Mark Sennen - BAD BLOOD - A DI Charlotte Savage Novel

‘You all know your roles,’ Hardin said, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at each officer in turn. ‘Phil will liaise on additional evidence, Mike will run the interviews, Charlotte will manage the post-arrest local inquiry teams, and Darius, when you return from your jaunt, you’ll be collating the threads and working with the team to turn what we have into something the CPS will wet their knickers over. Finally the Tactical Aid Group will be carrying out the raids and you can bet I want you guys there as well to prevent the trigger-happy cowboys messing everything up. Apart from that it is just a waiting game. Questions?’

There were dozens. Operational, technical, legal, Hardin dealing with each in turn in his methodical manner. An hour later and he wrapped the meeting up with a final pep talk.

‘The objective is to shut down the city’s drug supply network and catch Fallon red-handed. Once we have Fallon we will be able to round up everyone from him down. It’s been tried before and we’ve always made a hash of the endgame; Fallon has always evaded us.’ Hardin paused, looking gloomy, before smiling and adding with a whisper: ‘Until now.’

Riley glanced across at his fellow officers. Garrett wore a serious expression whereas Davies grinned, eager to be up and at them, kicking down doors and smashing heads. DI Savage smiled at him again.

Afterwards, as they left the room, Savage came across to them.

‘If, Darius – God forbid – this all goes wrong, you’ll be glad to be on a beach four thousand miles from here.’

‘If this goes wrong, ma’am,’ Riley said, ‘I think a million miles might be a safer distance.’

Alec Jackman lay back on the bed in a state of post-orgasmic exhaustion. The girl beside him slept, almost silent, the only noise the faint sound of her shallow breathing. Jackman traced the line of the sheet as the material rose along her legs to her hips and fell down to her waist. She had pushed the sheet down from the top half of her body and Jackman let his eyes rest on her breasts. Round, but small and pert. Tiny goosebumps marked the mesmerising curves and her nipples stood erect.

As Jackman pulled the sheet up to cover her, the girl stirred and yawned, but she didn’t wake. She would be tired. Worn out. Sometimes the young ones were shocked at what he could do. What he could still do. Most men of his age weren’t as fit as him, most were heading downhill toward a six-foot hole in the ground and oblivion. At times like this Jackman almost believed he would live forever. Rubbish, of course, but there was no reason he shouldn’t go on enjoying himself as long as possible. And he usually went on a long while. The coke helped, although he hadn’t done much. The drug was mostly for the girl’s benefit. A little inducement to keep her sweet.

Jackman glanced at the bedside clock. He ought to be out of here, he had an important meeting to get to and then home to his wife, Gill. He had promised he wouldn’t be too late and he didn’t want to push things, even though he realised she probably had an inkling of what was going on. She knew the score. Understood the price to pay. All those shoes, handbags, the hired help, the nice house. The goodies cost money and the girl was payback. One squeak from Gill and she could say goodbye to the little treats and the lifestyle as well. Glamour, parties, trips abroad, local recognition. Without him she had nothing.

Then there was his brother-in-law, Gavin Redmond. Gill owed Jackman for him too. The idiot should have been rolling in dough with the yacht business he ran, but he seemed to piss away the stuff. A few years back Jackman had helped him get the company back on a sound footing by finding a new investor and an extra revenue stream. The sideline was far from legal, but nobody got rich keeping to the rules. The bankers proved that.

He sighed and got out of the bed, found his jacket and rummaged in a pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Like the cocaine, he knew he shouldn’t, but this would be the first of the day. Self-control. Like with the girl. He’d come as the gasp from her own orgasm spread a smile across her face. Now Jackman smiled too. A real cutie, this one.

The lighter flared and he drew on the cigarette. Redmond was pissed off about the girl. As he would be, the girl being his own daughter, Jackman’s niece. Not blood related of course, but still, the frisson was there. Something to do with some of his wife’s genes being in the girl, Jackman suspected. He thought about Redmond again. In truth the idiot worried him. Lately he’d looked tired and nervous. Jackman had told him to get a grip. He only had to hold himself together for a few days and then they’d be quids in. All of them. On the other hand, one wrong move and everybody was going to get screwed.

Unless …

The meeting could change things and swing the possibility of success their way. Jackman went to the bathroom and then quickly got dressed.

Thirty minutes later he pulled into the car park at Jennycliff, a parkland area to the south of the city which sat above cliffs on the eastern edge of Plymouth Sound. Over the sea the light had long gone from the sky. The daylight, anyway; a swathe of orange off to his right painted the underside of the clouds and below, the city glowed.

Jackman sat in his car, tapped his watch, waited. He shivered as the air in the car cooled. Early evening dog-walkers returned from the park and loaded their charges into the back of cars. A couple of hardy runners headed home.

The minutes ticked by and the legitimate visitors all left. A car cruised in, followed by another, and then another. They parked up one end, the interior light in one car flicking on, a woman and a man visible inside, while a couple of men climbed from the other cars and skirted the vehicle, cameras in hand.

Usually the proximity of sex would have aroused Jackman, but not tonight. He turned his attention away from the free show and towards the car park entrance where a pair of headlights announced a new arrival. This time the vehicle didn’t head up the slope to the top but pulled alongside Jackman’s car. Even in silhouette the pickup looked like it had seen better days. Patches of white filler adorned the dark bodywork and one wing had a large dent. When the interior light went on it illuminated a bulky man with a beard. A woolly hat perched on his head struggled to cover large ears.

The man nodded across at Jackman and then reached over and opened the passenger door. Jackman got out of his car and ducked down into the passenger seat, closing the door. The light went off and Jackman heard the man sniff and cough, a waft of bad air coming Jackman’s way a few moments later.

‘Well?’ Jackman said. ‘This isn’t the sort of place I usually come for a meeting so let’s get on with it.’

‘It?’ the man said.

‘Kenny Fallon said you had something for me. You hand it over and he lets you go about your business.’

‘Cash. Up front. He promised.’

‘Look, you’re a poacher, a petty housebreaker when you get the chance. Some pheasants, a rabbit or two, a laptop or phone if you spot an opportunity when you’re out and about. I can’t see what you can have come up with that’s got Kenny so excited, but if it’s good you’ll get your money.’

The man stirred, shifted in his seat as he retrieved something from a pocket. A little screen popped into life in the gloom.

‘A phone? I hope you’re not winding us up. Where did you nick it from?’

‘I didn’t, it’s mine.’ Fingers swept over the surface of the phone and a movie clip started to play. ‘I want five thousand for this.’

‘Five thousand? You’re crazy.’

‘When you’ve watched it, you’ll pay.’

‘Let me see then.’ Jackman leant over, trying not to inhale the mixture of bad breath and sweat.