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14th March 2014
DCI Baddeley entered the main office, signed in and glanced up at the TV screen above him as it reported the local news; footage of a helicopter landing in a field, civilians in suits and Barbour jackets emerging whilst the newscaster said details of a large counter-terrorism exercise, held in Delamere Forest at the weekend, had just been released; shots of Police road closures, tantalising glimpses, taken at some distance, of balaclavered, armed, black-clad people loading heavy bags into a military helicopter.
“Sorry I’m late,” Thurstan said as he entered his office where Chalkie, Lizzie and Degsy sat drinking their coffees. “Collision in the Tunnel. Tunnel Police had it down to one lane.” He unbuttoned his coat and stuck his head out the office door, catching the attention of a passing Detective. “Taff, any chance you could get me a coffee, please? Milk and one sugar. My mug’s on the tray by the kettle.”
“Not a problem, Boss. Just give me two minutes to get rid of this stuff,” Taff raised the pile of papers he was carrying.
It’d been ten days of intense activity for everyone in MIT. Another naked body had been found out in St.Helens, and Thurstan’s team had been working practically around the clock. Assisted by other specialist units and patrol officers, they’d arrested MacMahon’s rivals and ‘friends’. Every power of search the Police and Criminal Evidence Act provided them was utilised and when not possible, they used search warrants from the Magistrates Courts; organised crime came to a standstill, temporarily. They’d wanted to send out a message: there would be no repeat of the armed conflicts that’d once invaded the streets of Liverpool.
Thurstan looked enquiringly at the three of them. “Ok, where are we up to at the moment?”
Chalkie looked at Lizzie. “Go on Liz, your stuff first.”
She put her cup down. “Right. Well, we’ve no outstanding warrants left and everyone on the ‘circulations’ list has been arrested. All interviewed. Fred and Devon finished the last one just before midnight down in Thames Valley somewhere. They’ve not long gone off duty. I’ve debriefed all the interviews first thing this morning, making sure at least one from every interviewing team was on shift. Nothing. No hard info. The overall feeling was the ‘bucks’ are clueless. They just don’t know who’s responsible. Any new DNA and fingerprints are going through the system now.” She smiled and picked up her cup.
“Ok, thanks Liz,” Thurstan smiled back. She had a lovely smile. “What have we got from the ‘walk ins’, Derek?”
Those were the few higher placed criminals like Tommy Cole who’d presented themselves, with their ‘briefs’, at various Police Stations throughout the county. Knowing at some point they’d be receiving the inevitable visit, they felt their ‘business interests’ were best safeguarded if they co-operated.
“All more than adequately alibied,” Degsy replied, “particularly Tommy Cole, who was at a wedding in Cheshire. I’ve spoken to the venue. They provided the photographer and I’ve seen the photos. He was definitely there all day.”
Thurstan gingerly sipped from a steaming mug. “Chalkie?”
“As you know, the searches were quite productive – couple of cannabis factories, a counterfeiting press and a good selection of firearms and ammunition. All being dealt with by the Matrix. Nothing for us though. Overall, the word from the street is it’s not local, probably ‘out of towners’, although no one’s got a clue who. I think we need to look at MacMahon’s wider business interests, something intel’s not aware of, maybe.” Chalkie picked up his mug, saw it was empty and replaced it on the table. “One interesting thing is the unaccounted fingerprints in his car belong to one Monica Jean Masterson a.k.a Monique Masterson, previous for shoplifting, nothing recent though. I’d guess she was his ‘bit on the side’. We’re still trying to find her at the moment.”
“Ok, so that means we’ve no outstanding DNA or fingerprints from the car. What about the white van that stopped next to the workmen?” Thurstan shot a glance at them all in quick succession, not sure who had the enquiry.
Lizzie chipped in. “Nothing, Boss. Been back onto them, but none of them can remember anything about the registration number. However, one of them now remembers seeing a bin man. You know, the sort with his own cart?”
“And we’ve made enquiries with the Council who tell us?” The DCI interjected.
“They tell us they didn’t have anyone in that part of the city and, before you ask, all their carts were accounted for anyway. Some sort of audit was going on.” Lizzie smiled sweetly at Thurstan. It was, ostensibly, a victory smile.
“Thank you, Lizzie, don’t let it go to your head!” He smiled back. “Where did we get with the CCTV? I know the stuff from around the scene all seems to have a temporary fault, which, though unusual, is not unheard of but what about anything from Chapel Street, Old Hall Street, etcetera?”
This time it was Degsy. “I’ve been looking at that one, Boss. I know it’s taken a while, but with everything else going on, it was difficult to co-ordinate. I had to resort to getting some of the local bobbies to make the enquiries and get us copies, some of which got stuffed in a bobby’s locker while he went on rest day. So, I apologise for the delay.”
The DCI nodded his appreciation. Degsy continued, “I’ve had a composite made up by the technical fellas and I’ve set it up to view in the quiet room, it’s easier to see the screen in there. The thing is every sequence recovered from Old Hall Street, through the primary scene and onto Chapel Street and Tithebarn has sections that are totally unviewable.”
“Was that a localised issue, or was there some sort of ‘city wide’ problem?” Thurstan ventured.
“It was localised, Boss. I took the opportunity to get some stuff from a selection of premises within a quarter of a mile. The problem only seemed to occur within one hundred and fifty metres of the outer area of Old Hall, Chapel and Tithebarn. It’s best to take a look at the composite.” Degsy sat back with a resigned look on his face.
Thurstan pursed his lips and thought for a few moments.
“Ok. What about the ballistics? Chalkie?”
The DI searched through the papers on his lap, producing three sheets of A4 which he passed to the others. “Well, as you can see, the forensics on the bullet, or what was left of it, together with the analysis of the shell case recovered, has produced a list of weapons that would produce similar characteristics namely a right hand one in ten rifling twist with six rifling grooves. What we’re looking for is, to put it simply, a semi-automatic pistol. It’s not a huge list, but it’s not a small one either. We can rule out certain makes of pistol, basically those with polygonal rifling which is completely different from what we’re looking at, that’s why you won’t see old favourites like Glock and Heckler Koch on there. Forensics put Sig-Sauer and Beretta at the top because they reckon they’re the popular models and therefore more likely.”
Thurstan sat, elbows on desk with his hands clasped, fingers interlaced underneath his chin. “Ok, thanks for that.” He let out a short sigh. “Now what about house-to-house, such as it is? You, I believe, Derek?”
“Nothing at present, Boss. Nobody saw anything, it appears, but we’ve still got a couple of guests from the Apartment Hotel to speak to. Most of them were out for the day sightseeing, only two couples hadn’t left the hotel and were in their rooms.” He desperately stifled a yawn. It had been a busy time. To top it all, the twins hadn’t been sleeping well recently, consequently neither had he and his wife.
Thurstan noticed. He was well aware of the strain affecting everyone but was particularly concerned about the two DSs who were shouldering a lot of responsibility organising and managing the teams.
“Right then!” he said, tapping his hands lightly on his desk. “Let’s take a break. Go and get a drink or something to eat from the canteen. The fresh air will do you good and I’ll see you both in the quiet room, in...,” he looked at the wall clock, remembering he’d forgotten to get someone to find him a fresh battery. He glanced at his watch. “Let’s say twenty-five minutes.”
Chalkie remained seated as Lizzie and Degsy left the room.
“Sackville?”
Thurstan nodded. “Just close the door, Chalkie, please.”
Rupert Sackville had requested contact with a Matrix senior officer who’d visited him at home the evening of his attack. He’d told the Matrix DCI everything he knew about Tony MacMahon’s safety deposit box in return for Police protection.
“The Matrix want it kept well under wraps at the moment. As you know, we recovered the contents of MacMahon’s safety deposit box yesterday. It was interesting. Some sort of accounts ledger, an events diary and some photos of Tommy Cole executing someone in Oglet Lane, Speke, two years ago. It’s written on the back. It was taken using an image intensifier and, I should think, quite a powerful lens. So, what we need now, Chalkie, is for you to liaise with the Matrix in respect of anything in the ledger and events diary that may provide us with any leads, particularly to MacMahon’s wider business interests. See who he’s upset elsewhere in the country.”
Chalkie stood up. “Ok. Not a problem. What about Tommy Cole’s photo?”
“I’ll get Arthur to dig us out some info on that. He’ll probably be able to tell us all about it off the top of his head anyway.” Thurstan smiled. “Oh, and the Matrix and the National Crime Agency are putting together an operation based on what was found so we should see some developments in the next week or so.”
He pulled a business card from his inside jacket pocket. “Speak to this fella at the NCA, they might have something that can help us.” He handed it to Chalkie who glanced at the card.
“I know him. Ex-Met. I’ll get it sorted.”
Thurstan stood at his office window overlooking the car park for a few moments, deep in thought. Returning to his desk he picked up the phone and dialled an extension. “Ah! Arthur. It’s Thurstan. Do you know anything about a murder two years ago, Oglet lane, Speke?” There was a pause. “Yes? Wonderful! You do that, and I’ll see you shortly in my office.” Another pause. “Yes, I would actually! Milk and one sugar.”