Paul Gitsham - The Common Enemy

After the briefing, Warren was summoned to DSI Grayson’s office. The privacy blinds were drawn on the door, so he had no idea who or what was awaiting him when he entered.

‘Sirs,’ Warren greeted the seated officers. There were no spare chairs, so Warren found himself standing like a naughty schoolboy.

‘Coffee?’

That was a good sign, the Assistant Chief Constable didn’t offer you some of John Grayson’s finest roast if you were in trouble.

‘That’d be lovely, sir.’

As one of the ACC’s assistants poured Warren a cup, he got down to business.

‘Let’s be blunt, Warren. Yesterday was a colossal cock-up on several levels, not least the murder of Tommy Meegan. We massively underestimated the number of counter-protestors and had to pull in reinforcements from across the region. The riot was bad enough, but a politically charged murder and an arson attack on a vulnerable target that we should have been protecting… we dropped the ball big-time.’

Warren stole a glance at DSI Grayson, who looked grim. The problem had landed squarely in his lap – which by extension meant Warren’s. The subtext was clear. Hertfordshire Constabulary was already looking foolish; now it was time to clean up the mess, and do it quickly. The grapevine was already buzzing with speculation that the officer in charge was likely to fall on her sword. Would the same be expected of Grayson – even Warren – if he failed to deliver?

‘Monitoring from the Social Media Intelligence Unit indicated tensions were already running high before the march, and now the far-right have gone ballistic,’ continued Naseem. ‘They’re already deciding how to capitalise on yesterday’s events. These buggers couldn’t decide on the colour of the sky normally, they hate each other almost as much as they hate non-whites and homosexuals, but yesterday’s killing is uniting them. The same goes for a lot of the anti-fascist organisations; we’re already seeing calls for mass protests if we don’t start making arrests over the Islamic Centre fire soon. More than a few keyboard warriors have said that what happened to Tommy Meegan was long overdue and have started naming other far-right activists as potential targets.’

The room settled into a leaden silence; eventually Garfield spoke up.

‘This time of year is full of significant dates for the far-right. They were originally planning on marching on the seventh of July, the anniversary of the London bombings. I guess they figured they could try and make a link between the proposed new mosque and Islamic extremism. We blocked that as too provocative. Then they tried to march on the first of August. Obviously we’re wise to that and said no.’

Warren evidently didn’t hide his ignorance fully.

‘The first of August, written 1/8 represents the initials of Adolph Hitler. It’s where Combat 18 get their name from.’

‘I see.’

‘So they suggested the next day. We almost let them have it, until we ran it through the computer – the eightieth anniversary of Hitler’s rise to Fuhrer. Finally, we settled on Saturday the nineteenth of July as comparatively harmless.’

‘OK.’

Warren didn’t quite see what they were so concerned about, surely the issue had been fixed?

‘The problem is that whilst we could stop a march through town on the grounds that it was likely to cause a breach of the peace, they’re already calling for his funeral to be held on August the first.’

‘Shit.’

‘Exactly. It’ll be a magnet for every right-winger in Europe. He’s already being eulogised as some sort of bloody martyr.’

‘Can we block the funeral?’

ACC Naseem snorted. ‘That’d be political dynamite. Can you imagine the reaction – “Police block grieving family’s funeral”? No, that’s a decision well above the pay grade of anyone in this room.’

‘Home Secretary?’ asked Grayson

‘You’d think, but we’re less than a year away from a general election, I wouldn’t bet on a speedy decision. Nevertheless, Mrs May has let it be known that she is following events closely.’

Warren’s head spun. He’d known the repercussions of the previous day’s murder were likely to be significant but he’d had no idea what was at stake. And he really wasn’t happy about the Home Secretary taking an interest. That sort of interest could end an officer’s career pretty quickly.

‘So where does that leave us?’

‘We need to know who was responsible for the murder as soon as possible to manage the fallout. If it was one of the protestors, it’ll be bad enough. If it turns out it was a member of the local Muslim community seizing an opportunity, the consequences don’t bear thinking about.’ He paused. ‘Without wanting to pre-empt DI Sutton’s briefing, are we treating the fire as arson?’

‘From witness reports, it’s looking that way.’

‘Great, that’s all we need.’

Naseem removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Warren watched him carefully over the top of his coffee cup.

At first glance it seemed strange that a small, first-response unit like Middlesbury would be taking the lead in such a politically sensitive operation, but it didn’t surprise him. Ostensibly, Middlesbury was most suited to coordinate investigations on its own turf; the CID unit’s intimate local knowledge made it ideal for dealing with crimes taking place at this end of the county, miles away from the Major Crime Unit’s headquarters in Welwyn Garden City. But there was more to it. Yet more cutbacks to the policing budget were making Middlesbury CID’s special status harder and harder to justify. A successful resolution to such a big, high-profile case would do wonders for the unit’s long-term future. The question was, were they being given an opportunity to prove themselves or handed enough rope to hang themselves?

Naseem’s face was unreadable. Beside him, Grayson looked similarly impassive, but his knuckles were slightly white as they gripped his coffee mug. Naseem turned to Grayson. ‘Blank cheque, John.’ His mouth twisted in disgust. ‘This needs sorting in the next ten days or we’re looking at the Brixton riots all over again.’

So there it was: make or break time for Middlesbury CID – and the career of John Grayson. Solve the murder quickly and efficiently and Grayson was one step closer to his next promotion; mess it up and it was the end of Middlesbury CID’s independence and perhaps John Grayson. And, quite possibly, Warren Jones.

DI Tony Sutton dropped wearily into the comfy chair opposite Warren’s desk.

‘The fire at the Islamic Centre is almost certainly arson; I’ll be meeting the fire investigators later today.’

‘Is there a final casualty count?’

‘There were about thirty in the centre at the time, almost all women and children or older folk. They managed to get upstairs, where the fire service rescued them. A total of eight were treated for smoke inhalation, with two remaining in hospital. An eighty-nine-year-old woman already in poor health is in intensive care alongside a three-year-old boy.

‘Fortunately, lunchtime prayers had finished a couple of hours before and it wasn’t a Friday. Karen and I will be visiting the imam in charge later, but he’s already said that ironically they were in there because of the trouble brewing in town. The centre has invested heavily in security in recent years.’

‘Speaking of security, do we have any CCTV?’

Sutton smiled humourlessly. ‘It’s funny you should ask that. The CCTV at the front of the building wasn’t working.’

Warren sat up slightly straighter. ‘Really? Can I guess what happened?’

‘Be my guest.’