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In the dingy lock-up, a sad little figure tied to a chair began to sob, eyes bulging with fear as he stared back at the gun resting on his nose. Tears cascaded down his face, snot dribbled down his top lip. It made Nicks feel awkward. The phone kept ringing, forcing him eventually to pick it up.
“Yes!” he said, tersely.
“It’s Gandalph. I got it wrong so don’t do anything yet. Damon Spilbury’s not the right bloke.”
Nicks closed his eyes, expelled a breath and shook his head. “It’s a tadge late for that. I’ve got him crying his eyes out, tied to a chair. Are you telling me he’s innocent, got nothing to do with it whatsoever?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say he was innocent. The Revenue and Customs people have him in their sights for a large scale fuel scam but I can’t find anything that makes me think he’s involved in your problem.”
Nicks sighed as he watched Simon pouring steaming boiled water on the floor from an old kettle whilst their victim’s eyes bulged, even more, making him look like a chameleon.
“Yeah, he did mention something about that. But you can’t be certain?”
Gandalph hesitated. “No, I can’t be certain but my gut feeling is he isn’t. They’ve had him under surveillance for a while and there’s nothing in their systems that comes anywhere close to making me feel he is.”
Nicks thought about it then said, “You’ve got something else haven’t you? What do you know you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing.” There was a long pause. “Well, not much,” he found himself volunteering. He was seldom rattled under cross-examination in the Crown Court even though the defence lawyers were good but this was different. There was something in Nicks’ voice and manner that penetrated right through him.
“C’mon, what do you know?”
“Look, it’s probably nothing.” The long pause again. “Promise me you won’t jump the gun.” It was an unfortunate turn of phrase and Gandalph knew it.
“Is this to do with your Boss? Is he getting clever? Look, I never put you in this position, mate. He did. It might feel like a game to him but this is real life. What have you found? I promise I won’t do anything impetuous. Will that do?”
Gandalph surrendered. “Ok. I did some more playing around and the bloke who appears to run all the companies is a front man.”
“And?” Nicks exhaled heavily. “C’mon, matey. There’s more and we both know it. We’ve seen the CEO. He’s stumbling around trying to stop his wife from finding out about his girlfriend and can probably crush a mean grape but he’s not the type. He’s Mister Joe Average and struggling.”
Conflicting loyalties were causing cold sweat to run down Gandalph’s spine. He didn’t know why he should care so much because both his DCI and Nicks were manipulating him but he hadn’t been told to piss Nickson off. If he did, he knew they would lose him. He’d be hard to find again and completely uncontrolled.
“Alright, the real owner is a bloke called, Ed Warren. It’s an anagram of Wanderer which is a synonym of Nomad. I’ll send you what details I’ve managed to find up to now but I’m going to have to do a lot more digging to find his home address, clubs, habits, that sort of thing. Don’t forget you promised me.” He cancelled the call. It was easier than trying to resist.
Nicks waved Simon off. “Pour the rest of that down the grid and lash everything in the bag. We’re off. I’ll explain later.”
He turned to Spilbury. “It’s your lucky day, Damon. Someone just vouched for you.”
They left him at the end of his driveway. Nicks told him, “Remember, don’t say a word. I don’t want to have to come back because if I do it will get messy.” He gave him a big smile and ruffled his hair. Damon shuffled toward the front door, his legs protruding from a black bin bag, the top of which he clutched to his waist.
As they drove away, Simon asked, “Did you get your tenner back off him?”
“Bugger! I forgot. Too late now. Never mind, Si. It’ll buy him a new pair of underpants.”
They wound all the windows down and Nicks searched for the air freshener.