“A relationship. What’s that? I haven’t had a social life for a couple of years.”
“You’re not missing much. Believe me, they’re overrated.”
They drove on in silence for a couple of minutes until Eden said, “I just got a new local corruption case land on my desk today. I heard something about your dad being in the force and investigating a corruption case. How did that go? Is he still around?”
“He was. Haven’t you heard the stories?”
“No. All I heard was your dad was a detective.”
“Yes, I forgot, you only moved here last year. He was based here in Trentbridge, a DCI. Eight years ago he was running a local council corruption case involving a lot of high-profile people. A really complicated case, by all accounts. He went to meet someone who was going to blow the whistle on the whole thing. He was never seen again. All the files disappeared as well. Of course, they did a major investigation, but nothing came of it. I know he must have been killed but they never even found a suspect. I guess deep down inside it’s one of the reasons I joined up, to try to find out what happened to my dad.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry. No, I’ve never heard any of that. It’s just this case and what I’d heard. I’m sorry to drag up something…” Eden could see Tracy was upset and decided to stop before he put his foot in it even further.
They travelled on in silence for the remainder of the five-minute journey.
“This is it. 26 Ross Street. Flat three, on the first floor.”
It was a rare feeling for Kevin O’Connor. Normally he couldn’t give a fuck about anything. But this time it seemed different. When he and Tyson had gone to deal with Will Gleeson after he demanded more money to keep quiet about the hit and run incident he wasn’t to know there would be a witness. Maybe he was slipping or getting complacent? Normally he would have covered his tracks, worked out every angle in advance, and always came out on top. Perhaps he’d been too quick off the mark. When Gleeson said he wanted another four grand, he should have just given it to him. But it was the principle.
It wasn’t a good time. He had a lot on his mind. There were some big deals going down, and the last thing he needed was the police sniffing round. He might be a big man in Trentbridge, but the people he’d been working with from Europe were not the sort even he would think of crossing.
Bringing in illegal immigrants and the new Monkey dust drug, using the river and canals from Liverpool was working well. He’d used it to bring in illegals for the past year. And now he was using it to bring in drugs. With the River Stern right at the back of his property on Fen Road, he could keep everything very low key. No one suspected what he was up to.
The police often stopped vehicles on the motorways and found drugs. No-one suspected a slow moving canal boat to be carrying drugs. It was the perfect form of transport. No police patrols or drug squad to worry about.
He knew with his contact on the inside that he could handle the police, so the only thing upsetting Kevin was the witness. Take him out, and he could relax.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
POLITICAL CORRUPTION
There had been a number of complaints about a local politician who, according to a whistle blower who worked on the inside, was abusing her position of power and wasting vast sums of public money. Questions were being asked as to where all the money was being spent. And it seemed that in her capacity as a member of the planning committee, she could be involved in a lot of council land being sold off to a small group of developers for amounts that appeared to be far below their market value.
DI Eden Gold and DS Tracy Archer worked well together as a team. However, their latest case had brought back a few bad memories for Tracy.
Eight years earlier, her father was a Detective Chief Inspector with Trentbridge police. He had spent nearly two months investigating a major fraud case allegedly involving local politicians, councillors, members of the planning department, and a local developer. Then one afternoon, after telling a colleague he was going off to meet a potential informant, he failed to return and was never seen again. Despite a major investigation, it had remained a mystery. Then all the files of the case disappeared. After six months in which little progress was made, the whole episode was gradually run down, although cases are never officially closed.
The closed session meeting had been arranged for 7 p.m., for the selection of the new North-West England Secretary-General. For the majority of ordinary people, it was an event that passed without them being aware. For the people involved it was an exciting development.
The usual political unspoken agreement of ‘if you elect me, I will elect you’. The four committee members would not only get to vote on where their new headquarters would be but also to what extent they were furnished and the salary and perks they would receive. If anyone was to enquire, the message would be the old boys (and girls) network was alive and well. Thank you very much.
The head of this new ‘quango’ was Baroness Sanjrani who had a background as a barrister and legal advisor. Five years of learning how to take common everyday language and turn it into gobbledegook so that the lawyer representing the other party involved can turn the gobbledegook back into common language and charge upwards of £200 an hour for the privilege. And if you have charged your client thousands for preparing a contract and the lawyer on the other side finds a loophole, then it’s the client who has already forked out
