‘ Er…’ Henry raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them and shrugged his shoulders. Not promotion, didn’t look like a bollocking.. so what the hell was it? ‘What can I do for you, sir?’
‘ Hang on, let’s get that brew first.’ On cue the office door opened and FB’s secretary bumbled in bearing a tray.
‘ OK,’ said FB after his first sip of tea, ‘over to you, Rupert.’
He nodded at Davison.
‘ Do the names Jacky Lee and Frank Jagger mean anything to you?’ Davison asked Henry.
Henry’s guts churned loudly at the mention, making him wish he’d had a bigger breakfast. His head dipped. ‘Jacky Lee is, or was, a good-class villain from the North-East. Dealt in anything going, mainly drugs and stolen booze and fags. He got put away in 1992 as a result of a chain of events kicked off by Frank Jagger.’ He paused. ‘I assume you know who Frank Jagger is?’ Henry’s suspicious eyes flickered to FB and back again to Davison, who was nodding.
‘ I’ll come straight to the point, Henry,’ Davison said with a wide gesture indicating honesty. ‘Jacky Lee came out of prison in 1996 after serving four years of his eight-year sentence. He’s back on the streets, back in business and as ruthless as ever. On his release from prison he went back to Newcastle and wound down his businesses there, then moved his whole operation across the Pennines to Manchester, where he’s been up and running about eighteen months now. He left his wife and kids there, by the way.
‘ About two months ago we found a body floating in the ship canal at Irlam, brains blown out. I am the Senior Investigating Officer on the enquiry. Turns out the body was a Geordie called Pasha, an Asian guy. We believe that Jacky Lee either killed, or contracted somebody to kill him because Lee thought — wrongly as it happens — that Pasha had grassed on him back in ‘92. We believe Lee lured him down from Newcastle on some pretext of doing business and murdered him. The word is now out on the streets that that is what happens when you inform on Jacky Lee.
‘ Our problem, Henry, is that we can’t get close enough to Lee,’ Davison said. Now Henry could see what was coming. ‘There’s not even reasonable suspicion to arrest him for murder, and as far as I’m concerned, all conventional methods have been tried and failed and I’ve reached the point where I feel that the only way forwards is to re-introduce our undercover officer.’ Once again, Davison made an open gesture. This time it said, ‘Henry, you’re our man for this dirty business.’
Rather like wanting to be a Firearms Officer earlier in his career, the idea of becoming an undercover cop seemed like a good one to Henry at the time. The reality, however, did not match the macho dream, but by then it was too late. He was hobnobbing with criminals and he was good at it.
Henry had been a detective on the Regional Crime Squad (as it was then called) for about two years when he was asked if he had ever considered undercover work as an option. The idea grew on him. He’d already played the role of ‘test purchaser’ several times. That involved him simply buying goods that were being offered for sale by criminals, whether they be drugs or stolen property. He had found the experience exhilarating and the more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself undercover work was right up his street.
After a rigorous selection procedure involving much psychometric and psychological testing, as well as practical exercises, he was chosen as the only one from thirty applicants to go forward into the actual role.
Following a further two-week course with much input, the first thing that happened to him was that he became two other people as comprehensive deep-cover identities were thrashed out, both going as far back as schooldays. In the trade, these are known as legends.
The first of these legends was Frank Jagger. Henry had been allowed to choose the name, something he had to feel comfortable with. He picked Frank because that was his late father’s name and Jagger because he was a sad die-hard Rolling Stones fan, sometimes much to his embarrassment.
Next, together with a couple of detectives who were experts in the field, he devised the background of the character, going all the way back to his schooldays in Blackburn. With knowledge and cooperation at the highest levels, bank accounts were opened, a National Insurance number issued, a passport too; jobs which Jagger had been in were manufactured; tax was paid — occasionally — photographs were professionally touched up, and eventually, when all these things, and more, were in place, all checkable and traceable histories, Frank Jagger stepped out into a hostile world as a wheeler-dealer travelling fence, operating right outside the law… and one of his debut jobs was to put the first nail into Jacky Lee’s coffin lid.
Lee was very high on the North-East Crime Squad’s target list for nefarious activities, including drug dealing, extortion, handling stolen property and pimping. All these activities were facilitated by means of a chain of pubs and clubs around that area of the country, and a few in Manchester. Every police operation against Lee had failed and it was only then, after every option had been tried, that Henry was brought in to bat. ‘U/Cs’, as they were referred to, are always the last resort because of the simple fact that every single day they are operating, their lives are at risk.
Getting to know Lee was a slow process. It involved being introduced to him by an informant who then took a step back. This was the most dangerous stage of any undercover operation. Lee was wary of all new faces, as most good-class crims are. But a slow process it had to be. Rather like eating an elephant: one mouthful at a time.
The occasional conversation led to an hour’s chat, from there to a night out. Henry could feel himself being tested all the time. The night out led to an evening meal at a Lee-owned restaurant where the subject of business was eventually broached. That was three months down the line. A period of time in which Henry had seen little of his wife and daughters.
The first thing Henry did for Lee was to obtain a truckload of stolen whisky for him. He sold it to Lee at?3 a bottle and Lee subsequently sold it on through his outlets, making massive profits. At least, Lee believed it was stolen. It was, in fact, legally purchased from a distillery in Scotland at a knock — down price, a transaction sanctioned with the full knowledge of the high management of the distillery. This kept everything legal from Henry’s point of view — a crucial consideration in the undercover game, because the officer must never be compromised in the eyes of the law.
That was Lee’s initial and very profitable nibble into what Frank Jagger had to offer. There then followed a series of transactions which Lee believed were dodgy, but were in fact as straight as a die.
It was important to keep Lee believing that Frank Jagger was totally and utterly reliable. So when the next undercover cop came on the scene, expertly and sneakily introduced by Henry, Lee’ had fallen into the beginning of a complex and brilliantly executed trap.
Nine months later when he was arrested on a multitude of conspiracy charges, he did not have a clue that the person to blame for it all — other than the original informant who had been well protected by the police operation — was none other than Frank Jagger. Four years in the slammer, brooding about which bastard had set him up, led him down a complete blind alley with the tragic result that he wiped out an innocent guy.
But no one stays an undercover cop if they don’t like it.
Not liking it makes them a liability to themselves and others.
Henry was not enamoured of the role.
Long spells away made his home life very difficult. His wife, Kate, having to manage two young daughters on her own, was struggling and becoming depressed. She was brave about it, denying there was a problem. Yet Henry could sense it, almost touch it, and when he was away he desperately missed them all.