Buried

Chapter 26

Jack was desperate to find someone who had known Harry Rawlins and, more importantly, who knew a living member of the Rawlins family. As things were, he didn’t even really know what Harry looked like. Every photo he’d been able to find of Rawlins was blurred, or his face was partly covered, or showed him side on to the camera. He seemed to be a dab hand at remaining incognito.

As Jack trawled through old files and new databases, he came across numerous names who could have helped if they hadn’t been dead. So much time had passed. At this rate, he was going to have to convince Ridley to dig up Harry’s second grave.

After an hour of searching, Jack settled on the name of DS Alex Fuller, mainly because he was one of only a handful of people from the eighties who was still breathing. Fuller had been Resnick’s right-hand man and, at times, his biggest critic. One report from Fuller caught Jack’s eye. In it, he expressed concern to the then superintendent about Resnick’s emotional stability and requested a transfer out of Resnick’s team. Fuller’s report showed him to be an honest, ambitious man who didn’t want his own career to be hindered or tainted by the unfounded obsessions of his boss. Jack felt an immediate affinity. Right now, he, too, thought his boss was on the wrong track. He called Fuller.

Alex Fuller was a stout man in his mid-60s. He had been handsome in his day and the years had been kind to him. He had a full head of white hair and he carried his once muscular physique well. He’d still be a handful if he ever got into a brawl.

‘It’s good of you to see me, Mr Fuller,’ said Jack.

‘Alex. And I’m happy to help.’ Fuller didn’t ask what Jack would like to drink, he just got on with making a pot of tea for them both. ‘Fire away, son. I’m listening.’

‘I’m interested in Harry Rawlins.’

Fuller let out a belly laugh. ‘Fuck me, that name never goes away, does it? What’s he done now? Risen from the grave and robbed a bank? He’s not the missing man on the Hatton Garden job, is he?’

‘I read your case files today. Rawlins was certainly notorious.’

‘That’s one word for him. So, you think he’s connected somehow to a new case?’

‘We’re exploring a variety of avenues.’

Fuller grinned at Jack’s use of such a stock phrase when talking to an ex-copper. He must be new to this.

‘You wrote about an occasion in 1984, when you raided the home of Trudie Nunn. She was hysterical apparently, screaming, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” At the time, you assumed she was talking about Jimmy Nunn.’

Fuller bowed his head as he recalled the moment.

‘The only assumption that ever mattered was that Harry Rawlins died in the explosion in the Strand underpass. From that moment on, it was all smoke and mirrors and the only person who knew it for a fact was George Resnick. I remember the raid on Trudie Nunn’s flat... So you think the “he” she was talking about was Harry Rawlins? I think you’re right.’

Jack told Fuller about the exhumation, and how one of the few remaining teeth from the jigsaw puzzle skeleton was currently being tested against Jimmy Nunn’s dental records. Fuller nodded, as if that all made sense.

‘Look — for most of his career, Resnick taught me nothing at all about the art of being a copper. He was a cantankerous old prick, resentful and fucking hard to like, meaning no one wanted to work for him. But he was an exceptional policeman. He had commendations coming out of his ears, he’d put more bad’uns away than anyone I’ve ever worked with and his gut instinct was to die for. It was only when the force couldn’t keep up with him that things went off track. Unfortunately, that’s when I knew him. I wish I’d known him when he was younger.’ Fuller looked directly at Jack. ‘You’re standing there with the same look in your eyes as Resnick back in the day. Like you’re about to ask me to believe in something, based on nothing more than gut instinct. I let him down on that score so many times and that weighs heavy. So, ask what you came to ask.’

‘I need to find a close relative of Harry Rawlins to check his DNA for a familial match.’

‘The only one I can think of is his cousin, Eddie, but I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.’

Fuller handed Jack a mug of tea, and he took it gratefully. He was exhausted and let his mind wander as Fuller rambled on about villains in the old days. But when Fuller mentioned Dolly Rawlins, he was all attention.

‘She was a stony-faced old cow. At least, that’s the face she showed everyone. She was afforded a huge amount of respect because she was Harry’s wife, but, in truth, she earned it. She was smart. I mean, she gave us the runaround for months — we were chasing our tails and she was watching. And Harry didn’t spend a single day behind bars in his life. That’s not down to luck, that’s down to a loyal wife. People said Dolly was lucky to have Harry — but I think it was the other way round.’

Connie sat on the benches in front of her B & B, eating fish and chips out of paper and drinking stout from the bottle. She looked out over the Blackdown Hills and cried. It was a stunning view: plots of undulating light green land cut into squares by dark green hedges; horses, sheep and rabbits grazed together; the occasional walker made their respectful way along the designated paths that cut through Connie’s little piece of paradise. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of her safe haven, but she knew — she hoped — that her brand new life would be bigger and better than anything she’d ever dreamed of. The excitement of the train robbery flooded back — the vision of millions of pounds shooting up the nozzle of an industrial vacuum and then, moments later, down into the coal shaft of Rose Cottage. Connie giggled through the tears. It had been the most wonderful night of her entire life. The night she knew her life was worth fighting for.

The shift was drawing to an end in the squad room when Anik took the call from Essex. Barry Cooper had been found. The local force had him under covert observation while they waited for two Armed Response Vehicles to be rallied, briefed and arrive at the address. Ridley’s team had time to join them if they fancied being in on the showdown. It was their case, after all.

As Ridley swept through the squad room and headed for the car park, he didn’t even bother to ask where Jack was.

Jack listened to generic acoustic music as he waited for Maggie to come to the phone. He stood, fixed to the spot, looking across the road of a dustbin-lined terraced street, at one specific house which had the lounge light on and a TV flickering away in the far corner of the room. All around him dogs barked, men shouted at a football match on TV, women talked loudly in various languages and the wonderful aroma of foreign cooking filled the air. This part of Whitechapel had been up and coming for a while but it felt as if it still had a way to go.

‘I have two minutes,’ Maggie said.

‘I’m sorry, Mags. I’m so sorry for walking out on you at Mum and Dad’s. I can’t explain what happened. Not yet. I just... Please be patient with me, because I’m nearly there. Honestly.’

Maggie was economical with her words. She had two minutes and she wasn’t joking.

‘I love you, Jack Warr, and I will always be here for you. Tomorrow morning, when I get home, I want breakfast in bed and a cuddle regardless of how bad I smell. And when you get home in the evening, you’re taking me out because I’ve got tomorrow night off. Now I have to go.’

Jack smiled as he put his phone away and headed towards the house he’d been watching.

Eddie Rawlins opened his front door like someone not to be messed with. Tall and with a broad set of shoulders for a man in his late 70s, he had a furrowed face from a lifetime of too many frowns and too few smiles. His deep resonating voice — ‘What?’ — completed the picture of an old East End lag who’d earned his stripes.

But when Eddie focused on Jack’s face, all of his bravado vanished. His shoulders slumped and he stepped back, suddenly diminished. His face drained to white, his mouth gaped, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

‘S-sorry, sorry,’ Eddie stuttered as he forced a quivering smile. ‘For a minute there, I thought you was... Well, you reminded me of a man I used to know.’