One Dead Witness (44 page)

Chapter Eighteen

They had to do it right and they needed the manpower to get it
right.

FB, unusually magnanimous, gave the go-ahead.

First up, the Surveillance Unit were hurriedly called in and
briefed by Danny: their task to pinpoint the suspects, keep them in
sight and report their whereabouts.

Secondly, the Support Unit were roused and, again, briefed by
Danny. Their job was to follow arrest teams in and, under the
instructions of a team leader, to search, seize and secure
evidence. That meant at Spencer’s place the bedclothes, the sink,
the drains, the shower – anything which could be useful for
forensics and could link Claire Lilton with the address.

Then there would be a forensic and Scenes of Crime team behind
them, supporting and bagging any evidence for further
examination.

It had been decided that Danny would lead one arrest team,
Henry the other. They would hit both men simultaneously and bring
them to Blackpool nick. One at a time. Ensure no contact - eyeball,
verbal, physical, whatever, their cells were to be at opposite ends
of the complex so they would not be able to even shout to each
other.

Once both men were incarcerated, given their rights and
everything else they had to be given, Danny would lead the
interview teams whilst Henry took a step backwards to supervise the
process.

They tossed up to see who would arrest whom. Henry flicked the
2p piece with his thumb. ‘Heads I take Gilbert, tails you take
him.’ Both wanted him badly.

The coin rolled up through the air, slow motion
almost.

Danny prayed: Let it be tails.

Henry moved out of the way of the falling coin. It clattered
on the floor.

Danny smiled grimly.

Four hours later and Myrna had heard nothing. She helped
herself to a strong black coffee from the machine in the main
office and stared through the window across the cityscape, a vacant
look in her eyes but her mind churning angrily because she felt
such a fool on two counts.

One, she had been used by Tracey, the little bitch. Two, Karl
Donaldson must have thought she was an annoying little tick who
could not do anything right.

Damn the girl.

The two detectives waited patiently as the Surveillance Unit
coasted into action. There was nothing to do now but be
patient.

‘
How’s things on the Jack Sands front?’ Henry asked
conversationally.

Danny’s skin crept at the mention of the name. ‘Okay. No
hassle. Haven’t seen him, actually. How about you?’

‘
Me neither. Seems to be keeping a low profile.’

‘
Think he’s got the message?’

Henry shrugged. ‘Don’t know. He’s not thick, but he’s
stubborn.’

A personal radio stood on its base on Henry’s desk, tuned into
the encrypted channel dedicated to the arrest operation. It
crackled. A message passed from one member of the Surveillance Unit
to another. It was nothing for Henry or Danny or the arrest teams,
who were biding their time by playing snooker upstairs in the
recreation room.

Danny’s heart jumped, but she remained calm.

Soon, she thought.
Soon.

‘
Any progress?’

‘
Zilch.’

‘
Not to worry,’ Karl Donaldson said reassuringly. ‘She’ll turn
up.’

‘
Yeah, yeah, sure,’ Myrna moaned. ‘Look, I’m really sorry if
I’ve caused any problems over there. She was right here when I
spoke to you.’ Myrna gestured to the empty seat in her office as
though Donaldson could see. ‘Then I dozed off and when I woke,
she’d skedaddled.’

‘
Just keep me posted.’

‘
Yeah. Hey, Karl, thanks for phoning. I’ve felt such a
barf.’

‘
Forget it.’

‘
Got him! Target Two in sight, walking down the Promenade.
Dressed in a pale blue suit. Grey shoes. Completely
un-fucking-mistakable. Stands out like a prick in a nursery.’ Danny
grabbed the radio before Henry could.

‘
Good job. But remember there’s more than just you and your
team listening, so maintain strict radio discipline.
Received?’

‘
Roger,’ grunted the glum reply, knuckles rapped.

‘
Whereabouts on me Prom?’ Danny asked.

‘
Just outside Tussaud’s, walking north. There’s a two-man
follow behind him now on foot. We’ve got him. He’s not going
anywhere without us knowing, especially in that suit.’

‘
Keep us informed.’

Henry gestured for the radio.

‘
Arrest squad two,’ he transmitted over it. ‘CID office, two
minutes, ready to roll, please.’

‘
Already there, boss,’ came the reply.

‘
I’ll see you later.’ Henry pointed at Danny, stood up, and
clicked his thumb.

‘
Henry?’ She rose slowly and looked at him.

Another of those stomach-churning, ‘Do we? Don’t we?’ moments
flipped between them. Both caught it, both held back. Instead,
Henry squeezed her hand and less than romantically said, ‘Next time
I see you, make sure it’s in the custody office.’ It was probably
destined to be one of the great romantic lines of all times. They
laughed, parted and Henry was gone.

The Promenade was bitter cold, the usual icy wind driving in
from the Irish Sea. Henry danced a jig and rubbed his hands to keep
warm. His jacket collar was turned up high around his ears, his
shoulders hunched low. He was near the entrance to North Pier,
looking across the wide Prom towards a row of amusement arcades on
the opposite side of the road, just south of the junction with
Talbot Square. He was chatting to a member of the Surveillance
Unit.

Ollie Spencer - Target Two - had been seen to enter ‘Ollie’s
Amusements’ and go into the back room of the arcade. As arcades
went in Blackpool, it was one of the less salubrious ones, fairly
grotty, but still able to attract the penny-droppers. From the
short opportunity Henry had had to do some research into Charlie
Gilbert, he knew the fat man owned this business.

The front and rear of the arcade were covered by the
surveillance team. At anyone time, using a tried and tested
rotation system, there could be up to three members of the team in
the premises, playing the bandits and video games. All on expenses,
of course.

Once Henry had been briefed as to the situation, he walked
back to his car parked a safe distance away. A member of his arrest
team was driving for him.

The surveillance officer he had been talking to rejoined his
team.

Henry crashed back into the passenger seat and smiled at his
companion, a Detective Constable named Dave Seymour. Henry turned
up the heater and said, ‘We wait.’

Seymour nodded. Waiting suited him. He didn’t like moving
unless absolutely necessary.

The other members of the arrest team - two uniformed officers
driving an unmarked police car - were parked nearby.

‘
He’s coming out of his office now,’ a voice came over the
radio. ‘Leaving via the rear door. Get ready guys, ‘n’ gals, he’ll
be with you in fifteen seconds.’

There was a silent delay on the airwaves. It seemed
interminable.

‘
Got him,’ came the next voice eventually, ‘heading towards
Talbot Square.’

Henry breathed out, not realising he had been holding his
breath in the first place.

They followed him unobtrusively, sometimes even brushing past
him, even actually making eye-contact with him on occasion. So
Spencer actually saw members of the surveillance team, yet never
once suspected remotely they were cops and he was being
tailed.

‘
Up Talbot Road, away from the Prom.’

‘
He’s going to take them to his flat,’ Henry mused out loud.
Where, if their information was correct, Claire had been
murdered.

‘
Turning left onto Dickson Road.’

Henry looked at Seymour. Yes, Ollie Spencer was taking them
home.

The other surveillance team were not having quite the same
measure of success. The whereabouts of Target One, Charlie Gilbert,
eluded them. They set up an ob-point near his house in
Poulton-le-Fylde, but no one was home. Another ob-point was at his
usual place of work - a grand, restored building, formerly a
warehouse of some sort which had been refurbished as offices and
storage facilities. But Gilbert could have been anywhere. He owned
a chain of arcades down the Golden Mile on the sea-front,
restaurants, cafes, shops selling cheap tack; and not only in
Blackpool. There probably wasn’t one large town in the Northwest of
England which did not have one of Gilbert’s arcades in it. They
were everywhere. His other recent business moves included
out-of-town developments where, several years before, he had bought
cheap land and then as the out-of-town shopping boom burst open, he
began to develop the land, making vast amounts of money in the
process.

In Henry’s office, Danny grew impatient, wanting to get going.
She tapped her teeth with the tip of her pen as she listened to the
movements of the team tracking Spencer.

Her PR crackled. ‘Target Two now entering the flat above the
electrical goods shop.’ She heard Henry acknowledge this piece of
information. Then: ‘Unit One interrupting!’

Whoa! Danny’s heart quickened.

‘
Target One’s vehicle now pulling into the driveway of his
home. DS Furness received?’

She jumped for the radio. ‘Sit on him, don’t let him see you
and wait for support. . . Arrest Squad One, meet me down in the
garage.’ She spun out of the office into the corridor and collided,
body to body, face to face, with Jack Sands.

She tried to heave him out of the way.

He took hold of her, his big powerful arms circling her body,
and he literally carried her back into Henry’s office, slamming the
door behind him with his heel. Danny squirmed and wriggled herself
out of his grasp.

‘
I haven’t got time for this shit, Jack,’ she snarled angrily.
‘Just get out of the way.’

His tongue ran along the inside of his lower lip, like a
reptile was slithering about in his mouth. ‘You think you’re so
fucking smart, don’t you?’

‘
Jack, I need to get out fast. I’ve got important work on.
Please.’

‘
That’s exactly what I mean. You think you’re some high-fuckin’
-falutin’ detective now, working on some very important cases.’ He
mimicked Danny with these last three words, shaking his head and
sounding like some kind of Hooray Henry. ‘But you’re not.’ He poked
his finger right in the middle of her cleavage so forcefully she
staggered backwards against the desk, holding it for support.
‘You’re just a fuckin’ no-good bitch that doesn’t know anything
except what I’ve taught her, and what have you done to me? Eh?
Dumped me - like that.’ He clicked his fingers with a snap and a
jab forward of his face.

‘
Let me go, Jack.’

She pushed herself away from the desk and tried to walk round
him. He took hold of her again and pulled her to him.

‘
No - I won’t let you go. Ever. I love you. Don’t you see what
you’re doing to me?’

Her eyes softened for a moment. Jack released some of the
power of his grip, giving her space to manoeuvre. Just enough room
to twist slightly and, once again, drive her knee up into his
testicles.

He roared in agony, released her, doubled up in pain, and
reeled away, clutching his privates, cursing and swearing. His
eyeballs were ready to pop out.

Danny left him hobbling around the office, no backward
glance.

Fifteen minutes later.

‘
In position,’ Danny transmitted.

‘
Received.’ Henry acknowledged Danny’s radio message. This
meant everyone was ready to roll - the initial arrest teams, backed
up by the evidence-gatherers.

Henry breathed deep. ‘Let’s hit ‘em,’ he said, his mouth dry
in anticipation.

When the ‘Roger’ came from Danny, he opened his car door and
moved.

Gilbert’s house had a huge sweeping driveway, the house itself
set in two and a half acres of landscaped gardens. There were
wrought-iron gates at the entrance to the drive, but they were
open. A convoy, led by Danny and her arrest squad, drove at a
sedate pace and stopped outside the front door of the
house.

Danny rang the bell. She had decided this arrest was going to
be made in a dignified, adult manner ... at least, that’s how it
would start out. This approach didn’t stop her sending two cops
around the back of the house to ensure there was no chance of a
back-door dash.

Gilbert came to the door. Danny had never been close to the
guy before, but had seen photos of him. She was astounded - and
repulsed - by his enormity. He was like an overweight walrus, with
broken capillaries all over his face, tiny piggy eyes and a girth
which needed a chalk-mark to measure it. He was so hideous she
almost giggled.