conventional methods have been tried and failed and I’ve reached the point where I feel that the only way forwards is to re-introduce our undercover officer.’ Once again, Davison made an open gesture. This time it said, ‘Henry, you’re our man for this dirty business.’
Rather like wanting to be a Firearms Officer earlier in his career, the idea of becoming an undercover cop seemed like a good one to Henry at the time. The reality, however, did not match the macho dream, but by then it was too late. He was hobnobbing with criminals and he was good at it.
Henry had been a detective on the Regional Crime Squad (as it was then called) for about two years when he was asked if he had ever considered undercover work as an option. The idea grew on him. He’d already played the role of ‘test purchaser’ several times. That involved him simply buying goods that were being offered for sale by criminals, whether they be drugs or stolen property. He had found the experience exhilarating and the more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself undercover work was right up his street.
After a rigorous selection procedure involving much psychometric and psychological testing, as well as practical exercises, he was chosen as the only one from thirty applicants to go forward into the actual role.
Following a further two-week course with much input, the first thing that happened to him was that he became two other people as comprehensive deep-cover identities were thrashed out, both going as far back as schooldays. In the trade, these are known as legends.
The first of these legends was Frank Jagger. Henry had been allowed to choose the name, something he had to feel comfortable with. He picked Frank because that was his late father’s name and Jagger because he was a sad die-hard Rolling Stones fan, sometimes much to his embarrassment.
Next, together with a couple of detectives who were experts in the field, he devised the background of the character, going all the way back to his schooldays in Blackburn. With knowledge and cooperation at the highest levels, bank accounts were opened, a National Insurance number issued, a passport too; jobs which Jagger had been in were manufactured; tax was paid — occasionally — photographs were professionally touched up, and eventually, when all these things, and more, were in place, all checkable and traceable histories, Frank Jagger stepped out into a hostile world as a wheeler-dealer travelling fence, operating right outside the law… and one of his debut jobs was to put the first nail into Jacky Lee’s coffin lid.
Lee was very high on the North-East Crime Squad’s target list for nefarious activities, including drug dealing, extortion, handling stolen property and pimping. All these activities were facilitated by means of a chain of pubs and clubs around that area of the country, and a few in Manchester. Every police operation against Lee had failed and it was only then, after every option had been tried, that Henry was brought in to bat. ‘U/Cs’, as they were referred to, are always the last resort because of the simple fact that every single day they are operating, their lives are at risk.
Getting to know Lee was a slow process. It involved being introduced to him by an informant who then took a step back. This was the most dangerous stage of any undercover operation. Lee was wary of all new faces, as most good-class crims are. But a slow process it had to be. Rather like eating an elephant: one mouthful at a time.
The occasional conversation led to an hour’s chat, from there to a night out. Henry could feel himself being tested all the time. The night out led to an evening meal at a Lee-owned restaurant where the subject of business was eventually broached. That was three months down the line. A period of time in which Henry had seen little of his wife and daughters.
The first thing Henry did for Lee was to obtain a truckload of stolen whisky for him. He sold it to Lee at?3 a bottle and Lee subsequently sold it on through his outlets, making massive profits. At least, Lee believed it was stolen. It was, in fact, legally purchased from a distillery in Scotland at a knock — down price, a transaction sanctioned with the full knowledge of the high management of the distillery. This kept everything legal from Henry’s point of view — a crucial consideration in the undercover game, because the officer must never be compromised in the eyes of the law.
That was Lee’s initial and very profitable nibble into what Frank Jagger had to offer. There then followed a series of transactions which Lee believed were dodgy, but were in fact as straight as a die.
It was important to keep Lee believing that Frank Jagger was totally and utterly reliable. So when the next undercover cop came on the scene, expertly and sneakily introduced by Henry, Lee’ had fallen into the beginning of a complex and brilliantly executed trap.
Nine months later when he was arrested on a multitude of conspiracy charges, he did not have a clue that the person to blame for it all — other than the original informant who had been well protected by the police operation — was none other than Frank Jagger. Four years in the slammer, brooding about which bastard had set him up, led him down a complete blind alley with the tragic result that he wiped out an innocent guy.
But no one stays an undercover cop if they don’t like it.
Not liking it makes them a liability to themselves and others.
Henry was not enamoured of the role.
Long spells away made his home life very difficult. His wife, Kate, having to manage two young daughters on her own, was struggling and becoming depressed. She was brave about it, denying there was a problem. Yet Henry could sense it, almost touch it, and when he was away he desperately missed them all.
Having had a very successful run at U/C work, he pulled out without loss of face.
Through his legends, though, he continued to exist as other people.
‘ You want me to go back undercover?’ Henry croaked dryly.
The two higher-ranking officers nodded in unison.
‘ Exactly,’ said Davison. ‘I know from my enquiries that you did a superb job last time, had Lee eating out of your hand. I’d like you to get back into his confidence, get him to admit the murder to you — and this time, you nail him.’
‘ You’re the only one for the job,’ FB supported Davison. ‘The only one capable of pulling this off. Lee trusts you.’
Henry’s lips pouted sardonically. ‘You realise it’s very dangerous going back in, don’t you? It would have to be handled very carefully. I couldn’t just turn up on his doorstep and say, “Hiya Jacky, I’m back.” He’d be so suspicious. And the other thing is that working in Manchester could be really iffy for me. I’ve done a lot of straight-up detective work there when I was on the squad and the Manchester crims know me well. I could easily be compromised.’
‘ I understand that,’ Davison said. ‘If you ever felt you were in danger, you could just pull out. Wouldn’t be a problem. I want a quick result anyway. Here, I’ve prepared these.’ He reached across to FB’s desk and slid a sheet of paper over to Henry.
Henry made no move to take the paper. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘ A list of questions I’d like you to ask Lee.’
Aghast, Henry held up both hands and said, ‘No!’ sharply. ‘I don’t want to see them.’ He wasn’t all that surprised that the higher-ranking officer had suggested such a stupid thing; most had limited dealings with undercover cops and had unreasonable expectations of them and knew little about how they actually operated.
‘ I don’t want to see them,’ he reiterated, ‘nor do I want to hear anything further about the police operation against Lee. You must understand that if I say I’ll go back in, you’ll have to leave everything to me. There cannot be a timescale and there can’t be any set questions and I can’t know anything about the investigation.’
‘ Why not?’ Davison asked crossly.
‘ Because there has to be a natural course of events. Just supposing I let slip something that can only have come from a police source. Jacky Lee’d have me strung up before I finished talking. Undercover work is an art, a craft, and it can’t be rushed. If you want to push things along, then I can’t do it for you.’
‘ So you will do it?’ Davison now became eager.
‘ I don’t know yet… let me have a think.’ Henry excused himself and drifted down to the Headquarters canteen for a lone cup of tea.
There was no doubt about it — he didn’t really want to go back undercover. Yet the thought of it excited him. It was a challenge, a dangerous one. And there was something else playing in the background which actually made the offer irresistible: it would give him an excuse to get away from home, give him time to think, mull over things that were happening to him and get his head together one way or the other. See if what he thought he was feeling was really true, or was it just a passing fad which would go away. Distance from the problem would enable him, he hoped, to put things into perspective.
