‘How do you know all this?’
‘Lopez blabbed, thinking I was on my deathbed.’
‘Why didn’t Lopez just kill him, or something? Isn’t that what they usually do? Far easier than this bloody chess game.’
Donaldson shrugged, open-handed. ‘Search me, but Easton is involved somewhere along the line. . just another pawn, I guess.’
‘So Lopez and Grant want the drugs and want to get rid of Sweetman and Easton, too.’
‘Yeah. . I think the drugs are the key. It’s a very big consignment and anyone who gets his hands on it will become very rich. He didn’t say it, but the way I think Lopez will play it will be to reckon that Mendoza lost the drugs. .’ Donaldson was thinking hard. Then he had it. ‘I know what it is,’ he proclaimed. ‘If you ask me, he’s going to try and outsmart the Mafia too. . that’s it! He gets the drugs, sets up his own network, cuts the Mafia out by saying Mendoza never recovered the dope and voila! He’s rolling in it! What do you reckon? You’re the hypothesis guy.’
‘Could be, could be,’ Henry said non-committally.
‘You never get excited about anything,’ Donaldson moaned.
‘Don’t you believe it. But what happens to Mendoza and Sweetman and all the others?’
‘That could well be where the bullets in the head come in.’
Donaldson had arrived at the Holiday Inn Express at the same time as Bignall was being loaded into an unmarked police car and driven away to be extensively interviewed by Roscoe at a safe house. It was likely he would end up in Witness Protection, depending on how much they could squeeze out of him. Anger had also left with Roscoe, whilst Henry and Donaldson walked over to the newly constructed Walton Fox pub, next to the hotel. They were drinking coffee at a table outside, watching the busy A6 traffic.
‘Do we need to run with this together?’ Henry asked. ‘One thing could lead to another here.’
‘Yeah,’ Donaldson said, ‘I do.’
‘There’s one person I need to see before doing anything, though,’ Henry said, telling Donaldson who it was. ‘But I need a lift — I’m carless.’
They finished their drinks and strolled back to Donaldson’s Jeep in the hotel car park. ‘Y’know, pal. . it was a good thing Snell’s body was dumped in Lancashire, otherwise Easton could well have been able to cover it all up.’
Henry guffawed. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘The body was in GMP.’
‘Eh?’
‘Yep — definitely GMP.’ He stopped and regarded Donaldson. ‘Only by a few feet, admittedly, but it was on their patch. I know the ins and outs of that place like the back of my hand. I stole it.’
‘Why?’
‘Cos I wanted a meaty murder to show that bastard Anger I could do a good job, that’s why.’
‘You son of a bitch.’ Donaldson slapped Henry hard between the shoulder blades and they continued to walk to his car.
‘I knew no one would know the difference — except that PC who was convinced it was on GMP, but I’m sure he won’t really be too bothered.’
Donaldson laughed heartily as he clambered into the Jeep. Henry dropped in next to him. ‘Now you need to tell me about your Spanish jaunt.’
Had he been Spiderman he would have been climbing the walls. However, he was not, but that did not prevent him from trying. He felt like they were closing in on him, inch by dreadful inch; that the ceiling was dropping, going to crush him.
Troy Costain rushed to the cell door and hammered on it, the inspection flap rattling metallically but staying firmly shut. Tears streamed from his eyes as he begged, ‘Let me out, you bastards! You fuckin’ twattin’ bastards. I can’t stand this. It’s giving me a shedder. Please,’ he screamed, hammering louder.
Suddenly an eye appeared at the peephole. Troy jumped backwards into the middle of the cell, where he stood shaking and sweating.
The cell door swung open to reveal the figure of Henry Christie, still clad in the tracksuit he had set off in that morning.
‘Henry — thank God you’ve come,’ Troy bawled, sinking to his knees. ‘You know I can’t stand being locked up. Get me out of here, please. I’ve done nothing. What’s this shit? Conspiracy to murder? What the hell does that mean?’
Henry stepped into the cell. His face was hard and unforgiving. He took hold of Troy’s chin and tilted his face up whilst he bent down so they were eye to eye. Henry spoke quietly.
‘A friend of yours came to see you to ask for help, didn’t he?’
‘What?’
‘He came in a stolen car, didn’t he?’
‘I don’t know what the-’
Henry snapped Troy’s head further back. ‘Don’t lie, Troy, don’t ever lie, OK? Somehow that car ended up in Roy’s hands and then he killed Renata. .’
‘What?’ Troy interrupted. ‘Is that what this is about? Conspiracy to murder?’
‘No. . that’s not what this is about,’ Henry almost whispered, his eyes wild with menace. ‘Your friend was on the run, wasn’t he? And somehow the people who were after him found out where he was, didn’t they?’
Icy realization dawned slowly over Troy’s face.
Henry smiled dangerously. ‘Do you know what they did to your friend when they found him?’
Troy’s head, held by Henry’s hand, shook slowly.
‘Killed him. Shot him. Murdered him. And do you know why? Because you told them where he was, didn’t you?’
Troy was like a statue now. Henry released the hold on his head.
‘Therefore you conspired to kill him.’
Henry let go of him and Troy rose shakily to his feet, moved back and sat down heavily on the bench bed. ‘No, I didn’t do it for that.’
‘You must have known they would kill him,’ Henry said harshly. ‘I now want the telephone number you called to drop your mate right in this, and I want the name of the guy you spoke to. . then, maybe, we can start talking about where we go from here. Understand, Troy? You are in the biggest trouble you have ever been in — ever.’
‘My mobile phone is in my property. It’s one of the last ten numbers in there. The guy’s name was Phil — and that’s all I know,’ he wailed. ‘Honest. Keith had twenty-five grand on him and he told me how he’d got hold of it when he was drugged up. I thought I’d be able to get a backhander for telling them where the cash was. I didn’t mean to get him killed.’
‘Troy — you are the scum of the earth,’ Henry said with disgust. ‘And while we’re about it, you can tell me where Roy is. .’
Henry left Troy in mental agony in the cell at Blackpool nick, booked out his mobile phone from the property bag in the custody office and tabbed through the numbers Troy had recently called. With the business card that Phil Lynch had given him, Henry soon found that the number Troy had called was indeed that of the corrupt SPOC. Matching the numbers sent a spurt of adrenaline through his system, as the case against Lynch was getting stronger and stronger. It would be a good springboard into the rest of the inquiry into Carl Easton’s corrupt team of big city jacks. Henry returned the phone, then ran up to see Rik Dean in the CID office. He thanked him for picking Troy up and asked him to confiscate the mobile phone, which could provide valuable evidence in the murder investigation. He told Dean that, for the moment, Troy was going nowhere, and gave him the whereabouts of Roy Costain. It would be a nice arrest for Dean.
Henry dashed back out to Donaldson, who was waiting for him in the car park, and they drove to Henry’s house.
Kate was all over Donaldson like a bad rash, so relieved to see him alive, and once this show of affection was over, Henry almost having to prise them apart, she prepared a quick meal for the both of them. They devoured it, Henry got changed and within twenty minutes they hit the road again, heading speedily across the county to Rawtenstall, Henry’s mind now filled with the prospect of an arrest followed by a protracted investigation and lots of arrests. He was going to be busy for quite some time.
It was a closed briefing. Henry, Karl Donaldson, Jane Roscoe, Dave Anger and the ACC Operations, now acting chief in the absence of FB. Henry had decided not to invite Carradine, just to be awkward, but nobody seemed to notice. The show had been well and truly handed to Henry — who had now formally returned to work from sickness.