A Time For Justice (20 page)

‘
Do you want to talk?’ Donaldson asked. ‘I don’t mind
listening,’ he said gently.

A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. She wiped it away with
the back of her hand. ‘You’ve turned out very sweet. I didn’t like
you at first.’

‘
The feeling was mutual,’ he admitted.

She sighed, took a sip of her coffee. ‘I have a very bad
reputation, you know. People think I’m a slut and I suppose to some
degree they’re right. But I’ve only ever been a slut as far as this
job is concerned. I wanted to go as far as I possibly could, I
wanted to get to ACPO rank, but I realised very quickly it was an
uphill struggle in a man’s world and that I would simply have to
take them on at their own game if I was going to get
anywhere.

‘
They talk about equal opportunity and equality of the sexes,
but it’s all lip service. If you’re a woman it’s twice as hard
because you’re always up against old-fashioned ideas and
old-fashioned men - no matter how young or trendy they are. Ever
heard of canteen culture? It rules the job here, don’t know what
it’s like in America. This must be one of the most out-dated, slow
organisations in existence, the police. D’you know how often I’ve
had my bum smacked or my breasts tweaked? D’you know how often I’ve
been told to get my pretty little backside up them stairs and put
the kettle on?’ She shook her head in wonderment.

‘
People will tell you that I’ve slept with whoever needed to
be slept with to get where I am today. Those are the rumours. Ever
heard of “Rumour Control”? It exists in the police. And do you know
exactly how many people I’ve slept with, to get where I am today,
Karl?’

‘
No,’ he said patiently.

‘
Not a one,’ she said. ‘I’ll admit I’ve schemed and
manipulated and flirted and played people off against each other -
but I haven’t slept with anyone. I’ve worked damn hard, studied
damn hard and put myself out for the sake of advancement, but I
haven’t slept with anyone ... with one exception. The man at the
top. Dave August. Our beloved leader.’

She paused, tucked her dressing-gown tightly around her legs.
‘Dave August was different. I got my job as his Staff Officer fair
and square. I had the qualifications: the degree, Bramshill, the
Media Studies courses. . . It was only after that we fell in love.
Or at least I fell in love with him.

‘
He’s married. Wife’s a stunner for her age ... and he’s got
two teenage sons. He said he’d leave her for me. I believed him.
Same old stupid story, I suppose. Naive mistress. . . I’ve been
married twice myself, no offspring though. Both marriages were a
joke. Neither could hack being the husband of a career lady. I
promised myself never to get involved again, but then along comes
doe-eyed Dave August. He wanted to get on, I wanted to get on, so I
decided to help him so that he could help me in return. Was that so
wrong? Helping someone I loved?’

‘
No, it wasn’t,’ said Donaldson.

‘
I groomed him to be good on TV. The camera loves him now, you
know. He’s had more TV exposure than any other Chief Constable
outside the Met. All down to me . . . and I’ll be honest, I did use
my personal influence on him to get me on this investigation. I
thought I’d stuff one up the CID. They still operate the “Token
Woman” syndrome, though they’d deny it. An empire run by dinosaurs
and I thought I could take it on. I should have known they’d close
ranks on me in the end. God, it would have been wonderful ... and
we were so close to cracking it, too. Then it all went wrong. Jack
Crosby dying, FB hating me, believing all those lies about me . . .
those poor policemen dying, Ken McClure - Christ, I’m so sorry
about him - and then Dave believing all that poison from FB. All
the men clubbing together like a wagon train in a circle,
protecting themselves from the evil woman. . . and suddenly I’m the
villain and Dave thinks he’s been manipulated by me, that I’ve used
him. In truth, he’s the one who used me; used my skills, fucked me
when he should have been at home with his wife. . . No doubt he’ll
still get his Inspectorate post and I’ll be left in his wake. Oh
God, it’s all so complicated.’

‘
So what are you going to do about tonight?’

‘
Nothing.’

‘
What? You can’t do nothing! He raped you and beat up on
you!’

‘
Can you see me going into the local copshop and telling them
their Chief Constable’s just raped me and given me a slapping? Get
real, Karl. There’s nothing I can do.’

‘
Well, there’s something
I
can do - kill the fucker or at least make him eat
shit.’

Karen shook her head slowly, a sad smile on her face. ‘No,
you’ll do nothing of the sort, Karl. I decide what happens here.
It’s my body he violated, my mind he twisted, my face he
punched.’

‘
At least go for a prosecution,’ Donaldson pleaded.

‘
And what good would that do? He’d more than likely be
acquitted. It would come out that we were having an affair. It’d
just soil reputations for no good end result. I’d just be stirring
it for the sake of vindictiveness. . .’

The shrill ring of the phone interrupted the words. Donaldson
picked it up without thinking and said, ‘Hello.’

‘
Is that Agent Donaldson?’

‘
Yes, who’s that?’

‘
Chief Superintendent Fanshaw-Bayley. My, my, fancy you being
there. May I speak to Miss Wilde, please - that is, if she’s not
too breathless. ‘

‘
Fuck you,’ said Donaldson. He handed the phone across to
Karen.

‘
It’s that creep Fanshaw-Bayley.’

Karen took a deep breath and said in her best telephone voice,
‘Yes sir, can I help you?’

‘
I suppose this is a stupid question now, but is the Chief
there?’

‘
No.’

‘
Has he been there?’

‘
Yes - about two hours ago.’

‘
You
have
been busy. . . Oh, by the way, we’ve caught your man.
Goodbye.’ He hung up.

Karen handed the phone back to Donaldson.

‘
What the hell did he want?’

‘
Just to rub it in,’ she said unhappily. ‘They’ve caught
Hinksman.’

‘
Damn!’ Donaldson hung his head. ‘So, what are you going to
do?’

‘
Nothing. Get through this discipline thing then take some
time off, go on holiday. Forget about promotion. Try and wangle a
Chief Inspector’s post in a quiet town out in the sticks somewhere,
then maybe think about the future, once I’ve got my head back on
line.’

‘
You shouldn’t let it rest. It’s wrong that he won’t suffer
one way or the other. He needs knocking off his perch ... and I’d
love to be the one
to do the knocking. But
if you’ve made your decision. . .’

‘
I have, Karl. Thanks for your concern.’ She held out a hand
and he took it. Her skin was soft and smooth. She smelled
wonderful. He looked at her lovely face, now all swollen, longing
to tell her how much in love he was, but this was neither the right
time nor the right place.

After he’d rung home, Henry hobbled stiffly into the hospital
snack bar and sat down next to FB. He felt slightly better, the
painkillers beginning to take effect.

‘
Just what the hell is all this about?’ Henry demanded of him.
‘The M6 bomb, today’s stuff. . . What’s going on, boss?

‘
I’m not all that sure,’ FB admitted. ‘For reasons you don’t
have to know about, I’m a little out of touch with this
investigation, but I intend to put that right from now on. Oh, did
you know Jack Crosby died today too?’

‘
Yes, I’d heard.’

‘
One of the old school,’ FB said reminiscently.

Thank God he’s gone then, Henry thought to himself.

‘
Anyway,’ said FB, slapping the table top and bringing his
thoughts back to the present, ‘I know that bitch Wilde told you to
take a hike, but I want you back as of now, OK?
I’ll sort it with your DCI. And forget about that complaint
made by the BBC - I’ll fettle that for you too. As far as I’m
concerned, that bastard deserved to get thrown into the
river.’

Henry nodded. ‘Thanks, boss. I would like to apologise to him
at some stage, though.’

‘
Whatever. ‘

‘
So, do I get the opportunity to interview
Hinksman?’

‘
No. That would be bad practice. I’ve already assigned a team
for that. What I want from you is background, so that they can go
into the interview fully briefed. I need to know exactly what’s
going on as soon as possible. I believe there’s some Mob connection
here. I suggest you liaise with a guy called Karl Donaldson. He’s
an FBI agent who was working here with Ken McClure on a related
matter. Get a background to Hinksman, everything you can about him.
You know what I mean. From birth onwards. I don’t have to spell it
out for you. I want a report on my desk by four p.m. tomorrow.
Don’t worry’ - he put up a hand to reassure Henry - ‘just a brief
summary for starters; after that I want you to go into some depth.
OK
,
Henry?’

‘
Yeah, sure,’ said Henry.

‘
Actually you don’t sound too sure. Problem?’

‘
I was going to report sick.’

‘
Get the fuck out of here! Don’t be a Nancy boy. You’re a
detective, aren’t you? We don’t go sick, or didn’t you know? Beside
which, I want you at headquarters at seven a.m. sharp tomorrow.
Live interviews for local radio and Breakfast TV.’

‘
You are fuckin’ joking, boss.’

‘
Nope. Best bib and tucker. And be there. That’s an order.
You’re a national hero, my boy.’

Just before 4 p.m. the following day, Henry Christie placed
his initial summary, as requested, on FB’s desk.

‘
Sir’ (he had written), ‘I have liaised with Agent Donaldson
at your suggestion, as well as detectives from the Serious Crime
Squad in Manchester, and I have compiled this quick report which I
hope goes some way to explaining the events of the past few days.
All it is, really, is a jotting down of the things I’ve learned
today, plus some of my own thoughts, in no particular order. I
think it makes interesting and disturbing reading.

1) The reason Agent Donaldson was in this country and working
with Ken McClure (the Serious Crime Squad, Greater Manchester
Police) is that he was building up a file of evidence against Danny
Carver (victim of the M6 bomb). Carver was a big underworld player
from Florida who had connections with a very big Mafia boss called
Tony Corelli. It appears that Carver used to work for Corelli, but
decided to go his own way and double-cross him by pulling off a
drugs deal with a Manchester criminal called Jason Brown.
Apparently Corelli had already been in negotiation with Brown, but
had failed to reach agreement. Carver had seen the opportunity and
done a deal himself (conservative estimate £I0 million EACH!).
Donaldson’s idea was to catch Carver bang at it and use this as a
lever on Carver to grass on Corelli, who he has been after for many
years.

2) Corelli was upset that Carver had done the deal and there
was already a rumour picked up that a contract had been put out on
Carver. It doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to guess that
if this is true, then he may have also put out a contract on
Brown.

3) Hinksman is believed (now) to be the chosen hit
man.

4) Hinksman is ex-Army and spent some time with the Delta
Force, the US equivalent of the SAS. He is therefore highly trained
in the art of killing, use of explosives, firearms, etc and is very
dangerous. He has no previous convictions as such. (He was thrown
out of the Army because of his liking for beating up prostitutes
and was also suspected of raping and murdering a woman officer, but
nothing was ever proved.) He may have been recruited by Corelli
about four years ago. Now that his I.D. is known, the FBI can link
him (via fingerprints and forensic) to eight other Mafia-related
murders across the US involving bombs triggered by timers from
pet-food dispensers. He’s one bad bastard. He can also be tied in
with several murders of women (mainly prostitutes). He therefore
likes killing as a profession and a hobby. He seems to have been
kept very secret by Corelli, with good reason. He’s an elite
killer, not your normal run-of-the-mill mobster-cum-gunman. If we
can get him to talk, he will be very valuable to the
FBI.

5) So Carver was the real target of the M6 bombing. It is also
believed that Brown, too, may have been a target. He should have
been in the car with Carver.

6) Brown, as we now know, is the one who got shot in the alley
by Hinksman. He was the target. Everyone else was just in the way.
I don’t yet know much about Brown, but the SCS in Manchester do. He
was a big player, into many legit things such as pubs, clubs and
gambling joints. He was also well into drugs and had very good
connections in Manchester (where he was based), particularly in
Moss Side. The deal he pulled with Carver was supposed to be for
the importation of crack. But what was he doing in Blackpool? I
don’t know, but I’d lay odds he’d got legit businesses there too,
fronting his drugs-pushing activities. (Amusement arcades are
ideal.)