From the Dead

Brand was sweating in a grey suit. They had deliberately not given him the opportunity to change out of it. They wanted him hot and bothered. He said nothing for a few seconds, then sat back and folded his arms. 'Cook was a twat,' he said. 'A greedy twat. Like he wasn't getting paid well enough anyway.'

'He took the phone in.'

Brand nodded. 'He was supposed to give Grover a clean handset every week and get rid of the old one, but he thought he'd make a few extra quid by selling them to other prisoners. So…'

'Can't get the staff,' Thorne said.

He had put it all together over the week or so it had taken to arrange for Brand's transfer to Spain. The nuts and bolts of Brand's deception. The extent of his own stupidity.

'Mind you, Langford's probably not the easiest employer to work for, right?'

'He was not my employer,' Brand said.

Thorne smiled, sour. 'Well, not in the sense of holiday pay and a P45, maybe, but in all the ways that mattered, he owned you.'

It was now clear that Brand had been in Langford's pocket throughout the original investigation and probably for a good while before, that once the new inquiry had begun, he had cleverly wormed his way back into Thorne's confidence. Brand had turned up in the Oak the night of the Chambers verdict and 'bumped into' Thorne, maintaining his trust from that point on through a series of conversations – many instigated by Thorne himself – and by feeding Thorne useless names to check out. He had convincingly portrayed an officer – a friend – with as much interest in putting Alan Langford away as Thorne, while he was busy making the arrangements for Monahan and Cook to be killed.

And Anna Carpenter.

'Let's talk about Detective Constable Chris Talbot, shall we?'

'This isn't a formal interview.'

'Just a chat.'

'So, nothing is admissible in court.'

'Plenty of time for that,' Thorne said. 'So, was it your idea to use Talbot?' He watched Brand thinking.

Brand already knew that he could not escape serious corruption charges, but he was treading carefully, reluctant to say anything that might lead to him also being charged as an accessory to murder.

'We know you knew him.'

'So, I knew him. And…?'

'And I'm guessing that he was getting too close to your pal Alan. Or maybe he found out that you were.'

'I played rugby with a lot of people, all right?'

'Either way, he was the perfect choice to take Langford's place. You needed a body and you needed Talbot out of the way. You might even have been there when he was put in that car and burned alive.'

'That's bollocks.'

'You might just as well have been.'

'I wasn't…'

'Same as you might just as well have stuck that shiv into Monahan or fired the shot that killed Anna Carpenter.'

Brand visibly tensed at the mention of Anna's name, as though well aware that they were stepping into extremely dangerous territory. 'I knew nothing about that.'

'Really?'

'I swear-'

'You're a lying cunt.' Thorne leaned forward fast. 'Now, give me the name of the shooter and I might not come across this table and rip your head off.'

Brand held Thorne's stare, but not for long. 'We need to talk about how this deal is going to work,' he said.

'You're going to prison,' Thorne said. ' That's how it's going to work. Even if you get Alan Langford marching out of that villa with his hands in the air confessing to half a dozen murders and begging us to nick him, you're going to prison. But it's all about which prison. You do this the right way, and you might not end up sharing a wing with some of the people you've put away. Men with a few grudges and plenty of time to get a toothbrush nice and sharp.'

'How long?'

'Not my decision, mate, but if you end up in the wrong place, that won't really matter, will it?' Thorne sat back again, giving Brand a few moments to take it in. 'You should consider yourself very lucky that there's anything you can do to make your life a bit easier, and you can be sure that's only because I want Langford even more than I want you.'

'Don't expect me to be grateful.'

'What you should be is careful,' Thorne said. 'Because if you don't do this right, I'll happily throw you to the fucking wolves.' There was a gratifying flash of panic for the first time in Brand's eyes. 'Nothing to worry about, Gary. Like you said, this isn't a formal interview.'

Just a chat…

Langford was now telling Brand about some of the development projects he was involved with and Brand was saying very little. Thorne imagined him sitting there nodding, trying to look relaxed, wondering how he could get Langford to admit anything, waiting for an opening. Brand had been instructed that he should not force the issue under any circumstances, as much to avoid the suggestion of entrapment further down the line as anything else, but he was clearly running out of ideas.

'So, what about Grover, then?' Brand asked.

In the van, Thorne, Boyle and Samarez looked at one another.

'What about him?'

'You want me to organise anything?'

'I'm going to organise a couple more beers…'

Samarez grunted in frustration while Thorne kicked out at the side of the van.

'Langford's cagey as fuck,' Boyle said. 'You think he might be on to it?'

Thorne knew that it was possible. Brand had never been to visit Langford in Spain before, so his 'insistence' on making this trip could easily have given Langford serious misgivings. They had briefed Brand as thoroughly as possible in the time available. He had been instructed to talk about Candela Bernal and to reveal that evidence was mounting against Grover, who was finally starting to crack under pressure from Andy Boyle, but even that might not be enough to draw Langford out. Thorne recalled the man who had joined him at the bar in Ronda. He was certainly confident, and Thorne wondered if that was bred not just of the power he possessed, but of a faith in his own ability to sniff out danger.

'Yeah, he might be,' Thorne said.

The evidence Brand had already provided was sufficient to get Langford arrested and extradited for trial in the UK, but without an admission on tape, Thorne could not bank on a conviction. He knew better than anyone that even the most solid of cases could fall apart, that any half-decent brief might persuade a jury that Brand was no more than a bent copper trying to save his own skin. There was every chance that Langford would be back in Spain before his tan had begun to fade.

There was no way Thorne could let that happen. He owed it to himself and to too many others.

'Here you go, mate,' Langford said. 'A nice cold one.'

'Cheers.'

'You sure you don't fancy a swim?'

Gary Brand was the only shot Thorne had.

FORTY-FOUR

Langford sipped his beer and wondered what Brand's game was. He'd always been able to sniff out anything iffy, had prided himself on the fact, and though he couldn't be sure exactly what was happening, something was definitely starting to stink.

All the same, he had to tread carefully.

'What happened to that girl you were seeing?' Brand asked.

'I see a lot of girls.'

'Yeah, but one was a bit special, wasn't she?'

'I chucked her,' Langford said.

Worst possible scenario, the arsehole had grassed him up to save himself and was wearing a microphone. All that shit about not being much for swimming. But dealing with it would be tricky to say the least. There were consequences to be considered whichever way it went, and until then he just needed to watch his temper, to keep his wits about him. There was not a great deal he could do for the time being, other than mind his Ps and Qs and let things play out.

What else could he do? Rip the sneaky little fucker's shirt off then and there?

If he was wrong, he'd risk losing someone who had been a valuable source of information for over ten years. Brand was very useful, no question about it, and Langford didn't particularly want to piss him off by coming on like some paranoid nutcase. If he was right, though, things might get even more complicated. He'd been kidding himself, thinking he could play this whole thing like Clint Eastwood or whatever and stay calm. He should have seen that back when he was slapping that silly fucker in the club who'd used his real name. He was still capable of losing his rag, same as anyone else… same as he'd done the last time he'd seen Candela… and if he did find out that Brand was having him over, he could easily end up having to push a bottle into the mongrel's face or seeing how long he could stay underwater.