The Killing Club. Paul Finch
‘Don’t worry,’ Gemma replied. ‘Frank and his team are well-resourced and very experienced.’
But they’re not detectives, Heck wanted to say. They’re like Special Branch; knuckle-dragging ex-squaddies or pumped-up government agents playing at being CID.
‘We’ll be getting used to each other in the future, anyway,’ she added. ‘You know National Crime Group is moving from the Yard next year?’
‘Yeah …?’ Heck said, baffled as to where this might be leading.
‘It’s early days yet, but we’ll likely be sharing a building with SOCAR. We may even be on the same floor.’
Heck gave her a long, blank look. ‘That’s marvellous, ma’am. Truly. Any more good news today?’
‘Look … what’s your problem, sergeant?’ Tasker asked. ‘You’ve had an attitude since you came in here. Call me an idiot, but I can’t think there’s anything about me or my staff that might have got on your nerves.’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Heck said. ‘If we spent a couple of days together, I’m sure I could produce a catalogue.’ He turned and left the office.
For a second, Tasker looked astounded. ‘What the actual FUCK!’
‘Leave this to me, Frank,’ Gemma said, jumping to her feet. ‘HECK!’
She caught up with him twenty yards down the corridor.
‘You’ve got five seconds to tell me what that was all about!’ she said, pinning him to the wall with her index finger. ‘And make it good, because trust me, I’m not in the mood for any chip-on-the-shoulder bullshit today!’
‘I don’t like seeing fellas I don’t know treat your desk like an armchair.’
‘I’m not going to dignify that garbage with a response. Try again.’
‘Ma’am … I should be the one going after Mike Silver. Two reasons. First of all, I have unfinished business with him. Very unfinished. Secondly, I’m the one who caught him last time. No one else managed it.’
‘Oh yes?’ She folded her arms. ‘Who made the arrest?’
‘Okay, me and you should be going after him then.’
‘You know it doesn’t work like that.’
‘Says who … SOCAR? The fucking idiots who let Mike Silver go?’
‘Hey! Now just watch how you talk to me, sergeant … alright?’ She kept it low-key, but as always with Gemma when her back was up, there was intense ferocity in her tone. ‘And you might try showing a bit of respect, and remember that most of those “fucking idiots” are dead! And that they were fellow police officers! And that they died in the line of duty! And that they left young families, children …’
‘Okay …’ He already regretted that part of his outburst. ‘That was out of order …’
‘We’re all upset, Heck … but at least stop embarrassing yourself, and more importantly, stop bloody embarrassing me! And get your sodding head screwed on! You know you can’t be involved in this enquiry. I’ve explained it to you half a dozen times, so I’m not going to explain it again. Your job, as far as the Nice Guys is concerned, is done.’
‘No disrespect, ma’am … but that’s what you think.’
‘Heck …’ Gemma gave him a searching gaze. ‘Be absolutely one hundred per cent sure, I will not tolerate any monkey business from you on this. Operation Thunderclap – yes, it’s got a name and everything – Operation Thunderclap is way too serious to be jeopardised by an officer as emotionally scarred by past events as you are.’ Her tone levelled off, but she continued to nail him with those laser-blue eyes. ‘You and me have been close for a long time, but trust me on this, Mark … I will take any disciplinary measures necessary. Any at all … to protect this SOCAR enquiry from interference by outside elements, especially you.’
‘Ma’am, Mad Mike Silver will be overseas in a day or so. He’ll be gone from these shores, we’ll never see him again … we’ll never get another chance.’
‘Commander Tasker’s team is already on the move.’
‘They don’t know what they’re doing …’
‘Are you serious? Tasker is SOCAR Special Investigations …’
‘And what does that mean exactly?’
‘I’ll be there too. Maybe you don’t trust me either?’
Heck shrugged awkwardly. ‘I always trust you.’
‘Which is more than I feel about you.’ She paused. ‘When are you back on duty?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Excellent. Until such time as you’re needed in the Northeast again, we’ll have you here at base, doing everyone’s housekeeping. In fact we’ve got a dozen new case files that need our attention too. So you better get home before I send you in there right now.’
Tasker reappeared outside Gemma’s office. He stood with hands on hips as she traipsed back towards him.
‘You need to put someone on Jim Laycock, ma’am,’ Heck called after her.
She glanced back. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘If he removed all those files containing the names and addresses of clients the Nice Guys provided totty for …’
‘Heck, we’ve been over this as well!’ She was clearly trying not to look as exasperated as he was making her feel. ‘There’s no evidence it was Laycock. You were being paranoid to the nth degree.’
Heck had never been able to shake the suspicion from his mind that former National Crime Group commander Jim Laycock had been a client of the Nice Guys. All through the original investigation, the murdering bastards had benefited from having a police insider; it was the only way they could have continually stayed one step ahead. And then, to top it all, right at the death, the files containing extensive details of all the Nice Guys’ clients in the UK – a full list of names and addresses – had simply disappeared, even though their existence was only known about inside the National Crime Group. Which had meant the insider was very close to home.
Heck had come to suspect Laycock, firstly because the bloke had done his level best to reduce the manpower available to the original enquiry, finally closing it down entirely before it managed to gain any real results – and for what Heck considered to be spurious reasons. And secondly, because Laycock, with his background in the military police, was better-placed than most officers in NCG to have known some of the Nice Guys from an earlier career. Of course, Gemma never felt there was any proof of this, and had many times expressed concern that Heck was letting his personal dislike for Laycock cloud his professional judgement. However, after the dust had all settled, she had forwarded a written opinion that Laycock’s initial handling of the Nice Guys affair had been ill-judged. In consequence, though the resulting internal enquiry kick-started by Heck finally cleared Laycock of having any connection with the Nice Guys, he was still disciplined for ‘displaying a level of ineptitude in office that verged on criminal negligence’. That said, Laycock’s demotion from the rank of commander to the rank of inspector hadn’t returned the missing dossier of names, nor did it explain who the mole had been.
‘Whether I was or wasn’t being paranoid, Laycock sank that investigation for no good reason,’ Heck reminded her. ‘He did everything he could to hamper us …’
‘For which he got busted down five ranks,’ she retorted. ‘Good grief Heck, that’s not an insignificant punishment.’
‘He’s a DI at Wembley, ma’am. He’s still higher up the food