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18th March 2014
“What would you like?” asked the barmaid at Ma Boyles in the grandly named Tower Gardens, in reality not much more than a large alley.
“Two pints of Guinness, please, if you’ve got any left?” Simon replied, smiling, leaning on the bar. He nodded to the bar’s other patrons. The two men nodded back. He looked around the room. It was empty. He checked his watch. Maybe Don had been held up.
“Busy yesterday?” he asked the barmaid. It had been St. Patricks Day, or Paddy’s Day as Scousers preferred to call it. The barmaid rolled her eyes and the men chuckled.
“Did you get me a Guinness?” Nicks manoeuvred the bar stool and nodded to the two men as they tacitly helped Simon prevent any possibility of the bar counter collapsing. They nodded back.
“Yeah. You sort them out?” Simon answered. He was referring to the three Japanese tourists who’d asked them for directions as they’d been about to enter the bar.
“Yep. No guarantee they won’t still be wandering around at midnight though.” Nicks surveyed the room. “You checked downstairs?”
Simon looked up from inspecting the wooden bar top. “I thought it was only the toilets down there?”
“No, there’s another room,” Nicks replied, picking up the pint the barmaid had just placed on the counter and taking a mouthful.
“Have you come to meet the posh fellah, love?” the barmaid enquired. Before either of them could answer she continued. “He’s downstairs waiting for you. He said he’ll pay for these.” She looked at the other pint of Guinness she was pulling. “It takes a while to settle. I’ll bring it down to you.”
Thanking her, they descended the stairs into a dimly lit room where they found Don the only occupant, sitting at a table at the far end beside the ornate but closed bar, sipping what looked like a sherry.
“Thanks for coming, chaps,” Don smiled his usual pleasant façade. He didn’t get up but just waved his hand indicating where they should sit.
“Right, Nicks. Sorry to have delayed your departure, but we have something that you may feel you could action whilst you’re here,” Don continued in measured tones. “Unfortunately the window of opportunity has closed temporarily, but I thought I’d brief you anyway, knowing what your position is regarding matters you might view as political. Now, whilst there is a political aspect to this, I think you need to consider the finer detail.” He lifted his head as he saw the barmaid approaching with Simon’s Guinness and paused, holding his palm up to alert the others to the need for silence. Simon turned, received his drink and thanked her.
“If you need anything else just let me know,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” She reserved a special smile for Don. She liked cultured men.
They sat in silence until she’d started to climb the stairs when Nicks said, “Ok, I’m listening.”
Don took a deep breath and his normal cordial manner slipped away into the darkness of the room. He lowered his voice, leaning forward on the table. “The person subject of the proposed next action is a local ex-councillor who’s enjoyed high-level protection over the last thirty years. Not a prominent figure, I certainly had never heard of him, but a man who ingratiated himself with many highly placed people with shared predilections for young boys, especially those aged eight to twelve years of age. He’s been able to secure his protection for so long because he had intimate knowledge and photographic evidence not just of sexual abuse, if that’s not bad enough, but also of sexually motivated murder and because he was, and still is, ‘their’ procurement manager. He’s the provider of their dreams,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of sherry. “All this has been covered up using the excuse of ‘National Security’. These ‘things’ would have brought Governments down, whatever party they were. It probably still would. That’s the political aspect, but it’s not our major concern. Our concern is he’s still active, as are several of his protectors. For this, and every other Government, it’s been, very much, the elephant in the room, but we can’t allow it to continue. If we do, then we are as guilty as the perpetrators.”
Nicks sipped his beer, unconvinced as to ‘their’ prime concern.
“Now, our chap had arranged for the procurement of a young boy specifically of the age of ten, preferably from a care home or other turbulent background without proper family ties. He wants this child for sexual pleasure which, we know, is to end in his death at the hands of a man who has, over the years, become increasingly sadistic. We know this because we’ve an extremely well-placed informant. Admittedly, the informant has their own agenda and unfortunately, we are having to pander to this person for the greater good for the time being. We also know our chap has the evidence I mentioned earlier because he’d squirrelled it away for many years to prevent the Security Service, or those purporting to be acting for them, from obtaining it. However, over the last few years, several people close to him have died, people to whom he’d entrusted relevant material, to be released in the event of his death, including his lawyer; traffic accidents, the odd suicide, that sort of thing. It spooked him into lodging them bit by bit with several high-security safety deposit banks. Unfortunately for him, they’re all controlled by ourselves. Now we have it all.” He sipped his drink thoughtfully. “It was a very complex operation.”
“I assume you didn’t arrange a similar ‘accident’ for the Councillor because you couldn’t control the release of information? So what’s stopping you now?” Nicks looked Don squarely in the eyes.
Don flashed a wan smile and seemed to squirm, momentarily. “Look,” he said eventually, “we had to be able to control those files because there are people that have made ‘silly’ mistakes in their lives. Nothing on the scale of the main players, I hasten to add but still things that could bring them down. We need these people, Nicks, at least in the short term. A sad fact of political life but it is essential, I assure you.”
“But why the need for what amounts to a public execution? Why not just another accident?” Simon asked.
Nicks butted in but was looking at Don. “Because, Si, ‘just another accident’ is not headline news. Now, a ‘public execution’ will be. Mystery and intrigue. Maximum exposure?”
Don was looking a little flustered and delivered his answer with exasperation. “Well, it sends out a very clear message to those in the ‘know’, Nicks. Hopefully, the pack of cards will start to topple even before we have to exert pressure or release further details concerning those hard-faced enough to try to cling on to their power or position. Once our man is dead, we’ll begin feeding the evidence out into the public domain through selected journalists and publications.”
“What about the D notices the Government slap on the papers to prevent them disclosing information against the ‘national interest’? Isn’t that going to just close this whole idea down?” Nicks flashed him a quizzical look.
Don smiled condescendingly. “The Government can have as many of what are now called DA-Notices issued as they want. It’s not going to matter this time. There are certain members of parliament very keen to get their hands on this information and anyway,” Don concluded tetchily, “the notices themselves can’t be enforced. It’s a voluntary thing between the newspapers and the Government. We have journalists and publications who’ll simply just not comply anymore.”
It was obvious Don was not comfortable with the direction their questions were taking him. They all knew this was slightly more political than moral so Nicks changed the course of the conversation. “You said earlier he ‘had arranged’ for a ten-year-old boy. What happened? Is that the reason for the delay?”
Don nodded. “Yes. The boy to be procured got himself run over, nothing too serious, I’m glad to say, but he’s currently in Alder Hey Hospital and will be for some time so our councillor is having to get a replacement. You’ll have an updated intel package shortly.” He sat back from the table brushing some imaginary fluff from his trousers, feeling he’d regained control of the conversation. “As soon as we have it we’ll get it to Simon and, of course, he’ll supply you with any further documentation you need.” He flashed Nicks a slick smile, stood up and edged his way from behind the table whilst buttoning up his overcoat. “I can see you need time to consider the proposal, Nicks. Just read the intel and briefing carefully. In the meantime, have yourself a little holiday in the city, visit a few museums, but make sure you’re available in any event. We are paying you after all. Don’t forget, we do have a young child’s life in our hands.” There was that smile again.
He started to walk away but suddenly stopped and called back: “Try the Walker Art Gallery. There’s an exhibition of Walter Sickert’s paintings there. I know you like Sickert. Jack the Ripper and all that.” Without another word he turned and left.
Simon and Nicks sat in silence for a while and finished their pints. Eventually, Simon said, “Fancy another?”
Nicks looked into his glass, swirling the dregs around thoughtfully. “Yeah, somewhere else though. It feels a bit dark in here now.”