The Sweet Smell of Rain

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Frustration, anger and fear replaced the all too familiar feelings of nausea and fatigue which normally ushered Hodder into the day. As he walked along the corridor towards the office, he was hardly aware if he had responded to any or all of the ‘Good Mornings’ that had been directed his way…it was as if he was having an ‘out of body experience’ and not an entirely enjoyable one at that.

  A number of the Rape investigation/Dean Parks team were assembled in the office enjoying a pre briefing coffee and a ‘full-caff’ moan about the dearth of overtime, the poor form of Newcastle United, but above all, the latest X Factor results.

  Clearly, progress with the enquiry was not taxing their collective consciousness.

  Using his wholly inconsiderable intellect to its absolute minimum, ‘Gee-Gee’ was heard bemoaning the fact he had spent the best part of thirty quid voting for a soon to be obscure boy band who reminded him of the Pet Shop Boys. And so it was that ‘God’s Gift’ to gay men was born amidst gales of laughter and over wrought protestations regarding his self-confessed sexual prowess.

  A smiling Baxter entered the office during the course of ‘Gee-Gee’s’ ritual humiliation. Baxter was bedecked in a new tie and smelling of expensive aftershave…clearly a man at one with himself and his woman, he enthusiastically joined in the ribbing. ‘Yeah guys, I have to confess I saw ‘Gee-Gee’ in action at the hospital the other day working his particular brand of sexual chemistry upon a nurse. I know that she was so impressed with his slippery eel approach to the fairer sex that she almost vomited’.

  More laughter filled the room ‘Tell me’ continued Baxter ‘Gee-Gee…exactly what is your secret’? It is an irrefutable fact that it is impossible to suppress a blush, but despite doing a passable impression of a baboons arse, both visibly and verbally, ‘Gee-Gee’ said…’Even you could see that it was me that she was after’.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I must thank you so much for your generosity and gentlemanly conduct…I’ll be sure to pass your kind comments on when I see her again tonight’. More humiliation was heaped upon ‘Gee-Gee’ as he tried without any success to return to the subject of the ‘rigged voting’ on the X Factor.

  In fact, ‘Gee-Gee’ did not notice the DVD player in the corner of the office that was attracting the attention of his fellow Detectives. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him and he sauntered across the office to see what was attracting the collective attention of his colleagues.

  The day that had started off so badly for ‘Gee-Gee’, was about to get worse as the others in the office roared with laughter as they watched the recording of ‘Gee-Gee’s’ encounter with the hospital car park attendant which had been so accurately recorded for posterity.

  ‘Gee-Gee’ turned on Baxter…’You said that you would not say anything’

  Barely able to suppress his laughter Baxter said ‘And I haven’t, as they say ’actions speak louder than words’’.

  At his point the D.I. sauntered into the office, sipping from a steaming cup. He casually walked over to the group of Detectives who were roaring with laughter as ‘Gee-Gee’s’ altercation with the attendant was replayed on the screen. He looked on in silence, the steam from his ears, supplanting the steam from his cup. He had a look of fury on his face as the laughter diminished.

  Without taking his eyes off the screen he said in a cold measured way ‘Gee-Gee’…my office please’ and with that he turned on his heels and left the office.

 

  ‘Gee-Gee’ flashed a glance at Baxter…and as he left the office he said ’I will get you for this you bastard’.

  As he reluctantly walked down the corridor to meet his fate, ‘Gee-Gee’ heard gales of laughter erupting from the office. After a few seconds the D.I.’s door was heard to slam and his raised muffled voice could be heard as the guys crept to the D.I.’s office door where they listened to ‘Gee-Gee’ squirm and attempt to blame Baxter for the debacle.

  Moments later the office door opened, and the lads scuttled back to their own office. The D.I. shouted ‘Baxter…here…now’!

  Strangely buoyed with a renewed confidence, Baxter walked into the D.I.’s office. ‘Gee-Gee’ was standing in front of the D.I.’s desk hands behind his back, head slightly bowed instantly reminding Baxter of a middle aged version of Richmal Crompton’s most famous creation. Think Angus Young from AC/DC, but with a false tan and posh ties and you are almost there!

  ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  ‘Actually, Sir. Nothing’.

  ‘What do you mean,…’Nothing’…you knew about this and you strung me along…you made me look stupid in front of the D.C.I.’

  ‘What I actually said Sir, was that ‘Gee-Gee’ was having ‘trouble with the wheel’ which strictly speaking was true…however, I did not elaborate as to the exact nature of the trouble, reasoning that if I did you would have carpeted ‘Gee-Gee’, so, if I’m guilty of anything it is showing loyalty to a colleague’.

  Hodder’s assumption regarding the D.I.s intellectual capacity was clearly accurate because the D.I. turned on ‘Gee-Gee’. ‘Why can’t you show some loyalty…instead of trying to cover your back every inch of the way? Now you have tried to shaft Jeff; as well as taking me for an idiot…do you really want a pointed hat? Get out of my sight! I’m not finished with you yet’!

  As Baxter was walking out of the office the D.I. said ‘I don’t know how or where you managed to get that dvd from, but it was a good laugh…watch your back, ‘Gee-Gee’ will be licking his wounds for a day or two. Now fuck off’.

  Scratching his head in bewilderment, Baxter walked back into the main office. A number of the guys asked him where he had got the recording from. He was able to answer honestly that he did not obtain the disc. He did however, fail to mention that he was not working entirely alone.

  At about this time, one of the civilian admin staff entered the office going from desk to desk delivering both internal and external mail. Hodder was out of the office at the time, and when he returned he saw an all too familiar hand written envelope sitting upon his desk blotter.

  Picking it up he felt the contents, and even before he opened it he knew that the envelope contained another tube of ‘Love Hearts’. This was getting serious. Not only was Dean Parks targeting him at home, but at work too. Hodder reasoned that he could not confide in Ben Heath because that would only confirm to Heath that he and his family were targets and that more than likely, it would result in him being moved out of the department.

  More worryingly, Hodder came to the conclusion that his ‘bosses’ would see the sweets as evidence of him ‘free lancing’ and probably suspend him. Whilst this thought was going through his head, he reasoned that if he was suspended then at least he could devote all of his time and energy tracking down Parks. However, it hit him that if he was effectively working outside the law and the system then he would be working without any protection whatsoever, and he may even find himself in even deeper water.

  In that instant he came up with a plan of sorts.

  On the subject of water, David Palma was soaking his battered limbs in a deep hot bath thinking how being immersed in this water was infinitely more preferable than the last time he had taken a ‘dip’. He hadn’t slept much the previous night, his mind had been in turmoil thinking about the mess that he had created for himself. Wherever he looked there were problems.

  Palma reasoned that he had to keep Hodder, ‘First Aid’ and ‘The Voice’ at arm’s length whilst he found Dean Parks. This was much easier said than done…he had to devise a way of keeping everyone happy whilst staying one step ahead of them. However, whilst he was confident that he could spot ‘First Aid’, his boys and the police, he had absolutely no idea what ‘The Voice’ or his crew looked like. So, he concluded that it didn’t really matter how surveillance conscious he was because they could always be one step ahead of him. Furthermore, and most worryingly, he had absolutely no clues as to their motives.

  He was s
ure of one thing and one thing only, and that was he had to make it look like he was actually looking for Dean Parks, whilst creating time and space for himself. Palma resolved to spend the first part of the day relaxing but that later on he would trawl the pubs of the town looking for Parks or any clues as to his whereabouts.

  He also knew that inevitably, there would be contact with ‘The Voice’ and Hodder during the course of the day, and he needed something, in fact, anything vaguely positive, whether it was based on the truth or not that would help create the required breathing space that he needed.

  His anticipated soak was interrupted by loud, heavy knocking at the door. ‘Oh, not again, I’ve got bruises on my bruises…just leave me alone’. Palma, a coward by nature, did not relish another beating but he figured that if he didn’t answer the door, then it was likely to be smashed in, and he would face dire consequences.

  So, slipping into his bath robe, and leaving heavy wet footprints on ‘First Aids’ axminster carpet he padded to the door. He could not see who it was because whoever was there had a thumb over the spy hole in the door. Asking who was there would only give his presence away, thus resulting in a joiner’s bill for a new door.

  Taking a deep breath, he composed himself and opened the door expecting the worst.

  It was Hodder.

  He was alone and brushed Palma aside as he walked uninvited into the flat. ‘Oh. Why don’t you come in Mr Hodder’? said Palma barely able to conceal his sarcasm.

  Hodder reasoned that it was pretty difficult for Palma to maintain any dignity, standing there in his bare feet, water dripping everywhere, so he bypassed the preliminaries and said ‘You have your work cut out for you today…you WILL find Dean Parks today and you WILL tell me when you find him and I WILL arrest him’. There was a deep rooted anger in Hodder’s voice that Palma had never heard before.

  As he watched, Palma thought for a moment that Hodder ‘was losing the plot’…’This had better not turn violent…I have had enough for one week thank you very much!’ He contemplated what he would do if it did take a turn for the worst, and mutedly accepted his fate.

  Bizarrely, Hodder changed tack and said ‘Have you made any new friends recently’?

  ‘Wh wh what do you mean by that’? His hesitation as he spoke would have been obvious to a deaf man.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know’…continued Hodder ‘Any visitors from out of town perhaps’?

  A light seemed to turn on in Palmas brain…’You set me up…you fucking well set me up…those fuckers have threatened to kill me’.

  ‘And they will Davy. They will…what did they want’?

  Speed of thought was not a quality that Palma demonstrated on a regular basis, but he was astute enough to work out that for ‘The Voice’ and Hodder this was, for some reason, personal…for ‘First Aid’ this was strictly business, he wanted money not blood, though of course he would settle for either if it was necessary.

  ‘Who is the bloke who picked me up yesterday’?

  ‘I will repeat .What did he want’?

  ‘He asked me what you wanted from me and I told him about Dean Parks’.

  ‘Oh well, in that case he is the man who will kill you if you don’t find Dean Parks and for the record…he makes your Boss look like a boy scout…he is a very big cheese indeed….

  I on the other hand am the man who will decide your fate…If you find Dean Parks for me, you will not face prosecution and you will be protected (he lied)…if you don’t find Dean Parks, you will almost certainly go to prison where not only will you live in daily fear of guys working for ‘First Aid’ but also your visitor’.

  A silence grew between them as Hodder could feel anger stirring inside himself, then he said ‘What did your visitor ask you to do’?

  ‘He asked me to spy on you and tell him what you tell me to do…this has got nothing to do with me and I am stuck in the middle. I am fucked no matter which way I turn’.

  ‘Well Dave’ continued Hodder ‘You will be if you make the wrong decision…so, get out there today and find Parks it’s the only way to save your bacon…call me later’.

  Hodder left and returned to the office. Baxter was pestering him to tell him where he had been saying that he had a lead on Sykes and wanted to interview him to see if he was willing to talk about Tamblin’s demise.

  This held no attraction for Hodder who clearly had other priorities, and he was in the process of telling Baxter to do the interview alone when the informant’s telephone rang. ‘Gee-Gee’ who was sitting at the desk was concentrating hard on stirring a ’Cuppa Soup’ answered it and shouted over ‘Jimbo…it’s for you… Mr Trafford’.

  Taking the phone, Hodder covered the mouthpiece and said to ‘Gee-Gee’ ‘Go take a walk…this is private’. Jim rarely flexed his limited authoritarian muscles amongst his colleagues, but even the dim witted ‘Gee-Gee’ recognised that this was not the time or place for a flippant remark. So, he and his ‘Cuppa Soup’ left the office without further comment.

  ‘Hello, Hodder speaking’.

  ‘Ah good morning Mr Hodder. I trust that your visit to see Mr Palma was fruitful this morning…does he have any news regarding Mr Parks’?

  Taken aback Hodder said ‘I think that we should meet’.

  ‘And why would I want to do that Mr Hodder…there is nothing more to be said until Mr Palma produces the goods…however, I trust that you have not divulged my identity to him because as you know Palma is a man with little honour but a strong survival instinct’.

  ‘And why do you say that Mr Trafford…would it be because you have asked him to feed disinformation to me to lead me way from Parks…You may be a big fish in your neck of the woods Mr Trafford but up here you are in danger of interfering with an active investigation’.

  ‘Oh yes Mr Hodder. That would be the investigation to which you are not officially attached but one on which you are actively working against the express orders of your superiors…Tell me are you passing all of your information to the incident room? I have the number if you want it or should I ask your Boss to have a word with you? I am sure that he will be interested in your extracurricular activities’.

  ‘I’ll stop you there Mr Trafford…’

  Trafford/’The Voice/Bostock interrupted and ‘I will stop you there Mr Hodder…I will call you with a location where you can pick up the pieces. Please don’t underestimate me Sir…many have done so in the past to their cost’.

  With that the call was ended and Hodder was left standing holding the telephone feeling that he may have just been the subject of a blackmail threat and that his response had been a major mistake’. As usual with Hodder, a whole variety of conflicting thoughts filled his head. Should he ‘spill the beans’ to Ben Heath? Should he leave Parks to the enquiry team? Should he acquiesce to Bostock’s threats? Should he put further pressure on Palma?

  All of these options would ensure that ‘The wheel would come off’.

  And it struck him as it always did…None of the above…Hodder decided that it was time to make the acquaintance of ‘First Aid’ and he could do it quite legitimately under the guise of the ‘Snide Vodka Enquiry’.

  Armed with an incomplete plan, and accompanied by Baxter who was perplexed by Hodder’s sudden change of heart regarding ‘All things Vodka’ they set off to Darras Hall, to the north west of Newcastle. This up market area is the home to professional footballers, lawyers, accountants and a number of successful criminals all in the view of Hodder, ‘bona fide low life’. It was highly likely that Burrows would refuse to see them.

  That however, did not concern Hodder too much because the mere request to speak to Burrows would certainly ‘put oil on troubled waters’ and Hodder worked on the principal that if he could use any feeble excuse to get Burrows and Bostock at each other’s throats. Then hopefully, he could focus his attention on Palma and ergo Parks.

  It seemed a simple plan but like all things Hodder…

  The long winding drive at Burrow’s home was
protected by large automated wrought iron gates. A raft of CCTV cameras covered every conceivable angle, no doubt to provide this pillar of the criminal community with just the sort of restful night’s sleep that he and his heavy handed thugs deprived so many others of.

  As Hodder pressed the intercom at the gate a broad ‘Geordie’ accent answered with a curt aggressive ‘What’?

  Keeping his composure, Hodder said ‘Hello, this is Detective Sergeant Hodder from North Shields C.I.D. is Mr Burrows in please’?

  ‘He is not available’ and with that the line went dead and despite repeated buzzing it was not answered again.

  ‘That was a waste of time’ said Baxter.

  ‘I very much doubt that’ replied Hodder

  On the way back to the office Baxter suggested that they should attempt to locate Sykes, quite a shrewd move on his part because Hodder could hardly say now that he wasn’t interested in ‘Vodka-Gate’ given the lengthy diversion to Burrows’ home. Hodder had to agree, otherwise, he would effectively be telling Baxter that he was serving his own interests. It looked like he was just going to have to grin and bear it and feign interest.

  The prospect of spending an afternoon with a drunk, particularly whilst Hodder was sober, was not nearly as appealing as ‘doing a job’ on Burrows, Bostock, Palma or Parks. He was however, just a trifle concerned about this ever growing list of ‘dodge-pots’ and secretly hoped that it would not get much longer.

  Back in ‘Shields, Hodder and Baxter went to Sykes elegant bedsit, described by Baxter as being delightfully, yet randomly bedecked with empty bottles and cans. He called it…’abstract carpet art’…Oh what a treat! Hodder didn’t disguise his relief when there was no answer at the door. However, a neighbour helpfully suggested that it might be a good idea to check out ‘The Flying Stool’ or ‘The Burglars Arms’, local names for ‘The Seine Boat’ and ‘The Robin Hood’.

  ‘Cos it’s Giro day’ added the neighbour, obviously recognising by instinct or otherwise, that Hodder and Baxter were Police Officers, clearly in the vain hope that they may cause Sykes some problems.

  To Hodder at least, their ‘Adopted Names’ of these fine ale houses seemed much more appropriate, and certainly more accurate than their ‘Birth Names’. All things considered, it was probably better to telephone the pubs to check if Sykes was there, because one thing was certain two ‘suits’ going inside would not be well received.

  Baxter, sitting in the passenger seat rang ‘The Flying Stool’. It was only two thirty in the afternoon but the nostalgic sound of a Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I will Survive’ was being tortured on the Karaoke machine in the background. ‘Giro Day’ was clearly in full swing. It occurred to Hodder that the local Dipsomaniacs had been temporarily morphed into Disco-maniacs. When the pub telephone was answered with a harsh ‘Aye’ it was clear that staff training did not feature as a priority at this fine establishment.

  Michelin would not be awarding ‘The Flying Stool’ a ‘Star’ anytime soon. Whilst sitting outside ‘The Stool’, Hodder was reminded of a ‘Stool’ fable where one of the local ‘criminal bigwigs’ was playing dominoes with a group of regulars, one of whom had a lapdog that was fast asleep on a chair as they played. The dog owner accidentally spilt beer over the ‘doms’ as he attempted to play his ‘hand’. Said local criminal who was in a strong position in the game was furious, and without a second thought, he picked up the sleeping canine and used it to mop up the beer. Dominoes flew everywhere as the dog yelped helplessly. All of the others in the bar, bar one laughed mercilessly.

  No luck there, so it was onto ‘The Burglars Arms’. They were more successful here, and over the sound of ‘Paranoid’ Sykes came to the phone and was asked to ‘Pop outside’ or ‘We will come in and get you and you know how that will look’.

  Sykes who was clearly inebriated complained ‘You bastards had better not lock me up’.

  Baxter said ‘We are not out to cause you any problems…we just want to know where you and Peter Tamblin got your dodgy Vodka from. You are not in any trouble we just want to stop anyone else getting hurt. Get outside now’!

  An unsteady Sykes, as if there was another kind, wobbled out of the door, holding a pint of beer in an unsteady hand. Looking at his drink as if he were referring to a gold ingot or a Rolex watch he said ‘Those bastards in there would steal it if I left it behind’.

  After a deep, unrestrained belch he continued ‘If I tell you anything I will be in deep shit’.

  Clearly using all the skills that he had developed at ‘Charm School’ Hodder said ‘And you will be in even deeper shit if you don’t tell us, especially if something bad happens to anyone else…Now who did you get it from’?

  Sykes had drink on his mind and in his hand. The veiled threat of spending some time in police custody did not appeal so after some uncomfortable moments he said ‘I will get turned over’.

  Sensing that a breakthrough may be on the horizon, but that a ‘change of tack’ was needed, Baxter tried a more conciliatory approach. ‘No you won’t because you are stopping people getting ill or worse. Look at it this way…you are one of the lucky ones…and you owe it to your mate to make sure that what happened to him does not happen to anyone else. There is not a single person in that bar now who wouldn’t tell us if it was you who died’ (he lied).

  Sykes said ‘I don’t know nothing’. Baxter sensed that this was neither the time nor the place to raise the subject of ethno-linguistics and double negatives in particular, so he said ‘In that case, I am going to arrest you for all of the stolen mobile phones that I found in your bedsit’.

  ‘Okay. Okay, but this didn’t come from me. I got the stuff from a kid I only know as ‘Parky’ and he works for Davy Palma…I don’t know where he gets it from. Now leave me alone’. With that Sykes walked, in a fashion, back into the bar. There was in actual fact little point in arresting him because he would not be sober for hours. He could be put on the back burner for another day.

  ‘The Winds of Change’ filled the street outside the pub, as the same sentiment echoed in Hodder’s head.

  As the Police Officers walked back to their car Hodder said ‘You’re turning into a right devious little tinker D.C. Baxter’.

  Baxter responded by saying ‘I can’t think where I get from, can you’?

  Hodder laughed and said ‘Do you know who ‘Parky’ is? And before you start he is not a chat show host’.

  ‘That would be Dean Parks Sergeant…do I get a Parker pen for answering correctly’!

  ‘Full marks Constable… Go to the top of the class. Keep this bit of info under your hat Jeff. I don’t want anyone scaring anyone. Especially Palma who I am sure will lead us to Parks’.

  ‘Come on Jim we have to pass this on to the enquiry team. We are working on the dodgy booze not the rape. You know the score’.

  ‘Indeed I do Jeff, and that is precisely why I am going to find Parks. You have no idea just how much I know the score, I am doing this for my family and NOT the job. It is after all, my fault that he escaped in the first place. There would not even be a rape investigation if I did not fuck up. So for that reason I am going to make things right’!

  An uncomfortable silence filled the car for a few moments, and when it was finally broken, Hodder said ‘How would you feel if something terrible happened to Hannah? Think about that and you will get an idea about how I feel. I will understand if you want to stay at arm’s length. I would only ask one thing of you…Don’t drop me in to the Bosses. I will happily do this on my own’.

  Baxter who felt like he was being reproached for a lack of loyalty or compassion said ‘Okay, but let’s just keep this close to our chests…no more secrets between us. To be honest Jim, I feel as if you keep me out of the loop on too many occasions’.

  ‘If I do Jeff its only because I don’t want anything coming back to harm you…My career is nearly over. You on the other hand can go a long way in this job assuming of course that….’

  ‘
Assuming of course what’? said Baxter.

  ‘Assuming that you get a lobotomy first’.

  Hodder laughed and Baxter swore.

  They made their way back to the office just in time to see ‘Gee-Gee’ park a C.I.D. directly outside the station door.

  Hodder was still fuming with ‘Gee-Gee’ for the ‘Jimbo’ remark earlier, so he resolved to make him pay. Without telling Baxter, he obtained the spare keys for ‘Gee-Gee’s’ car. He then hid the car in one of the covered internal wash bays in the station yard. Returning to his own car he collected the small box of broken fragments of windscreen that he had earlier obtained from the friendly scrap yard and scattered them on the road surface roughly where the driver’s door would have been.

  Hodder then made contact with the CCTV operator and asked him to focus on the front of the station, and tell him when ‘Gee-Gee’ left the station. All Hodder had to do now was to wait for ‘Gee-Gee’ to ‘discover’ that the police car had been ‘stolen’ and watch him panic.

  As it happened he did not have to wait very long because the D.I. was now in the office allocating ‘actions’ to the rape enquiry team. One could always rely on ‘Gee-Gee’ to devise a plot to escape the office, especially if there was any danger that he may actually have to do some work.

  As ‘Gee-Gee’ left the building, Hodder told everyone to ‘convene’ in the CCTV viewing suite. It was wonderful to watch. ‘Gee-Gee’ came out of the building, and walk to where he thought that he had remembered parking the car. He could not find it, so he checked the key fob which bore the registration number of the vehicle he ‘had’ been driving.

  Naturally, there was no sign of it anywhere.

  ‘Gee-Gee’ scratched his head, put his hands on his hips but it was only when he saw the fragments of broken glass on the ground that he turned into a manic caricature of Basil Fawlty, hoping up and down frantically. Blind panic and rage were etched on his face.

  It was brilliant, he kept looking at the key fob as if willing the car to reappear. He looked around nervously, walked to the corner, peered around it. Nothing. As he trudged back to the front door of the police station, and another potential showdown with the D.I. the CCTV operator zoomed in on his face on which a defeated, crestfallen look was etched.

  For the second time that day ‘Gee-Gee’ had become the unwitting star of the small screen, and for the second time that day, he deserved it.

  As ‘Gee-Gee’ turned to walk back into the police station the entire C.I.D. staff sprinted down to corridor back to the office and feigned activity as an incandescent ‘Gee-Gee’ walked in before silently slumping into his seat. Hodder had previously told the others that he had spoken to a friend in the control room and a few minutes later his radio crackled into life as the registration number of the ‘stolen police car’ was ‘broadcast’ with information that it had been involved in a robbery and was now being pursued the Traffic Department at high speed.

  There then followed a whole series of miasmatic ‘bogus incidents’ involving collisions and a whole variety of ‘nightmare scenarios’.

  Once again, ‘Gee-Gee’ looked at the fob in his sweating trembling hand…the day was going from bad to worse. As his head struck his desk the entire office erupted into laughter. ‘Gee-Gee’ slowly lifted his ‘leaden’ head and stared around the room with a look of bemused bewilderment on his face.

  Hodder walked over to him and dropped the spare keys on his desk. ‘It, is in the wash bay…Don’t you ever try to take the piss out of me again’. More laughter, more blushes.

  A triumphant Hodder walked over to his desk, picked up his jacket swung it over his shoulder as if he were going for a leisurely stroll in the summer sunshine, and in a comment clearly aimed at ‘Gee-Gee’ said ‘Come on, young Jeffery…the fight against crime never ceases’ and with that they walked out of the office amidst much laughter.

  ‘Gee-Gee’ had been well and truly ‘kippered’, and that should keep him in his box for a while, at least.

  Having earlier had his therapeutic bath time disturbed, Palma got dressed immediately after Hodder had left his flat.

  He decided that he had better come up with some good news for one of his antagonists because whether he liked it or not, each was capable in his own way of destroying him. Palma also reasoned that if the cost of his survival was to throw Parks to the wolves then he would readily stand back and watch them fight over the scraps.

  So, his mind was made up…he had to make some kind of progress today no matter what, but one thing he did know was that he would not be staying in his flat for a few days. Palma was known amongst his friends to be a generous host, but he was now of the opinion that he was now getting just a few too many visitors for his liking at the moment.

  So, before leaving his flat, Palma packed a small rucksack with enough underwear and deodorant for a few days because he did not know if he would be sleeping rough in the interim. He put on a baseball cap though in truth, he knew that it was not the most elaborate disguise in the world.

  His growing sense of paranoia made him jump at any door that slammed within the building or any strange car pulling up outside. None the less, he peeked through the curtains looking for any suspect characters who may be loitering outside the building. It looked to be clear. He meekly opened the door and peered outside only to be sprayed with pepper spray before a bag was placed over his head just before he was struck by the Taser. A partially formed thought filled his mind. If that thought had of reached maturity it would have been ‘Oh no. Not again’.

  Palma was not a particularly well-travelled man, but when he regained his composure he was in the back of a small panel van surrounded by two hooded men. One, ‘The Voice’ said ‘You really are very popular David, you get so many visitors, firstly Hodder and now me. It looks to me as if you were preparing for a short break, I am sure you know just how much that would upset me. I am going to take you to meet Mr Burrows and you will pass a message on to him on my behalf do you understand’?

  To his surprise Palma could speak, he was not gagged or restrained in any other way but he knew from his recent encounters with ‘The Voice’ and his associates that any attempt at escape would be utterly futile. Palma said ‘I only know him vaguely. I’m too far down the food chain for him to take any notice of me’.

  ‘Now, now David’ said ‘The Voice’ ‘You do yourself a grave injustice, because I know that he visited you at home last night. But he will take notice of me and the message that you will pass on will go exactly as I tell you…if not I will cut off one of your fingers for every mistake that you make. You really do have a very simple choice to make’.

  ‘The Voice’ told Palma that he would be dropped off at the end of the gated drive at Burrows home. ‘There will be no need to enter the grounds as the wording of the message will be as on this piece of paper…by the way don’t drop it or hide it. There is no DNA or fingerprints on it or at least there won’t be until you hold it’.

  ‘So, as I say’, continued the voice, ‘You will introduce yourself, smile at the CCTV cameras which will probably have audio too, and you will speak to whoever answers the intercom. Do you understand’? ‘It will be useless to try to run away because my associate here will be waiting at one end of the street whilst I and my other colleague will be waiting for you to return to the van. There is no means of escape. Now take your hat off I want Mr Burrows to see exactly who is delivering this massage’.

  A gloved hand then passed a typed note to Palma who was asked to read it out several times to his captors before being dropped off out of view of the cameras at the property’.

  Palma was utterly terrified. He had no place to run. He simply had to do what was being demanded of him and hope that ‘First Aid’ was not in, or that, he would somehow understand that he was doing this under duress. Palma walked towards the gates looking nervously around as he did so. He approached the intercom and he heard the gentle whir of the motorised cameras as they picked up his movement.

>   He pressed the ‘Call’ button, noticing how his right index finger shook as he did so. ‘What’ came the curt ‘Geordie’ welcome. ‘Err Hello this is David Palma is Mr Burrows in? I have a message for him’.

  ‘What is the message? You can tell me’

  ‘Mr Burrows I have no dispute or disagreement with you but for reasons unknown to you I want you to deliver one of your junior associates, Dean Parks to me. I will give you a telephone number on which to contact me and as an honourable man I would expect you to comply with my very reasonable demands. You do not know who I am or where I am from but believe me when I say that I will get Parks one way or the other’.

  Palma read out a mobile telephone number twice before running back to the van and as he did so he could hear his grandmother’s voice saying ‘You’re jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire our David’.

  Once in the van, ‘The Voice’ showed his gratitude by ‘Tasering’ Palma.

  His next clear memory was one of being kicked out of the van on Tyne Street, near the top of Naters Bank Steps. He checked his pockets found thirty pounds and decided to get that much needed ‘delayed’ drink from ‘The Bottom Dolphin’. ‘Better late than never’ passed through his mind as he held the rusting handrail as he ‘wobbled’ his way down to the quayside.

  Palma was reasonably well known in the pub, but that still did not prevent the dozen or so regulars who were huddled around the bar cradling half pints and short glasses ceasing their muffled conversation and turning around in unison to look at him.

  A total stranger would have been completely fazed by this ‘wild west’ kind of welcome, but after a moment’s silence the bar banter resumed as if he wasn’t even there. A hushed but not necessarily hostile reception, this was more than likely just a knee jerk reaction, which probably occurs in every ‘local’ in the land. Either way, Palma was in no mood for any hostility no matter what the cause. At the bar, he ordered a double Absinthe and a pint of Stella.

  After what he had been through over the last few days, he needed something to numb his senses, though in truth, the ‘Taser’ had made a pretty good job of that!

  He greedily gulped the spirit whilst still at the bar, and ordered another before taking his ‘top up’ and his pint to a quiet table just around the corner from the crowd. He did not see the person sitting alone at a table beside the small raised platform which served as a stage for those local entertainers lucky enough to be booked into ‘The Dolphin’. He was sitting head bowed staring at the froth on the top of the Stella, as it made its way to the bottom of the glass at breakneck speed. Suddenly, another pint of Stella was placed in front of him. As he looked up he saw a vaguely familiar young man with shocking blonde hair, but everything clicked into place when he spoke.

  ‘Hi Dave, It’s me. Parky’.

  Palma was absolutely dumbstruck. If ‘The Voice’, ‘First Aid’ or even Hodder saw him talking to him they would think that they were colluding together and he would be fucked. God! He hoped that he had not been followed to the pub, but he figured that even gangsters need some time off.

  Speaking in his highly recognisable tones Parks continued ‘What’s up mate, you look like you have seen a ghost…did you not recognise me? Do you like my new image? The clothes are a bit naff but I quite like the hair’. If Parks had any idea whatsoever, of the deep trouble he was in, he would not need to dye his hair, it would have turned white naturally.

  Palma had certainly been caught off guard, and he struggled to stop himself from attacking Parks himself. After all, if Parks had not ‘shopped’ him to Hodder, he would not be in the deep mess in which he now found himself. He responded by pointing at the glasses on the table and said ‘Just had a couple of heavy days if you know what I mean’.

  The last few days had certainly been ‘heavy’ but nearly as heavy as Parks’ immediate future may prove to be. Palma just had to figure a way to get a message to ‘The Voice’ or ‘First Aid’. This was not borne out of any sense of loyalty, but more of a genuine desire to see his next birthday.

  Standing up Palma said to Parks ‘Fancy another? I may as well keep on going now that I have started’.

  ‘Yeah. Why not don’t have much on at the moment anyway’.

  With that, Palma rose from his seat went to the bar and ordered another round of drinks including more Absinthe. He reasoned that if he could get Parks drunk enough then maybe he could get a message out to at least one of his tormentors thus getting the ‘monkey’ off his back and very firmly onto Parks’.

  Palma did not stop to ‘factor in’ that whichever of the two gangsters got Parks first, then the other, effectively the ‘loser’, would probably kill him. (Palma). He was conscious that he did not have much money and at ‘Dolphin’ prices he was likely to run out of funds very soon. That round came and went and Parks bought the next.

  As the warmth of the Absinthe and the kick of the Stella began to take effect Palma said ‘Hey, Parky, don’t suppose you have twenty you could lend me until tomorrow’.

  ‘I would love to, but I’m a bit short myself. In fact, I was going to ask you if you had any more gear to sell, you know just to ‘keep the wolf from the door’.

  Though dimmed by alcohol Palma lied, and in a thinly veiled attempt to find out where Parks was staying he said ‘Yeah. Just got some more delivered. Where do you want it delivered to’?

  This obviously took Parks by surprise who remained silent for a few seconds before saying ‘Well, actually I’m between places at the moment. And, I‘m err, trying to keep a low profile, if you know what I mean’.

  Palma knew exactly what he meant, but nonetheless he said ‘What’s up’?

  Leaning forward, though judging by the noise coming from the bar it was highly unlikely that anyone would hear him, Parks said ‘The coppers are after me. I did a runner from them so I’ve got to keep my head down’.

  ‘Well, how you gonna sell the stuff if you can’t get out and about’?

  ‘That’s no prob. I’ve got a couple of ‘plonkies’ who do it for me’.

  Palma felt disinclined to tell Parks that his ‘sales team’ was somewhat depleted and now actually had a ‘vacancy’. Sensing desperation on the part of Parks, Palma who wanted to exact his own revenge continued by saying ‘Do you want the stuff or not’?

  Parks said ‘I can pick it up if I can arrange a lift’. Palma ‘beat him off at the pass’ saying (of his seized van) ‘My van is out of commission…are you still on the same number because I will see what I can arrange’.

  Parks then pulled out a cheap disposable mobile, and read out a number to Palma who entered in into the ‘contacts’ upon his own phone. He then rang the number to confirm that it was in fact correct.

  It was. At least he now had the means to contact Parks and more importantly, information for ‘The Voice’, ‘First Aid’ and Hodder, in fact one or all of them.

  They arranged to meet at Palma’s loft at Friarsdene Farm at 10.30am the following day, where Parks expected to collect more ‘dodgy hooch’, whilst Palma on the other hand just expected Parks to be ‘collected’.

  Palma advised Parks to park whatever vehicle he was going to bring with him, quite unknowingly, in the same layby that Hodder and Baxter had parked in just a few days earlier, and to approach the buildings on foot.

  Palma inwardly congratulated himself on his devious plan. Firstly, it kept the number of witnesses down to a minimum, and secondly, he could double cross Parks with impunity. He secretly liked this game of ‘cat and mouse’ as long as he was not the ‘mouse’, but he could still not rid himself of the nagging feeling that he too may be in danger of being double crossed by any number of people including Parks.

  This small time crook knew that he was way out of his league and that he was swimming with the ‘Big Fish’. But, these were not just any old ‘Big Fish’ these were ‘Huge Fucking Piranhas’! Drinks finished, Parks made to leave and Palma said ‘Where you off to now’?

  Parks said ‘Going
to get my head down…with any luck I will have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow’. ‘I hope so’ thought Palma before saying ‘I’m just off to the bog. Back in a minute’. When he got back to the bar Parks was gone. Palma decided to remind himself to forget that bit of the encounter when he was telling whichever one of his ‘persecutors’ he spoke to first.

  Palma plodded his way home along the North Groyne, as the first raindrops began to fall. He could not have been aware that if only he had not went to the toilet in the ‘Dolphin’, then he would have passed Collingwood’s Monument just in time to see Parks entering the base of the monument with his Egg Fu Yung. And if he had have seen him, it would have saved him a whole lot of trouble.

  ‘Gee-Gee’ was still licking his wounds as Hodder took a call from Grace on his mobile. ‘Jim. Can you come home please? Lauren is really upset. We have bought her a new laptop and she is really upset’.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it faulty or something’?

  ‘No nothing like that…can you just come home she really is very upset’.

  ‘Okay can you give me ten minutes to clear up what I’m doing and I will be with you as soon as I can’. He put his phone away. Puzzled and troubled he knew that it would not be good news.

  Twenty minutes later, he walked through the front door bracing himself for the unknown. He found Grace and Lauren in the kitchen fresh packaging spread out over the work surfaces. On the breakfast bar stood a gleaming new Sony Vaio laptop. The thought of the cost filled him with dread but not as much as the sight of Lauren’s tear stained swollen eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong’?

  Lauren pointed at the screen and simply said ‘This’.

  Hodder was barely computer literate, and was most certainly not a user of Facebook. However, he did possess the ability to read, and he was appalled to see the vile messages sent to Lauren from her so called ‘friends’. Each one of them roundly condemned her for her ‘cruel and unnecessary’ attacks upon Katy following her ordeal at the house.

  Scrolling back through the ‘posts’ Hodder saw a large number of equally appalling and abhorrent postings attributed to Lauren had been the cause of this backlash. It did not take a Detective of Hodder’s experience to know that whoever now had Lauren’s stolen laptop was responsible for heaping additional distress not only on Katy and by default Bostock, but also Lauren and by default Hodder too.

  The sooner that he could get his hands on Parks the sooner this could be put to bed. Hodder began to reassure Lauren and Grace that her friends would not believe that she was responsible for these postings. He told her that she should password protect her new machine, set up a new account and contact all of her ‘friends’ explaining that her machine had been stolen and that these were ‘rogue’ postings.

  Lauren told him that this practice was known as being ‘Fraped’…’There is a whole new language out there that I will never understand’ thought Hodder. His confidence drained even further when he moved some bubble wrap and saw a manila envelope with familiar handwriting upon it addressed to Lauren. He palmed it without comment and recognised the contents by touch. He did not have to see what was inside to know that the envelope contained a pack of Love Heart sweets.

  ‘It is bad enough that he is having a go at me but now my daughter on two fronts’ thought Hodder. Wholly unconvinced in his role as I.T. Consultant, but doubly convinced in his role as avenging father, Hodder sought to reassure Lauren that her friends would fully understand what had happened. To convince her of this, he pointed out the nature of her ‘pre-theft’ postings, they were a bit on the cheeky/racy side but otherwise harmless.

  Hodder thought it prudent not to enquire into the cost of the new laptop because it would go some way to ‘demolishing’ his much sought after ‘new image’ as doting husband and father.

  Lauren seemed to accept the logic behind this explanation, and when he explained that he was only a phone call away, he was ‘allowed’ to return to work without any of the expected protests. Love Hearts in his pocket and revenge in his heart, Hodder decided that it was time to tell Ben Heath about the ‘postings’ on Facebook. It may just be possible that the Technical Support Unit or the Economic Crime Unit may have tools at their disposal to trace Parks via the internet.

  Hodder was convinced that Parks was behind this. It chimed perfectly with his controlling and manipulative personality, but more importantly, who else would have an interest in ‘turning the screw’ on Hodder in this way. Back at the office, Hodder went directly to see Heath. After the usual convivial greeting, minus, on this occasion, coffee and biscuits, Hodder brought Heath up to date with the postings.

  However, Ben Heath, mindful that the D.I. was still uber-sensitive following the incident with the ‘Sunderland File’ suggested that it would be best to filter this new information through the incident room rather than risk the wrath of the D.I. It seemed a sensible course of action. Rather than antagonising an already antagonised soul it was better to be seen to at least, to be playing by the rules. After leaving the office and walking along the corridor, the D.I. called out to Hodder…’What did you want with the D.C.I.’?

  Taken aback, Hodder said ‘Well, actually it was personal’. The D.I. responded by saying ‘I am your immediate supervisor. Everything should come through me’. Getting back into his stride, and sensing a forthcoming battle Hodder said ‘I said it was a personal matter. Not a matter for personnel’. The D.I.’s faced flushed. He had had been outflanked again and he did not like it one bit.

  The D.I. stormed off in one direction Hodder sauntered in the other sensing that this was not over by a long shot. However, back in the office Hodder submitted the Facebook information to the incident room knowing that there were a few twists and turns to go before this was all over.

  With nervous anticipation almost approaching panic, Palma slid the key in the lock. No obvious signs of life inside, so, he entered his flat. He didn’t even have time to close the door before he was struck so hard in the face that he felt one of his incisors collapse inwards under the force.

  He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, instinctively rolling into the foetal position and covering his face and head against the expected onslaught. It didn’t come. Instead, he saw two masked men, obviously ‘The Voice’ and one of his associates laying into ‘Big Neil’ who had obviously been lying in wait for him inside the flat.

  Paradoxically, he was strangely relieved to see ‘The Voice’ and Co, who had either followed him into the building or had been concealed in one of the communal areas, waiting for him to return. However, he knew that they had come not to ‘rescue’ him but to ‘claim’ him. Twice in one day! Oh No! Things could only get worse from this point onwards.

  With one word ‘The Voice’ pointed to the sofa and said ‘SIT’. Resistance was utterly pointless as he watched the two masked men truss up and gag ‘Big Neil’ with all the skill, speed and dexterity of a close up magician. They were clearly very well practiced in the dark arts of the underworld.

  Masked man number two checked the corridor outside the flat. The entire building was deathly quiet. Palma hoped that this was not an omen. ‘The Voice’ told Palma to assist his associate to manhandle ‘Big Neil’ downstairs, where not unexpectedly, he found the same panel van in which he had been earlier, waiting outside.

  All three ‘bad guys’, plus the one ‘not so quite bad guy’, Palma, got into the rear of the van. They drove for about thirty minutes, and when they did stop the only thing Palma could conclude was that they were not at ‘the lake’ because the journey had not been long enough and the road surface was even throughout.

  ‘The Voice’ said ‘Let’s get him out’. As Palma’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised that they were outside ‘First Aid’s’ home at Darras Hall. Under the instruction of ‘The Voice’ all three of them dragged the barely conscious hard man over to the wrought iron gates, where ‘The Voice’ tied him to the ironwork using long cable ties, similar to the type used by the police in
public order situations.

  ‘Big Neil’ was unable to make any sounds other than short grunts and groans that were just loud enough to drown out the movement of the motorised cameras. ‘Now’ said ‘The Voice’ speaking to Palma ‘Press the intercom and tell Mr Burrows that you have a ’delivery’ for him’. Palma simply had no choice, so, he did as he was told as the other two men stood in the shadows.

  A familiar gruff ‘What’ emitted from the intercom as a clearly under rehearsed but overly nervous Palma, in full view of all of the CCTV cameras repeated the mantra.

  Inside the property, and looking at a bank of CCTV monitoring screens, Burrows who was alone, spoke aloud as he looked at ‘Big Neil’s’ bruised and battered face as his head hung limply on his chest. His arms level at shoulder height, crucifixion style …’No one does this to me. Not in this town anyway’. Burrows pressed the intercom microphone button in front of him and uttered three simple three words:

  ‘This is war’.

  Having heard the response, all three men, including the only who one was identifiable, Palma, got in the van. As it sped away, it occurred to Palma that he ‘was in it up to his neck’ with a person whom he did not know, could not trust, and who had once again, demonstrated his ruthlessness.

  He resolved that if he lived through this night, then he was going to contact Hodder whom he now concluded provided the only realistic prospect of survival for him.

  ‘The Voice’ seemed to be possessed of ‘advanced mind reading skills’ as he said to Palma ‘You had better give me your phone. I don’t want you speaking to anyone who may get you into trouble’.

  Some deep seated primeval survival instinct seemed to spring to the surface, and when Palma said ‘I spoke to Parks today…he wants to meet up with me but, I need to keep my phone…I will tell you the second that he calls’.

  ‘I know you will David…what will I do if you try to double cross me’?

  ‘I daren’t think about that’

  ‘Oh please do’ said ‘The Voice’ but if you do need reminding make no mistake…’I will kill you...are we clear’.

  ‘Yes we are’.

  ‘You had better be’ said ‘The Voice’ ‘You do know that we will be watching you. Do you fully understand the rules’?

  ‘Parks is very nervous. He knows that the police are after him. He has no idea that you are too. He is going to contact me. I have convinced him that I have some more booze to sell and he is desperate for the money. I have no idea where he is at the moment. If I did I would tell you to get this over and done with’.

  There must have been something in Palma’s pleading tone that resonated with the gangster who said ‘Okay David, you can stay in your flat tonight and you can keep your phone. How does that sound to you’?

  ‘Thank you. I won’t let you down’.

  ‘I know you won’t David, because my associate here will be spending the night with you in your flat and he will tell me if Parks contacts you’.

  Beneath the ski mask ‘The Voice’s’ associate grimaced, swore inwardly, but otherwise showed no outward signs of dissent, thus proving that the lot of a gangster is not always a happy one. A short while later, the van stopped the rear doors were opened and Palma was ordered to ensure that the way was clear for the masked man to enter his flat. Palma did as he was told, he had to, he had no room for manoeuvre, besides, he knew only too well, the consequences of failure.

  It was a surreal experience having a house guest whose steroid assisted frame was the only clue to his appearance. A guest, whose only noise was to laugh into his mask, at the sitcom on the television. This felt to Palma like a very black episode of Top Gear where a perfect negative of ‘The Stig’ was sitting in his home.

  The same guest who when offered coffee, nodded and who held up two fingers when it came to ‘sugar time’. The same guest, put the empty coffee cup into his pocket to avoid leaving any DNA in the building.

  After an interminable two hours, there was a knock at the door. Palma’s eyes darted over to ‘his guest’ who simply raised both hands in a gesture which suggested ‘Who is that’? Palma did not have a clue as to who may be at the door, but whispered to the other man ‘It might be him’, but what he really meant was ‘I might just get a chance to do a runner’. Again he whispered as the caller rapped on the door again ‘Can I answer it’?

  The other man nodded, held a single upright finger to his lips to indicate silence and walked behind the front door before nodding to Palma to open it. As soon as the door was open Hodder and Baxter burst in pushing Palma into the small hallway before slamming the door closed.

  Suddenly the muscle bound thug was on top of Hodder, his weight pinning him to the ground. Baxter laid into him with his fists causing him to fall sideways and onto the floor smashing a small decorative table and vase as he did so. The strength of the man, whether it was gained by training or by a more chemical based strategy was quite considerable, but Baxter managed to force him onto his back and after a number of attempts slip a ‘quick cuff’ onto his left wrist.

  The man pulled his wrist back wrenching the cuff from Baxter’s grip the ‘loose’ cuff catching him just above the left eye. This really infuriated the normally mild mannered Baxter who found resources of strength from deep within and he struggled on manfully to retrain his adversary.

  Hodder quickly regained his composure, and getting to his feet kicked the man as hard as he could between the legs, so much so that the man was ‘shunted’ along the carpet for a few inches. Giant or not, it seemed to do the trick. Baxter then forced him over onto his front and with Hodder’s assistance he grappled the ‘cuffed wrist’ behind him and forcing the man’s face into the carpet using his knee, they managed to secure the right wrist in the ‘other cuff’.

  Hodder and Baxter sat back panting on the floor blocking the door. Palma just stood there open mouthed, bouncing from foot to foot. Any escape that he had planned was thwarted for the time being at least. After a few moments, Hodder removed the man’s mask and instantly recognised him as the young black thug that he had seen with Bostock at North Shields Police Station when the ‘reward offer’ was made.

  Baxter, who was more animated than Hodder had ever seen him before, was using a tone that even Hodder found intimidating said to the man, ‘Who the fuck are you’? The man did not reply and continued with his silent vigil.

  As Baxter called for transport, Hodder told the man that he was under arrest for unlawful imprisonment…but being the obvious ‘pro’ that he was, he probably knew that anyway. Hodder left Baxter sitting on the man, he approached Palma and sarcastically said. ‘Hey, thanks for the phone call…just what is going on here’?

  Palma nodded with his head to the far side of the living room. Hodder followed. Palma then gave Hodder the ‘full low down’ on the events of the day, including the trip to Darras Hall to ‘return ‘Big Neil’ to sender’, his chance meeting with Parks, and the planned meeting at Friardene Farm in the morning.

  Hodder took out his (replacement) cuffs and quietly told Palma to protest ‘for cosmetic reasons’ because he wanted Bostock’s man to think that Palma too, was being arrested. He wasn’t, but he would be going to the police station as well…it would certainly be safer than his flat.

  In response to Baxter’s call some uniform officers arrived at the scene and were delighted when Bostock’s man began to struggle again. There was nothing they liked better than a good old bit of rough and tumble. The opportunity to use a baton or pepper spray really got the adrenalin pumping and ‘set you up’ for the rest of the shift. So, eventually, after some ritual ‘toing and froing, common sense was restored and the prisoner was hauled off to the nick… a great start to the shift for all concerned apart from the prisoner that is.

  Palma on the other hand, was taken in by Hodder and Baxter. He was kept in the car as the two Police Officers discussed tactics. It was agreed that for strategic reasons Baxter should be the arresting officer for the masked thug because Hodder expec
ted to be contacted by Bostock very soon, and he wanted to assure him that he was not dealing with the case.

  Despite saying nothing the man was ‘processed’ and detained. Palma was entered in the Voluntary Attenders Register though in reality that was just another devious strategy on the part of Hodder to prevent him leaving the police station, a kind of house arrest at the police station.

  Going through Bostock’s man’s property, Hodder was keen to examine his mobile phone. It was a goldmine, and from it he got Bostock’s number, and a whole raft of information that would be of immense interest to Greater Manchester Police. But, they could wait.

  By far the most revealing contact was ‘Babe’…clearly the love interest of the recently incarcerated heavy. Hodder rang it. It was answered immediately with a cheery ‘Hello big boy, are you missing me’?

  Hodder said to the recipient ‘Hello. I’m sorry for bothering you, but I have just found this phone do you know who owns it’?

  ‘Oh yes’ said the person on the ‘other end’ ‘It belongs to my partner. He is working on Tyneside. He is staying at the Village Hotel, do you know it’.

  ‘Yes I do, what’s his name’? said Hodder ‘I would like to return it’.

  ‘Neville Thompson…Oh would you be kind enough to ask him to call Malcolm when you see him’.

  ‘No problem’ said Hodder and as the call ended he burst into uncontrolled laughter. Baxter was looking puzzled, keen to get in on the joke. After calming down and wiping away streams of tears Hodder said ‘He is called Neville Thompson and that was his boyfriend Malcolm’.

  Cue.

  More laughter.

  More tears.

  It took quite some time for the two Detectives to compose themselves, but when they had sufficiently recovered, they made their way to the custody suite where they informed the Custody Officer that they had discovered the identity of their ‘errant guest’. Taking the cell keys they opened the door and Baxter was allowed the pleasure of saying ‘Come on Neville…let’s go and meet the nice Custody Officer. Oh, by the way can you call Malcolm when you get the chance…but I have a feeling that that may not be for some considerable time’.

  The anger in Thompson’s eyes was palpable…the catamite was well and truly out the bag.

  Then in a voice that was reminiscent of a Mancunian Alan Carr, Thompson said ‘Was he upset’? ‘We didn’t tell him you were here’, said Baxter whilst at the same time thinking ‘No wonder Bostock doesn’t let you speak…talk about bursting a bubble’!

  Thompson provided only scant details and was returned to his cell. This was justified on the grounds that Hodder and Baxter could legitimately claim that they were still actively investigating the offence for which he was arrested. They did after all, have Palma to speak to, who under the circumstances, would cooperate, otherwise he would be thrown out of the nick and effectively ‘thrown to the dogs.

  Palma who was being ‘accommodated’ in a detention room had a look of real fear upon his face when Hodder and Baxter entered. Hodder was keen to learn as much as possible about the ‘working practices’ of Bostock and when he learnt about the ‘field trip’ to ‘the lake’ he realised that Bostock would stop at nothing to exact revenge upon Parks.

  Ironically, though Hodder despised Parks and all that he stood for, he did feel that he too, deserved the protection of the police even though to secure that he would effectively have to surrender and expect a substantial custodial sentence for his outstanding offences. But, knowing Parks as he did, Hodder suspected that he would just take his chances.

  ‘Have you told him about ‘The Voice’? said Hodder.

  ‘No. It was my plan to lure him to the farm and let you arrest him’ (he lied)

  ‘Pull the other one Davy…you know that the worst thing I will do to you is send you to prison. ‘The Voice’ (Hodder did not name him), on the other hand, whether you help him or not, is going to kill you. He will not leave any trace that leads back to him and you my friend, are eminently traceable. You are expendable, merely a minor inconvenience and when you have outlived your usefulness…’ Hodder then let the silence speak for itself before he ‘clicked’ his thumb and middle finger to demonstrate to Palma just how precarious his position really was.

  It certainly did the trick, as both Hodder and Baxter watched the reality of his situation finally dawn on Palma who said ‘What should I do’?

  ‘That David, is a matter for you, your conscience and your maker, but I do have a suggestion’.

  ‘Go on’ said Palma.

  ‘My first suggestion would be that you stay here. You will be safe, and you should arrange to meet Parks at the farm as planned. When he turns up we take him out…my second suggestion is that you return home and wait to be systematically torn limb from limb by ‘The Voice’. My third suggestion is that you return home and wait for ‘First Aid’ to pop round for a friendly chat. Fourthly, you could leave here and just take your chances, but my guess would be that you would not make it to the end of the street. However, it strikes me that either way you will not collect your old age pension…yeah, all things considered that just about covers most of the bases…have you got any suggestions Jeff’?

  If one thing overrides everything in the police service, it is that no matter how serious the situation, you can always garner a laugh, usually at someone else’s expense, somewhere along the line. So, with this in mind Baxter helpfully added, ‘We could always let young Davy here share a cell with Neville for the night, he looked a little bit on the lonely side to me’.

  A look of abject horror spread across Palmas face ‘No. No way he will fucking kill me’!

  Baxter laughed and responded ‘Well, at least one of those things will certainly happen’.

  It was decided not surprisingly, that Parks would remain at the police station under the guise of it being a ‘Place of Safety’. Under the supervision of Hodder, Palma called Parks and arrangements made for 10.30am the following morning at the farm. His telephone was then confiscated.

  Though the day was ‘getting on’, Hodder felt that in the aftermath of ‘Wrought Iron Gate-gate’ that it would be worth another trip to Darras Hall to stir up ‘First Aid’ once again.

  Baxter had other things planned, but as Hodder helpfully said ‘If this goes wrong you will be spending a lot of time with Hannah anyway… probably as her patient’!

  Hodder was in reasonably good spirits during the drive to Burrows’ home. He knew that especially after ‘the declaration of war’, that Bostock’s spell on Tyneside was likely to be a short lived one, albeit a bloody and violent one. Hodder as always, preferred to know where he stood, and he was all in favour of preserving the status quo.

  Same old buzzer, same old whir of the motorised cameras, and the same old ‘What’.

  ‘Hello. This is Detective Sergeant Hodder again. Is Mr Burrows available please’?

  ‘Go away’.

  ‘When will he be available’? pressed Hodder.

  ‘You will have to make an appointment with his solicitor’ said ‘Mr What’.

  ‘And who may that be’? said Hodder’.

  ‘Francis Randall-Ord of Fagen Becker and Wendell’. With that the intercom went dead. Baxter and Hodder just looked at each other in utter disbelief. So that was why Randall-Ord turned out for the interview when Palma was arrested. He was clearly looking after Burrows’ business interests and was more than likely was on his payroll.

  A small world indeed.

  Hodder wanted to break out the ‘hats and the hooters’ as an internal celebration erupted. He now knew that the voice recording of Randall-Ord giving him information about Parks had now taken on a whole new significance. It made him smile. At this point in time, the lyrics to ‘Fun, Fun, Fun’ by ‘The Beach Boys’ filled his head. He was only vaguely aware of Baxter staring at him as he grinned like a deranged idiot.

  Once back in the office, there was a message for Hodder to call Francis Randall-Ord. ‘That was quick’ thought Hodder as
he dialled the number provided. The dulcet tones of Randall-Ord answered ‘Oh hello Sergeant, how nice of you to call some promptly. Would it be possible to meet with you to discuss my client’?

  ‘When would you like to come in Mr Randall-Ord’?

  ‘I was rather hoping that we meet somewhere rather…eh hmm, less formal than the err, police station…would the ‘Quay Taphouse’ meet with your approval’? Fearing that this was becoming too much of a habit, especially when he did not want to go home smelling of alcohol, Hodder reluctantly agreed to meet Randall-Ord in fifteen minutes.

  Hodder asked Baxter to interview Palma on tape, so to form the basis of a witness statement and then ordered him to indulge in vigorous sexual activity with Hannah. Needless to say, there were no objections raised, especially to the second set of instructions. On a more serious note, Hodder reminded Baxter to ‘Clear your desk. Remember there is a desk search tomorrow. So, get rid of anything dodgy. I have done mine already’.

  Desk searches are a strange phenomenon and largely unknown outside the police service. They are designed to ‘trap’ officers who retain property and documents which to put it bluntly that they should not have. Hodder had never fallen foul of a desk search and did not intend to start now in the twilight of his career, but he felt obliged to remind Baxter to ‘watch his back’.

  Walking into the ‘Taphouse’ the jovial man Cliff, was behind the bar and was as jovial as ever. The welcome was humorously sincere and he pointed to a table in the corner and said ‘He is over there…he has a drink for you already’.

  Walking over Hodder ‘flirted’ with the idea that he was going to be offered a bribe…was ‘First Aid’ really so worried that he was going to try to ‘buy him off’.

  Looking up, a very worried Randall-Ord said ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice’.

  Hodder thanked him for the Ruddles and was about to take his first mouthful when Randall-Ord produced a packet of Love Heart sweets from his pocket.

  ‘How did he know’? asked Randall-Ord.

  Hodder put his drink down, mindful that his hand was mildly trembling. He had been completely wrong footed, he had actually thought that he was coming to discuss Burrows. As it was a cogent answer failed to materialise.

  However, what did occur to him was that there is no situation that a Police Officer can’t make worse.