There was still an outside chance that one of the other vehicles would intercept the van. But did it happen? This wasn’t Diamond’s night.
They waited ten minutes and drove round to Milton Avenue and watched the firemen dowse the flames. The Range Rover was exposed as a black, steaming wreck. The adjacent cars would be write-offs. ‘The end of Operation Fleece,’ he said.
It wasn’t quite.
While they were returning down Wellsway there was an all-units alert. ‘Break-in reported in Westgate Street. A four-by-four drove into the shopfront of Brackendale’s the jeweller’s. Repeat, Brackendale’s in Westgate Street. Two suspects have left the scene in another vehicle. No description yet.’
‘Suckered,’ Diamond said.
25
A select group assembled in Diamond’s office at eleven nextmorning. With little more than four hours’ sleep behindthem, they were a sorry bunch.
‘The good news is that Georgina is out all morning,’ Diamond told them. ‘A meeting at headquarters. The bad news is that she heard about the raid already. Wants me to phone her this afternoon with an explanation.’
‘Does she know about…’ Keith Halliwell shrank from speaking the words. They had a different resonance now.
‘Operation Fleece? I think not. But she will. There’s no concealing it from her.’
Young DC Gilbert said, ‘At least we were doing something.’
‘Get real, son. We were shafted.’
‘Hung out to dry,’ Halliwell said.
Diamond turned to look out of the window as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. ‘In all my years of service I can’t remember an op that was such a disaster. I take my share of the blame, of course.’
‘All of us fell for it,’ Halliwell said.
‘Yes, and Georgina will nail us to the wall. Are we agreed on what actually happened last night?’
Halliwell was desperate to get in first. ‘We were led to believe these guys were teenagers.’
‘They are,’ Gilbert said, some colour rising in his gaunt face.
‘Amateurs, then. Kids starting out, wet behind the ears.’
‘I only had Jackman’s word. He misjudged them.’
Diamond intervened. ‘Wait a bit, you two. There’s an assumption here that… What do they call themselves?’
‘Jacob and Romney.’
‘… that Jacob and Romney are the villains. Forget that. They were minor players. Their job was to set up the decoy, which they did. The Range Rover was never intended to be used for a ram raid. It was to draw us off limits while the real heist went ahead in Westgate Street. We fell for an elaborate con. My first question is: was Jackman a party to it, or was he conned as well?’
‘Trust me, he’s up and up,’ Gilbert said. ‘He was dead nervous. I could see it.’
‘Nervous of what?’ Halliwell said. ‘He could have been nervous we would rumble him.’
‘Either way, he was taking big risks,’ Diamond said. He turned to Gilbert. ‘You know what you’re going to do? Follow up with this guy. Get heavy with him. Find out who he was dealing with. Did he meet the big boys? Who was paying him? How was it bankrolled? They won’t use him again. They won’t protect him, so he’s easy meat.’
‘I’ll get onto it,’ Gilbert said, starting to rise, hoping he could walk out of the door.
Diamond pointed his finger to keep him in the hot seat.
‘Should we nick the two lads?’ John Leaman said. He could afford to make suggestions. He’d played no part in the planning, and he was only in attendance through seniority.
‘They’ll have hightailed it by now.’ Everything about Halliwell, his voice, body language, face, showed how hard he’d taken this.
‘Put out an all-units. One of them is supposed to have form, isn’t he?’
‘That may have been a false lead,’ Leaman said. ‘Jacob is a fairly common name.’
‘Get a description from Jackman, then. If you find these two, you’re halfway to nailing the top men.’
‘What do we have from the Range Rover?’ Diamond asked. ‘Prints? DNA?’
‘The fire got too much of a grip.’
‘All right. What do we have from Westgate Street? Any witnesses?’
Halliwell spread his hands. ‘You know what the city centre is like on a Sunday night.’
‘They must have left traces of some sort.’
‘The crime scene guys haven’t found much. These people knew their business. Gloves, masks, head covers of some kind.’
‘What was the car?’ Diamond said, and for one uncomfortable moment he remembered he was supposed to be on the trail of a stolen blue Nissan Pathfinder.
‘Toyota Landcruiser,’ Halliwell said. ‘Taken the same evening from the Manvers Street car park.’
For a moment he breathed easy. It didn’t last. ‘Right next to the nick? God help us, am I going to have to break that to Georgina?’
‘She may heard from someone else, guv. The owner is Pippa Peel-Bailey.’
The name meant nothing. ‘Should I have heard of her?’
‘The daughter of Councillor Peel-Bailey, who is on the Police Authority.’
He took it all in and then said, ‘Oh goody. That saves me a phone call.’
The tension eased. There were smiles. He decided to leave it there, making clear only that Keith Halliwell remained in charge of the ram-raid investigation. But after the others had left the room, Halliwell lingered. It was obvious he had something else to get off his chest. He closed the door first.
‘Appreciate your support, guv,’ he said. ‘I screwed up big time.’
‘We all did,’ Diamond said. ‘I feel bad, too.’
‘Something I didn’t mention.’ Halliwell felt for his tie and loosened it. He let out a nervous breath.
‘Go on.’
‘I’m a countryman.’
The small hairs rose on the back of Diamond’s neck. The word ‘countryman’ has its own dread coinage in the police. Operation Countryman back in 1980 lifted the lid on police corruption in London. The supergrass whose evidence triggered the inquiry claimed that the entire Robbery Squad was bent: one third took money, one third favours and one third looked the other way.
Halliwell must have cottoned on to his boss’s reaction, because he added at once, ‘When I say I’m a countryman, I mean I was raised on a farm. I was a farmer’s boy.’
For one anxious second Diamond wondered if his deputy was about to cry on his shoulder.
‘Should have known,’ Halliwell said. ‘Just didn’t think.’
‘Didn’t think what? You’re not making sense, Keith.’
‘The words ram raid. I took it for what it is — ramming a shopfront.’
‘And…?’
‘A ram is also a male sheep.’
‘So?’
‘I only thought of it during the meeting when you made that remark about what they called themselves. Bit embarrassing, so I didn’t mention it in front of the others. Jacob and Romney are breeds of sheep.’
Ingeborg brought in a packet and put it on his desk.
‘What’s this, then?’
His name was on the label in large letters.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know, guv.’
At least it wasn’t large enough to be another cake.
‘It’s already been opened. You must know what’s in there.’
