Tennison

Chapter twenty-eight

Beneath the café Danny, John and Silas were taking it in turns to use the Kango model G electric hammer drill to dig through the thick clay soil. They were now under the vault and starting work on the concrete base. It was hard, and progress had been slow, as only one person at a time could use a shovel in the claustrophobic tunnel. They were all exhausted and covered in dirt and dust. Although they had tied handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses, the dust from the concrete still got through and made them cough and sneeze. By now they had made a wider, deeper space under the vault and could just about kneel down, or lie on their backs, to drill the concrete and cut the embedded wire mesh with a bolt cutter. Although the Kango only weighed fourteen pounds the awkward angles they were forced to hold it at made it feel much heavier. After filling a rubble bag with concrete they had no choice but to wriggle backwards, dragging the heavy bag as they went. The oxyacetylene torch would have cut through the mesh quickly, but it was awkward to pull through the tunnel and the heat from the flames would make it feel like a sauna.

John and Danny were doing the brunt of the work as Silas was so unfit and overweight he couldn’t keep up with them, and kept moaning that he didn’t feel well and needed to lie down for a bit. John had commented to Danny, out of Silas’s earshot, that the fat git would be doing them all a favour if he dropped dead from a heart attack and then they’d each get a bigger cut of the money and goods in the deposit boxes. John was having a break for some water when he thought he heard something coming from the radio. It had been difficult to hear due to the racket of the machinery.

Danny emerged from the tunnel and pulled the handkerchief from his face as John pressed the speak button on the walkie-talkie.

‘Are you callin’ us, Dad? Is everything OK?’

‘No it’s not, I’m fuckin’ freezin’ up here. How much longer before you’re in?’ Clifford asked, finishing the hip flask of brandy he’d brought with him.

‘We’re working hard, but it won’t be tonight.’

‘Then down tools and come and get me,’ Clifford said.

‘We’re taking a break, but we’re not ready to leave yet. Give us another hour or so.’

‘Shit, don’t do anything, don’t make an effin’ sound. Someone’s just pulled up in a van outside the tailor’s shop,’ Clifford said tensely, at the same time annoyed that he was stuck out in the cold.

Bradfield, stationed at Op Four, was asleep in the armchair and the old lady had gone to bed when Frank picked up some conversation on his CB radio. He gently shook Bradfield’s shoulder and he woke with a start. ‘What you got?’

‘Bit crackly in places, but I heard the tail end clearly and it’s on tape.’

Frank was about to rewind the tape and play it but Bradfield told him not to in case they started a conversation on the walkie-talkie again and he missed recording it. ‘It’s OK, I’ve written it down in shorthand,’ said Frank.

‘John Bentley, Target One, said “It won’t be tonight”, so I assume he was talking to Clifford, Target Two. They still aren’t into the vault.’

‘Was that it?’ Bradfield asked, alert now.

‘No. Target Two said there’s someone in a van pulling up outside the tailor’s shop.’

‘It’ll be fucking Mannie!’ Bradfield exclaimed, and hurried over to the front window.

He could see Mannie under the street light unloading suits from the van and taking them into the shop. ‘Shit, how long’s he been there?’ He turned to the surveillance officer who had earlier played the part of the tramp and was now watching what was happening from the window.

‘Just arrived, sir. I was waiting to see what he did before I disturbed you, but Frank got to you first.’

Frank had removed the headphones so the CB was now on loudspeaker for Bradfield to hear what the suspects were saying. He recognized John Bentley’s voice.

Tell us what’s happening, Dad.

The driver’s alone and gone into the shop.

Is it the shoe-shop woman? Is she back again? John was wondering if Hebe had returned because she was suspicious.

No, it’s a little geezer gone into the tailor’s shop.

Bradfield was pulling his hair out wondering what the hell Mannie was doing there so late at night. He watched him return to the van for a third time and carry another armful of plastic-covered garments into the shop. When he closed the van’s back doors Bradfield thought he was going to leave, but he went into the shop shutting the door behind him. Bradfield phoned Gibbs.

Seeing the light flashing on the silent phone they had installed in the shoe shop Gibbs answered it and Bradfield updated him on Mannie Charles’s movements.

‘What you going to do?’ Gibbs asked.

‘There’s nothing I can do. If I send anyone over to the front of the shop then Clifford will see them from the rooftop and get suspicious. We’ll just have to sit it out like our targets are. So make sure you don’t make a sound in your op.’

Bradfield sat down in the armchair again and shut his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. It was the frustration and the underlying fear that the whole job would go wrong and they’d have no result for all their efforts.

It was nearly 2 a.m. by the time Mannie Charles eventually turned off the lights and locked up his premises.

‘The tailor has come out the shop, guv,’ Frank said, and Bradfield got up and went over to the window.

As Bradfield stood back and watched Mannie drive off in his van he heard Clifford and John’s voices over the radio.

The coast is clear now, but can we pack up soon as my bollocks are almost frozen?

OK, I’ll pick you up in thirty.

Bradfield knew it would still be at least half an hour before John and Danny were on the move as they would have to replace the plasterboard to conceal the hole in the wall and tidy up.

Unaware he was being watched Silas stood in the yard hosing his and Danny’s boots down. John drove out from the alley and then across the main road to the car park where he pulled up outside and Clifford, who was already waiting, jumped in.

Bradfield told the mobile surveillance units to keep well back as there would be little traffic on the road. He reckoned the targets would be returning to their home addresses anyway, where the other officers waiting in observation vans would pick them up again. It seemed that Danny Mitcham was still at the café, and as there was no drilling sound Bradfield assumed he was sleeping there. Once John Bentley was well away from the area, and all the lights were out in the café, Bradfield gave the coded signal over the radio that everyone in Ops Three and Four could stand down. He instructed them to meet him in half an hour in the canteen at City Road, the nearest local police station, for a quick debrief. Those watching the suspects’ home addresses were to remain in situ and take it in turns to get some sleep.

Returned to Hackney Station after the debrief, Bradfield and Spencer went to the incident room.

‘At least we know they’re coming back later. They must be close to getting into the vault and when they do we pounce,’ Gibbs said, yawning.

‘I hope so because these all-nighters do my head in.’

Bradfield went over to the board with the array of mug shots and tapped the photograph of David Bentley.

‘I hope we get him as well. Maybe they’ll use him tomorrow. Be nice to bang up all the Bentleys at the same time.’

‘What about Renee their mother?’

‘Arrest her as well if she’s involved,’ he said. Tapping the mug shot of Clifford Bentley he continued, ‘He didn’t wait long, only out the nick a few minutes and gonna be back for the rest of his natural any time soon.’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t all turn to rat shit,’ Gibbs said, yawning again.

Bradfield glared at him. ‘Why are you being negative again? If everyone does their job properly nothing will go wrong and we’ll catch them red-handed on the plot. That’s what the DCS wants and that’s what he’s gonna get, right?’

‘Right, but I was just playing devil’s advocate because what if they come back and it doesn’t go down for some reason?’

Bradfield lit a cigarette, took a long drag and inhaled deeply.

‘We just wait. Besides, it’s a bank holiday weekend so it gives them an extra day to work. I bet they’re planning to get it done before everything opens again on Tuesday.’

‘Come on, Len, how long can Operation Hawk go on for? I mean, we don’t actually know how close they are to the vault. What if it’s another week? You then run a greater risk of them sussing out a surveillance unit, and if that happens they’ll fuck off out the country, leaving us with egg on our faces. Why not take them out when they go back tomorrow night, while they’re in the tunnel?’

Bradfield inhaled again, letting the smoke drift from his nose.

‘No, I want them with the goods in their greedy little mitts. It’s my career on the line here, Spence, not yours. And if this goes belly up I won’t have one.’

They were interrupted by a deep groggy voice. Kath’s head popped up from behind a desk in the far corner where she had been trying to sleep, using her coat as a makeshift blanket.

‘Good to hear you both sounding so confident. You got a cracking team working for you, guv, and every single one of us are behind you one hundred per cent.’

Gibbs laughed. ‘You’ve only been in the CID two minutes so what do you know about how everyone feels?’

‘The guv’s right, Spence, you are negative. But I’m not. I got you Julie Ann Collins’ killer so I deserve to be at the bank when you open the vault to nick Bentley’s gang. And if you try and move me aside, I swear I won’t go away quietly.’

Gibbs ignored her, and said he was going to see if there was an empty cell so he could try to get a few hours’ kip.

Bradfield smiled at Kath. ‘I like your positive attitude,’ he said as he stubbed out his cigarette.

‘You mind if I say something personal, guv?’

‘When have you ever held back, Kath?’

‘Well, you can go off like a rocket sometimes if anyone gets too personal.’

He cocked his head to one side. ‘Come on, spit it out.’

‘OK, here goes... it’s about Jane Tennison and the stuff in her report about Renee and the fivers she forgot to tell you about. She’s been working long hours, feeling tired and it was a genuine mistake.’

‘We’re all tired, Kath.’ He was starting to sound irritable.

‘Yes I know, but she’s really keen and hates to let anyone down. It’s not bollockings she needs but encouragement. She’s young, eager to learn, and yes, sometimes a bit overenthusiastic...’

‘Thank you, Kath, point taken. Now if you don’t mind, I’m knackered.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’ve known you for a long time and I know you can be a charmer when you want to be. It’s pretty obvious she’s got the hots for you.’ Kath paused.

Bradfield shrugged and avoided making eye contact with her.

‘You can tell from the way she looks at you. You’ve always been a heart-breaker and I doubt she’s ever met anyone like you. So please just behave, because I like her.’

He gave her his lopsided smile and stuck another cigarette in his mouth.

‘You also smoke too much.’

‘Mind your business, Kath, and don’t push your luck, not if you want to be present when we make the arrests. Now get out, go and get some kip.’

Kath said goodnight and made a zipping motion across her mouth before leaving the room.

Bradfield sighed. He did smoke too much and knew he’d already crossed the line with Jane, but he’d been unable to stop himself. He decided once the arrests had been made he’d send Jane back to uniform shifts and make it clear there would be no Sunday lunches at her mother’s.

Jane arrived at the station just before 6 a.m. and went to the ladies’ locker room to get changed. She’d found it hard to sleep during the night: every time she closed her eyes she couldn’t help picturing Bradfield’s handsome face with his unruly curly hair and brilliant blue eyes. She kept wondering what would have happened in his office if they hadn’t been interrupted by the call from Gibbs on the radio.

Putting on her jacket she looked at herself in the mirror. The murder inquiry had been fascinating, and often emotionally draining, but the adrenalin rush she felt being privy to Operation Hawk was even stronger. Before working with Bradfield, Jane hadn’t considered becoming a detective but for her Bradfield epitomized what being a good detective was all about: compassion where needed and the ability to instantly change approach where necessary; always keeping in mind the forensics and fine details of an investigation, no matter what it might be. Being a detective and dealing with serious crime was more stressful than uniform work but Jane thought it beat working with Harris on the front desk any day.

Jane looked in the mirror and adjusted her bow tie. She touched her face recalling the way Bradfield had pulled her close and touched her cheek as he was about to kiss her. She was suddenly awoken from her thoughts by the sound of Kath’s voice.

‘That’s the last time I sleep with Spencer Gibbs — I hardly got any kip at all.’

‘You slept with DS Gibbs?’ Jane asked, looking rather stunned.

‘He didn’t even have the decency to let me use the bed... I had to kip on a mattress with a blanket on the floor. At first he started singing rock songs and keeping a drum beat on his thighs, then when he did fall asleep like a log he snored like a foghorn!’

‘Was it your place or his?’ Jane asked, somewhat confused.

‘We shared an empty cell to grab a few hours’ kip before going back on duty,’ Kath explained as she started to undress to have a shower.

‘I’m so excited about Operation Hawk I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come in early. Is Bradfield back?’

Kath hesitated and nodded her head. ‘Yeah, he’s crashed out in his office, you know how obsessive he is.’

‘I’ll see if he wants a coffee and some breakfast,’ Jane said with a smile.

Kath saw through Jane’s smile but felt apprehensive. ‘Don’t go disturbing him — he was so tired and moody earlier he’ll bite your head off.’

‘Oh right, I won’t,’ Jane said, looking rather dejected.

Kath knew she’d promised Bradfield to keep her mouth zipped, but out of concern she felt she had to say something. ‘Listen, Jane, don’t think I’m poking my nose in, but is there anything going on between you two?’

Jane flushed, leaned closer and whispered, ‘Please don’t tell anyone, but we spent the night together.’

Although she didn’t show it Kath was stunned and needed time to think about what she should say to Jane. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. Right now I need a shower to freshen up so I’ll see you later, darlin’,’ she said as she wrapped a towel round her and walked across the room to the showers, muttering to herself, ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ She stopped as she heard Jane singing.

‘Have another little piece of my heart now, baby... You know you got it, if it makes you feel good.’