“Right, I take it that you’ve already completed your MG11s?” Tyler asked.
“Yep, our statements are already in Andy’s MIR,” Dillon confirmed.
“Okay. I’ve spoken to George Holland. DCI Quinlan’s team has taken PC Morrison’s murder. However, as we don’t have a live job at the moment, our team will be assisting them until further notice. I promise I’ll do my best to ensure that you three get the chance to be in on Winston’s takedown, if and when we find the bastard, but in the meantime –” he looked at Bull first and then Copeland, “I need you two to go and put yourselves at Mr Quinlan’s disposal.”
“You got it, boss,” Bull said. He stood up and grabbed Copeland’s arm, jerking it hard. “Come on, George. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”
“Have we?” Copeland asked, confused.
“I’ll explain on the way,” Bull told him. George could be a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.
When they were alone Dillon turned to Tyler. “I’m really sorry, Jack. I feel like I’ve tarnished your reputation. You know that you’re Holland’s golden boy. He thinks very highly of you and I wouldn’t want to spoil that.”
“Dill, you’re being silly. You said it yourself: you were in a no-win situation. You nearly achieved the impossible anyway. Now stop berating yourself. God, how many times have you said that to me over the years, um?” Jack stood up and walked around the side of the desk.
“We’ve had the debrief, now it’s time to move on. We’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t want to see you moping around feeling sorry for yourself, especially when it’s not warranted.” Tyler placed a hand on his friend’s massive shoulder.
“Thanks, Jack,” Dillon said. “Look, I know none of this is my fault, but I keep thinking that if I had kicked up more of a stink about Winston having an armed guard this might not have happened.”
“Dill, you did kick up a stink, but ultimately it wasn’t your decision to make. Besides, I’ve managed to take a sneak peek at the drug squad’s risk assessment. They did take into account the fact that he was detained in possession of a firearm, and that he had shot two police officers immediately prior to arrest – but that was then and this is now. He’s a drug-dealing pimp, not a cartel leader, and there was no intelligence to suggest that he or his known associates currently had a firearms capacity. Realistically, it would have been nigh on impossible to justify deploying armed officers, even if the drug squad had concurred with your view.” That was true, at least on paper, but if he or Dillon had been tasked with writing the assessment up it would have read very differently, and it would have concluded that an armed guard was necessary.
Dillon considered that for a moment and then nodded. “Fair enough. So, what do we do now?”
“Has the getaway driver said anything yet?” Tyler asked.
Dillon laughed. It was a harsh, humourless sound. “He’s been interviewed, made no comment, and is looking at being charged with TDA and possession of Class A drugs as holding charges.”
“Have they searched his drum yet?”
“Yeah, they carried out a Section 18 search at his flat before he was interviewed. I think they were half hoping to find Winston hiding there, but that was never going to happen. They recovered some more drugs and some drug paraphernalia, but nothing significant.”
Section 18 of PACE – the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 – allowed the police to search any property occupied, owned or controlled by a person in custody for an arrestable offence for evidence connected to that offence or similar offences without first having to obtain a warrant.
“Did he have a phone on him?” Jack asked.
“He did. Obviously, it’s been seized.”
“Good. Let’s get call data and cell site applications submitted. If any of the numbers he’s been in contact with today mirror his movements up to the point where he arrived at the hospital, they might belong to the two suspects who are still adrift and we can look at pinging them to see where they are now. Also, let’s get an urgent research package started to see if any of his known associates fit the profile of our mysterious doctor, nurse or the fake porter that SO19 took out.”
As soon as the man who had been shot was out of danger, a set of fingerprints would be taken and rushed up to the fingerprint bureau at NSY. If he croaked, the same thing would happen. Ironically, knowing what they now knew, the risk assessment had been ramped up and he was under armed guard at the Royal London ICU.
“On that note, do you know if the bloke who was shot had a mobile on him? If he did, we need to do the same thing with his phone.”
“I believe he did, but I’ll check with Susie Sergeant afterwards.”
“And what about the LOS Ford Scorpio? Has it been taken to Charlton for a forensic exam?”
“That I don’t know,” Dillon said.
“It needs to be properly examined, Dill,” Jack said. “I reckon there’s a very good chance our unknown suspect’s fingerprints and DNA will be all over that car.” He frowned, recalling something that he’d overheard Bull and Copeland discussing earlier. “Wasn’t a bag of drugs and a mirror found in it? Or am I just imagining that?”
Dillon’s mind flashed back to the scene and George holding up a bag of white powder and a lady’s compact mirror. “You’re right,” he said. “With everything else going on I had forgotten about that.”
“Surely there’ll be fingerprints and DNA on those?” Jack said.
Dillon seemed excited by this. “I’ll have a word with George, and get them fast-tracked up to the lab. Also, there were several jackets in the car. We’re bound to be able to get wearer DNA from those.”
“Make sure you let Andy know all this, so he can document what needs to be
