Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders) (29 page)

‘No, I won’t be armed. My authorisation was withdrawn.’

Rae reached inside his jacket. He didn’t look round first, because both he and Mann already knew no-one was watching. He held a Glock 9mm out to Mann, butt first. ‘I’ve got a couple of clips for you as well.’

Mann looked at the handle of the gun and shook his head.

‘No mate, I can’t take it.’

‘Don’t be daft, Ian. You know where we stand on this. You have to use it, you give the weapon back to one of us and it was us who fired the shots. Simple as. You’re one of us, always will be, and we’ll stand by you and any decisions you make. Not like your spineless bloody bosses in the Police. The way I hear it, they were happy to chuck you to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.’

‘That’s not fair. Andy Hall was willing to resign if I’d been chucked out. And he would have done it, too.’

‘Really?’ Jimmy Rae didn’t look impressed, but he did put the gun away. ‘You change your mind, the offer’s always open. Like I said, we’ll back you. And you can tell your bleeding-heart mate that we’ll be guided by you operationally, but he has to understand that we will engage anyone who we need to engage. And we won’t have time to discuss that with anyone, not even you. Clear?’

‘Clear.’

‘All right. So do you want to come and meet the lads, and maybe chat through how we’re going to do this? You don’t know any of them, but they’re good blokes, all of them. One said to me the other night that he thought he’d seen the back of the sand for a while, and then he ended up on bloody Morecambe Bay. There’s no justice, is there?’

Andy Hall was glad to be able to get on with normal Police work, even if having to keep quiet about Jimmy Rae’s presence did make him feel uncomfortable. But at least he had something specific to do, because it was the waiting that he hated. So he was happy to follow the script that he’d agreed with Ian Mann and Vic Osman, the Drugs Superintendent who was providing officers and equipment for the observation. And so at half nine he picked up the phone, called Geoff Atkinson, and arranged to buy him lunch.

Hall spent the rest of the morning working on the Bell and Capstick files. He tried to open his mind to any left-field thoughts, intuitions, or anything new. But he knew he hadn’t missed anything when he started, because there was next to nothing to miss. The Jack Bell case would only move forward if new information turned up, and since there were no eye witnesses beyond the gang members, that seemed unlikely. So Hall focused almost entirely on Pete Capstick. He looked again at his bank statements, skimmed his emails, tried to get a feel for the living man. And by the time he was due to leave for Flookburgh he did have one, but it took him not an inch further. Because he couldn’t see a single thing, not a hint, not a clue, that suggested why Pete Capstick would have got mixed up with organised criminals. If Capstick was still alive, and he’d just read this file, he knew he’d be writing ‘no further action’ on it, and sending it back to the file store.

And then, as he drove, he saw. ‘He didn’t know what it was they were doing. He had no idea at all.’ By the time he was parking outside the pub in the village he had a story in his head. And it felt right. It was almost in colour.

As soon as they sat down he told Geoff Atkinson exactly what he thought. He had to hear it said out loud, to hear if it still rang true.

‘So what do you think Pete thought was being brought in?’

‘Fags, booze, something like that. You see what I think happened is that whoever talked Pete into this just sold him some old smugglers’ tale, something about him just being the latest in a heroic tradition. You know, that he’d be the kind of person that people would make up songs about, a hero in the village. So it couldn’t be drugs they were talking about. I bet the word wasn’t ever mentioned. And Capstick didn’t think to question whoever it was who spun him this line, because he trusted him implicitly.’

‘Got any evidence?’

‘Not a jot. But it just makes sense. For the first time it makes sense. Pete Capstick didn’t want money. What the hell would he have done with it? Bought himself a new tractor? I’m absolutely convinced that it was someone local who got him involved in all this.’

‘Well, don’t look at me.’

‘I’m not, honest. I just had to tell someone.’

‘But even if you’re right, where does it get you?’

‘Nowhere. You’re right, nowhere. I don’t know how he did it, but whoever killed Pete, or whoever stabbed him I should say, got in and out un-noticed. No forensic evidence and no sign of an eye-wit. It’s all this healthy sea air, everyone must be asleep by half ten.’

‘You’re probably right. So where do you go from here?’

‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted you to know, and I wanted to tell you this myself. Because you’ve been like half a dozen extra coppers this past week or two, and damned good ones too. I’m sorry, Geoff, but we’re going to have to scale back on this. Right back in fact.’

‘Already? No way, that can’t be right. Jack I can understand, you’ve got nowt to go on there, but Pete Capstick? You’ve barely even started. You’ve got the murder weapon, and that suicide note, didn’t you?’

‘Just fragments, Geoff. And the knife hasn’t given us anything. Look, I’m no happier about this than you are, but we all have to face facts. There’s no money, mate, and the powers that be have decided that we scale back hard, because there’s no realistic chance of a conviction. We don’t even have a single suspect, not one. On the positive side I do get to keep a couple of people on it, so we’ll keep two officers for as long as I can get away with it, but they’ll be office based. Strictly office based. I’m sorry, but unless we get a break from somewhere that’s just how it’s going to be. Obviously we’re not saying any of this publicly, so I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself, but I am going to tell Betty Bell, and obviously she can tell whoever she likes. So it’s not a state secret. I just thought it was fair to tell you as well, rather than let you hear it on the village’s bush-telegraph.’

Atkinson sipped his drink, then looked up at Hall. ‘It’s not like you, Andy, isn’t this. You don’t give up that easy, I know that.’

‘I’ve made a fuss, mate. Been all the way to the Chief, in fact, but that’s between you and me. And I got sod all change out of any of them. They told me to lump it, or look for a transfer, my choice.’

‘Bloody hell, is it really that bad now? Well listen, thanks for letting me know, I appreciate it, I really do. Now shall we have a look at the board and order some grub? I’m bloody starving here.’

It was three o’clock before Ian Mann had finished with Jimmy and his boys. One of their encrypted radios weighed heavily in his jacket pocket, but that was all he’d taken. It seemed strange being back in that world, not chatting to mates in the pub about old times, but actually out on an operation. The jokes were much the same though, and so was the tension. The lads seemed ready, but they all seemed very young too. And Mann knew that they’d think he was too old, and that they were very probably right.

They’d all looked at Jimmy’s maps of the area and agreed who would cover which bit of ground. Even the rustle of the paper in the wind took Mann back to another time, and other places.

‘A couple of the lads have been walking right out onto the sand just before low tide each night’ said Jimmy, ‘just in case. Do you want us to carry on?’

‘You’re not worried about quicksand?’ asked Mann, and Rae just smiled.

‘Aye, carry on with that’ said Mann. ‘I suppose you haven’t seen anything of interest?’

‘No, nothing. We’re confident that nothing’s been landed in this sector.’

They’d agreed that, from now on, Rae and his team would cover the seaward observations, with the Police covering the landward side. Mann handed over photographs of each of the team to Jimmy, and explained which ones were armed.

‘And none of these officers know that we’re here?’

‘That’s right, Jimmy. It’s how you wanted it. My plan, such as it is, is to let everyone know, if and when it looks likely to be kicking off, that you’re on the ground here. But it’s a shit plan really. There’s too much that could go wrong. Everyone creeping about, some more successfully than others.’

‘You’re right, Ian. The last thing we want to do is to get into a fire-fight with your people. So I think you brief them all soon, individually and in confidence. Happy with that?’

‘Aye. And you mean the lot, not just the armed officers?’

‘Yes, the lot.’

Mann parked his car next to Rachel Skinner’s in a farmyard off a lane above the village. A large van was already parked there, liveried up like a parcel delivery lorry, and Mann waved a greeting to a couple of the firearms lads from HQ who were eating their sandwiches. And when Mann told Rachel about Rae’s involvement her reaction was much the same as the rest of the team’s would be. 

‘I’m bloody amazed, Ian. What are the death-or-glory boys doing here? We don’t need them. They’ll probably mow down anything that moves out there.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. And remember, they were tasked to track this shipment, and basically to make a hard-stop of the vessel carrying it when it reached British waters. That was their mission, right from that start. But they were outflanked somehow, and they don’t like that.’

‘So we have to work with them?’

‘Aye, but it’s not all bad. I’m actually glad we’ve got them. Because we’ve got half a dozen highly trained operatives who cheerfully work twenty-four hour days and live in pits they’ve dug up on Humphrey Head. Can you see any of our lot doing that? Their beer-bellies would be visible for miles.’

Rachel laughed. ‘Speak for yourself, mate. But they’re also likely to shoot first, and not bother with any questions, aren’t they?’

‘They’re not assassins, Rachel. You’d be surprised at their level of self-control. But it’s true, if they decide that they’re under threat, or we are, then they won’t hesitate. They can’t, it’s as simple as that.’

‘I could never do that job’ said Rachel. ‘How could you ever be that sure? Sure enough to shoot to kill, I mean.’

Mann didn’t reply, and Rachel realised that she’d been tactless. ‘I’m sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘That’s all right, love, I do know what you mean. I was a different person back then, I suppose. Either way, I couldn’t do it now. People are too complicated to ever predict their motivations, let alone their actions, with any accuracy. If this job’s taught me anything it’s taught me that.’

‘You mean the public are a bunch of greedy, selfish bastards to a man, and we only get to nick the really stupid ones? I’ll drink to that. But back to business. You’ve got the CCTV installed in the village, have you?’

‘Aye, it should be up and running in a bit. They’ve still got old fashioned telephone wires and poles round here, so we got our cameras up on a half a dozen poles. There’s no way we could have any boots on the ground, because they’d be spotted right off. The place is just too bloody quiet.’

‘Didn’t all the activity draw some attention?’

‘It did. But we knocked their internet off for half an hour a couple of times today, just for ten minutes, and our lads said they were fixing the problem.’

‘Nice one. You are a devious bastard, Ian.’

‘I bet you say that to all the boys. So you’re clear about our plan, Rachel? We’ll be doing our shifts from the surveillance van here, and we’re not moving down to the village unless we think it’s kicking off.’

‘But we’ll get out on the sand to make arrests?’

‘That’s the plan. I’ve agreed with Captain Rae that, if his lads spot the target, then they’ll inform us and we will take the lead when we’re in contact with the suspects.’

‘But only if there’s time? And Rae and his boys will already be out on the sands. What’s to stop them just forgetting to tell us?’

‘They won’t do that, don’t worry. But we’ve got two marked Land-Rovers sitting in that shed over there, loaded up with all the gear we could think of, so we’ll be able to get people out there fast if we have to. But they’ll stick to what we’ve agreed. Soldiers think like they march, in straight lines.’

As he drove back to the station Andy Hall had indigestion, a sharp pain beneath the seat-belt. He’d eaten that pie and chips too fast. But maybe it was something else as well. Jimmy Rae and his invisible mates made Hall nervous. It wasn’t just that they worked to different rules, it was the nagging sense that Rae lived in a strictly binary, black and white world. You were with him and his mates, and whatever it is they thought they were protecting, or you were against them. And Hall just didn’t see anything like that. He understood that you had to have a very specific world view to ever be able to pull a trigger, and he knew that he never could. Because the harder he looked at anything, absolutely anything at all that involved people, the more complicated it always became. It felt like a blessing, and a curse.

He’d been thinking about the worst offenders he’d ever dealt with. The kind that colleagues used to stand in the observation room just to watch sitting there, to see if that helped them understand, the kind that caused victim’s families to slam their fists against the side of prison vans. Could he say, with certainty, that any of them were actually evil? He wasn’t absolutely sure that he could. And, not for the first time, he was glad that his job was to investigate, not to judge, and certainly not to try to understand.