because she didn’t want a bunch of hot-headed cowboys compromising her investigation, though OC were well connected at Scotland Yard and the pressure was growing on her daily. At present, Heck’s SCU colleagues were currently staking out Penny’s empty flat in Lewisham. The trouble was that if he revealed her new hiding place, Gemma would go by the book, dragging her in and leaning on her hard. Penny would hold out – it was inconceivable that she’d admit she’d deliberately created that confrontation at Fairfax House. Do that, and the very least she’d expect was to be charged with obstructing an enquiry, but maybe with conspiracy to commit murder as well. Most likely she’d just clam up and refuse to offer anything further.
This whole thing was a confused mess, and he was torn with indecision.
The arrival of another text broke into his thoughts. Again it was from Gemma.
ETA?
He texted back:
10
He drove east along Coldharbour Lane, eventually pulling into the visitors’ car park of King’s College Hospital. Gemma was waiting for him, leaning against her aquamarine Mercedes E-class. By pure luck, he was able to find a parking bay close by.
She straightened up, hands stuffed into her overcoat pockets.
There were few more striking figures in Heck’s life than Detective Superintendent Gemma Piper. Tall, only a couple of inches shorter than he was, athletic and good-looking in a lean, fierce, feline sort of way, she’d been a key fixture throughout his police service – as a fellow junior detective back in their days at Bethnal Green together, so many years ago now it seemed, for a brief time as his girlfriend, and more recently as his senior supervisor at the Serial Crimes Unit. She didn’t look best pleased as he approached, but she rarely looked best pleased anyway. Gemma was renowned throughout the National Crime Group for her ultra-no-nonsense attitude. Anyone getting on the wrong side of her was likely to be mown down in the ensuing tirade. This was partly the reason she was known behind her back as ‘the Lioness’ – her roar was legendary, though her famously unmanageable mane of wild ash-blonde hair was another reason for that, even if at present she was wearing it stylish and short.
‘What’ve you been up to all morning?’ she asked.
Heck pocketed his keys. ‘I had half an idea how Bishop and Cowling might have got onto Sagan.’
‘And …?’
‘Didn’t pan out.’ It cut him to lie to her, but at present he had to make a finely balanced judgement call. She pondered that as they walked towards Intensive Care.
‘Bishop’s playing schtum,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, he’s not all there at present. Still high on medication. But he reckons Cowling got the tip-off and didn’t share the source.’
‘The Devil protects his own,’ Heck murmured, wondering if Penny Flint had any clue just how much luck she was enjoying.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_d9039a87-59ba-5e88-a1d7-a3a3e263e2cf)
‘Well, I got shot in the legs two years ago, along with getting my nose broken,’ Shawna McCluskey said. ‘Last year, I got suspended for serious disciplinary offences I didn’t even commit, and now I wake up to find I got my brains beaten in over three weeks ago and that I’ve been lying in a coma ever since. Am I supposed to just carry on, ma’am? Is this all supposed to be in a day’s work for me?’
Her eyebrows were still swollen and discoloured, covered by railway lines of stitching. Her nose, which had needed to be completely reconstructed, was buried under a pyramid of dressings and gauze. Her scalp had been partly shaved, so that numerous other lacerations could be sutured. She’d suffered extensive fractures to her left eye-socket and cheekbone, and in consequence a perforated left eardrum, while the blow delivered to her chest by the point-blank impact of a 9mm bullet from her own Glock pistol had broken her sternum and three ribs. She currently lay at an angle, supported in an orthopaedic framework made from bars and straps, which looked more like a medieval torture device. She was also attached to a drip, which fed her a constant supply of painkillers. This might have been the cause of her slurred, frothy voice, or on the other hand that might have been down to her broken teeth. Once she was out of intensive care, a dental surgeon was going to look at her mouth.
‘For two minutes back there I was technically dead,’ she added. ‘If Heck hadn’t given me the kiss of life …’
Heck shrugged. ‘I knew it was the only way I’d ever get any action with you.’
But the patient didn’t smile.
‘If you really want to collect your ticket, Shawna,’ Gemma replied, ‘I’m not going to try and talk you out of it. But I don’t think you should make this decision hastily.’
‘I love this job, ma’am … it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. But at present, I’ve not got much choice. I’ve no feeling at all in my left arm and left leg, much less any movement.’
‘But if they’ve told you that’ll be OK eventually …?’ Heck offered.
‘Eventually, yeah. But when’s eventually? No one can say.’
‘Shawna, come on …’
‘Heck, I’m tired of getting hurt!’ She said this with such force that it brought a cringe of pain to what remained of her pretty face. ‘Seriously, Heck … ma’am. Me and Todd were looking to get married next year. He’s now wondering if he’ll be standing at the altar next to someone in callipers and a body-brace.’
‘Why don’t you look for a transfer?’ Gemma said. ‘Just take yourself off the frontline for a bit?’
‘Yeah,’ Heck said. ‘Something with a community brief maybe.’
‘At present, I’m not even fit to make cuppas for little old ladies,’ Shawna replied. ‘Mind you, might be a welcome change – going into a nice person’s house to say hello and have a chat, instead of picking over their mutilated corpse.’ If it was possible with a face as black and blue as hers, Shawna blushed, turned sheepish. ‘Sorry, ma’am … feel like I’m letting you down.’
‘Why would you feel that?’ Gemma asked.
‘For not being tough enough to carry on.’
‘Shawna, you’ve been with SCU what – seven, eight years? In that time, you’ve logged an impressive number of arrests and secured the convictions of some very nasty people. You’ve done your bit. So don’t worry. If you really want to finish on a medical, it won’t be a problem. I’ll put the paperwork through and make any phone-calls necessary. But I recommend you think about it first.’
‘I’ve already thought about it …’
‘How long for?’ Heck wondered. ‘You’ve only been conscious half an hour.’
Shawna glowered at him, only for a fresh stab of pain to bring new tears to her bloodshot eyes. ‘Half … an hour was long enough. Because if I took any longer, I might change my mind. And that’d be no good for me or Todd.’
Suddenly Heck wanted to ask if Todd Martindale was hanging around in the hospital somewhere, and perhaps if he’d visited Shawna before they had. Could he be the one who’d put her up to this? Heck didn’t know the guy too well, only that Shawna had hooked up with him through a dating site a year and a half ago, and had finally, in her own words, found happiness. He certainly sounded the real deal. A divorced middle manager at a sports retail company, he was safe, stable and apparently considerate to her in every way. Hell, why shouldn’t the guy raise questions about what Shawna did for a living? If he genuinely loved her, he’d be worried for her safety every day she spent in an outfit like SCU. Having initially felt hostile towards Todd, Heck now found himself warming to the guy even without having met him.
‘The light duties option doesn’t appeal?’ Gemma asked. ‘There’s no such thing as a job for life in the cops any more, but with your record, Shawna, I’m sure I can swing something.’
‘Permanent light duties, ma’am?’ Shawna said. ‘After SCU? That’d be even more likely to kill me.’
Heck understood that part of it, at least.
‘It’s better if I just make a clean break,’ she added.
Gemma nodded understandingly. ‘In the meantime, what work have you got outstanding?’
‘Nothing that can’t be picked up by someone else.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Heck said. ‘I’m at the Old Bailey for a couple of days from tomorrow, but I can sort it after that. Don’t fret.’
‘Shawna?’ Gemma asked again. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
Shawna took a deep, painful breath, and nodded.
‘OK … well, it’s your call. When you due to get out of here?’
‘I’ve not asked, ma’am.’ Shawna’s eyelids fluttered, as if fatigue was overtaking her – as well it might, given the cocktail of drugs she was on. ‘And I’m not bothered. Thanks for coming to see me, though. Sorry I’ve nothing better to tell you.’
They left, walking without speaking back to the hospital exit.
‘You know she doesn’t really want to leave?’ Heck said when they arrived in the car park. ‘She’s probably just in shock.’
‘Sometimes when you’re in shock you get greater clarity of vision,’ Gemma replied.
‘I thought Sagan had killed her for sure. If he hadn’t been panicking himself, he would have. He’d have put that bullet straight between her eyes.’
‘Most normal folk would have thought they’d done enough damage cracking her skull open.’
‘I think we can safely say there’s nothing normal about John Sagan, ma’am.’
Gemma eyed him sidelong as they strode, appraising his pale, tense features, his taut body-language.
‘We’re going to handle this investigation professionally, aren’t we?’ she asked.
‘As always.’
‘We’re not going to go looking for payback?’
‘Do I ever, ma’am?’
‘It’s just that you seem, I dunno … edgy?’
‘What can I say, ma’am. It’s been a disappointing morning. For all sorts of reasons.’
‘We’re not thinking of going solo on this, are we?’
She halted and probed him with those penetrating blue eyes of hers. Heck smiled in response, which, from her expression, didn’t look as if it reassured her much. Heck and Gemma had clashed several times in the recent past over his preference for working on his own, though he’d often argued that this stemmed from his either mistrusting those around him or finding them inadequate – he’d argued this point unsuccessfully, it had to be said.
‘No chance.’ He shrugged, walking on, as if it was ridiculous that she’d have any doubts. ‘Shawna’ll pull through. Plus, this time we’re frying a much bigger fish. It isn’t personal.’
‘And I’ve told you not to. That would be even more of a reason, wouldn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘Lots of motivation to keep this one by the book.’
Gemma still looked unconvinced. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d soft-soaped her to try and buy himself extra leg-room. She knew perfectly well that Heck and Shawna were more than just work colleagues. They’d never been lovers, but they’d known each other virtually since the commencement of their two careers, and that was a huge thing in cop terms; on top of that, as fellow natives of the Northwest exiled in London, they’d drawn additional strength and comfort from each other’s presence in that curious, indefinable way that only those of close heritage did when thrown together as strangers in a strange land.
‘That’s as long as the Organised Crime Division don’t muscle their way in,’ he felt it necessary to add, though immediately he could have kicked himself for saying this. Whatever your inner turmoil, you didn’t give Gemma Piper conditions. It could literally be a red rag to a bull. But on this occasion – despite working her lips together tightly, as if she was strongly tempted to say something sharp in response – her reply was cool and measured.
‘They won’t. They’re making a lot of noise at present, but they’re also a bit shamefaced about blundering in on our operation. They know they’re walking on thin ice.’
‘Who’s doing the shouting?’
‘DSU Garrickson.’
‘Garrickson, eh. For a minute then I thought it’d be some clueless, inept tosser.’
She glanced sidelong at him, and he raised his hands.
‘I know, ma’am, I know. It’s completely wrong and unforgivable to discuss a senior officer in such irreverent terms. But wasn’t Mike Garrickson the one you spoke to when you first logged with OC that we were looking into syndicate activity in Peckham?’ Gemma’s lack of response implied that it was. ‘And it somehow slipped his mind to inform the rest of his team?’
‘I expect he assumed that if they had any leads on new cases they’d have come to him before acting on them,’ she said. ‘And with some justification. Reg Cowling was out of order, Heck. He’s the one who blew that obbo. No one else.’ They stopped beside Gemma’s Merc. ‘Mind you –’ she remained cool, but frustration lay visible underneath ‘– it would have helped if all I’d had to do was walk upstairs and tell them. Like I used to be able to.’
There was a time when all departments of the National Crime Group had been based in the same building at Scotland Yard, and very convenient it had been. As Gemma said, it was certainly easier back then to exchange intel. But cost-saving changes were under way all across the British police service. Though both squads still came under the umbrella of the National Crime Group, Organised Crime had been moved to new, state-of-the-art offices at London Bridge, while the Serial Crimes Unit had relocated to a somewhat less remarkable building at Staples Corner in Brent Cross. SCU had only been in place there a couple of months, and it still felt a long way from anywhere, though, situated at the heart of the North London transport infrastructure, it was actually well placed to house a national investigation team.
‘Anyway,’ she said, pointedly changing the subject – Heck was a devil for teasing out her true feelings regarding her fellow top brass – ‘remind me why you’re in court again?’
‘Regina versus Wheeler.’
‘Oh, yeah … that charmer.’
The previous spring SCU had arrested the so-called ‘Wimbledon Rapist’, a masked predator responsible for raping two young women and one schoolgirl at knifepoint after accosting them while they were crossing the Common early in the morning. The team had first homed in on local man Charlie Wheeler when his taxi was spotted on CCTV several times in the right area and at roughly the right time, but they only became actively suspicious when Heck noted that Wheeler never seemed to be transporting any passengers.
‘He’s banged to rights,’ Heck said. ‘Two days and he’s topped and tailed.’
‘Well, let’s make sure. You can put all this aside until it’s done.’
He nodded.
‘Mark,’ Gemma said, ‘I don’t want to fall out with you on this one.’ She regarded him carefully, still spoke in that measured tone. ‘Whatever happens, whatever Shawna decides, she’s a grown woman, and if she leaves the job it’s because she wants to.’
‘Yeah, but … we owe it to her to get this right.’
‘We do indeed. So we’re onside, yes?’
‘Ma’am, this was my case from the beginning. I want John Sagan, and not just for Shawna.’ He shrugged awkwardly. ‘Look, he could’ve tortured a hundred people for all we know. He could’ve murdered that many too. OK, they might be worthless vermin just like him, but that doesn’t give him a free pass. In fact, we don’t even know for sure that they’re all worthless. He may not draw the line anywhere. What’s to stop him targeting regular citizens if the price is right? Trust me, I’m giving no one any reason to kick me off this case.’
She nodded and climbed into her Merc.
And yet here he was, he thought, watching her reverse out and drive away – already withholding from her the whereabouts of the grass who’d deliberately set the disaster up in the first place. Whether protecting Penny Flint in this way was likely to pay any kind of dividend he simply didn’t know. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_6271b2bd-4b1e-5b68-8bbb-41e350432722)
Following one behind the other, Heck and Gemma crossed the Thames at Tower Bridge and cut northwest through the City, Shoreditch, Islington, Camden Town and Finchley, before heading west on the North Circular. It all sounded quick and straightforward on paper, but in midday traffic it still took close to two hours, and the new HQ at Staples Corner was a very unrewarding sight for those who’d had to fight through rivers of exhaust fumes and contraflows to get there.
It had previously been some kind of transport office, and it looked the part: a functional, flat-topped structure resembling three stacks of overlarge shoeboxes jammed unceremoniously together, its roofs covered with dishes and TV antennae. It wasn’t exactly prefabricated, but it had the distinct air of something that had never been intended to last. Its once weedy car park had been tarmacked over, and, as a beefed-up security measure, the rusty metal fence that had formerly encircled it had been replaced by a tall perimeter of slatted, spike-headed steel. But its best defence was still its anonymity. It could have been any one of the thousands of nondescript semi-official buildings dotted across the various boroughs of Greater London, blending perfectly into its drab but noisy location.
Heck and Gemma parked next to each other, and headed in through the personnel door, which was at the back. The ground floor housed the SCU garages, equipment and evidence store, and armoury. Admin and civvie staff were located on the first floor, while the detectives’ office, or DO as it was known in the unit, was on the second. The Command Centre and Press and PR Suite were on the third. There was also a conference room up there, but that had now been co-opted by Wandering Wolf as an Incident Room.
