Hard Landing (24 page)

The Customs men went back into the house. Roper put his arms round his wife. She was trembling. ‘I’ll make this up to you, Alice. I promise.’

‘Damn this Carpenter,’ hissed Alice. ‘How dare he ruin our lives like this? How dare he?’

Roper stroked the back of his wife’s head. The photographs had been a warning, but Carpenter must have known there was a good chance that Roper would report the contact immediately and that the Church’s reaction would be to close ranks and protect him and his family. Roper knew Carpenter better than almost anybody: the man was meticulous in his planning. The photographs had been Carpenter’s first attempt to stop him giving evidence in court, and Roper was sure it wouldn’t be his last. ‘It’ll be okay,’ Roper whispered, as he stroked his wife’s hair. ‘Once the case is over and he’s behind bars for good, it’ll all be back the way it was, I promise.’

A man in a grey suit was standing at the front of the car. He hadn’t offered to help carry any of their belongings out of the house and had acknowledged Roper with nothing more than a curt nod as he’d climbed out of one of the Church cars. He stood at the gate with his hands at his sides and his eyes never left the road outside the house. A gust of wind tugged at his jacket and Roper saw the butt of a semi-automatic in a shoulder holster. He hugged his wife closer so that she wouldn’t spot it. Roper was beginning to wonder if things ever would be back to the way they were before he’d helped bring down Gerald Carpenter. For the first time he realised he was scared of what Carpenter could do to him and his family. And for the first time he was doubting that the Church would be able to protect them.

Shepherd was mopping the ones when Hamilton came up to tell him that his lawyer was there to see him. The officer escorted him to the visitors’ centre and showed him into the soundproof room, where Hargrove was waiting.

They shook hands as Hamilton closed the door. Shepherd could see from Hargrove’s expression that something was wrong. He sat down and waited for the bad news.

Hargrove wasted no time. ‘We’ve lost the tapes that Elliott and Roper made,’ he said, sitting down opposite Shepherd. ‘They’ve been wiped.’

‘What?’

‘Someone got into the evidence room and ran a high-powered electromagnet over them.’

‘How the hell could that have happened?’ said Shepherd.

‘If we knew that, we’d have the guy in custody,’ said Hargrove.

‘I thought anyone who went into an evidence room was logged.’

‘They are. But we don’t know when it happened.’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Shepherd, exasperated, ‘what’s the point of me putting my head in the lion’s den if you lot can’t even take care of the evidence you’ve got?’ He pushed himself out of his chair and paced the room. Hamilton was watching through one of the windows. ‘This is fucking unbelievable, it really is. He’s killing off agents, threatening witnesses and destroying evidence, and you lot are sitting around with your thumbs up your arses.’

‘That’s not quite the position, Spider.’

‘It looks to me like it’s exactly the position,’ said Shepherd. ‘How the hell could someone get into a locked evidence room and destroy tapes?’

‘We only found out yesterday because the CPS wanted to check part of Roper’s transcript. The tape was blank so we checked the rest. All blank.’

‘And you don’t know when it happened?’

‘The last time they were used was when Gary Nelson had them for his authenticity check. That was four weeks ago. There have been hundreds of officers in and out of there since. We’re on the case, Spider. The room was covered by CCTV so we’re going through every minute of tape. Plus we’re interviewing every officer who logged into the room. We’ll find out who did it, but it’s going to take time.’

‘Nelson’s the forensics guy who was threatened, right?’

‘That’s him. He’s now in the Algarve with his wife and says he isn’t coming back until Carpenter’s behind bars.’

‘Sounds like he’s the only one with any sense,’ said Shepherd. He rubbed his face. ‘So where does that leave us?’

‘Elliott’s evidence is now useless. The transcripts alone aren’t worth anything. Losing Roper’s tapes isn’t the end of the world because we have the transcripts and Roper can back them up.’

‘Unless Carpenter gets to Roper.’

‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Hargrove.

‘You know, I’d have a lot more faith in that if Elliott wasn’t dead and the tapes hadn’t been wiped.’ Hamilton was still watching through the window so Shepherd sat down with his back to him.

‘I’ve got something I want you to think about,’ said Hargrove. ‘Totally up to you but it might make things a bit easier, case-wise.’ Shepherd looked at Hargrove expectantly but didn’t say anything. ‘You could wear a wire,’ said the superintendent quietly.

Shepherd’s jaw dropped. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear Hargrove say. ‘You are joking, right?’

Hargrove shook his head. ‘If you could nail Carpenter on conspiracy, we’d have him on your evidence alone.’

‘You know where I am, right?’

‘Yes, Spider,’ said Hargrove patiently. ‘I know.’

‘The guys in here are Cat A. They’re professional criminals, most of them. They’d spot a wire a mile off.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Hargrove. ‘We could get something special from the technical boys. A recording device that looks like a CD player or a Walkman, maybe.’

‘And if someone finds out what I’m doing?’

‘Then we pull you out.’

‘If I got caught in here with a wire you wouldn’t have time.’

‘Just give it some thought,’ said Hargrove. ‘I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to.’

‘What’s the state of play on Carpenter’s case?’

‘He’s got another court appearance next week, but his case won’t be heard for another two months, and that’s without his lawyers playing silly buggers. Could be four months.’

‘So he’s got four months to get to Roper.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it. The other way is that you’ve got four months to nail him.’

‘I’m not going to be in here for four months!’ said Shepherd.

‘As soon as you’ve had enough, all you’ve got to do is say.’

Shepherd sat back and folded his arms. He knew that the superintendent was right. He was in Shelton by choice, and it was his decision how long he stayed there. But that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. ‘I think you should have a closer look at Tony Stafford,’ he said.

‘Because?’

‘Because that five hundred quid you gave to Digger’s sister bought me a place on the spur’s cleaning crew.’

Hargrove took his black notebook from his jacket pocket and started scribbling.

‘The guy’s name is Tompkins,’ said Shepherd. ‘Everyone calls him Digger. He’s in for another murder, shot a Yardie. The Operation Trident guys should have the full SP on him. I went to see Digger to tell him I wanted a place on the cleaning crew and he told me to get five hundred pounds to his sister. Next day I was on the crew. Tony Stafford runs the block so any jobs have to be approved by him.’

‘He could have rubber-stamped someone else’s request, couldn’t he?’

‘Sure. We need a look at the paperwork. Gosden should be able to do that for you.’

‘We’ll put the sister under surveillance. If Digger’s paying off a prison officer, she might be acting as a conduit.’ Hargrove scratched his ear with his pen. ‘Does Digger have much to do with Carpenter?’

‘I haven’t seen them together, but Carpenter keeps himself to himself.’

‘Stafford could be Digger’s man, Carpenter could have someone else.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

Hargrove closed his notebook and put his pen away. ‘Are you okay?’

‘So far. But it’s hard work.’

‘I never thought it’d be easy, Spider.’

‘You know what worries me most?’ Hargrove raised his eyebrows. ‘If I talk in my sleep,’ said Shepherd. Hargrove smiled, but Shepherd was serious. ‘I can control what I do and say when I’m awake, but I could say anything while I’m dreaming. What if I dream I’m talking to you? Or Sue? I’ve no control over my dreams.’

‘Have you ever talked in your sleep before?’ asked Hargrove.

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

‘What about moving to a single cell? I could talk to Gosden.’

‘Absolutely not. If I move I’ll have to make it happen myself. There’s too much status attached to a single cell. If I get it
gratis
it’ll be a red flag that something’s up.’

‘So you’ll ask Digger to fix it?’

‘My cellmate says Digger’s the one to arrange it. I’ve already raised it with Carpenter. He said to put in an official request to Stafford. Be interesting to know how Carpenter got a single.’

‘I could ask Gosden.’

‘Might be an idea. Check the paperwork for his move with the paperwork for my job on the cleaning crew. See if there’s a match.’

‘I’m on it, Spider.’

Shepherd was tired. The previous night someone on the ones had been crying. The night staff hadn’t thought it serious enough to intervene and they’d just let him get on with it. It had been almost dawn before he’d stopped. Now Shepherd appreciated just how tough prison was. In-cell televisions and a choice of menu didn’t make the confinement any easier to bear. No one had shouted at the crying prisoner to shut up, because every man on the spur had known exactly how he felt.

Shepherd woke up and looked at his watch. Seven thirty. It was Saturday, his first weekend behind bars. There was no work at weekends, and no breakfast packs in the cells: breakfast was served at the hotplate. Shepherd had found himself waking at seven thirty every morning, a few minutes before the prison officers started the roll-call. He lay on his bunk, waiting for the spyglass to flick open.

Lee got up and padded barefoot to the toilet. He groaned and urinated. He was in mid-flow when the spyglass flicked open. ‘I’m on the bog!’ shouted Lee. The spyglass snapped shut.

Shepherd let Lee wash and clean his teeth at the basin before he got down from his bunk. The cell was so poky that there was barely enough room for two men to move around at the same time. Whenever possible he kept out of Lee’s way, staying on his bunk. He also let Lee have ownership of the television’s remote control, although both of them were paying the weekly rental.

As Shepherd washed and shaved, Lee sat on the chair and flicked through the television channels. News programmes and children’s television. ‘Why’s there nothing on in the mornings?’ asked Lee.

‘Because most sensible people are lying in,’ said Shepherd. He changed into a clean polo shirt. Weekend lie-ins were a Shepherd tradition, when he wasn’t away on a job for Hargrove. He’d go downstairs, make a pot of tea and some toast, pick up the papers from the hall, then get back into bed with Sue. Liam would join them, and he and Sue would lie together munching toast and reading the papers while Liam looked at the comics.

The prison regime at the weekends was less restrictive than it was during the week. There was association in the morning and afternoon, but the cell doors were locked earlier, at five fifteen instead of eight o’clock. That meant a full twelve hours banged up.

Shepherd had applied to be on the gym list for Saturday and Sunday, and Lloyd-Davies had told him he’d made it on the Saturday list. Just. Eight prisoners from each spur were allowed to use the gym in each session and Shepherd had been number eight.

The cell door was unlocked at half past eight and Shepherd went down to the hotplate with Lee. There was already a queue of a dozen men there, which they joined. There were three hotplate men, watched over by the middle-aged West Indian female guard, Amelia Heartfield. Everyone used her first name and, even when she was giving prisoners an order, she did the same. She was always smiling and seemed to enjoy talking to them. In return they never gave her any grief. From time to time prisoners would let off steam on the wing but Shepherd had never heard anyone curse or shout at Amelia.

Shepherd picked up two plastic trays and handed one to Lee. The hotplate men worked efficiently, doling out the food: one sausage, two pieces of bacon, a scoop of scrambled egg, a tomato, a spoonful of beans, half a slice of fried bread. Two slices of bread.

Shepherd reached the head of the queue, but as he was about to hold out his tray a figure appeared at his shoulder. It was the prisoner with the shaved head from the threes, Carpenter’s man. He nodded at Shepherd and pushed his tray forward. ‘Two sausages, well done. Four rashers of bacon, crisp. Four slices of bread.’

One of the hotplate men put the bacon and sausage on the plate and handed him a side plate with four slices of bread. The man nodded again and headed for the stairs.

‘Who is that guy?’ Shepherd asked Lee.

‘That’s Gilly,’ he said. ‘Gilly Gilchrist. He’s in for GBH.’

‘But he fetches and carries for Carpenter?’

‘He’s not a butler,’ said Lee. ‘He’s muscle. Haven’t you noticed that he’s never far away from Carpenter on the spur? When Carpenter goes out into the exercise yard, Gilly goes with him. During association Gilly goes wherever Carpenter goes.’

‘Did Carpenter pull a thorn out of his paw?’

Lee frowned, not understanding. ‘What?’

‘Why does he work for Carpenter? It’s not a gay thing, is it?’

‘Don’t let Gilly hear you say that, he’d rip your lungs out. He’s got five kids, has Gilly. He’s short of readies so Carpenter pays him on the out.’

They carried their trays into the cell. Lee sat at the table while Shepherd climbed up on to the bunk. The scrambled egg was rubbery and the beans were cold, but he ate them anyway.

At nine o’clock Shepherd heard doors clanging. ‘Now what?’

‘Lock-up,’ said Lee, slotting sausage into his mouth. ‘It’s just for an hour while the screws get on with their paperwork. They’ll unlock the gym list at ten fifteen and it’s all doors open at ten thirty for association and exercise.’