In Pucklechurch detention centre for female juveniles Alison Jenson was watching a news programme. It was currently covering the death by suicide of one Ali Khan, of the up and coming local rock group, Metal Heaven. He had sat in his car and drunk most of a bottle of whisky before connecting up the exhaust to a hosepipe and gassing him self. Nobody knew why. Alison watched it through in silence and then sat back and gave a small sigh of satisfaction. She too didn't know why Ali Khan had killed himself and she didn't care, but it was one more of the bastards who had got his come-uppance. She looked again at the letter on the low table in front of her, the one from her father asking her to come and live with him up in Scotland. He must want his head examined to think she would even consider it. After all, where the hell had he been when she needed him. One interview with the filth and he had wimped back off to Scotland. Stuff him. She would make her own way and it would not be in some God forsaken hole in the wilds. She smiled to herself. She had been the sole of co-operation since she had arrived here and with any luck she would be out for the New Year if her Probation Officer and Social Workers kept their promises.
In the CID office at Bricewell, Detective Sergeant Jackie Ward had finished the previous days paperwork and was about to get up to get a cup of tea in the canteen when Marcus Lomax dashed into the room, breathless. He obviously had something pretty earth shattering to tell her to make him abandon the aura of super cool he usually affected.
“Sarge, the motorway patrol coming back up the Portway about half an hour ago stopped to check a suspicious looking car parked in a lay-by. Thought perhaps some joy riders had nicked it and left it there. After they looked inside it they called us and the Guv’nor sent me and Frank Lintsey down there.”
He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, relaxing now and picking up his normal persona once more. When he continued it was the usual Marcus.
“Well, inside the car we found a black male with his head blown off by a shotgun, the head was in his lap and he still had a bloody great pistol in his hand.” his voice told her he was still shocked by what he had seen, “the shotgun we think they used was also in the car. On the passenger seat we found a red nylon sports holdall that we thought at first was stuffed with money, but actually contained a lot photocopies cut up to look like packets of money with a few genuine fivers stuck on the outsides. That's all at forensic with the guns.” He continued. “We had a look through his pockets, quite a messy business, and came up with his driving licence. Subject to some confirmation it’s Mitael Khorta. Seems one of his shady friends succeeded where we failed and that the Guv’nor was right all the time.”
He gave her his flashing smile expecting one in return, but she was now immune to the dark Celtic charms of Marcus Lomax and merely nodded and turned around to the filing cabinet. His smile faded and he left.
It was later in the same morning after the Khorta killing had made the local radio and TV news that she received the phone call. The caller was one crooked Bookmaker by the name of Dave Pike. She listened to what he said for some minutes and when she put down the phone she sat in thought for some moments more thinking over what the caller had just said to her. Then she shook her head as if to clear it and got on with what she had been doing. It was a ridiculous idea to think that MacAllister could possibly be involved in any of this. He was the best copper this Nick had ever seen. Then she put her pen down again and picked the phone up. If she was that sure of the Guv’nor why not just cover her back. Neither Peter Grinton or any other senior member of CID was in the building as it was New Years Eve and only the lesser ranks were holding the fort in CID, so she decided she had better kick it all the way upstairs.
In his ivory tower on the seventh floor Bill Reid had quite a shock as he listened to Jackie Ward. Damn MacAllister. Was the man going to haunt this station forever? He had done his best to remove the man's influence completely. Clive Sayers has been promoted to Inspector and automatically transferred and Janet Ward had been made up to sergeant, which should have put her firmly on his side. He kept her standing in front of his desk waiting for a few moments while he thought furiously before he gave his answer. When he did it was in a voice that was meant to be reassuring, but just a little surprised that she felt this was serious enough to bother the Station Commander.
“Look, Jackie. I hear what you say, but I don't believe it. I may not have been MacAllister's greatest fan, but he was a very good copper and the thought of him running a one-man vendetta on behalf of everyone that may feel aggrieved at the results they have received from the justice system is a bit far fetched, you must agree. This man who called you, this Bookmaker, this Dave Pike, is a known criminal and associate of criminals and was pretty thick with the late Mitael Khorta. He has no real proof whatever except for what he says Mitael Khorta told him, but what it comes down to is that we have is very little real evidence. Khorta is dead and we are left with the half-baked suspicions of a convicted criminal. The other things you mention are nothing more than a series of coincidental events involving people who's only common point is that they all had contact at some time with our CID office.”
He shook his head in wonderment.
“And the idea that MacAllister was blackmailing Khorta is ridiculous. After all the man was talking of suing MacAllister and us for wrongful arrest a few weeks ago, and quite rightly. We had no evidence against him worth talking about and certainly not enough to charge him with anything. So what was MacAllister supposed to be blackmailing him with?”
He gave her the smile of a superior intelligence explaining the obvious to the lesser intellect of his subordinate. Jackie Ward shrugged.
“I don't know, Sir and neither does Dave Pike. All he knows is that Khorta told him if he died suddenly to ring the CID here at the Bricewell and tell them that MacAllister was blackmailing him. Knowing how you feel about the force I thought it best to bring it to your attention at once and the other, what you called, coincidental events of the last week or so.”
Reid shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips.
“You get this Pike in on Monday and listen to him make his case. Then let him see that you think it is all a bit far fetched, but that we will investigate what he says. Then get rid of him and we will go back to trying to police this patch of ours. By the way, how is the new job going, Detective Sergeant?”
He went through his letting the troops know he was behind them routine for a few moments longer and then made his excuses. After she had gone he went over to the window and resumed his view of the roofs of Bristol as he went over the conversation he had just had with Jackie Ward for a second time in his mind. Then satisfied, he went back to his desk and the endless reports and paperwork. After all, he had only come in this morning to make sure that this month's crime figures were sent to Division on time. Bloody MacAllister had been a loose cannon that could have caused a lot of trouble, but he had dealt with him. No maverick was going to endanger Billy Reid's career. No way. As for Ward, she was just being a bit over cautious, the result of her recent promotion no doubt.
It was with some shock that twenty four hours later he listened to Detective Inspector Grinton telling him that one of the two guns found in Khorta's car, the body had now been positively identified as that of Mitael Khorta, was the same weapon that had caused two of the deaths in the Swindon bank raid earlier in the year. The five-pound notes used to disguise the bundles of photocopied notes found in the holdall had also been traced back to the same crime. Reid was forced to concede that MacAllister had been right to suspect Khorta, but wrong to arrest him before he had positive proof. He shied away from the thought that if MacAllister had found proof of Khorta's guilt he would have had good grounds to blackmail him. He rang Jackie Ward and told her that when Mr Dave Pike the Bookmaker visited the station he was to be asked about the alibi he had given Khorta at the time of the Swindon job. She in return told him that Dave Pike had turned down her offer to visit the station and make a statement. Did the he
want them to bring him in? Reid thought about how the Swindon case was nicely wrapped up as it was and decided that as they had little chance of bringing a successful case against Pike it would be best to let it lie. Why risk spoiling a good result, or a scandal that might threaten the career of a brilliant man like Bill Reid.
Down in the squad room Jackie Ward had hardly put her phone down when it rang again. When she answered it her face first showed pleasure and then astonishment. She listened in stunned silence for about two minutes giving only the odd nod before finally saying only “all right” and then replacing the receiver. She then got to her feet and picking her coat from the back of her chair left the office.