The Last Big Job

Chapter Twenty

‘ Don’t get upset.’ Henry attempted to calm Danny. ‘This guy could be our key to cracking this job.’

‘ And he’s also the one who attacked me on the beach in Los Cristianos,’ Danny spluttered angrily. Her wild eyes glared at Henry. ‘He indecently assaulted me. He would have raped me if I hadn’t kicked six shades out of him.’

‘ Danny, please,’ Henry cooed. ‘I think I know how you’re feeling.’

‘ How the hell could you..?’ she started to demand. Her voice trailed off and she wound her neck in with a remorseful, ‘Sorry.’

‘ Forget it.’

‘ It’s just I’m so tired. There’s so much gone on recently.’

‘ Forget it,’ he said again. ‘Let’s just hear what he has to say and if it’s all crap, then we’ll beat him up together, shall we?’

She managed a smile and nodded compliantly.

It was twenty-four hours later, the day after Henry had met and questioned Alexandr Drozdov. Henry and Danny were standing in an interview room in the main police station in Santa de la Cruz, Tenerife, having landed from England only a couple of hours previously. Two Spanish detectives sat behind them, looking bored, observing their heated exchange with indifference. On the other side of a huge, two-way plate-glass mirror sat the lone figure of the man who had phoned Crimestoppers and demanded to speak urgently to DI Henry Christie.

The mystery caller had claimed, ‘I have information for you that will lead you straight to the man who planned and pulled the M6 robbery and who also killed those three people in Blackpool. I know him personally and I know where you can find him. I live in Tenerife and I want you, Mr Christie, to come out here personally and talk to me — now. And I want the reward money, because I know that the information I give will lead you to his arrest and conviction. But you must give me protection.’

Henry had taken a deep breath and said, ‘How can I believe you? I’ve had hundreds of calls claiming the same since the robbery happened. I can’t afford to go off on a wild-goose, chase.’ Henry had to be cagey without losing the man because, somehow, he sensed this was the big break, and it needed to be handled correctly.

‘ Here’s a titbit for you. If you are any sort of detective, you should have found this out by now — and it’s not something you’re likely to reveal to the press just yet. One of the security guards was in on the job. His name was Colin Hodge.’

Henry looked quickly at Danny and winked. The strong suspicion that Hodge was the inside man had not been revealed to anyone outside a very privileged few.

‘ I take it from that pause I’ve hit the nail on the head,’ the man said.

‘ Tapped it, perhaps,’ Henry said, trying to contain his excitement. ‘Can you give me any further details?’

‘ He came out to the island before the robbery and had a planning session with the man who is behind it all. I might have been able to guess the first bit, but not that — so, are you coming out here?’

‘ Yes, I think so.’

‘ I want three grand up front — and I also want you to remember that because I’ve made this call, my life isn’t worth shit now. If he finds out, he’ll do me in, guaranteed.’

Henry was thinking fast. ‘The up-front money is no problem. Ring me back in an hour and I’ll tell you what’s happening, unless you want to give me your number.’

‘ Yeah, sure. Think I was born yesterday, do you?’

‘ OK, that’s fair enough. You’ll need a code-name,’ Henry said. ‘We don’t use real names over the phone — just in case.’

‘ Nero,’ the man suggested quickly.

‘ OK, Nero — give me one hour,’ Henry reiterated. ‘Ring back via Crimestoppers again — it’s safer that way.’

By the time that hour had passed, it was almost midnight. FB had been woken up and apprised of the new development. Groggily he had said, ‘You and DS Furness go if you think it’s necessary.’ Henry had also arranged for three thousand pounds to be paid to him from the informants fund. Booking a flight or accommodation had been impossible at that time of night.

Sixty-one minutes later, Crimestoppers connected Nero through to Henry’s extension. ‘The money has been sorted and I can come and see you. Obviously I can’t book a flight at this time of day, that will have to wait until morning. Call back at ten — we’re in the same time zone, aren’t we?’

‘ OK — but if you haven’t sorted out a flight by then, the deal’s off. I can’t afford to wait around.’

Henry smirked, knowing he was being bullshitted. He had vast experience of dealing with informants, or ‘sources’ to use police jargon. They rarely stopped once they’d started because they are usually driven people — driven by revenge, greed, or both, or they actually like being informants, enjoy playing the game, being a double-agent, living on the edge of what has often been a worthless life. ‘Don’t worry,’ Henry said, ‘everything will be sorted… but there is one thing.’

‘ What?’ asked the source dubiously.

‘ Give me something else now, prove your credentials.’

Henry heard the man clicking his tongue, thinking.

‘ It doesn’t have to be mega,’ Henry encouraged him.

‘ Maybe tomorrow,’ he said and hung up.

Henry and Danny spent the remainder of that night at the Training School in separate rooms, and were up by seven. After a hurried breakfast, they both drove back to Blackpool to their respective homes. Henry had breezed into his house like he was doing the most normal thing in the world, dashed around like a whirlwind, finding his passport, stuffing clothing and shoes into a holdall. He kissed Kate in passing, gave Jenny and Leanne a quick peck on the cheeks and was gone, with no real explanation, no proper conversation, just a hurried, ‘Got to get to Tenerife… might have cracked this job… shouldn’t be gone too long… give you a bell, love… bye!’ Then breezing quickly past a speechless wife.

Pulling away in his car he felt an absolute bastard and when he glimpsed the stony-faced figure of Kate standing in the bay window, he felt physically sick. Yet he pressed on and was back at Headquarters before nine to find Danny had beaten him and was already phoning around for flight tickets. Henry sorted out money and accommodation and made brief contact with the Criminal Justice Support, National Criminal Intelligence Service at Scotland Yard and the Spanish police in Tenerife to tell them all, as a matter of courtesy, his plans.

Danny quickly secured two cancellations on a holiday charter. The tickets would be made available at Manchester Airport and they had to be there at 1p.m. for a 2.30 p.m. flight. She then booked a hire car for collection at the airport in Tenerife.

The source rang again on the dot of ten. ‘This is Nero.’

‘ How are you?’

‘ Getting jittery already — but never mind that. What’s happening?’

‘ I should be in Tenerife by seven this evening, landing at Reina Sofia. What arrangements do you want to make to meet?’

‘ That’s too close to home. I can’t see you there. What about Santa de la Cruz, ten tonight?’

‘ Cuts it pretty fine, doesn’t allow for any delays.’

‘ I’ll wait for you — for a while, anyway.’

‘ Where shall we meet?’

‘ At the cop shop. You parade up and down in front of it and I’ll approach you. It’ll be safe enough there for me, I guess.’

‘ I’ll arrange it,’ Henry said quickly. ‘How will you know me?’

‘ I’ve seen your picture in the papers, apart from which you’ll be the only arsehole parading up and down outside the police station.’

‘ Fair point. So… can you give me something else now?’ Henry asked.

‘ Let me think… something a bit tasty. How about an ex-cop living out here with very close ties to the man you’re after? I’ll blow the whole caboodle on him, too.’ He hung up.

Henry turned to Danny and FB, who had arrived by then, and said, ‘He’s going to give us Barney Gillrow too.’

Just over twelve hours later, Henry had met Nero outside the police station in Santa de la Cruz and hustled him into an interview room.

Arranging facilities with the Spanish police had been easy. The relationship between the Spaniards and the British police was extremely good, mainly because the international drugs problem is common to both countries, as are many of the criminals. In his time on the RCS Henry had worked in Spain, — though not the Canaries — on a number of occasions, mostly on surveillance jobs.

Henry went alone into the interview room. Danny watched and listened through the two-way mirror.

‘ First things first. I need to know who you are,’ Henry said as he sat.

‘ No, my first things first. Where is my three thousand pounds?’

‘ You’ll get your money when I’m satisfied that your product is worth paying for,’ Henry said firmly. ‘Let me make something crystal clear from the outset. I am in charge of this process, not you. I decide how it goes. I understand you want to come out of it with a bucketful of money, probably with protected status too, and I don’t have a problem with that. At the same time you have a desire to tell me, for whatever reason, about someone who has committed very serious crimes. Whilst I am eager for you to give me this information, you must understand that all it does is support my own evidence. I will arrange for the money and the protection, don’t worry about that. But the agenda is mine — all mine.’ Henry paused and looked squarely at the man who had a face full of bruises and a left hand wrapped with grimy bandages which stunk. ‘What is your name?’

‘ Lawrence David Brayfield, born sixth June 1953. My friends call me Loz.’

‘ Thank you — Loz.’

In the other room, Danny scribbled these details down and was on the phone a minute later, checking him out.

‘ Speaking broadly, Loz, not specifically yet, what information can you give me?’

‘ The name of the man who murdered three people in Blackpool and the definite reason why he killed two of them. And the name of the man, the same guy, who pulled that big security van job on the M6. I can blow open wide the drug-smuggling operation this guy operates from here. I can give you names of suppliers, dates of deliveries, names of couriers… fucking everything. I can also tell you about an ex-cop who was on the take from this guy too.’

‘ What is the man’s name?’

‘ Billy Crane. Barney Gillrow is the ex-cop.’

As easy as that, Henry thought triumphantly.

So that Crane would not be alerted, Henry decided it would be prudent if their singing informant was to continue to lead a normal life, run Crane’s legitimate businesses in and around Los Cristianos whilst he was bled white of information during regular debriefs. Once there was enough to move against Crane, Henry would then arrange for Loz to meet a Witness Protection Officer who was due to fly out from the Metropolitan Police. From then on, Lawrence Brayfield’s life would change for ever.

Although Henry’s decision was perfectly sound, there was a personal angle to it as it gave both him and Danny time to spend together. They were in adjacent rooms in the hotel in Los Cristianos Danny had stayed in previously and were able to divide their time between speaking to Loz and indulging in wonderful sex, wine and food (in that order) as their love blossomed in the sub-tropical heat.

Loz grassed everything. It was obvious he was a man bearing a huge grudge against Crane. He blew apart Crane’s drug operation, revealing that many young travel company representatives were on the payroll, eager to supplement their meagre earnings by identifying potential mules amongst their clients. Loz openly admitted his part in the operation, that of actually employing the mules, packing their cases for them with gear and paying them. He said he had employed Cheryl Jones and packed her case for her. He gave the names of the drugs suppliers from whom Crane bought his stocks, gave details of other names, dates and places which Henry and Danny enthusiastically noted down. He told them of Don Smith’s role of distributor in the UK and gave a list of further contacts in England. He also told how angry Crane had been to lose the?50,000 worth of drugs carried by Cheryl Jones; how he had punished Loz by feeding his hand to a lion (so there is a lion in Los Cristianos, Danny had thought at that point. My ears weren’t playing tricks with me). And how Crane had gone to England to exact revenge which would give out a clear message to other mules who might be stupid, by killing Cheryl and her boyfriend. He provided Henry with some bank account details, too.

He had told Henry how annoyed Crane had been on his more recent return from the UK when Loz had bragged to him about ‘sorting out’ the woman detective. Henry wrote down the exact words Loz said Crane had uttered about the M6 robbery, the deaths associated with it and his admissions about killing Cheryl, Spencer and another man — Malcolm Fitch.

Loz did mention Barney Gillrow, but did not really have as much information about him as he had initially maintained.

On the third day of their stay in Tenerife, Henry formally requested the assistance of the local police to arrest Billy Crane who was believed to be residing in his villa on La Gomera, after which extradition proceedings would be instituted. The basis of his request — made through the necessary legal channels — was on Crane’s involvement in the robbery and the murders he had committed. He didn’t tell the locals too much about Crane’s Tenerife-based drugs business, because they might have wanted to deal with that first, which would have slowed things up considerably. Henry wanted to get Crane back to the UK as quickly as possible.

Nor did he reveal Loz’s admissions about his own involvement in Crane’s drug operations from the island as this would have complicated matters. Henry had decided to tell the Spaniards about this further down the line.

In the meantime, the debriefing of Loz would continue and Henry and Danny decided to take the opportunity to visit Barney Gillrow.

It was 10 a.m. as the two lovers, two cops, strolled arm-in-arm along the Los Cristianos sea-front towards Playa de las Americas. They had a noon meeting arranged with Loz, so had a couple of free hours to put the frighteners up Gillrow. As they strolled along, Danny pointed out the sights — such as the spot where she was indecently assaulted on the beach by Loz. She laughed about it now, though she could not warm to Loz who had shown no remorse or offered an apology.

They dawdled along, actually relishing the approaches of the timeshare touts who thought they were a married couple. Thoughts of a difficult future were a long way from their minds. For the time being, they were revelling in the present, both never happier in this false, transient environment in which they were floating at the moment, which seemed a million miles away from reality.

‘ Ah well, here we go,’ Henry said outside the door to Gillrow’s apartment. He rolled his shoulders and slicked back his hair, then knocked.

Gillrow answered and was plainly shocked to see Danny standing there. He squinted at Henry with a faint glimmer of recognition.

‘ I’m Henry Christie, now a Detective Inspector. You might remember me as a PC. You’ve already made the acquaintance of DS Furness.’

‘ I have nothing further to say,’ Gillrow snapped.

Henry heaved a sigh and gave the ex-detective the hard stare without saying anything. Gillrow held the look for a few moments, remembering how many times he had given it to guilty felons himself, then cracked. He swallowed. ‘Come in.’

He was alone in the apartment, his wife was out shopping. As before, he motioned them towards the balcony for a discussion, except this time no drinks were offered.

Henry said, ‘I’d like to go back to 1986, please.’

Lawrence Brayfield — Loz — was once again on the rooftop of Uncle B’s English Bar and Disco, sitting underneath a sunshade. It was a position to which he gravitated regularly these days. In the cage at the far end of the flat roof, Nero lounged indolently in the hot sun, rolling on his back, licking himself with his muscular rasping tongue. The cage floor, uncleaned for four days, was a mess of urine and faeces. Nero was beginning to show signs of neglect. His stench — overpowering at the best of times — was dreadful.

Loz was happy with the way things were panning out. He had already received two grand of the promised initial three and was certain he would get the final instalment later that day. By the end of tomorrow he expected to be talking to the Witness Protection Officer about his future: living somewhere in Southern England, with a new identity and everything that went with it. There was no doubt he would need all the protection the cops could offer because Billy Crane — vindictive, violent, vengeful bastard that he was, a man who never let a grudge die — would either want to kill him personally or contract someone to do it for him. Loz knew his life would be under threat for as long as Crane lived, but he was prepared for it and had worked out, in his mind, that the risk was worth taking. His eyes were fixed firmly on that two hundred thousand pounds reward money.

But until the cops arrested Crane, everything had to go on as normal. Crane had eyes and ears everywhere and if he smelled a rat, he would bolt — and then Loz would very definitely have a problem. He had to keep things ticking over — which included looking after Nero.

Loz crossed to the cage and regarded the big cat. Then he looked down at the hand Nero had chewed on. The cops had arranged some proper medical treatment and it was improving, smelling less, feeling more like a real hand. This, however, did not make Loz feel any less animosity towards Nero. He still hated the beast with venom.

His last act of betrayal towards Crane would be to feed Nero with poisoned horsemeat, sit back with a long beer and enjoy watching the creature writhe agonisingly to a slow death in its own shit and piss.

The expression on Loz’s face, as he thought about this, was pure evil.

‘ In your wildest dreams, Barney, could you ever have imagined us not coming back to see you after the way you warned DS Furness off?’

Gillrow stayed numb for a few moments, then said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘ Let me put it this way,’ Henry said in a tone of voice that would let Gillrow understand the message behind the words — i.e. that he knew everything. ‘We know you tried to see Billy Crane after Danny visited you, and we know that stupid henchman of his tried to warn her off and at the same time indecently assaulted her and tried to rape her.’

Gillrow’s head fell at this. ‘Oh, God,’ he uttered desperately.

‘ We are in the process of dismantling Crane’s organisation, ripping it apart bit by bit — which means going for an historical perspective as well. If that means ripping you apart with it, Barney, then I’ll be more than pleased to do it, so I think you should consider long and hard about helping yourself here, because no one else will- especially Billy Crane.’

The ex-detective stood up suddenly and walked away into the lounge area, deep in troubled thought. He did not know it, but Henry had very little on him at all, other than a piece of paper from the financial analysts and the sketchy details Loz had supplied. Gillrow returned and sat down wearily in a chair, his expression defeated. Henry’s cold eyes told him in no uncertain terms that he would not be let off the hook.

‘ What can you give me?’ Gillrow asked.

‘ In terms of promises?’ Henry asked. ‘Nothing — until I’m satisfied you’ve told me every last detail. Then I’ll make decisions and recommendations.’

Gillrow nodded. He had expected this answer. ‘I’ve been dreading this day. I knew it would come.’ He looked at Danny. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you, DS Furness. I never imagined he would try to sexually assault you.’ Gillrow rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Where do I start?’ Henry then knew he had him — a man about to unburden himself, a wonderful thing for a detective to behold.

‘ How about with Malcolm Fitch, Billy Crane and this?’ Henry held up the sheet the financial analysts had prepared for him. ‘The thirty thousand pounds in cash you put down as a deposit for this apartment in 1986 and the seventy thousand you received two years ago to payoff the loan. I’d like to hear about all of those things.’

The briefing had been very unusual in that the Russian, Yuri Ivankov, had been summoned from Gozo to Moscow, to a massive hotel overlooking the Moscow River; here, Alexandr Drozdov lived and ran his empire from a penthouse apartment, having ruthlessly driven out the rightful owners. A taxi collected Ivankov at the airport and took him to the hotel where he was met at reception and searched; no one was allowed into Old Man Drozdov’s presence armed, other than his immediate trusted bodyguards.

The penthouse was actually two large apartments knocked into one. A huge, armoured-glass window, capable of withstanding a missile attack, gave a superb view of Gorky Park, one which the Russian did not have time to admire. He was rushed into Drozdov’s presence straight away; the old man was sitting at a desk, typing on a laptop — old fingers, new technology.

‘ Yuri,’ he said gravely, raising his head. ‘I have bad news.’

Ivankov had no idea why he was there, only that it must be of major importance to actually see Alexandr in person; he usually received all instructions through third parties. The opening comment from Drozdov made the killer wary. His skin seemed to tighten on his body. Could it be that his end had come? If so, what had he done to bring it about? Would he have the opportunity to bargain for his life?

He looked slyly from side to side, noting that Drozdov was flanked by two armed guards, standing either side, several steps behind so as not to crowd him. There was also the bear-like lieutenant, Serov, Drozdov’s most trusted aide, positioned behind the Russian, maybe six feet away. The Russian could not see this man but could sense and smell him. Maybe he already had a gun out, prepared to kill on the old man’s nod.

In a fraction of as second, Ivankov had weighed up the odds. They were not in his favour.

If he had been brought in here to be executed, then Serov had to be Ivankov’s first target. Even though he had been searched, the stiletto was still up his sleeve… he would have to turn quickly, drive the knife up through the man’s bearded chin into his brain; at the same time he would have to spin him round for protection from the other guards, seize the weapon from him and take the other two out before shooting Drozdov himself. He had it all worked out. He would not be killed without a fight.

‘ Nikolai has been murdered,’ Alexandr Drozdov said, startling the Russian, who was speechless. He knew Nikolai was being groomed for the next Mafia Tsar.

‘ How?’ he stuttered. ‘This is dreadful news. You have my sincerest sympathy.’ He meant it.

Drozdov nodded a thanks. ‘The “how” is irrelevant, Yuri. That is the past. It cannot be changed, but the future can become inevitable. Please find his murderer and kill him brutally and without mercy. Make him suffer.’

Ivankov said, ‘I will do that gladly. I will do that for love.’

‘ Thank you.’ The old man’s spidery finger pointed to the bear man. ‘Serov will furnish you with details… and there is one other thing. Yuri: Nikolai’s murderer stole twenty million pounds from us. Before he dies, ensure he reveals the whereabouts of that money.’ Ever the businessman. He waved the Russian away. ‘As I said, Serov will give you details.’

Several days later Ivankov’s investigations, based on what he had been told and what he had discovered for himself, led him to Tenerife where he was sitting, sipping strong Turkish coffee on a pavement cafe across the road from Uncle B’s English Bar and Disco.

‘ I do not want my wife to be involved in any of this,’ Barney Gillrow said firmly.

Neither Henry nor Danny responded. They were going to make no guarantees.

Gillrow’s face tightened. ‘You’re a pair of bastards.’

Henry raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Get on with it,’ he said.

There was a dictaphone on the table, whirring quietly.

‘ You were right,’ Gillrow told Danny. ‘Malcolm Pitch was one of my informants. I recruited him in the early eighties after I got him convicted on a couple of conspiracy charges. He was nothing but a shit-bag, really, on the periphery of big stuff. But he knew lots and lots of people. I used him successfully on numerous occasions.’

‘ Even though you didn’t keep any records,’ Danny pointed out.

He shrugged. ‘No one did in those days.’

‘ And that made it right?’ She was incredulous.

‘ No.’ He leaned towards her with a sneer. ‘But it was the system, the culture. Every fucker did it, even down to sharing informants’ pay-outs.’

‘ Did you?’ Henry asked.

Gillrow considered the question. He was deep enough in the mire as it was without having to admit to something else. ‘No — I did not.’

Henry allowed himself a little inward smile. He knew there was no chance of Gillrow blabbing out everything in this sweep. It was doubtful whether he would ever reveal the whole picture of his corruption — and Henry was under no illusions here: Gillrow had been a very bent cop — so for the moment at least, he did not feel a need to push the issue. Later, it would be a very different matter.

‘ Tell us about Fitch and Crane.’

‘ Like I’ve already said, Fitch was on the periphery of things, but not above trying his best to get deeply involved with some pretty heavy people, amongst whom was Billy Crane. Fitch had been grassing for me long before Crane came into the frame. I was really pushing him to flash himself around the East Lancashire criminal fraternity and he gave me some bloody good stuff, but some of it was close to the edge too.’

‘ How do you mean?’ Danny asked.

‘ Fitch was a participating informant, for a start. He took part in jobs and didn’t get prosecuted for them for one reason or another — usually on a technicality that I dreamed up, or got some evidence misplaced, whatever.’

Henry shook his head in disbelief. Handling participating informants — PIs as they are known — is a minefield of legal complexity. An informant can only be allowed to participate so far in the commission of a crime — usually at the very early stages of planning it — and then they have to be removed in a way which doesn’t alert the other criminals involved. It sounded like Gillrow had allowed Fitch to go all the way to the commission of crimes. Very bad practice, to say the least. Henry knew it happened a lot in the 1970s and 1980s — which is one of the reasons the rules were tightened up.

‘ But he was also an agent provocateur,’ Gillrow said, ‘always pushing others to do things, giving them ideas and drawing them in, so eventually they’d get caught by me.’

Simply because there was a tape running, Henry bit his tongue. Agent provocateur — another big no, no. Informants must never — ever — set a crime in motion. Yet here was an ex-DI blandly admitting allowing one to do just that. No wonder the police service was in the state it was in. Bastards like Gillrow, Henry thought, are the ones who’ve spoiled it for us today.

‘ And no one knew about this, I take it?’ Danny said.

Gillrow shook his head.

‘ Your bosses? Colleagues?’

Another headshake. ‘Strictly between me and him.’

‘ Idiot,’ Danny said under her breath.

‘ Some of the stunts me and him put together would make your toes curl,’ Gillrow said proudly. ‘We just went ahead and did it. It was the only sure way of getting bad guys caught and locked away. I got credit and Fitch got cash. I was only doing my job — a bloody good job at that,’ he concluded defensively.

‘ By breaking the rules?’ Danny sneered.

‘ Listen, love — it was the only way. I put some right toe-rags away. They have all the advantages and the cops don’t have anything but red tape and bureaucratic shite. I got results and the guilty got sent down.’

‘ All well and good,’ Henry remarked. ‘But you say Fitch got paid from the fund. Surely some of your managers must have known what was happening, must’ve authorised payments…’ Henry’s voice trailed off and he made the connection as Fitch smiled. ‘You managed the informants’ fund, didn’t you?’

‘ Controlled it. Authorised payments. Balanced the books. Piss easy.’

‘ Idiot,’ Danny whispered again, beginning to hate Gillrow.

‘ What happened with Crane, then?’

Gillrow shifted uncomfortably at this question, something Henry was pleased to see. ‘It was just that one or two things came together for me at that time, personal things.’ He sighed and looked deflated now, shaking his head sadly. ‘No excuse, I suppose — but the wife ran up some horrendous debts on the Visa and Access cards. I had no chance of paying them off. I had some gambling debts, too. The usual shite, I suppose. I put in for promotion for the extra money and didn’t get it.’

‘ So you went completely bent?’ Danny could not prevent herself from blurting out unprofessionally.

‘ You can say what you like, you bitch. I had my reasons.’

Danny was about to lash back. Henry put up a hand to quell her.

‘ So along comes Malcolm Fitch and tells me he’s fallen in cohorts with Billy Crane and Don Smith — both excellent blaggers and safe-crackers. He said they were planning to do a Building Society in Blackburn. I saw a window of opportunity to wipe off a few debts, so I went to see Crane. I told him I had enough to pull him there and then on conspiracy — and gave him an alternative, which he took.’

‘ Which was?’ Henry and Danny said in unison.

‘ To go ahead and do the job and split the take with me, fifty-fifty. Thirty grand each. I told him I’d do a proper official job on it, on the face of it, but I’d make sure he got away so long as he gave me half, as well as a prisoner — Don Smith — which is just what happened.’

‘ Why not Malcolm Fitch as the prisoner?’ Henry asked.

‘ Because I had to deal with him, too. I’d ensure he got away and then got paid some informants money. I wanted a conviction out of it. Guess I was just an old-fashioned jack at heart. I liked seeing people behind bars.’

‘ So neither one of them knew you were dealing with the other?’ Henry queried, trying to get his head around this. ‘Fitch didn’t know you were two-timing him with Crane; Crane didn’t know you were dealing with Fitch.’

‘ Not initially, no. Crane eventually found out that Fitch had snouted on him because I think he opened his big gob once too often in a pub and the wrong people heard him. It got back to Crane, who was in prison by then, and I heard he promised he would kill Fitch for it one day — which he did.’

Henry guffawed. ‘And yet he was happy to drop his mate Smith in it,’ he said incredulously. ‘Honour amongst thieves, my buttocks!’ He took a breath. ‘Let me get this straight. The deal was, you fixed it for Crane to get away from the scene of the crime.’

‘ Yes.’

‘ Then you allowed Fitch to do a runner when you were transferring him back to the police station?’

‘ Yes.’

‘ And Don Smith got caught and convicted.’

‘ Yes.’

‘ So Fitch got his informants money, Crane got thirty grand, so did you, and Don Smith got a prison sentence…?’

‘ That’s what should have happened — except it went belly-up on the night.’

‘ How? Why?’

‘ OK,’ he swallowed, ‘they all three break into the Building Society. The safe gets blown. I’m next door in a greengrocer’s, watching all this on a monitor. I’ve set up the police operation and told everybody that the information is that all three offenders will come out of the back of the shop next door, which was an insurance broker’s.

‘ Crane grabs the money and hustles the other two out the back door — where they are met by every cop and his gun — and meanwhile Crane exits out the front door, blasting fuck out of it with a shotgun and running. He had a clear, pre-planned escape route, all the way back to his car. All he had to do was jump in and fuck off. I would just tell everybody he was unidentified.’ Gillrow looked glum. ‘But I cocked up big-style. There was so much going on in my head, trying to cover all the angles that I’d forgotten to stand down you and your mate from covering the Cosworth. It totally went out of my head. When Crane got there, he ran into you — and Bob’s your uncle.’

Although it had happened almost thirteen years before, Henry Christie’s memory of that night was just as vivid as ever. The vision of his best friend taking the shotgun blast and almost dying from it would live with him always. And the fear of that night would, too. Even as Gillrow had been relating the story, Henry’s heart had started beating quickly and adrenaline was pumping into his veins. He could taste the fear he had tasted on that night. Feel the metal of his revolver in his hand. Hear the blast of the shotgun. See Terry Briggs writhing in agony, almost dying.

He said nothing, but Danny saw him looking strangely at Gillrow.

‘ What happened to the money?’ she asked.

‘ We had a pre-arranged drop in a dustbin. I collected it after Fitch had done a “runner” from me. That’s the cash that paid for the deposit on this place. I put thirty grand into an offshore account for Crane. The extra seventy grand you talk about is legit. Came from a wealthy but dead uncle. Check it out.’

Danny was going to ask a question about his relationship now with Crane, but Henry had had enough, as evidenced by the words which he growled out. ‘You are a piece of shite!’

Henry rose quickly from his plastic chair, sending it clattering behind him. He dived across the gap to Gillrow, grabbed his T-shirt and chest skin underneath and hauled him to his feet. The older man whimpered in fright as Henry pushed him right up against the balcony rail. Henry was livid, literally purple with rage. Danny had never seen him like that.

‘ My friend nearly died for you that night, for your greed, for your corruption. I should throw you off here, you slimy bastard.’ Spittle from Henry’s mouth landed in little white bubbles on Gillrow’s face, the two men were so close.

‘ Henry! Henry let him go,’ Danny said firmly. She laid a calming hand on her lover’s shoulder. ‘He’s definitely not worth it.’

Henry drew back, smouldering. ‘I haven’t finished with you, Barney. Not by a fucking long chalk. I’ll show you just how I get results by operating with red tape and bureaucracy. The secret is to make it work for you… and I’m very, very good at that.’