“I’ll get you some help, but I want someone to start looking at that footage tonight to see if they can locate the Rover and get me the registration number. We’ve got the local plod out doing a street sweep for us during the early hours, and it would help them massively if we could at least supply them with the Rover’s index.”
Blyth didn’t look overly happy about this. “But if someone views it too quickly, they might miss something,” he protested.
“I think you’re the one who’s missing something, Darren,” Jack pointed out, tetchily. “I’m asking for flash viewing to get the Rover’s index, not evidential viewing for court. That can be done later.”
“But isn’t that just duplicating work? Surely, it’s more efficient to take a bit more time and do it properly all in one go, the way we usually do?”
“Darren, you need to consider the bigger picture. If the pilot’s information is accurate, we need to find that car within the next couple of days, before they all fuck off to the coast and Winston hops on a boat to the continent. This is a priority –”
Blyth interrupted. “But Mr Quinlan doesn’t like it done that way,” he said adamantly.
Tyler felt his knuckles whiten as he clenched his fists in frustration.
“When Mr Quinan returns,” he said with forced patience, “he can do it any way he pleases but, for now, I’m running the show and it gets done how I say and when I say. Are we clear on that?”
Blyth averted his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said meekly.
As Tyler stood up to leave, Reg Parker came bursting through the doors. “Got some important updates from the TIU for you, boss,” he said, breathlessly.
“Run me through them on the way back to my office,” Tyler said, and strode out of the room without a backward glance. He needed to get away from Blyth while he could still control the urge to throttle him.
He was aware of Parker rushing along behind, trying to catch him up. “Come on then Reggie, what have you got for me?” he asked.
“Both the 777 and 321 numbers have been on the move during the last three hours,” Reg said, waving a sheet of paper in his hand.
Tyler stopped dead in his tracks, allowing Parker to catch up.
“Are they moving together?” he asked.
Reggie shook his head. “No, they’ve gone in different directions.”
“Shit,” Tyler said, taking the proffered piece of paper and reading Reggie’s hastily scribbled notes. “Do you think they’ve split up for good, or just popped out for a little while, intending to regroup later?”
Parker shrugged. “No way of telling at the moment,” he said.
Tyler considered this. “So, where are they now?” he asked.
Reggie held out his hand and Jack returned the sheet of paper to him.
“Er, according to the latest TIU report the 777 number has been to Mile End and is now near Aldgate, on the outskirts of the City, while the 321 number went over to Barking earlier, but is currently somewhere in the Stratford area.”
“Why weren’t we told they were on the move earlier?” Jack asked, annoyed that there had been a delay.
“The TIU was doing live monitoring for us, but the signals didn’t move all last night or all day today, so they cut us back to three hourly updates. Can’t blame them really.”
Tyler sighed. “No, I suppose not. Will they revert to live monitoring now that they’re on the move?”
“The SPOC’s agreed to continue with live monitoring up until eleven p.m. unless a live kidnap case comes in, but after that, he goes off duty. The TIU only has minimum cover on for night duty so they won’t be able to resume live monitoring again until seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Tyler was nonplussed. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? The Met is the biggest police force in the UK, capable of assembling and deploying enormous resources to deal with any threat conceivable – unless it happens at night or during the weekend when we’re running on minimum strength!”
Parker gave Tyler a ‘what can I do’ shrug. “I’ll speak to whoever’s on night duty,” he offered. “They might be able to sort something out for us.”
“Thanks, Reg,” Tyler said, feeling a tad jaded. “Anything else?”
“One other thing,” Parker said. “The subscriber checks I requested on the two unknown numbers 777 called have just come back in. The first belongs to a bloke in East Sussex, and the second is an unregistered pre-pay.”
Jack grunted. “These people do love their pre-pays, don’t they?”
“They do,” Reg agreed. “But just to dot the I’s and cross the T’s, I asked Tom Wilkins to run both numbers through HOLMES. Guess what…?” Reggie stared at Tyler expectantly, waiting for him to ask.
Jack sighed theatrically. “Okay, I’ll indulge you. What?”
“The pre-pay number belongs to Errol Heston’s next of kin.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened with anger. “You’ve got to be shitting me?” he said.
The smile fell from Parker’s face. “No, honestly, guv. It definitely matches,” he said, confused by Tyler’s furious response.
Jack shook his head. “What I mean is, why hadn’t the MIR already run these numbers through HOLMES? They’ve had them all day.”
Reg looked uncomfortable. “Er, I don’t think they’re used to working at quite the speed we do,” he said tactfully.
“Right,” Tyler said, storming off towards Quinlan’s MIR, “I want someone to visit the next of kin tonight to see who made that bloody call to them from the 777 number.”
Parker was left standing all alone in the corridor, feeling dejected. “Well done, Reggie,” he said, lamely reaching over his shoulder to pat his back. “Great job, Reggie, proud of you for using your initiative.” He waved his hands in the air in celebration. “Yaaay Reggie.” If no one else was going to praise him, he figured he might as well do it himself.
◆◆◆
Jack Tyler returned to his team’s general office ten minutes later, fresh from putting a flea in the ear of Tom
