Tennison

Chapter twenty-nine

Renee had pretended to be asleep when she’d heard Clifford enter the bedroom. He got into bed beside her and was snoring loudly as soon as his head hit the pillow. She had heard the bath water running and then the banging of John’s bedroom door closing. She turned over onto her side and clasped her hands beneath her chin. Hanging on the wardrobe door was her best dress, and on the dressing table was the hat that she had only ever worn once.

It was a Sunday morning and she’d usually have a lie-in, but she just couldn’t get back to sleep so she decided to make herself a cup of tea. Slowly easing herself out of bed so as not to wake Clifford, she put on her old dressing gown, picked up her slippers and crept out, closing the door silently behind her.

She put the kettle on the stove and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. There was no margarine left so she took out a bowl of dripping from the fridge and spread it onto her toast. She sat down and started to write out a shopping list, licking the lead of the pencil as she decided what she needed. She’d still got some leftover stew so they could have that for their dinner, but she was out of potatoes. The kettle boiled and she looked at the filthy clothes left by the washing machine. John’s jeans and T-shirts were covered in grey powdery dust and his boots were caked in soil beside them. She put the clothes in a plastic bag, picked up the boots and placed them back down on an old newspaper. She decided to take them to the launderette later, but it would have to wait until after the funeral of Nancy Phillips’ grandson. She went into the bathroom to wash her hair.

Half an hour later Renee went into the kitchen where a bleary-eyed John was sitting in his dressing gown reading an old paper. He was exhausted, and every muscle in his body ached from being cooped up in the cramped tunnel lifting the Kango drill. He’d poured himself a mug of tea from the teapot, but it was tepid and he piled in the sugar stirring it hard. He looked up and saw his mum with her hair still wrapped in a towel. She hardly spoke to John as she fried bacon and eggs, made a fresh pot of tea and set the table around him as he slurped the dregs from his mug.

‘How’s David?’ he asked.

‘Not well. He’s still got bronchitis and by the looks of it a high temperature. I’m worried stiff about him and in two minds to call the doc again. ’

‘Just keep givin’ him the medicine,’ John grunted, and poured a fresh mug of tea. She finished the fry-up and put two platefuls of food with thick wedges of fried bread on the kitchen table along with a bottle of HP sauce.

Clifford walked in and sat opposite his son. Picking up the HP sauce he slapped the bottom twice and a large splodge fell onto his plate. He ate with his mouth open, making a terrible chewing sound. Some egg yolk dribbled down the side of his mouth which he wiped away with the back of his hand.

‘Nothin’ beats a fry-up.’ Clifford spluttered, his mouth full.

‘Go dry yer hair, Ma,’ John said, and as Renee left the kitchen he got up and kicked the door closed behind her.

Despite being pleased when Clifford had said he’d take over from David, John felt his father hadn’t done a very good job as lookout. His dad had stunk of brandy when he picked him up, and John was afraid of him falling asleep on the job because of the booze.

‘Mum says David’s still pretty bad so I can’t risk takin’ him as lookout. You’ll just have to fill in again, Dad, but lay off the brandy this time.’

‘Bollocks to that, it’s freezing up there at night and the brandy is the only way to keep warm. In fact get Danny or Silas to be lookout and I’ll help out in the café.’

It was something John had considered, but the last thing he wanted was his father looking over his shoulder all the time and nagging him.

‘Your guts are too big for the hole we dug and Silas has to be at the café as owner in case anyone comes calling. Danny’s younger and fitter, plus he’s kosher with the electrics and will check for any alarm system we might have overlooked. If we start earlier today I reckon we’ll be in the vault by late evening.’

‘Are you sure of that? Seems a bit quick after where you left off this morning.’

John was certain they would break through into the vault, and because the area was quiet at the weekend they would have more opportunity to use the Kango drill without being overheard. He knew that once the job was done the break-in would not be discovered by the manager until the bank opened for business on Tuesday morning, after the Monday bank holiday.

‘I told Silas and Danny I wanna work during the day as it’s a Sunday. All the shops round there are closed and there’s very little foot or vehicle traffic.’

Clifford looked surprised as he gulped down a mouthful without chewing it properly. ‘I’ll stand out like a spare prick at a wedding in daylight.’

‘No you won’t, only if you stand up all the time. Did you not notice the gaps in the wall for the rainwater to drain away? Just look through them till it gets dark.’

‘Fuckin’ brilliant and what about daytime security, or anyone who comes up to the top floor to park?’

‘Don’t worry about it. According to Silas, because that patch borders the City, all the local businesses are closed at weekends so it means there’s nobody to use the car park and no attendant on duty in the pay kiosk. If anyone did drive in there’s loads of room on the ground floor so why go all the way to the top.’

‘I was thinking that now I’m the lookout, as well as one of the persons who put the job up, I deserve a slightly bigger cut than I’m getting, don’t I?’

‘You’re a greedy old sod, Dad. OK, I’ll slip a bit extra on the side for you.’

‘Shake on that, son,’ he said, putting out his hand.

‘But don’t say anything to the others or they’ll start kicking off,’ John said, shaking his father’s hand.

Clifford laughed, coughed up some phlegm and, pulling a dirty handkerchief from his pocket, spat into it.

‘If we finish the job by early Monday morning there’ll be plenty of time to stash the stolen goods. I’ve already rented another lock-up nearby in Dalston to count out the proceeds.’

‘Good thinkin’, son, the filth will be crawling all over the place.’

‘I know, and Silas is likely to be the first person the police will be looking for. I’ll give him his cut of the cash so he can make his getaway and fly out to Greece.’

Clifford smiled. ‘Make sure he’s loaded with the dodgy fivers.’

John laughed. ‘There’s a secluded area in nearby woodland where I’ll bury our cut of the money for a few days while the heat dies down, but I’m not sure yet what to do with any jewellery we find.’

‘Don’t worry, I know a good fence who can take it off our hands. What you gonna do with the van, son?’

‘Take it to some wasteland and set light to it, along with anything else that might lead the police to any of us.’

Clifford patted John’s back. ‘Good lad, looks like you thought of everything.’

‘Well, I was taught well, wasn’t I, Dad?’ John pushed his chair back and checked the time.

‘OK, we go in half an hour at just after eleven.’

Clifford nodded and poured himself another mug of tea.

‘I’ll be ready, son, just finish me breakfast and then put some long johns on under me jeans and shirt and a couple of jumpers on top as well.’

John left the room to speak with his mum. Clifford took the opportunity to quietly fill his hip flask with the remains of the bottle of brandy, sticking the flask into the inside pocket of his donkey jacket which was hanging in the hallway.

Renee had changed into her dress and was in the lounge drying and brushing her hair in front of the electric fire when John walked in. He told her that he and his dad were off down the bookie’s for a flutter and then the pub. She asked when they’d be back and he said he didn’t know and she wasn’t to wait up.

‘What you want for tea? There’s some stew left over,’ she said, as she sprayed lacquer on her hair, making it stiff.

John replied that they’d get something from the chippie and as he turned to leave he stopped and looked at his mother.

‘What you all dolled up for?’

She pulled on her white gloves and put on her hat, looking at John in the mirror as she adjusted it.

‘Ma Phillips is burying her grandson today. Half the estate is going and everyone’s given money for flowers and beverages.’

‘On a Sunday? You are fuckin’ havin’ me on. Besides he was a pitiful waste of space, and what have I told you about not going out the flat?’ John shouted.

Clifford heard them talking and walked in with his donkey jacket slung over his shoulder.

‘Leave it out, son. It’s always good to show respect.’ Clifford turned to Renee. ‘But don’t you go on the lash or blabbering with your bingo mates, you come straight back home, right?’

‘I heard you the first time, Clifford. It’s sunny out, so what you want your big heavy coat for?’

‘Because, you nosy cow, we might be doing some night fishing for carp on the Lea tonight. Me mate Chaz has invited me and John along.’

She laughed and took another look at herself in the mirror. She’d even put a bit of lipstick on. She wanted to see how David was doing before she left for the funeral, so she went out across the hallway and popped her head around his bedroom door.

‘How are you feelin, son?’

‘Not so good, Ma. I’ll try and get up later.’

‘I won’t be gone long, love.’

‘You look real nice, Ma. That’s a very pretty dress and hat you’re wearing.’

He gave a sad smile and blew her a kiss as she said she’d see him later and closed the bedroom door.

After a minute John looked in on David who was lying with the eiderdown pulled up to his chin.

John spoke quietly and told him their dad was going to be filling in for him again.

‘I’m sorry to let you down, John, but I’m still feelin’ really rough.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s sorted. But he’s gonna take your cut of the wedge for the two nights,’ he said, and moved a little closer before continuing. ‘I reckon we’ll get through to the vault by midnight and have the divvy-out done by morning. Come Tuesday the whole of the Met will be turning over London lookin’ for who done the bank so I’m gonna torch the van and bury our cut in the woods till things die down.’

David looked worried. ‘They won’t catch us, will they, John?’

‘No bloody way. They haven’t got a clue what’s going on or they’d have nicked us by now. By this time tomorrow we’ll be fuckin’ rich.’

As David smiled and coughed he saw his dad standing behind John.

‘Froze me bollocks off last night. It’s the wind that whistles round the effing place. It’s no wonder yer come down with a bad cold, son.’

‘Sorry, Dad, and thanks for taking over from me.’

Hearing the front door close and realizing they had all gone David eased himself to a sitting position on the bed and tried to get to his feet. He had to sit back down again as he felt so sick, but it was his nerves more than still feeling ill.

DC Stanley had switched from Op One and was now down at the far end of the estate with a colleague watching the garage where John Bentley’s van was parked. He was distracted by a call over the radio.

Oscar Pappa Five from One receiving, over.

‘Yeah, go ahead, over,’ Stanley replied.

Eyeball on Targets One and Two leaving premises with female occupant, all on foot towards you.

Stanley looked up the road and in the distance could see John, Clifford and Renee coming from the estate and heading in his direction.

He turned to his colleague. ‘It looks like they’re taking Renee with them now!’

‘Maybe she’s going to be lookout,’ his colleague said.

‘Well, she doesn’t look dressed for it,’ Stanley replied, and heard the sound of a number of vehicles passing the observation van.

‘Holy shit, I don’t believe this!’ He turned to his mate and gestured for him to look through the peephole.

His colleague crouched down and peered through. ‘It’s a funeral cortège and they’re parking up in front of the garages. If the Bentleys are going to a funeral they can’t be working on the bank job during the day.’

‘Or tonight — round here there’s usually a big piss-up afterwards.’

‘Clifford and John don’t looked dressed for a funeral,’ his colleague remarked.

‘Shit, I don’t know whether to inform Bradfield or wait and see what happens,’ Stanley added, rubbing his head.

Floral tributes adorned the sides and front of the old gleaming hearse. Written in carnations almost ten inches high were the words ‘Grandson Eddie’, and more flowers were lying on top of the coffin. There were two more Daimler funeral cars parked behind the hearse. The drivers, wearing black suits and ties, stepped out of the vehicles for a quick smoke and to stretch their legs whilst they chatted with the funeral director, who was wearing a black top hat and carrying a long black traditional undertaker’s stick.

John and Clifford followed behind Renee thinking she was going to Nancy Phillips’ flat, which was near the garages, and therefore wouldn’t see them getting in the van. They both froze on the spot when they reached the point where they could see clearly along the row of garages.

‘Jesus Christ, this is a fuckin’ joke, how the hell are we gonna get the van out?’ John whispered in disbelief through gritted teeth.

‘Can’t we get them to move?’ Clifford whispered back, sweating profusely as he had so many clothes on.

‘Oh yeah, that’s very bright, Dad. They all watch us drivin’ out in a van with false logos and copied number plates — that’s just what we need. We got no option but to bloody wait.’

Renee turned and saw them both whispering. ‘I thought you two were going fishing?’

‘We were, darlin’, but Dad thought we should pay our respects to Ma Phillips and her grandson,’ John said lamely, unable to think of a better excuse.

‘You’ve changed your tune — the lad was a waste of space not five minutes ago,’ Renee said, knowing they were up to something.

John and Clifford had no way of contacting Silas as he didn’t have a phone in the café and it was too far for a walkie-talkie to work. All they could do was stand and watch impatiently as mourners began to gather around the waiting funeral cars. Nancy Phillips, dressed in a black-lace dress with matching black hat, directed who should go into which car. It all suddenly became too much for her and she broke down in floods of tears. Renee put an arm round Nancy to comfort her and she asked if Renee would accompany her in the Daimler behind the hearse. It was something of a relief for John and Clifford when Renee agreed and said she’d see them at the church.

Jane was in the incident room with Kath, who had decided to say nothing to her about Bradfield until Operation Hawk was over. Bradfield was in his office, but had lifted the mood by supplying bacon-and-egg rolls as well as teas and coffees. DS Gibbs was briefing the detectives who formed the outside arrest teams. He told them that for now it was a waiting game, but it was more than likely that the arrests would be made tonight and they would be called into position when the time was right.

‘DCI Bradfield will be making the arrests inside the vault with a couple of you as backup. Team One will take out Clifford Bentley on the car-park rooftop. It’s likely he’ll try and sling the walkie-talkie over the top, so if anyone has a good pair of hands stand down at the bottom and try and catch it before it breaks into hundreds of pieces.’

They all smiled. One of the officers said he played a bit of cricket and would be the catcher.

‘Teams Two and Three will cover the back alley in case any of the suspects try and do a runner. The Greek’s a fat bastard so he should be easy to nab, but Danny Mitcham is likely to be quick on his toes and so is John Bentley. You have Bradfield’s authority to use any force required to take them out should they resist arrest, but do not draw a firearm unless absolutely necessary,’ Gibbs said, and placed a map on the wall before continuing.

‘These are the positions you will take up when DCI Bradfield tells you to, and you will only move from them as and when he gives the order. Is that clear?’

They all nodded and Jane could see the excitement on their faces. Even though she was not part of the arrest team she could feel the buzz.

Kath had a forlorn look on her face as she raised her hand in the air and Gibbs nodded at her.

‘I assumed I’d be on the arrest team.’

‘Why’s that, Morgan?’

‘Well, I did a good job on the Collins murder and...’

Gibbs smiled, ‘Course you did, Kath, and that’s why DCI Bradfield’s taking you with him as part of his arrest team.’

Kath’s face lit up. Others in the room were happy for her, but one or two had envious looks on their faces.

Gibbs had just finished when DC Stanley radioed in about the funeral. Two detectives laughed and made derogatory comments about Eddie and his gran which upset Kath.

‘Grandma Phillips must have spent all her savings on her Eddie’s funeral. It’s always the way round here: live a rotten life but get buried in style. I’ve seen processions with horse-drawn hearses and bands, all for a two-bit criminal. Maybe its cathartic tears for a wretched existence, but that kid didn’t deserve to die so young and he was all she had to live for.’

Gibbs went to Bradfield’s office and he could see from the look on Spence’s face that it wasn’t good news. He explained to him that it seemed the Bentleys, apart from David, were going to Eddie Phillips’ funeral, which meant they wouldn’t be going near the bank, especially if there was the usual piss-up afterwards.

‘Christ, that’s all I need! I’ve got a team of officers costing a fortune in overtime and tomorrow the bank holiday will be double pay for them all. A shedload of money and they could end sitting with their thumbs up their backsides watching nothing for God knows how long.’

‘There’s still Silas and Danny at the café. They might start work on their own and then the Bentleys join them later.’

‘You don’t know that for certain, and if they do start work and get in the vault without the Bentleys, what then!’ Bradfield snapped, infuriated by the situation.

‘Do you want a surveillance unit to tail the Bentleys to the funeral?’

‘Yes, but tell them to keep their distance behind the procession.’

The funeral procession turned left out of the garages onto the street and moved off slowly, led by the funeral director who was walking in front of the hearse. The two Daimlers and the mourners in their own cars followed on behind. Stanley and his colleague watched as the cortège travelled along the side of the estate.

Bradfield went to the incident room and listened to the radio with Gibbs. They heard Stanley telling the surveillance vehicles that the procession was on the move and the targets had got into someone’s car to accompany it. On hearing this Bradfield contacted the two ops down at the bank and asked if there was any movement in the café or any walkie-talkie transmissions, but they both responded with a negative causing him to slam the phone down.

‘Listen, guv, should we maybe save a few quid in overtime and stand everyone down for today?’ Gibbs asked.

Bradfield, deep in thought, said nothing.

‘What are you going to tell DCS Metcalf?’ Gibbs asked.

‘Nothing. He’ll be that livid over the waste of manpower and money he might pull the plug on us and I’m not going to let that happen, not when I’m this close,’ he said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

‘So what’s the next step?’ Gibbs asked.

Jane and Kath could see Bradfield’s increasing frustration and the two male detectives present left the room fearing he was about to go ballistic.

‘If I knew I’d be taking it, Spence, so stop asking stupid questions! Get down to the op at the old lady’s and await my orders.’

‘Are you not going there?’

Bradfield glared at him, but before he could answer DC Stanley’s voice came over the radio again.

Victor One to Gold, over.

‘Yeah, go ahead,’ Bradfield said.

There was silence in the room as they waited for an update.

Stanley sounded subdued. ‘We can’t see the two male targets anywhere, looks like we’ve lost them.’

Bradfield was fuming and slammed his hand down on the table. ‘How can you bloody well lose them in a funeral procession that’s travelling at a snail’s pace?’

‘I don’t know, guv... but somehow we did.’

The office phone rang and Bradfield nodded to Gibbs to answer it as he spoke with Stanley on the radio.

‘Well, you’d better find them again and fast.’ He threw the radio mike onto the desk and noticed Gibbs waving a hand trying to get his attention.

‘What now?’ he asked in a raised voice.

‘It’s the officers at the old lady’s. John Bentley just dropped his dad off at the multistorey.’

Bradfield slumped down in a chair, shook his head and looked at Gibbs wondering what the hell was going on.

‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, Spence. This bloody case will be the death of me.’

‘You referring to your health or career, guv?’

‘Piss off.’

The officers in the shoe shop confirmed that an angry-looking Silas and Danny had opened the yard gates and let the van in. Knowing all three targets were inside the café, Bradfield actually managed a smile. ‘Looks like it’s game on again, Spence. I can feel it in my gut that we’re going to nail those bastards tonight, so let’s get down there.’

‘I take it I’m back in the shitty shoe shop?’ Gibbs asked.

‘It’s too risky for you to go in with Clifford watching from the car park. You’re in the old lady’s with me as we can use the back staircase.’

‘Should I come with you, guv?’ Kath asked.

‘Not just now. Stay here with the arrest teams and you can help Tennison with the indexing. I’ve got to pop back here later this afternoon to deal with something so I’ll take you with me when I go back down to the op.’

Jane loved watching Bradfield smile and laugh. She was glad to see he was once again on a high, but at the same time she felt sad that he hadn’t even said a word or really looked at her since she came on duty. However, she knew how busy and distracted he was and tried not to let it bother her.

Kath noticed the way Jane was looking at Bradfield with smitten eyes, but said nothing. She decided to have another word with Bradfield when he picked her up later.

Silas was in a real temper, prodding John in the chest with his stubby finger.

‘Me an’ Danny are pissed off, you are fuckin’ late and we been workin’ our bollocks off.’

‘Listen, we come out of the flats, and there’s only a bloody hearse parked right in front of the garage, we couldn’t believe it, cars lined up for the mourners. We just had to wait until it all moved off before we could get into the van.’

Silas’s mood changed and he laughed. ‘We’d better get down to work.’

John crawled into the tunnel and took over from Danny. He’d just started the drilling when Clifford made contact.

‘Eh, stop work everyone. He says there’s some kids out the front kicking an effing can around.’

‘Shit,’ John snapped.

Silas waved his hand for them to keep quiet as he went up to the ground floor.

He opened the café door and stepped out.

‘Oi! You two will get a thrashin’ if yer don’t move off! You’re disturbing the peace and quiet — move it... PISS OFF.’

They didn’t need a second warning and were off up the road like a pair of whippets. Silas then went upstairs to his flat to use the toilet and was sitting reading an old newspaper when he thought he heard the toilet from the shoe-shop flat flushing. He finished his business, did up his trousers and stood leaning against the wall listening.

Hudson who had just used the toilet was heading down the stairs when his concerned partner looked at him and whispered,

‘What in the hell were you doing? Bradfield said not to flush the toilets when the targets were in the café! I could bloody hear it in the basement!’

‘Well, what you want me to do, leave a floater, for Chrissake?’

Silas went back down to the cellar. John and Danny were sitting with dust-caked handkerchiefs round their mouths and John was wearing swimming goggles pushed up over his eyebrows.

‘Listen, I’m worried as I think I hear a toilet flush next door when I was on de crapper.’

‘Shit, that Hebe woman’s not come back, has she?’ Danny wondered.

‘Me dad ain’t seen nothing or he’d have said,’ John remarked.

‘Her Morris is not in her yard as I check already. Hold off everythin’ while I go take look and see what happening.’

‘See if that bloody tailor’s van’s still there as well,’ John said.

‘He pain in arse. He honest, hard-working Jew, but sometimes don’t take a day of rest — not even the Jewish Sabbath,’ Silas remarked, raising his hands in the air.

‘Get some fish and chips, will ya, Silas, I’m starving,’ Danny said, but John said they couldn’t afford to waste time eating.

Danny turned angrily to John. ‘Listen, you were late because of that fuckin’ funeral and I’ve been down here an’ I’m starvin’ and I ain’t gonna eat any of that sweet shit Silas got... never mind his stinking cans of tuna.’

Silas cracked his knuckles. ‘Don’t you go callin’ my food shit, them tins are good quality.’

John sighed. ‘Eh, the pair of you, just calm down and go get us some fish and chips, Silas.’

No sooner had a tense Bradfield arrived at the surveillance flat when yet again Mannie Charles turned up at the tailor’s shop in his Austin van, this time accompanied by his wife. The couple began to bring out plastic-covered clothing items to stack inside the parked van. Two women were walking together and stopped to look through the shoe-shop window, and it seemed an age before they moved off. All these incidents were relayed by Clifford, each time causing work to cease in the café basement.

Bradfield was pacing up and down the old lady’s living room, cursing under his breath as she shuffled behind, desperately trying to hand him two buttered scones on a plate. Gibbs took the plate from her and said Mr Bradfield wasn’t hungry but he was and wouldn’t let them go to waste.

Bradfield watched Silas leave the café, worried that he might have seen or heard Mannie Charles arrive and was going over to speak to him. If Mannie mentioned anything about his and Kath Morgan’s visit the other night it could result in everything going wrong. If they did a runner he didn’t even have arrest teams in place yet. He thought about calling them at the station to take up positions nearby but decided to wait. The officers in the shoe shop were warned Silas was on the move.

Bradfield watched anxiously as Silas went to the shoe-shop window and pausing briefly looked in whilst shading his eyes with his hands. Silas moved on and Bradfield could feel his blood pressure rising as he got nearer the tailor’s shop. It nearly exploded when Mannie and his wife walked out and stopped to have a chat with Silas. Thankfully it appeared to be a brief hello before they got into the van and drove off.

The sound of Clifford’s voice came over the radio asking where Silas was going and Danny told him it was to check out the shoe shop and get fish and chips. Clifford said that the tailor had pissed off and he hadn’t seen anything at the shoe shop and told them there was no time for food.

Silas went into a phone box, picked up the phone book and started to flick through the pages. He then dialled a number and held the door open with his other hand as it was so hot inside. In the shoe shop the officers heard Hebe’s phone ringing. It wasn’t the one they had installed for the observation so they knew not to pick it up and simply let it ring, which it did for almost a minute.

Silas left the phone box, content that Hebe was not there and he must have been mistaken about the toilet flushing. He continued down the street and turned left entering a fish-and-chip cum kebab shop. The undercover officer tailing him went in behind him and pretended to be looking up at the prices on the illuminated menu positioned above the fryers. Silas ordered a large doner with chilli sauce and two portions of fish and chips. He chatted with his fellow countryman in Greek as he prepared the order. Silas was so engrossed that he didn’t even glance towards the undercover officer. He asked for salt and vinegar on the fish and chips and watched the food being wrapped in paper and placed into a plastic bag. He paid at a till at the end of the counter whilst the undercover officer ordered sausage and chips.

It was coming up to five thirty when Frank, who was twiddling the dials on the CB radio, indicated that he had picked up something. Bradfield rushed over and pulled the headphone jack out so he could listen on the loudspeaker. Clifford said a woman walking a dog was passing and asked how much longer they would be. John said that due to the number of stoppages they had been forced to make it would be an hour or two after midnight, at the earliest.

Bradfield was no longer frustrated at having to play the waiting game, and he was glad to hear from the shoe shop that Silas had returned and the drilling had started again. He took Gibbs to one side and spoke quietly.

‘I’m popping out for a bit and will be back a little later with Kath Morgan...’

‘What’s the secrecy for?’

‘If you let me finish I’ll tell you... I’m going to get the bank manager, Dunbar, and bring him to the op so he can hear what’s going on for himself.’

‘Is that a wise move?’ Gibbs frowned.

‘I need him to open the vault when they get in. I’m also concerned there may be someone at the bank giving the Bentleys inside information and if it’s Dunbar the look on his face and reactions on the plot here may well give him away.’

Unseen by Clifford, Bradfield left the op via the staircase at the rear of the building and got into an unmarked car waiting in a side street. Gibbs, Frank and the other officers positioned in the flat remained, monitoring the radio action and the café.

Bradfield returned to the station and bumped into Kath on the landing as she was returning from the canteen.

‘Tell Tennison I want to see her in my office,’ he said bluntly.

‘Why, what’s she done wrong now?’

‘Nothing, just go and tell her,’ he said and walked off, but a suspicious Kath followed.

‘She’s my friend, not to mention an innocent naive probationer, and some of the team are beginning to notice the infatuated way she looks at you. She doesn’t take her eyes off you, and I’ve seen your little flirty glances to her. They’ll start makin’ jokes about it, the smutty bastards.’

‘Leave it out, Morgan. It’s my problem to resolve, not yours. Now do as I asked and tell Tennison to come to my office.’

Kath wished she could have said that she knew more, but not wanting to betray Jane’s trust she kept her mouth shut and went to find her.

Jane knocked on Bradfield’s door before going in, anxiously wondering if she was going to be on the arrest team.

‘Kath said you wanted to see me.’

He drew her by her hand into the room and closed the door.

‘Listen, I want to have a chat with you. Right now I have to be really on the ball and I need to iron a few things out with you.’

She smiled and kept hold of his hand.

‘You know what went down the other night — it shouldn’t have happened. And I think you should know that as much as I would like it to continue, it has to stop,’ he said, and released her hand.

‘Like I said, I have to be totally focused right now and you are a distraction. So I have made a decision. We agree that it was something that shouldn’t have happened and as you’ve done more than eight hours today you can book off duty and have a few days off.’

‘I don’t understand. I thought you liked me, and I want to stay on and see this case through.’

‘I do like you, Jane, but you really need to get some rest, you look exhausted. Why not get away from the section house? Maybe pop home and spend some time with your family?’

‘I would like to remain at the station, at least for tonight, please,’ she said quietly, hardly able to take on board what he was saying.

‘I have just given you an order. You’re officially off duty, so go home, and no arguments, all right?’

Her deep breaths made him feel really guilty and he couldn’t resist gently touching her cheek.

‘Come on, it’s for your own good. I’m sorry, but it’s not going to go any further between us. I should never have allowed it to get this far.’

She pursed her lips, trying desperately not to burst into tears. She swallowed and waited as he opened the door to usher her out.

No one but Kath noticed a forlorn-looking Jane picking up her handbag and leaving the incident room. Her heart went out to her and she followed Jane down to the ladies’ locker room.

‘Are you all right, Jane love?’

‘I’m fine, thank you... I’ve been told I’m off the investigation and to take some time out.’

Kath couldn’t help herself as she put her arms around Jane and hugged her. She suspected this was Bradfield’s way of stopping Jane getting too infatuated with him.

‘He’s only looking out for you as a probationer, Jane. The long hours are taking their toll on the experienced guys, so God knows what effect they must be having on you.’

Jane nodded, but was close to tears. She just couldn’t understand how he could have been so dismissive about their night together. She couldn’t look Kath in the eye for fear she could tell that it was not about being sent home but how hurt and humiliated she felt by Bradfield’s rejection. Kath lifted Jane’s head up, looked at her and sighed.

‘Come on now, sweetheart, don’t let him get to you.’

‘Has it been that obvious, Kath?’

Kath cocked her head to one side.

‘That you’re tired, hurt or infatuated with him? Listen, darlin’, this case is a big deal for Bradfield. He can’t afford to lose concentration or do anything wrong as his career’s on the line and maybe I should have warned you this morning when you told me...’

Jane didn’t want to hear any more and hurried out through the station yard. She didn’t want anyone to see she was so close to crying. She couldn’t even bear to get on the bus so decided to walk back to the section house feeling flushed with embarrassment. Had everyone known? Did they all realize how she felt about Bradfield? She walked fast feeling even more humiliated, fearing she’d been the brunt of jokes or snide remarks. The more she thought about it the faster she walked until she was almost running flat out.