The Finisher

13

Next morning in his office at Concorde House, Diamond put everything on hold while contacting the probation service about Pinto. As he expected, he was put on hold himself several times over while various jobsworths passed the buck. Sheer dogged persistence got him eventually to someone called Deirdre who knew about the case. And even she declined to say whether she was Pinto’s probation officer.

“He was given parole at the end of last year after serving twelve years of a fifteen-year sentence.”

“But is he safe to be at liberty?”

“Why are you asking?”

Too direct, it seemed. He was on the wrong foot already. Dealings between the probation service and the police can be a minefield. “I take an interest because I headed the investigation.”

“I see.” Spoken in a voice that was jamming on the brakes.

“Seems like yesterday to me,” he said, and meant it. “I was shocked to learn he’s out.”

“After twelve years?”

“For what he did? Doesn’t seem long to me.”

“Twelve years is a long time to be locked up, Superintendent.”

“And he’s judged to be no danger now?”

“Low risk. There were positive reports all round. He was visited regularly in prison. He’ll be on probation for at least six months and if he breaks the rules of his order he’ll be back inside.”

“But you can’t monitor him twenty-four seven.”

Her tone was as dry as the dust on his keyboard. “If there’s anything we should know, you’d better tell me. Has he come to your attention in some way, Superintendent?”

“Saw him out yesterday, and that’s the first I knew of it. A real blast from the past. He’s a reformed character, is he?”

“That’s a phrase I wouldn’t use about any offender. We can supervise and support up to a point, but there can never be certainty they won’t reoffend.”

“He was running a half marathon when I spotted him. Did you know about that?”

“I didn’t. It’s not a crime, is it?”

“I’m surprised a man so recently out of prison is ready to enter a long-distance race. He looked tanned, fit and well capable.”

“There’s nothing remarkable in that. He saw out his sentence in Berwyn.”

“Does it matter where he was?”

“In this case, yes. The so-called super-prison opened a couple of years ago.”

“I may have heard of it. Where?”

“Wrexham, in North Wales. Pinto was one of the first to be sent there.”

“Super in what sense?”

“There’s been a lot in the media. It’s huge and well equipped and the emphasis is firmly on rehabilitation.”

He resisted the impulse to say something sarcastic. “How do they achieve that?”

“By treating the inmates as human beings,” she said loftily, as if she was speaking to a Neanderthal. “They’re allowed laptops, TV and phones. Prison officers knock on the doors of cells before entering. That sort of thing.”

“Better than most of them get at home.”

“You’re right about that.”

“And are there sports facilities?”

“That’s what I was coming to. I haven’t visited yet, but I’m told they’re amazing — a gym with all the latest exercise machines, sports hall, football pitch and so on. If he’s any kind of runner, he’ll have used the treadmills for sure.”

“By choice?”

“I expect so.”

“Not the treadmills I’m thinking of, then.”

She mellowed enough to manage a faint laugh. “Definitely not.”

“Sounds like he worked on his tan while doing laps of the football pitch, or lounging out there.”

“It’s no holiday camp. I may have given the wrong impression. They’ve already experienced the problems endemic in the system.”

“Such as?”

“Drug use, fires, dirty protests, assaults on staff.”

“Some people never change. How many inmates are there?”

“The building is designed to take over two thousand.”

He whistled.

“But they’re not up to capacity yet.”

“Even so. Two thousand?”

“The biggest in Europe, I’m told. Two to a room, and that’s unpopular. They have to shower and use the toilets in full view of each other.”

“You said ‘room,’ I noticed.”

“They don’t call them cells, just as the wings are called houses.”

“What do they call the governor — headmaster?” She wasn’t in tune with his humour so he moved on quickly. “So Pinto had at least two years in this enlightened set-up?”

“He was coming to the end of his sentence and he behaved well at his previous prison.”

“Does that entitle him to an extra handout?”

“What do you mean?”

“How much did he get on release?”

“The usual. Forty-six pounds to tide him over until he qualifies for the job-seeker’s allowance — and that can take weeks, as you know.”

“The reason I ask is that he was expensively kitted out when I saw him. The trainers he was wearing will have cost at least ninety.”

“He may have private means. Who knows?”

“Shouldn’t his probation officer know?”

“Not if it’s legal.”

“Does he have a job yet?”

“There’s no record of one, and I’ve answered enough of your questions, Superintendent.”

“Do you have an address for him?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal it.”

A red mist blocked his brain. Through it he heard a faint note of reason pleading with him to rise above his fury and stay in control. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s MAPPA.”

“Who’s she when she’s at home?”

“The multi-agency public protection arrangements.”

An acronym, for crying out loud. She was talking about an extra level of bureaucracy. “Aren’t you part of this?”

“We’re represented. And so are the police and other agencies. All the details of MAPPA offenders are held in a secure database called VISOR.”

He wasn’t going to ask what that stood for. He was picturing a committee of Home Office eggheads with no other job but thinking up sets of letters that resembled words.

Deirdre added, “I would need to consult the probation service offender manager before I could reveal the address and that would be at his discretion. They have strict guidelines.”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” he said. “I’ll get it from the police member now I know we’re represented on this quango.”

“Suit yourself.”

“When’s Pinto’s next appointment with you people?”

“This afternoon. But if you think we’re going to turn him over to you, you’ve got another think coming.”

The famous Diamond charm hadn’t worked its magic on Deirdre.

He checked the Other Half website and found a report of yesterday’s race, but only the top ten finishers in each category were listed. A complete result list would appear later, he learned. He phoned and asked if they could supply him with a list of all the runners who started. When they said it couldn’t be done because there was a huge amount to be sorted out on the day after a major half marathon, he was tempted to pull rank and say it was an urgent police matter, but good sense prevailed and he held off.

He’d already walked on eggs, pressurising Deirdre, and now he’d been on the point of doing the same with the race organisers. His hunch that Pinto had been up to no good had better be well-founded. If the high-ups got to hear he was using his rank to extract information about an ex-offender purely on his intense dislike of the man, he’d be in serious trouble.

Unrepentant, he used his rank to start another line of enquiry. He called Paul Gilbert in. “You remember Pinto, the ex-con I told you about, the guy we saw in the race?”

“Of course I do, guv.”

“He’s due to meet his probation officer this afternoon. You’ll be doing a recce outside their office at the Old Convent in Pulteney Road. Watch him go in and wait for him to come out. Then follow him back to wherever he lives. I need to know his address.”

As if she’d got wind of all this, Georgina Dallymore, the Assistant Chief Constable, presently stepped into his room wearing her fault-finding look as domineeringly as her silver-trimmed uniform.

“What are you doing?”

“Working, ma’am.”

“What on?”

“Borrowed time.”

“You’re not dying, are you?”

Did he detect a note of optimism? He gave her an answer that stretched the truth by a few hours. “I was negotiating the overtime allowance with Inspector Walker, of uniform. He owes me some. A lot of my detectives were on duty yesterday keeping an eye on the Other Half.”

She blinked, baffled. “Husbands and wives?”

He’d had a tough morning, but he enjoyed that. “Runners. Thousands of them in the half marathon.”

“That other half. I understand you now. And did it go smoothly?”

“Smoothly as these things can. Some of them looked anything but smooth at the finish.”

“I was at morning service in the choir.” She planted herself in the armchair in the corner, always an ominous move. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to read the latest bulletin from ROCU.”

“As in ‘We will...’?”

“Be serious for once. The Regional Organised Crime Unit.”

Was he being victimised or did he have a persecution complex? “In that case, no, I haven’t.”

“They’re recommending the greater use of unmanned aerial vehicles.”

Flying saucers crossed his thoughts but he kept them to himself. “Now you’ve lost me altogether.”

“Drones, Peter.”

“Ah.”

“For surveillance. Wiltshire Police have won a special award from the Home Office for technical innovation. They have a team of five ready to attend incidents.”

“Five drones?”

“Pilots.”

“You just said they were unmanned.”

“The pilots control the drones from the ground.”

“Five policemen doing nothing but playing with drones? How can Wiltshire justify that when my team and I are doubling up on marathon duty?”

“They’re specials.”

“We all like to think we’re special, ma’am.”

“Special constables. Local enthusiasts recruited for their skills. All volunteers.”

“Something for nothing, then?”

“I wouldn’t put it so crudely. They get expenses.”

“Cheap at the price.”

“And that’s a cheap comment. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of this. It would be a boon to your activities, making searches of dangerous environments, looking for weapons, stolen property, fugitives on the run. Frankly I was disappointed to learn that Wiltshire are ahead of us. If an incident happened today, we’d have to enlist their help.”

“Good thing, too,” Diamond said, quick to see an opening. “We’re always being encouraged to share with other forces.”

Georgina wasn’t impressed. These days, she was taking every chance to buff up her reputation. There was still a vacancy for the job of Deputy Chief Constable of Avon and Somerset. She turned her head to gaze out of the window at the empty sky over the Avon portion of the empire. “I want a drone team of our own. We must embrace the new technology. We have vast areas of countryside to police. This is an essential aid.”

“The eye in the sky.”

“You’ve got it.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“See that you do, Peter. Make enquiries locally. Find the enthusiasts and recruit them. Reliable people, of course.”

“Where? The Drones Club?”

She frowned, uncertain if she was being sent up. “If one exists in Bath, yes.”

“I’m sure it must, ma’am.”

After she’d gone, he kicked the wastepaper bin and made another dent in it. Typical Georgina, wanting something for nothing. But on reflection he started to see that drones might be of use. They would have been helpful on Sunday, patrolling the Other Half when it was out in the country. He called out to DCI Halliwell. “Keith — I’ve got a job for you.”