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He knew they were playing a dangerous game but he liked his DCI and trusted him. However, it didn’t bear thinking about if it went pear-shaped; having no job would be the least of his problems.
Funny thing was, he’d tracked Nickson across Merseyside and back again and couldn’t, eventually, find it in his heart to dislike him.
It had been cat and mouse; a game of chess he’d enjoyed. Mind over matter.
Gradually though, he’d felt it really didn’t matter and he really didn’t mind. Finding himself being almost beaten by the mouse, he discovered the bigger picture, he’d only been playing draughts.
Now there was a chance to make a real difference, to make himself feel like he had when he’d donned his superhero big hat, coat and pair of Doc Martens, all those years ago, stepping out into those cold misty evenings to be greeted by the smell of stolen vehicles and the almost certain feeling, drifting in the air, that tonight he would be lucky; with or without his Captain America underpants. Yeah, he wanted to make a real difference once more.
So he sat on the bench overlooking the boating lake, patiently waiting, basking in the warmth of a sunny day with Sefton Park looking its best.
“Gandalph, I assume?” The figure above him extended his hand.
He nodded, stood and shook it. “Nicks?” They sat down.
“You know what this is about?”
“More or less. The Boss told me you need to trace someone you only know as ‘Nomad’ and something about haulage firms. I take it you’re out on a limb?”
Nicks leaned back on the bench. “You could say that. The truth is the organisation I’m part of has a problem and because of the level of secrecy it works under no one has a clue who’s responsible. It could be one or more unknowns. We know what the problem is, simple greed. The nature of the beast is that people are working on false information. They think they’re working for the common good, but ... they’re not.”
Gandalph looked at him seriously. “So, you’ve been killing the wrong people?”
Nicks shook his head. “No, thank God. It’s just some of them were specifically targeted, put at the top of the list as it were, for someone else’s financial gain.”
“How does this tie in with the cottage job?”
“The bloke found dead in the cottage was my controller. Besides him and one other –”
“The little blond guy?” Gandalph interrupted.
Nicks smiled. “Yep. That’s the one. Well, besides each other we basically don’t know anyone else. That’s how all the tentacles of this octopus work. I think it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem to be taking this in your stride?”
Gandalph took some boiled sweets from his pocket and offered them. “Well. I always figured it was some shadowy Government thing. I used to be in SB.”
Nicks threw him a glance and waved away the offer. “Does that mean you’re going to have to kill me now?” They exchanged weak smiles, Gandalph folding a wrapper into his pocket, Nicks watching a couple of ducks achieve flight speed before he broke the silence.
“Ok, just to be clear, the name I’m after is spelt N-O-M-A-D. They were probably an intel gatherer for the people I work for. As such, they needed to be able to travel around the region legitimately, so in the first instance you should be looking at haulage firms or any firm with a delivery or sales capability throughout the area.”
Gandalph snorted and smiled. “You’re not asking for much, are you?”
Nicks smiled back. “Look, I know it’s a long shot but it’s all I’ve got. You’re not going to be able to get the person who sanctioned and organised the murder in the cottage. They’ll be too far removed. They had others do the work, just like they do with me. In the unlikely event you do get a miracle, you’ll never get a conviction. A clever lawyer is all it takes.”
They sat in contemplation, watching moorhens coast by on the lake. Nicks broke the peace of the moment. “So, are you sure you can pull this off?”
Gandalph rested his back on the bench. “I don’t see why not. It’s my idea of an extreme sport. Most of it will be legit but I’ll probably have to delve into some other sites, if it’s not panning out at some point. A quick in and out, targeting specific information would be best. How long have I got?”
“Four days, absolute maximum and that’s pushing it.”
“Wonderful!” He leant forward, elbows on knees, head in hands. Sitting up again, shaking his head, he sighed. “Okay. Fine. I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll do my best.”
Momentary silence followed as a dog walker passed, Nicks rummaged around in his jacket pockets. Gandalph said, “Can I ask you a question? Why do you do this ... job?”
“Why do you do yours?” He smiled. “It’s not for the money, is it?”
Gandalph shook his head and allowed a little grin to escape. “If only.”
Nicks mutely interrogated him then spoke again. “Doesn’t it piss you off, all these career criminal sadists and assorted manipulative perverts strolling around?”
He lit a cigarette, slowly blowing the smoke up into the air. “The Police put them away, when you can, and they get what? Ten to twenty years max, if you’re extremely lucky. And we both know, most probably, they’ll be out after only doing half of it. To them it’s nothing.” Another drag. “They tell us they have their rights’ but what about the rest of us? It seems, we don’t. They’re inside, still running their little empires, probably getting richer by the minute and they don’t even have to bother smuggling notes out in a cake they’ve baked for Christ’s sake. They just sit in their cells, feet up, phoning home or their mates, running things just as they did before but now we’re paying for them to do it.” He glanced across. “What would you do, if they gave you the chance?”
A lazy shrug of his shoulders. “Honestly? I really don’t know. I couldn’t hit a barn door at three paces so maybe they won’t bother asking me. It would save everyone’s embarrassment. Anyway,” he rose and sighed. “It’s all like a massive rat infestation and all we can do is keep the numbers down to a barely acceptable level. I’d better be getting off. Some twat’s got me on a timer.”
Nicks joined him. “Here, take this. It works off a normal charger. Encrypted. The only number on speed dial is me. I’m sure you’ll work it out. Oh, and you’d best have this for any expenses.” He proffered a thick brown envelope.
Gandalph declined, politely. “Thanks for the offer but it’s not about the money. Speak to you soon.” He left, up the grassy knoll and through the trees that were dotted here and there.
Nicks, scraping his foot over the cigarette butt, put the cash back in his pocket and walked off in the opposite direction.