The Informant (12 page)

‘Afternoon everyone. Jeremy Mark Harris, known as Jez. Twenty-two years old, known drug dealer and the former partner of Natalie Phelps. I say former, because this morning he plunged to
his death from the thirteenth floor of a tower block in Southend. Question is did he fall or was he pushed?’

Turnbull’s eyes roved around the room and settled on Nicci Armstrong, who shifted uncomfortably. Turnbull stared at her. He was pissed off because events had overtaken him, they’d
moved out of his control. In his position that was dangerous at the best of times.

‘DS Armstrong, you were in charge of the surveillance team on Joey Phelps. Perhaps you’d take up the tale from here.’

Armstrong cleared her throat. ‘Yes sir, well . . .’

‘Come up to the front Sergeant, so we can all hear you.’ Turnbull’s tone betrayed his anger and there was sympathy in the room for Nicci as she edged round the desks and her
fellow officers. She took up a position with her back to the screen, as far away from Turnbull as she could manage. He didn’t smile.

‘In your own time Sergeant.’

The sarcasm in his voice served only to galvanize Nicci. She glanced at the smug fucker and raised her chin defiantly. She was hardly the first person to have blown a surveillance and she
wasn’t about to take the rap for this fuck-up.

‘Essex Police logged Jez Harris’s death at eleven-o-five this morning. Myself and DC Payne were in a surveillance vehicle which followed Joey Phelps’s Range Rover Evoque into
Southend at approximately ten a.m. Unfortunately we were involved in an incident at some traffic lights and we lost Phelps. The Range Rover was clocked by an ANPR camera on the A127 heading out of
Southend at eleven seventeen.’

Nicci shot a look at Turnbull and waited.

‘Presumably you did get a look at who was travelling with Phelps in the vehicle?’

Nicci nodded. ‘Ashley Carter was driving. Karen Phelps was in the back.’

Turnbull’s gaze shot down the room and zoned in on Bradley. ‘Did you know about her trip to Southend DC Bradley?’

Bradley felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

‘No sir.’

‘No sir?’ Turnbull raised his eyebrows. ‘How is it that not one of you was up to the mark on this? Karen Phelps gets out of jail and goes with her brother to visit their junkie
sister in Southend. Within an hour of their arrival her sister’s boyfriend has taken a dive out of the window. And we know nothing about it until I get a call from Essex Police.’

Bradley focused on a loose thread fraying from the cuff of his denim shirt. He sensed Turnbull was just getting started. ‘Come up here Bradley.’

Bradley raised his head, jutted his chin to bolster his confidence and made his way to the front. He still felt like an errant schoolboy, which he knew was Turnbull’s intention.

‘Stand next to Armstrong. Now, tell me, what is going on here? Have we got a communications problem? Did your mobile run out of juice Bradley?’

The young officer blinked. ‘No sir.’

Nicci Armstrong took a deep breath, she’d had more than enough of Turnbull’s crap. She wasn’t about to be turned into a scapegoat to cover his arse.

‘Can I speak sir? Because there’s a hell of a lot more to this than meets the eye.’

Turnbull put his hands in his pockets. ‘Okay, let’s hear it.’

‘First of all the surveillance. We’re trying to keep tabs on someone like Joey Phelps using one car, which is ridiculous. We follow him into Southend, we’re two vehicles behind
at the traffic lights and we get rear-ended by a bloody great BMW four-by-four. It’s got French plates, which, when we finally get a trace on them, turn out to be false. It’s got two
blokes in it, who speak not a word of English and from their tattoos look like they’ve been demobbed from the Russian army. The whole thing was no coincidence. Add to that the fact the
tracker we placed on Phelps’s vehicle turns up at a motorway services on the M25 on a Tesco’s lorry. Phelps is running rings round us and will continue to do so until we’re
provided with adequate resources to carry out a proper, professional surveillance operation.’

The room was completely silent. No one moved a muscle. Bradley was close enough to Armstrong to feel the tension and the fury burning off her. A dozen pairs of eyes were focused expectantly on
Turnbull. He pursed his lips, inhaled. He decided to go with the flow, in this instant it seemed the best option.

‘Well . . . glad someone’s got the balls to speak up.’ He swivelled round and focused on the unfortunate Mayhew. ‘One-car surveillance Bill? How was that ever going to
work?’

Mayhew sucked in a mouthful of air and hunched his shoulders. He could’ve announced to the whole room that in trying to manage with one vehicle they’d been following Turnbull’s
earlier instructions. But he knew better than to challenge the boss in public.

Bradley followed the exchange intently; clearly when Turnbull had said they often had to busk it he hadn’t been lying.

Turnbull gave Nicci an apologetic shrug. ‘What can I tell you Sergeant? The cuts are the bane of all our lives. Unfortunately we must soldier on with the resources we have.’

Nicci smiled to herself, she knew she had him on the ropes. ‘Can I finish sir? Because this is not simply an issue of resources.’

Turnbull folded his arms, she was an ambitious little bitch, but he was beginning to think that might work to his advantage. He gave her a smile, inviting her to continue.

‘DC Bradley is new to the case, we gather he’s been tasked to work undercover. But so far as I’m aware, there’s been no attempt to bring him up to speed with the rest of
the operation. Okay, if he’s running a chiz I can appreciate that he must act independently and maintain a sterile corridor. But we still need a formal mechanism for the exchange of
intelligence.’

Bradley glanced sideways at her. She was the last person he expected to ride to his rescue. Turnbull rubbed a finger over his chin and pondered as if he were giving her words the most serious
consideration. Then he nodded sagely, glanced at Mayhew. ‘Fair comment Bill?’

Mayhew took a deep breath and ran his fingers round the inside of his trouser belt, easing the pressure on his paunch. There was an undercurrent of resentment in the room and everyone knew it.
Alex Marlow wasn’t even in his grave and Bradley had been parachuted in.

‘Well of course boss, I think the whole team has been upset by the loss of Alex Marlow. He did a lot of good work. A number of officers, including Nicci, provided excellent backup. It was
all running like a well-oiled machine. Which makes what happened this morning doubly unfortunate. But we need to learn the lesson, reorganize and regroup.’ He nodded to himself as if struck
by the good sense of his own advice, then he glanced at Turnbull and waited.

Turnbull was leaning against a desk, jingling his change. He knew what Mayhew was telling him: he’d pissed people off. But frankly he couldn’t give a toss, he needed to get the show
back on the road. He nodded his head thoughtfully several times.

Bradley caught Nicci Armstrong’s eye; she was still steaming and was shifting impatiently from foot to foot. Turnbull stepped forward placing himself centre stage.

‘Right, this is a bloody shambles.’ He shot an accusing glance at Mayhew. ‘But here’s what we’re going to do. Bradley clearly needs help. Armstrong, you’ll
become his handler, work closely with him from now on. It’s quite likely Karen Phelps became an accessory to murder this morning. So I want you on her case. Relentlessly. Threaten her with
recall, do what you have to. She is going to be our chiz. And I couldn’t give a monkey’s uncle about maintaining a sterile corridor between her and the team. We don’t have the
time or resources for that.’

Turnbull was warming to his theme. What he was saying was obvious, but somehow the pitch and delivery made his words sound momentous, even epic. He raised a finger, pointed it decisively at
Mayhew.

‘Bill, Joey Phelps is our target and I don’t want Essex Police muscling in on the act. They want us to put details of our investigation up on HOLMES so they can access it. Well
bugger that. Phelps murdered a police officer and that takes precedence over some two-bit drug dealer. Surveillance is key, we need to up our game.’

Turnbull paused and scanned the room. Most eyes were on him, although there was a bit of fidgeting, so he lowered his voice, adopting a softer more personal tone. ‘I don’t need to
remind any of you that we’ve lost a valued colleague, not to mention a friend. So I want a hundred and fifty per cent from everyone. Time we nailed this bastard, so let’s get out there
and let’s do it.’

Turnbull took a deep breath and smiled. That was it, briefing over.

As Turnbull sailed off through the swing doors and down the corridor Bradley turned to Nicci.

‘Thanks for that Sarge.’

She gave him a cursory glance and started to walk away. ‘Didn’t do it for you.’

Nicci joined Mayhew, who was pouring himself a coffee.

‘Sorry boss, but I wasn’t going to let him mug me. Not in front of the whole team.’

Mayhew smiled, patted her arm. He was a slow, benign bloke, nothing ruffled his feathers. ‘Don’t fret Nic. I’m his designated bum-boy, not you.’

Nicci ran her fingers through her hair wearily. ‘He blames everything on the bloody cuts. More like his lousy management.’

Mayhew shrugged this off, wiped a hand across his sagging face. ‘He’s been acting odd, I don’t know what he’s up to. Still, least you nailed him on the surveillance,
which should help. Now I can insist on two units.’

Nicci poured herself a coffee. ‘So what was this bollocks about anyway? Why an emergency briefing?’

Mayhew gave a rumbling laugh. ‘Essex Police got him on the blower. Assistant Chief Constable no less. Started to throw his weight about. They plan to pull Joey Phelps in and they expect
our full support and cooperation. Want it to be their collar. Turnbull went apeshit.’

Nicci grinned. ‘I’ll bet. Does it never occur to any of them that we’re on the same side?’

Mayhew sank half a cup of coffee in one gulp. ‘Turnbull’s got to keep an eye on his score sheet. Days like this I just think about my pension.’

Nicci topped up the mug for him. ‘I’ve been trying to get a line on these bastards in the Beamer. I got Payne trawling the Hendon database for more sightings. But they’re
totally off the radar.’

Mayhew sighed. ‘Would be. Foreign, ex-military – smart move on Joey’s part. There are plenty of Russians in London, better to have them working for you than going into
competition.’

Bradley came to the coffee station behind them, poured himself a mug. Then he sidled forward. ‘Listen, can I have a word?’

Mayhew and Nicci both turned to look at him.

‘Okay, so I’m Turnbull’s boy, that’s how everyone’s got me pegged . . .’

Mayhew chuckled. ‘You’re his Exocet missile, lad. The Assistant Commissioner is relying on you. ’Course we can’t admit it’s a honeytrap, ’cause they’re
illegal. So it’s all very hush hush, eh Nic?’

She nodded.

‘Which is why we’re all running round fucking clueless, including you I suspect.’

Bradley shifted restlessly. ‘I’ve spent the last three days at a bloody art class.’

Nicci looked him up and down, somehow his obvious good looks annoyed her. But she was working hard to keep her personal emotions in check. The only way she could do that was to focus
relentlessly on the job. And that meant dealing with Bradley. She milked her coffee. ‘You tried approaching her yet?’

Bradley looked a bit sheepish. ‘Yeah well I went to the hostel. Posed as a support worker. Unfortunately she made me straight away.’

Nicci laughed out loud. ‘You mean she didn’t swoon into your manly arms? Well there’s a fucking surprise! We’ve got a murderous gangster out there, killed a police
officer. And we’re relying on an airhead. A fucking rookie airhead!’

She took her coffee and strode off.

Mayhew gave Bradley a sympathetic look. ‘Nic and Alex Marlow were good mates.’

Bradley huffed. He knew he’d made a mess of things and that was starting to panic him. He didn’t want to plead, that would make him look more stupid. But what was the
alternative?

‘Look, I’m not trying to replace Alex Marlow. All I want is to be part of the team and do my job.’

Mayhew nodded, eased the belt on his paunch. He’d seen plenty of versions of Mal Bradley, impressive on paper but not an iota of useful experience. Still, he felt for the lad and he knew
Turnbull. If things went wrong, Turnbull would need a scapegoat and Bradley was perfect. He wondered if the young DC had figured that out yet.

He put a hand on Bradley’s shoulder. ‘I know you do. So back to square one, eh. Come in my office and let’s see if we can sort out a way forward with this.’

‘Thank you sir.’

Mayhew laughed. ‘Don’t call me sir. Everyone will think you’re a bloody rookie.’

Bradley hung his head. He shot a baleful look across the room to where Nicci Armstrong was lounging at her desk, phone to her ear.

Mayhew followed his gaze. ‘And you need to get on with her. When you’re undercover, your backup is your lifeline. Plus she’s probably the best copper on this team.’

Karen was pacing her mother’s kitchen. Her attempts to take control of the situation had been a dismal failure. Joey wasn’t answering his phone, Ashley and the
Russians had simply dumped Kaz and her sister back here and driven off.

Ellie had fussed over Natalie like a mother hen. Kaz discovered that her sister’s bedroom had received a makeover very similar to her own, except Natalie’s colour scheme was yellow.
Kaz had watched as Ellie settled her daughter under the plump duvet and rearranged the cuddly toys around her. Ellie cooed over Natalie as if she were a small child who’d come home from
school with a tummy upset and just needed a bit of extra TLC from Mum. The charade simply annoyed Kaz; their life had never been like that.

Now Kaz faced her mother across the sleek granite worktops. Ellie was pouring boiling water from the kettle into a smart spotted teapot.

‘Nice cup of tea, that’s what we need. I don’t mind a cappuccino or latte when I’m out, but I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker. As your nan used to say, good
strong cuppa, always sets you up.’