Nightmare City (47 page)

‘
I’m not guilty of any of those allegations,’ Henry replied
stubbornly to Morton’s prodding.

‘
Doesn’t matter whether you are or not. I mean, I know you’re
the cleanest cop in the world. Bet you don’t even have skid-marks
on your undies, do you? What matters is that we will make sure
that, at the very least, you will lose your job and your private
life will go to rat-shit.’ The matter-of-fact way in which Morton
spoke the words hit Henry like a hodful of bricks.

A hush descended on the room.

Henry stared past Morton’s left shoulder out of the window
where he could see Blackpool Tower, now painted a garish blue
colour to promote a fizzy drink. It was raining hard, driving
against the glass, obscuring the view, distorting the
Tower.

He blinked, brought his vision back to focus and said,
‘Why?’

‘
If you haven’t sussed that out by now,’ said Morton, sounding
a little exasperated with him, ‘you’re not the great detective I
thought you were.’

‘
Dundaven and Marie Cullen,’ he stated. His brain cells
shuffled through the incidents of the last week. ‘Marie Cullen I
can see. You have some connection with Harry McNamara and I suppose
you’re protecting him because he’s as guilty as fuck. I can only
speculate about Dundaven. Must have something to do with the guns.
Presumably you’re protecting somebody else and I was getting too
close to them, and they - or you didn’t like it.’

‘
By Jove I think he’s got it,’ Morton chortled patronisingly.
‘But that’s enough of the speculation. You don’t need to know
anything further, other than you were beginning to worry some
people and they needed to be ... reassured. Remember when you said
a little dickie bird would tell you when you’d gone as far as you
could with those enquiries? Chirpy chirpy cheep cheep. It’s me. I
am that bird.’

‘
You bastard!’ Henry had a sense of being trapped in a
cage.

‘
You should know that certain people want you dead, Henry. I
saved your life. You should be thankful to me, not call me
names.’

‘
Big deal. What’s to stop me walking out of that door, going
straight to my Chief Constable and blowing the whistle on
you?’

‘
You still don’t get it, do you? Your life will be worse than
hell. We will drag you through the mire. We’ll come up smelling of
roses and you’ll just smell like cowshit. You’ll lose. We won’t.
Simple as that. We’ve had problems like this before and dealt with
them accordingly.’

Henry stood up without warning.

Morton drew back defensively. Gallagher braced himself and
Tattersall was half off his seat.

He walked to the window and stared out blankly through the
rain.

He had nothing on these people. They had everything on him,
twisted and perverse though it was. And they were prepared to use
it, should Henry make a stand.

They had power and organisation. He could not even begin to
guess the scope of their activities.

Standing there he was isolated - and beaten.

He turned slowly from the window, a look of defeat on his
face. ‘So what’s the score?’

‘
I’ll lay it on the line, Henry, then you know exactly what is
required of you. Firstly, you must ensure that to the best of your
abilities those two investigations get nowhere.’

‘
That may not be within my power. Other people work on
them.’

‘
In which case you must keep me informed of any progress, you
must destroy or contaminate evidence without drawing attention to
yourself, and you must pull your weight in terms of making
enquiries hit dead ends. Otherwise you’ll suffer.’

‘
And secondly?’

‘
Keep a watching brief on the Derek Luton case and let me know
how that goes.’

‘
Why?’

‘
Because I’m interested. And thirdly, before you go back to
your normal duties, we may have something else for you to
do.’

‘
And what’s that?’

‘
All in good time, Henry.’

‘
So you’ve got me by the bollocks.’

‘
Only if you value your life and how you lead it.’

‘
Is that it?’

‘
No,’ said Gallagher sharply. ‘You were given some documents
by Annie Luton last night, I believe.’

‘
How do you know?’

‘
Telephone. Hand them over to us now.’

‘
I left them at home,’ Henry said quickly. ‘I’ll bring them in
this afternoon.’

‘
Make sure you do.’

‘
Can I go now?’

‘
Yes, you can. Go away and reflect on things. Consider your
position very carefully, but realise one thing: you now belong to
us and basically you’ve no way out of that.’

Tight-lipped, Henry strode angrily to the door and wrenched it
open. He stopped for an instant, turned quickly and uttered the
word ‘Cunts!’ before storming out, slamming the door behind him
with a ferocity which nearly brought it off its hinges.

Morton regarded the other three with raised
eyebrows.

‘
I don’t trust him,’ Siobhan said.

‘
Nor do I,’ Gallagher agreed.

Tattersall said nothing.

‘
Me neither. Make sure he’s followed. We really don’t want him
to do anything stupid, do we? Jim?’ Morton looked towards
Tattersall.

‘
I’ll see to it, boss.’

Chapter Twenty-One

The weather over the whole of the country was
appalling.

Karl Donaldson, with Karen sitting by his side, drove their
Jeep Cherokee through driving snow around London, sleet and icy
hailstones all the way up the MI, five minutes of clear weather
around Birmingham on the M6, then bucketing rain the rest of the
way up to Blackpool.

The journey took nearly five hours at an average speed of 50
m.p.h., headlights blazing all the way.

As ever they made the trip more pleasurable by singing along
with each other. A Beatles session, followed by Motown, a little
opera and finally some good ole country music onto which Donaldson
had successfully weaned Karen. Dwight Yoakam, the O’Kanes and Lacy
J. Dalton were no longer a mystery to the girl who’d been born in
Oswaldtwistle, Lancashire, not Nashville, Tennessee.

It made the time fly and helped Donaldson
concentrate.

They arrived at Henry’s house about twenty minutes before he
did.

Kate greeted them warmly. They had become good friends and
often made excuses out of nothing to visit each other, even if it
meant a two-hundred-mile hike. The two women had an extra dimension
to their relationship now and talk turned immediately to babies,
pregnancy and childbirth. Kate began to feel broody
again.

When Henry came in like a bull with a wasp stinging its arse,
it was immediately obvious to all three that he was fuming with
anger.

He refused to say anything about what was bugging him, but his
body language put them all on tenterhooks.

Kate coerced him into the kitchen and said sternly, ‘Henry,
they’ve come all the way from London to see you, you could try to
be just a little bit polite.’

He nodded and breathed down his nose. ‘You’re
right.’

They had a light, but hot lunch, and Henry made an effort.
They exchanged stories about their injuries - Henry’s chest and
ear, Donaldson’s face. Over coffee Henry said to Karl, ‘What can I
do for you, pal? I know this is a work-related visit first and
foremost.’

‘
Henry!’ Kate said in a warning way, ‘Don’t be so rude.’ She
looked apologetically at the other couple. ‘He’s had a long
week.’

‘
Kate - you don’t know the damned half of it.’ Henry’s voice
was hard and unyielding. ‘And don’t talk about me like I’m not
here.’

He stood up without a further word and left them. Donaldson
found him in the conservatory, sitting on the bamboo sofa. Rain
streamed down the windows. The garden was waterlogged and there
seemed nowhere for it to drain away.

‘
Mind if I join you?’

‘
Help yourself.’

Karl placed himself next to Henry and gave a little shiver.
‘That’s the trouble with these places. They look darned good, but
they’re too cold in winter, too damned hot in summer.’

‘
Mmm.’

‘
Can you talk to me, H.? Kate’s really upset in
there.’

Henry leaned back. He stared up at the glass roof and shook
his head. ‘Big problems, Karl. But mine at the moment. I need to
think them through.’

‘
OK.’

Henry sat up. ‘What’ve you come up for, Karl? It’s a hell of a
day to travel. Must be pretty important.’

‘
That occurrence in Madeira with Sam - I think she was
murdered by a guy she’d seen out there, name of Scott Hamilton, or
at least murdered on his orders. I have an idea on that score, but
that’s another story. Anyway, the cops in Madeira were eventually
interested enough to put a tail on this guy. He hopped on a plane
to Manchester yesterday.’

‘
And you want some help tracking him up here?’

‘
Naw. I got on to MI5 to help me out. They’re so
under-employed these days they’ll jump at the chance to do
anything. So I asked ‘em to pick up Hamilton’s tail in Manchester,
stick with him, take some mug-shots and stay within eyeball until
he got back on the plane home. Which is what they did. Real pros,
they are. Pity they don’t know what the hell their role is any
longer. I got the surveillance photos pushed through my door late
last night - and that’s why I’m here. Take a look at
these.’

Donaldson had brought a briefcase with him which he placed on
his knees and opened. ‘I had problems identifying the man Hamilton
met until Karen looked over my shoulder and said, "Ooh, I know him.
He was in one of my classes once".’

Henry looked sharply at his FBI colleague.

Donaldson handed him an eight-by-ten black and white
photograph taken on the steps of some grand-looking house. The time
and date were imprinted in the bottom right-hand corner.

It showed four men standing, talking to each other. Their
faces were clearly visible, even though it was apparent the camera
was some distance away.

‘
This is the only one of them all together and the
photographer had to be dam quick to get this. They appeared
literally for an instant and then split, as if they didn’t want to
be seen together.’

Donaldson pointed to one of the men. ‘Scott Hamilton.’ His
finger moved to another man. ‘He’s-’

‘
Detective Chief Superintendent Tony Morton, Head of the
North-West Organised Crime Squad.’

‘
Hey, you know him?’

‘
You could say that. The guy next to him is Sir Harry
McNamara, ex-MP.’

‘
But we can’t get a make on the last one of the
group.’

‘
I know who he is. He’s called Ronnie Conroy. Into everything
that makes money illegally. Once ran a surveillance on him about
four years ago when I was on RCS ... it got nowhere. Just seemed he
knew everything we were going to do.’

Henry looked up, his eyes suddenly alert.

‘
He was suspected of dealing in guns, selling them to the
London underworld and also out of the country - to Africa, I think.
Now I know why we got no result!’ His eyes met Donaldson’s.
‘Corruption. The best fucking police unit in the country is corrupt
and it does deals with criminals. It protects them with information
about police operations, and fuck knows what else it gets up to.
Karl, I have something to tell you which may go some way to
explaining why I’ve been such a bad-tempered git.’

‘
What about Kate? Perhaps you should tell her.’ That was
Donaldson’s suggestion after he had listened to Henry’s story -
which included everything that had happened - and they had
discussed it for a while. The American was clearly shocked by what
he had heard.

It was an idea that did not go down well with
Henry.

‘
No. It’d be the final straw for her. I just feel that I need
to fight this without her knowing.’

‘
Does she have to be told all the gory details?’ Karl said
delicately. ‘You may need her support with this. She’s not a fool,
Henry. It might be a rough ride, but you’d make it. You two are
very strong now.’

‘
No.’ Henry was adamant.

‘
Fine ... but what do we do now?’

‘
We?’

Donaldson nodded. ‘Yes, we. I’m involved in this from the Sam
Dawber point of view. Karen can help out, too. She won’t tell Kate
anything - it’d be cop business. But I do know something, Henry old
pal - you can’t handle this alone. No way. You need help if you’re
going to fight it.’

Henry gazed at his fingernails, wondering where he should
begin.

‘
Hang on a sec!’ he said to Donaldson, remembering something.
He leapt from the sofa and rushed through the house and out to his
car, from which he grabbed the package Annie Luton had given him.
He ran back to Donaldson.