CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Walking back into the office, Baxter was startled to see ‘Gee-Gee’ going through the open top drawer of Hodder’s desk. As he looked up, abject horror spread across ‘Gee-Gee’s’ face as he attempted to conceal a clear evidence bag in his trouser pocket.
‘What are you doing’? said Baxter in a tone which suggested that he was in no mood for frivolity. ‘Err nothing’. With that Baxter walked over to the drawer and saw that there were at least one hundred small round white tablets that he immediately recognised as Ecstasy, lying amongst the spare pens, note pads and ‘other regular residents’ of a busy office desk.
‘What are you hiding in your pocket’?
‘Nothing’ said the still startled ‘Gee-Gee’.
‘You had better come up with something better than that because I will knock your fucking head off right here and now. Give me the ‘Gear’’.
‘Gee-Gee’ silently reached into his pocket and handed Baxter the evidence bag. That too, contained ‘E’s’. ‘Gee-Gee’s’ head dropped as Baxter said ‘What is this all about…what has he ever done to you that most other people haven’t…why are you singling him out’?
‘It’s not me’ said ‘Gee-Gee’.
‘Well, who the fuck is it’? I don’t see anyone else in this room do you’? spat out the normally moderate Baxter.
‘It’s the D.I. He is after him. He forced me to do it. I already have one foot out of the door. Please don’t tell Hodder’.
‘I should fucking well lock you up you corrupt little twat…Now, get out of my sight but remember this…if you ever cross Hodder or me again you will pay for it. You can explain to the D.I. why you couldn’t even complete a put up job in your own fucking office’.
‘Gee-Gee’ stood in front of Baxter and quietly said ‘Jeff, please don’t tell the other lads I will never be able to hold my head up again’.
Baxter did not let him finish… ‘It’s all a bit late to worry about what people think about you now…you have sold your soul. You are no better than the scum locked up at the end of the corridor…I will not tell you again…FUCK OFF’!
With that, ‘Gee-Gee’ scuttled out of the office, the day ending pretty much as it had begun for him…on a low.
Baxter double checked first, Hodder’s, and then his own desk. He gave them the all clear. He then put a narrow piece of sellotape down the inside edge of each drawer. If the tape seals were broken when they returned to work in the morning he would know that the desks had been tampered with. There would have been little point in locking the drawers…they would have just been forced during the ‘desk search’.
As a parting gesture and knowing that ‘Gee-Gee’ was on the ‘late shift’ the following day, Baxter liberally sprinkled the ‘E’s’ into the top drawer of ‘Gee-Gee’s’ desk, thinking….’He can hardly complain about me, considering what I have just caught him doing’. Those drawers too, were given the ‘sellotape treatment’.
‘Checkmate’! Maybe his dilatory ways were finally catching up with ‘Gee-Gee’. ‘If the D.I. really wants to get rid of ‘Gee-Gee’ he now has all the evidence he needs’ thought Baxter, but he suspected that that would not happen because the D.I. had neither the balls nor the cunning to do his own dirty work.
Could it be that the cynicism that Hodder so liberally and regularly shared with Baxter was beginning to rub off on him, or could it be that Hodder actually held a realistic point of view garnered over years of infighting and backstabbing. Was it not enough, he wondered that they had to contend with all of the ‘external’ problems without inventing a whole plethora of internal confrontations?
Office politics? You can keep it…perhaps Hodder was correct after all. Not to worry thought Baxter…’Tomorrow is another day….tomorrow is another crisis’. One quick phone call later, his spirits were lifted, and it was clear to Baxter that a certain nubile young Staff Nurse of his acquaintance, was on a slow burn and warming up the sheets…all good things come to those who wait.
He turned off the office lights and left.
Bostock’s night, on the other hand, was not looking quite so encouraging. He was furious…’Why isn’t Nev answering his phone?…I have a bad feeling about this Tiny’. ‘Tiny’ was the second of the hired muscle that he had brought with him from Manchester to help him deal with the matters ‘Up North’.
‘Come on…we’re going over to Palmas place’. ‘Tiny’ so often a wholly unimaginative name given to people who patently were not ‘Tiny’, may in this instance have had some relevance. However, the name may have had more to do with his mental capacity, or clear lack of it, than any reverse sense of humour regarding his physical stature. Without a murmur of dissent, even though he had just completed a new level on ‘Call of Duty Black Ops 2’, ‘Tiny’ simply ‘saved’ the game and gamely drove to Tynemouth.
There was no answer at the flat, so, ‘Tiny’ did what ‘Tiny’ does best, and he ‘stoved’ the door in. Once inside, there was clear evidence of a struggle, but more importantly, there was no sign of Neville or Palma. Neville was expendable, Palma on the other hand, held the key to Bostock’s success or otherwise on Tyneside. It was important to Bostock that he held onto Palma, at least until he had outlived his usefulness.
He was furious and he kicked himself for allowing Palma to stay at his flat that night. There were only two people who could have done this. Burrows or Hodder. Either way, Bostock was determined to get to the bottom of the matter and exact swift and compelling revenge. He then rang the number that Hodder had given to him. No reply was the answer. Bostock ‘toyed’ with the idea of going To Burrows’ home again, but concluded that after the ‘declaration of war’, that Burrows was probably getting some ‘troops’ together for an inevitable ‘showdown’.
Self-praise is no recommendation, but Bostock considered himself to be a serious and forceful criminal who had stayed at the top of his particular tree longer than most. This was not the first time that he had faced a difficult and perplexing dilemma and history would show that he had always come out on top in the past. Having given the situation some serious consideration, Bostock decided to ‘keep his powder dry’ and return to ‘The Village Hotel’ where he would collect his belongings.
Once there, he left the hotel without checking out there was after all, little point in advertising the fact that he was on the move. Additionally, he was booked in under a false name so, that unless his adversaries had advance information he was well ahead of the game and he intended to keep things that way. Bostock also knew that there were plenty of budget hotels and guest houses in the Whitley Bay area of North Tyneside, where he and ‘Tiny’ could stay without drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves.
Other major considerations were that if the police did have Neville, then it was highly likely that they would eventually search his room which he shared with ‘Tiny’, and he reasoned that it would be prudent not to be around when that happened. There was little point in handing things to the police on a plate. However, if Burrows had ‘Nev’ then the ‘encounter’ would be so much different therefore, it would be better to be at least one step ahead of him.
Bostock had no time for the police, but at least they did play the game by some form of rules whereas Burrows’ retribution would be just that. Swift and violent. And so it was that Bostock and ‘Tiny’ booked into separate guest houses next to each other on North Parade, Whitley Bay, an anonymous street ‘home from home’ to visiting contractors, asylum seekers and D.W.P. dependants.
The Infiniti was parked on the first floor of the new ‘one floor multi-story car park’ adjacent to the town’s new shopping centre, whilst the van which blended in with the myriad of other similar vehicles was parked outside ‘Tiny’s’ ‘flop’.
Bostock was intrigued to see who may surface first…the police or Burrows, and whoever did show up first would determine his course of action. Bostock inwardly hoped that it would be Burrows because he knew that the only ‘rules of engagement’ w
ere that there were no rules. Besides, no matter what his reputation he knew that he could not defeat the resources of an entire police force. He also knew that as he was not playing on ‘home soil’ and as such he was at somewhat of a disadvantage.
The Mancunian gangster felt very isolated. To his ‘troops’, he always strived to appear to be decisive and determined, with a clear vision about what he wanted to achieve, and how he was going to achieve it. He rarely consulted with anyone and as he looked at ‘Tiny’, he fully understood why that was the case.
There was nothing to do now but to sit and wait, and if he needed reinforcements then he would arrange that in the morning. So, it was off to bed for Bostock and it was back to the battlefield for ‘Tiny’…probably a wise move on his part because he may just need to rely on his combative skills in the near future.
‘So’, said Randall-Ord, staring at Hodder, ‘I will repeat how did Parks find out that I had spoken to you?…You know as well as I do, that he uses Love Heart sweets as his calling card, usually as an indication that he has done something or is about to do something’. With that, Hodder reached into his jacket pocket and placed a further packet of Love Hearts on the table in front of Randall-Ord. As a look of incredulity spread across his face it emphasised his hound dog ‘chops’ as he sat open mouthed staring at the Detective.
Finally, Hodder said ‘I remember saying to you recently that ‘we are all in this together’, well, we are now. Not only that, he is targeting my daughter too, and you think that you have it rough’. With that, Hodder got up and went to the bar. This had more to let Randall-Ord savour the moment, than the need to get more drinks because he really was not in a celebratory mood.
‘Big Cliff’ had obviously sensed that the meeting between policeman and solicitor was to say the least ‘tense’, and may not be entirely of a social nature. On this occasion, he served efficiently, but without the usual jocular remarks. Clearly, he was a keen student of the human condition, sensing just what was needed to be said and more importantly, when things should not be said.
Returning to the table, the previous look upon Randall-Ord’s face had been replaced by one of fear…this was way out of his league. He may deal with criminals of all persuasions on a daily basis, but for him to actually be the focus of attention of a particularly disturbed one, seemed to concentrate his mind. Whispering to Hodder he said ‘What are we to do’?
‘I know what I’m going to do’ said Hodder.
‘And what would that be’? said Randall-Ord.
Hodder replied ‘You are his legal representative. Do you really expect me to confide in you’?
‘As you said’ continued Randall-Ord ‘We are in this together’.
‘It’s interesting how you are now keen to form an alliance with me, and therefore by default with the police, when you feel intimidated. This sounds very much like a marriage of convenience to me. What I do I get out of this cosy arrangement’?
‘I will give you Parks’
‘He’s hardly yours to give, and bear in mind that it is he who is causing you so much distress I hardly think that you are in a position to deliver on that particular front’. Knowing where he wanted to lead the conversation Hodder continued ‘What else do you have to bargain with’?
Randall-Ord looked genuinely puzzled and after a faltering start said ‘Wh Wh What do you mean’?
Hodder had him on the rack and boy, did this feel good, and after letting the tension rise he continued ‘Not what…I was thinking more of a ‘Who’.
If brain cells were made of a metal, the clatter of the cogs turning would have been deafening or, was that thought Hodder, the sound of yet another ‘penny dropping’.
Hodder said ‘I know who you work for or would it be accurate to say I know who your paymaster is…it should have been obvious to me before. Mr Burrows will be calling you soon, shortly after I arrest him. Be warned that when I casually mention to him that not only are you trying to set up deals with me, but also, and here’s the rub, that I recently registered you as police informant that he will probably not only dispense with your services but more than likely dispense with you per se’.
Randall-Ord said ‘This is unethical I should…’
‘You should what?...tell him yourself, report me…go ahead but first I would advise you to listen to this’.
Hodder then took out the digital recorder that had served him so well in the past and which until two seconds earlier had been recording the entire conversation. Hodder located the ‘relevant’ sound file and watched Randall-Ord’s face contort with pain as he listened to himself ‘grass up’ Dean Parks’.
Confidence at an all-time high Hodder said ‘Now Francis, I hope you don’t mind me calling you that, the reason you have received ‘sweeties’ from Parks is that he has raped again. Only this time it was too close to home. My home in fact! Add to that that he stole my daughter’s laptop which unfortunately for you contained a backup of the file that you have just heard. So, yes…we are in this together’.
As if treading on egg shells Randall-Ord said ‘What do you propose doing’?
Sensing a strong wind behind him Hodder said ‘Well that rather depends upon you I have no desire to harm you. But rest assured that Burrows and to a lesser extent Parks will harm you. The ball as they say Francis is ‘very much in your court’…here is my number. Call me tomorrow. I have a distressed wife and daughter to look after’.
Hodder left and returned home via the custody suite where as a matter of courtesy, he explained the progress of the enquiry and suggested that Neville may benefit from a good night’s sleep.
That night, Hodder (and family), Baxter (and nurse) fell into the ‘Slept Well Category’.
That night, Randall-Ord, Burrows, Bostock, Thompson (plus Malcolm), Palma, Parks and ‘Gee-Gee’ all fell into ‘Slept Badly Category’. ‘Tiny’ was not troubled by such weighty, worldly matters, but that was hardly surprising because he found warfare particularly taxing, but the good news was that he had completed another level on ‘Call of Duty’.
Burrows would not have batted an eyelid if any of his foot soldiers other than ‘Big Neil’ had taken such a beating. It was after all an occupational hazard which many accepted, but Burrows had a level of trust in ‘Big Neil’ that he did not extend to the others, and he often used him as his ‘enforcer’ to keep the other plebs in line. So, that evening, Burrows was troubled by a number of factors namely that: He felt insulted that someone should do this to ‘Big Neil’ and therefore by proxy to him. Furthermore, the fact that they had taken the ‘battle’ to his own front door added further insult to ‘Big Neil’s injury.
But of greater concern to him was just who was behind this action and exactly what was Palma doing with them. He knew Palma well enough to know that he was, largely borne out of fear, loyal to him, so, he figured something was amiss, but he didn’t know what.
So, whilst nursing a large tumbler of ‘Cragganmore Scotch Whiskey’ he decided to enlist the services of his legal representative Francis Randall-Ord. Sorting out difficult and unforeseen problems was after all, one of the main reasons why he kept him on a monthly retainer. ‘Well’, thought Burrows, ‘You are going to have to earn your corn now and put up some legal barriers’, (by which he meant an alibi) so I can concentrate on what I do best…cracking skulls! So, Burrows made a call to a number that only he rang and that only Randall-Ord answered.
Lying in a crumpled heap in his king size bed in his king size converted barn, Randall-Ord heard the phone ring. Although the conversation that he had had with Hodder was still fresh in his mind, the last person he wanted to speak to right now was Burrows. However, he also knew that Burrows only rang in an emergency. He also knew that if he didn’t answer a couple of heavies would be despatched to deliver him unto their master. Reasoning that the ‘line of least resistance’ was the best policy, he reluctantly answered the phone.
So, with his mind heavy with the additional alcohol that he had consumed since arrivin
g home, he answered…’What took you so fucking long’?
‘I was in the shower’ he lied
‘Well, that’s good. You should be feeling refreshed…I have a problem. Get yourself over here now’!
‘I’ve been to a dinner party. I’ve been drinking’ he half lied.
‘Are you pissed’?
‘Of course not’ he said and feeling drunkenly confident added ‘Gentlemen do not get pissed’.
‘That’s good news. One of the lads will be over to collect you soon. Be ready’. With that, the line went dead.
For the umpteenth time that day panic settled like a dark cloud over Randall-Ord, and after pointlessly pacing the room, he rang Hodder’s number. A gruff ‘Hodder’ was the single word greeting. ‘It’s me…its Francis can you talk’?
‘I’m in bed this had better be good. I’ve got an early start’.
‘Have you spoken to him….have you spoken to him’?
‘Who’?
‘Burrows…he has just been on the phone to me he is sending someone to get me what should I do’?
‘Firstly’ said Hodder ‘I have not spoken to him and I do not intend to speak to him about you unless of course, you let me down…just go along find out what he wants promise him the earth if you have to, and call me back. Do you understand’?
‘Yes, yes I do’.
‘Okay…stop hyperventilating, calm down and keep it together…call me’. With that Hodder ended the call. Unsurprisingly, he did not sleep well after the call.
About twenty minutes later, after scorching black coffee Randall-Ord was picked up by someone who looked just like ‘Big Neil’. It was almost as if Burrows had a collection of interchangeable ‘spare thugs’ that he kept in an ‘android warehouse’ just for occasions like this.
All shaven headed, muscle bound, monosyllabic, ‘Uncle Fester’ lookalikes, who have the ability to chill blood from fifty paces, they were doubtless, all handpicked for the job. From his experience of representing them over many years, they were all very skilled at their chosen profession, as the frequent ‘pay offs’ to victims and witnesses seemed to confirm.
The journey to Burrows home was silently uneventful. Randall-Ord was terrified. He was uncertain if he could trust Hodder. He was however, certain that he could not trust Parks, whom he hoped had not been too liberal with copies of the secretly recorded sound file. Randall-Ord also knew that he would get the answer to these, and possibly more questions soon as he saw the tastelessly ornate wrought iron gates slide open as they entered the drive.
He was full of foreboding as the gates silently slid shut behind the vehicle, as it made its way towards the house. This, he sensed, was going to be a very long and very difficult night.
Hodder was restless and he contemplated why was it that if you don’t wake up you don’t need to visit the bathroom. Was it an age thing? Was it his internal organs ‘revolting’ after years of abuse, or was it just a physiological reaction to being alert. He knew that he did not NEED to visit the toilet otherwise he would have woken up naturally. But regardless of the reason, he simply knew that ‘he had to go’.
When he tried the bathroom door it was locked. He knew that it was not Grace, she was still happily snoring away on her side of the still warm double bed. Now he really ‘did have to go’ and as he hopped around the landing he was relieved to hear the flush. Anytime soon he thought, anytime soon…but his bladder had plans of its’ own and was clearly not very eager to participate in this ‘hanging about lark’ for much longer, so, he banged on the door.
The door unlocked and he was surprised to see Ricky emerge…’You stay there’ said Hodder as he bounced into the bathroom. He set about the task in hand and sighed that long sigh of satisfaction, known only to a man who has just made it to the bathroom in time, as relief flooded from him. All things considered, Hodder took the view that this feeling of assuagement, was the second most satisfying sensation associated with penis ownership!
Flushed and washed he came out of the bathroom and onto the landing where still flushed and recently washed he saw Ricky. ‘Come with me’ he whispered as he led Ricky downstairs and into the lounge. Hodder was really pleased to see that Ricky was wearing joggers and not those ‘god awful’ ‘Sex on Fire’ underpants a ’la their previous encounter on the landing.
Ricky had a look of total bewilderment upon his face as he sat in stunned silence, clearly expecting a lecture of sorts. As it was 1.00am, he probably thought that he was having a nightmare, as he sat in expectation of a severe bollocking. ‘Coffee or something stronger perhaps’? said Hodder.
‘Coffee would be fine’ replied the still confused Ricky.
I’ll tell you what’ said Hodder as he walked over to the drinks cabinet ‘Let’s have one of these’, producing a bottle of Chivas Regal which he put on a coffee table between them.
Hodder then fetched two crystal glasses into which he poured two ‘healthy’ measures.
He handed one to Ricky who said ‘I don’t normally….’
‘Shush Ricky. There is whisky and there is whisky and this, my young friend is whisky…eighteen years old, the same age as you and Lauren…have a sniff…then take a short taste and let it play with your taste buds for a few seconds…what can you taste’?
Hodder leaned forward enthusiastically, as pleasure now replaced puzzlement on Ricky’s face as he sipped and sampled the malt. He let the flavours dance on his tongue, tantalising his taste buds which were now working overtime. Hodder was eager to know what flavours he was getting…‘Come on mate…I’ve got work in the morning’ he joked.
Finally Ricky said ‘Well Mr Hodder’.
‘It’s Jim’
‘Okay, you have to understand that I have never done this before, but I think that it’s a very generous whisky, with honey and hazel nut notes and a long creamy finish’
‘Bloody hell’ replied a gobsmacked Hodder ‘Where did it that come from’?
‘I’m a member of the Uni Malt Club’
‘Really?…do they take mature students’?
‘Actually, Jim, there is no such club. I read the label on the bottle when you went for the glasses’.
They both burst out laughing making so much noise that a few seconds later, Lauren came downstairs, doing a very passable impression of her mother. Her arms folded across her chest, she said in mock anger, ‘And what do you think that you two are doing’?
Ricky was in full flow now and said ‘Blending’ he hiccupped and continued…’I mean bonding’.
They burst out laughing again, Ricky trying to stifle his giggles behind his hand, and in that instant Hodder knew exactly why Lauren adored him so much. Not only was he quick but he was quick witted, and in that same instant he too, took him to his heart.
Lauren smiled and said ‘Will you please keep the noise down. I’m going back to college tomorrow, so I need some rest’. Two slurred ‘Slorry’s’ lost amongst their laughter, was their only response. However, she recognised that ‘boys will be boys’, and that some invisible bond had been created between the two.
As she turned and headed for the stairs, she heard Hodder enthusiastically say ‘Ricky, Ricky have you tried Balvennie?...I’ve got some’. She then heard the chink of glass…she hoped that Ricky knew what he was letting himself in for, but in truth she did not mind one bit.
And so, the sampling went on late into the night during which Hodder and Ricky really got to know each other…laughing and sharing jokes and anecdotes. Just before retiring, and probably more than just a little fuelled by drink, Hodder said ‘Ricky, I never did thank you for protecting Lauren when that idiot came to the house. Thank you…things could have been a lot worse had you not been here. Both Grace and I are very grateful to you’.
Ricky broke the spell by snoring. Leaving him sleeping downstairs, Hodder went back to bed.
Burrows was more agitated than Randall-Ord had ever seen him. He was pacing the large expensive indecorous lounge. The gangster told the law
yer about the incident involving ‘Big Neil’ and that Palma seemed to be ‘working’ in some way with his protagonists. He wanted Randall-Ord to make some enquiries with Palma who after all was one of his clients’. He wanted answers and he wanted them quickly.
Randall-Ord knew that Palma had been given bail and was supposed to reside at his flat on Hotspur Street. Burrow’s suspected that Palma was acting under duress…he had made no attempt to conceal his identity and he felt that this factor emphasised the point that he was under the control of some unknown third party. Burrows was also keen to know why these unknown individuals were so keen to speak to Dean Parks. ‘Now, with that I can help you…Parks as you know has a liking for unlawful entry and I’m not just talking about burglary…’
He was stopped mid flow by Burrows…’Don’t try humour on me…it doesn’t suit you and I’m not in the mood’.
Continuing Randall-Ord said ‘Sorry…I recently represented him on a rape charge…he has escaped from police custody and though I am yet to confirm it (he lied) I have heard rumours that he has raped again…I am only speculating that whoever, wants him is working on behalf of the victim. I will endeavour to find out what I can’.
Burrows’ brow creased in deep concentration, and the lawyer let the silence speak for itself, finally Burrows said ‘ I could use Parks as bait to flush out these bastards, sort them out and then sort out Parks…end of problem’.
‘Apart from…’
Apart from what’? Interrupted Randall-Ord…
’Apart from the fact that we don’t know where he is…the only thing that we can be certain of is that the ‘others’ do not know either…If we find him first we will hold all of the cards’.
‘Find him Francis…you have legitimate reasons to speak to both Parks and Palma. When you do find either of them call me and I will send someone to ‘pick them up’. Under normal circumstances, I would not be in the least bit concerned that someone seemed intent on waging a war with me. What does concern me said the Geordie Gangster (Another ‘Gee-Gee’!) is that on this occasion I do not know why they are doing it or for that matter who they are’.
‘I will do what I can’ said the lawyer’.
‘You will do more than that…cancel your appointments for tomorrow. I need an alibi and you are coming to a casino in Newcastle with me now where we are going to make sure that the staff will remember us. You my friend are my alibi’. With that, Burrows made a call to one of his ‘associates’ and ten minutes later they were en route to the casino located down a dark lane sitting above the Newcastle quayside.
Randall-Ord knew that this was not an ‘invitation’ that he could refuse. He knew that the sole purpose was for the very well-known Burrows to be seen in public. No doubt he would either deliberately lose a large sum of money, or do something that would consign his image to CCTV for future examination. What Randall-Ord did not know was that Burrows was an investor in the casino and that his image would be digitally manipulated to cover any of a number of dates. And so it was that Randall-Ord, a man originally from good stock, who habitually spent his working hours with ‘low-lifers’, whom he secretly despised, but whom he had to admit provided him with a lavish lifestyle, spent the rest of that night losing his own money.
In the presence of other so called ‘V.I.P.’s’, most of whom were associates of Burrows, the crime lord set about the tables in a highly charged, very public way knowing that some or all of these people, would provide him with an alibi when one was required.
At 6.00am, Burrows declared the night ‘over’ and he decided that it was ‘time for bed’. If Randall-Ord was in any doubt about where he stood with Burrows it came when as he was getting into the car, Burrows said ‘Get a cab…and keep in touch…I want this sorted out quickly’.
The lawyer was left standing open mouthed on the pavement as the silver X5 drove off, the driver under instructions to keep to the speed limit and to get captured on as many city centre CCTV cameras as possible. Indeed, Burrows own CCTV system would be manipulated to change the time and date of his return to a time ‘relevant’ to his particular needs. Unbeknown to Randall-Ord, Burrows was also a silent investor in a security company and the I.T. Department was sufficiently skilled to ‘doctor’ any image on any medium.
Burrows, was nothing if not resourceful.
About an hour later Randall-Ord crawled into his still unmade bed. He was exhausted but his mind was racing. He knew that he would have to appear at least, to accede to Burrows demands.
It may have been early in the morning but Randall-Ord decided to ring Hodder.
Hodder was alone in the office nursing a cup of coffee and a sore head, inwardly reprimanding himself for over indulging during the early hours. On the plus side however, he had got to know Ricky and really liked what he had seen. Why he wondered was he so quick to jump to conclusions and form opinions about others, and more importantly why was he constantly being proven wrong by those that he doubted. Hodder was midway through promising himself to ‘turn over a new leaf’ when his mobile rang. It was Randall-Ord.
‘I need to see you’ said a clearly agitated Francis before continuing ‘Burrows is planning his revenge...he wants me to find Palma and Parks’.
‘He will have to join the queue…half of the uncivilised world are after those two’.
Randall-Ord said ‘I am going to cancel all of my appointments today, including court…you have to help me I am way out of my depth…If I fail he will probably kill me’.
‘The problem is Francis’ and just for reasons of clarity Hodder added ‘He will probably kill even if you succeed’.
‘When can we meet’ said an increasingly agitated Randall-Ord, and in those four words Hodder felt that he had him exactly where he wanted him.
Hodder felt disinclined to tell the corrupt lawyer about his ‘hoped for’ meeting with Parks later in the day, and said that he would call him back later in the day, mindful that purely for cosmetic purposes, the D.I. had asked him to assist with the desk searches in the office.
Hodder knew from previous such purges that this was usually a waste of time. Experienced officers were hardly ever caught out. Vast quantities of property and paperwork were returned to ‘where it should be’, thus preventing any potential problems. Officers’ would often hide ‘other property’ in their garages or cars.
Paperwork on the other hand, was often sent on a delayed and totally pointless journey through the internal mail system before eventually ending up back where it had originally started, hidden in the officer’s desk. It was all a rather pathetic and meaningless exercise.
Four or five desks were done before the D.I. and Hodder arrived at Hodder’s desk. Playing the game Hodder said ‘Be my guest’. Hodder did not hear the sellotape seal break as a look of excited anticipation spread across the senior man’s face as he confidently rummaged through the drawers.
Nothing….if he was disappointed he disguised it well.
A few minutes later, Baxter’s arrival was announced by the same expensive aftershave that he had taken to wearing since he had taken up with Hannah. His desk too, was given a clean bill of health.
The D.I. and Hodder then moved on to the desk of the absent ‘Gee-Gee’…in a flippant remark The D.I. said ‘This is pointless, he does nowt’!
Nonetheless, for reasons of fairness the desk had to be searched and lo and behold, as Baxter looked on a wry smile spread across his face, as the Scouse voice of Cilla Black saying ‘Surprise! Surprise!’ filled his head.
The D.I. was incandescent with rage. However, Baxter was unsure whether it was because he knew that he had been ‘outfoxed’ or that ‘Gee-Gee’ was simply so incompetent that he couldn’t even carry out a simple instruction to ‘shaft’ a fellow officer.
A simple ‘I will be having words with ‘Gee-Gee’ when he comes in’ were uttered by the crestfallen senior officer, who retrieved the Ecstasy tablets, before plodding out of the office.
‘Bloody Hell’ said Hodder,
‘who’d have thought it…’Gee-Gee’ has been a naughty boy’…Baxter would tell him the truth later.
Hodder then went to the detention room where he reunited Palma with his phone. Mindful of the unique echoing sounds of the cell block, and the shouting of ‘other prisoners’, Hodder took Palma to the internal exercise yard from where he rang Parks and after a few seconds the phone was answered. The two of them then conducted a largely indecipherable conversation, consisting of what sounded to Hodder like grunts and groans. Naturally, he could only hear one side of the conversation, but when what sounded like a confrontation between two rutting stags was over, Hodder said ‘Well’?
‘It’s on…half ten at the farm.
Hodder took the phone, returned Palma to the detention room and promised to be back soon. He then went back to the office where he managed to disengage Baxter from a conversation about ‘Gee-Gee’ and the ‘booty’ recovered from his desk. The general consensus amongst the guys was that he deserved everything that was coming his way and that his comeuppance was well and truly overdue.
Baxter was then let in on the embryonic, still developing plan to capture Dean Parks. As usual, Baxter saw the flaws in the strategy, the major one being that they, well, more specifically Hodder, was investing a large amount of trust in the hitherto untrustworthy Palma. Hodder tested Baxter’s loyalty even further when he refused to enlist the assistance of any colleagues, or inform the incident or control rooms what they were up to.
This sounded to Baxter just like the disastrous set of circumstances which led to Park’s escape in the first place, but he kept his own counsel. This, the latest in a long line of ‘Jim Hodder Productions’ was as usual, a completely ad hoc affair. Hodder would not be swayed from his plan which he explained to Baxter as they walked to a nearby coffee shop to get a ‘take away’ boost of caffeine.
Back in the detention room, Hodder explained to Palma what he wanted him to do. He knew that the plan was dangerous and that it could fail at any time. So, as a consequence, he made Palma repeat the plan several times until he was confident that he knew exactly what was expected of him. At 10.00am, the two Detectives ‘signed out’ Palma and all three set out for Friardene Farm, in torrential rain, ably assisted by the all too familiar northeast wind.
As per their previous visit they approached the farm on foot, and entered the stairwell leading to the loft barn. The strategy was for Baxter to be hidden inside the loft. Hodder, was to conceal himself in one of the outbuildings which gave him a view of the stairwell. Palma meanwhile, was to wait outside the buildings pending the arrival of Parks. Once Palma and Parks entered the loft, the plan was for Hodder to follow them inside and arrest Parks.
Simple? As soon as they got there, problems occurred. The first was that Palma was unable to open the door leaving Baxter ‘marooned’ on the landing. The second dilemma was that the very vocal ‘Farmers wife’ had obviously seen Palma and was intent on doing a ‘bit of impromptu rent collecting’.
She entered the stairwell and looking up screamed at Palma…’You can bugger off if you think that you are getting in there without paying your back rent. I have changed the locks’! Her little Jack Russell barked viciously, but it was her bark that struck fear into the heart of the young Detective.
Baxter tried to reason with her, but she had clearly been the victorious veteran of many a battle over the years, and her vitriolic ranting suggested to Baxter that she probably had the campaign medals to prove it.
He knew that he was unlikely to make any progress with her at all. She was as solid and as immovable as the headland of ‘Pen Bal’ and in the view of Baxter, almost as ‘Craggy’. She was not going to budge, and crucially, time was running out because Parks was due to arrive at any moment. Thinking on his feet Baxter told Palma to go downstairs to speak to Hodder and to tell him about the difficulties that they were having. Palma walked out of the barn passing his, now ‘former landlord’ in silence.
She followed Palma outside and on ‘full volume’ screamed at Palma to ‘get off my land and take your mate with you or I will call the police’. She was obviously referring to Baxter because unbeknown to her, at this point in time, Parks was cautiously skirting the outer edge of the barn keeping as close to the walls as he could.
Palma caught sight of Parks at the last second. Parks clearly sensed that ‘something was up’ or it could have been that his timing and hearing was so acute, that he actually heard the word ‘Police’ being shouted. Either way, it was enough to startle him, and he started running across the open land to the south west of the farm buildings towards the rear of Whitley Bay Golf Course, Holywell Dene, and more importantly from his point of view…freedom.
Palma gave chase, unaware of the old woman waving her walking stick at his back or of the Jack Russell snapping at his heels. The dog chased him for about one hundred yards, before thinking better of it and giving up. Eventually, Palma caught up with Parks as he tried to climb a stile just before he headed off into deep woodland. ‘Parky, Parky stop’! He said panting heavily. ‘She is only an old woman…the bitch has changed the locks to the loft’.
‘What’s that I heard about the police’? screamed Parks bent over double with his hands resting on his knees.
‘The silly old cow was threatening me because I owe her some back rent…she is like that all of the time…you want to hear how she speaks to the poor bastards who rent the farm cottages…I am going back after dark to screw the loft to get my gear. Do you fancy it’?
Parks was clearly very nervous and unconvinced. After a few moments, he made a call to someone on his mobile. It was obvious from what was being said that he had a driver on ‘standby’ near the farm. After the conversation he and Palma set off jogging through the network of footpaths and disused railway lines that covered the area, and about fifteen minutes later they emerged in an underpass on Monkseaton Drive, on the outskirts of Whitley Bay.
A further call, and a few minutes later, they were sitting in a taxi heading for Newcastle City Centre and the relative safety that the city and it’s forever changing and moving population provided. Palma asked the driver to divert to an ATM where he obtained some cash using a genuine cash card from an ‘alias account’ that he held. The card itself was difficult to retrieve because he kept it wrapped up in cling film, further wrapped in toilet roll between the cheeks of his arse.
He knew that most Police Officer’s would be reluctant to look there and as far as he knew, muggers had no yet ‘cottoned on’ to this improvised method of personal security.
The driver was duly paid and it was off to ‘The Clock’ where there was time to kill and drinking and ‘shopping’ to be done. As they entered the bar ‘Talking Heads’ blasted from the wall mounted speakers. As usual, ‘Daft Larry’ was pissed and he too was ‘On the Road to Nowhere’…well, he was at the moment…very soon he would soon be on the road to the shops armed with a shopping list. A pint of cider opened the negotiations with ‘Larry’, who was promised more when he returned with a large jemmy, screwdriver, two head torches and a sleeping bag. Twenty minutes later ‘Larry’ was back ‘tooled up’ and ready for more cider. Palma gave Larry twenty pounds for his trouble, and in return ‘Daft Larry’ gave Palma a debit card in the name of Lauren Weston that he had had for a few days.
In truth, Larry could not remember where or from whom he got it, but that was the way of the world when you lived your life through a drunken haze of half memories, half-truths and half pints.
For his part, Parks was not going to tell Palma about the history of the card but he was working on the principle that if the ‘wheel came off’ Palma would have some difficulty explaining what he was doing with the card that had earlier been stolen from a Police Officers’ home. Parks thought that the debit card may actually provide him with an alibi and it could prove to be the undoing of Palma. In truth, the basis of his dislike Palma was the fact that he (Palma) seemed to carry a lot of luck, he had a pretty g
ood lifestyle and seemed to know most of the big players. Basically, Palma had most of the things that he did not have.
The fact was that he valued his freedom far more than he valued Palma’s. This was after all, the cut throat world of ‘Burglars Dog eat Burglars Dog’. As the afternoon, greeted the early evening, Parks said that it was time to go.
‘We need to get our heads down if we are going to graft that farm tonight’ said Parks…
Where do you have in mind’?
‘Tynemouth’ was Parks’ single word answer.
‘You must be joking…if I am seen in Tynemouth by certain individuals, you will be grafting alone tonight’.
Parks laughed…’We will not be seen where we are going…it’s way off the beaten track…come on drink up’.
Palma said ‘Metro or Taxi then?
‘Taxi to ‘Shields Quayside then on foot to the digs’.
‘Sounds good…I’m off for a piss’ said Palma. Once in the toilet, Palma entered a cubicle and texted a message to Hodder on the number that he had earlier memorised. If David Attenborough or Charles Darwin had have been regulars at ‘The Clock’, they would have been in awe at the primitive species on display. They would doubtless have recognised Palma’s actions as the manifestation of a basic survival instinct. However, such was the state of the toilets, that many an ‘inferior species’ may have ‘perished’ just with the smell alone.
The short message simply said ‘Tynemouth txt L8R’. He deleted it before returning to the bar.
Parks was anxious, clearly suspecting that Palma had taken a little too long…’Some piss that mate…have you got the bladder of an elephant’?
‘No mate, I have the bowels of a Chihuahua with diarrhoea, especially after cider and a cross country run’. hat seemed to do the trick, Parks appeared to accept this explanation. And so it was that with ‘shopping’ in hand, they took a cab to North Shields Fish Quay via a sweet shop and once again finally to the ‘Bottom Dolphin’ where Absinthe and Stella were taken.
The storm before the…
Earlier, back on the farm Hodder was coaxed from his hiding place by the ravings of the cantankerous old woman that he had met on his previous visit. As he emerged from the shadows he saw Baxter come out of the barn alone. Taking one look at the two men the woman, who seemed to thrive on confrontation she said ‘Not two again…where were you when I needed you…you have missed them they ran away over the fields…will be long gone now’!
Hodder walked over to the woman, he was fuming but managed somehow to maintain some semblance of composure. ‘We were here you stupid woman…you have just managed to ‘blow out’ a very important investigation’.
The old battle axe was not going to be swayed…’That’s as may be, but that doesn’t get me my rent. Now you bugger off too or I’ll set my dog on you’.
The dog looked at Hodder.
Hodder looked at the dog.
The dog growled at Hodder.
Hodder growled at the woman as he and Baxter walked off the farm.
‘Well, that was a roaring success’ said Baxter ‘We have also lost Palma’.
‘Don’t start Jeff! I’m thinking! Palma was not in custody anyway, so he is not going to be a problem to explain away…I think that he will be in touch before long’.
‘I wish that I had your confidence’ said Baxter as Hodder inwardly thought ‘So do I’!
‘Not to worry Jeff, back to the factory…we have young Neville to interview. Let’s just see if he can shed any light on the situation. Back at the car Baxter climbed into the driver’s seat as Hodder remained outside making a phone call.
Randall-Ord picked up immediately. ‘Francis it’s me. Any developments’?
‘None’.
‘Okay’ said Hodder ‘Listen up, climb into your ‘Solicitors Uniform’ get yourself to Shields nick and tell the Custody Officer that you have been instructed by a Mr Bostock to represent Neville Thompson in interview. I will be back soon and will tell you want I want. By the way, when you get the go ahead from Thompson, give ‘First Aid’ a call and tell him that you have conned your way into an interview, but that it is expected to be quite lengthy. That will buy us some time…don’t let me down…you know the consequences if you do and ‘First Aid’ will be the last person you will want to speak to if you do fail’.
Hodder ended the call, and buoyed with optimism, jumped in the car saying to Baxter in his best Lady Penelope voice ‘Home Parker’. Baxter was perplexed. ‘Why on earth was Hodder so upbeat’? Baxter, decided not to trouble himself with the mental machinations of ‘Planet Hodder’, and they headed back to North Shields Police Office.
Over breakfast that morning, in the Fire Station pub, in Whitley Bay, Bostock and ‘Tiny’ had not been idle and had hatched a plan. Shortly before 10.00am, they made their way in separate vehicles to Hodder’s street, and parked some distance from his home. After about fifteen minutes they saw Lauren and Ricky get into the second hand Ford Fiesta that Grace and Hodder had bought Lauren as ‘well done’ present for passing her driving test at the first attempt.
At the time, Hodder feigned anger because it had taken him five attempts to pass his driving test, but he was in truth, really pleased because it released him from driving duties. The lessons were prohibitively expensive, just like the insurance, though the niggard in him reasoned that it was cheaper than paying for Halls of Residence at a university in another part of the country.
‘Tiny’ and Bostock trailed behind the Fiesta at a safe distance, following the rear lights between the sweeping motions of his windscreen wipers. As Lauren progressed along Claremont Road, she began to slow down at some traffic lights and indicated her intention to turn right and travel west onto Marine Avenue. Using his van, ‘Tiny’ rammed her car from behind whilst the lights were still on red against her.
The force of the collision was such that both Lauren and Ricky were thrown forward in their seats with such momentum that the airbags activated filling the interior of the car with a chocking white powder.
Almost immediately, Bostock who had been behind ‘Tiny’ got out of his car, approached the driver’s door of the Fiesta and led the still dazed Lauren to the back seat of his Infiniti where, feeling strangely guilty, he ‘Tasered’ her. But, he reasoned, ‘Needs must’. She convulsed in agony as the charge raged around her body. Bostock jumped in the Infiniti and drove off leaving ‘Tiny’ at the scene with Ricky. They would meet up later.
Ricky who was semi-conscious, complained bitterly about pain to his neck and lower back. Just then, a couple of passing pedestrians came across the scene, and ‘Tiny’ thinking rather quickly for a man so fresh from battle, said to no one in particular ‘I’ll shift my car around the corner’. Tiny did shift his car around the corner, and he kept on shifting it until he met up with Bostock at the largely deserted Royal Quays Shopping Complex about three miles away on the north bank of the Tyne. The van hired using false documentation was parked amongst other vehicles and was unlikely to attract any attention for quite some time.
In a strange case of ‘role reversal’, ‘Tiny’ got into the rear of the Infiniti with Lauren as Bostock drove.
Bostock was confident that the likelihood of detection or identification were small and that once he contacted Hodder he was confident that he would once again have wrestled control of the situation from him and have regained the initiative. It was at times like this that Bostock missed the ‘more hands on approach’ to his job, and he arrogantly thought to himself ‘Hey, brother…you have still got it’, as if kidnapping an eighteen year old girl was the zenith of his criminal career.
It was not something about which he would ever boast about.
Back on Claremont Road, even before ‘Tiny’ had reached The Royal Quays, one of the pedestrians who had ‘happened upon the crash scene’ had become suspicious and had the clear presence of mind to call 999 and within minutes both the Police and Ambulance Services’ had been despatched. Upon arrival at the scene,
members of both emergency services were perplexed to ‘discover’ that there was no driver present. However, experience had taught the police that this usually occurred when a driver who was clearly over the limit from the night before, fled the scene to evade a breath test.
Equally, experience showed that those drivers usually surfaced when the level of alcohol in their breath or blood had returned to more ‘acceptable levels’. This would not happen in this case.
Of priority to the Ambulance Service was the condition of the front seated passenger, Ricky, who though drifting in and out of consciousness complained of neck and back pain.
The Fire Service ‘lived’ for situations just like this, and when they got the call from the Police Control Room they could not wait to attend. Fearing spinal injuries Ricky would have to be ‘extracted’ from the vehicle and placed on a spinal board. From the point of view of ‘the lads from The Full Monty’, it’s not every day you get the chance to cut the roof off a car with a real live, dying victim inside. En route to the scene, The Fire Crew drew straws and the ‘lucky cutters’ were identified.
The Traffic Officers who attended the scene conducted a P.N.C. check on the Ford Fiesta which was traced to Lauren Weston at an address that no one identified as Hodder’s, but why would they.
The Control Room despatched an Officer to the address in an effort to trace the driver. Furthermore, local hospitals were contacted requesting information about any patients showing obvious signs of ‘accident damage’. This was utterly futile, because other than Ricky none would turn up.
Unbeknown to Bostock, and Thompson for that matter, Randall-Ord had arrived at the police station saying that he had been contacted by a Mr Bostock to represent the interests of Mr Thompson presently in custody for unlawful imprisonment. This message was conveyed to an ever anxious Thompson, who sensing a ‘light at the end of a tunnel’ in the misguided belief that his boss was looking after him, readily accepted Randall-Ord’s offer of assistance.
Before Randall-Ord met Thompson, Hodder and Randall-Ord held a private ‘pow-wow’ in the former linen store. An anxious Randall-Ord said…’Are you recording me’?
‘Not at all, I am conspiring with you so turn out your bag so we can talk’.
The remark by Randall-Ord convinced Hodder that the ‘dirty’ solicitor was ‘clean’.
‘Okay’ said Hodder after he had given Randall-Ord a thumb nail history of Bostock and his working practices. ‘I need to know’ continued Hodder ‘exactly what Bostock’s intentions are and where he is likely to be. But more importantly, what he is intending to do with Parks and Palma’.
So, under the guise of a private consultation with Thompson, Randall-Ord established that Bostock was extremely ruthless and extremely unforgiving. Thompson did not know, but he suspected that if Bostock had his way, then the two young criminals would remain just that…they would not reach a ripe old age.
As the ‘consultation’ drew to a close Randall-Ord advised Thompson to maintain a ‘No Reply’ policy in the first of what was likely be numerous interviews. In actual fact, this was probably sound advice because even though Randall-Ord was effectively colluding with Hodder, he did not trust the Detective and should the ‘wheel come off’ he could rely on the fact that he was acting under duress as an ‘excuse’ for his ‘unprofessional conduct’. He recognised this as a very thin line of defence but knew that it was the only one available to him.
After the ‘bogus consultation’ Randall-Ord was able to tell Hodder about Bostock’s stay at the Village Hotel and what rooms they were in and the false names they had used to register as guests.
It was clear that Bostock would stop at nothing to gain his revenge, and that he did not care who he upset in the process. The solicitor was proving very useful as an informant, the information about the attack on ‘Big Neil’ proving to be particularly explosive.
This could lead to an all-out street war and if ‘First Aid’ was toppled a ‘power vacuum’ could be created on Tyneside leading to all sorts of chaos. Hodder had no time for Burrows but it had to be said that in his own way, he did maintain ‘order of sorts’, besides, the Police knew exactly where they stood with him. This was certainly a case of ‘better the devil you know’.
Baxter was Hodder’s partner, and for once, he felt ‘duty bound’ to be straight with him, and Hodder was pleasantly surprised with Baxter’s growing maturity, professionalism and above all how astute he had been when he mentioned removing the ‘E’s’ that ‘Gee-Gee’ had put in his desk prior to the desk search.
The ‘old Hodder’ returned to the conversation and he said ‘Gee-Gee’ is a spineless little fucker…Tell me did you stitch up ‘Gee-Gee’ with those pills Jeff’?
Baxter smiled, winked and said ‘You may say that Sergeant. I, of course, could not possibly comment’.
‘Okay’, said Hodder ‘It’s not as if we don’t have enough on our plates without fighting all of these internal battles, but this is not going away without some form of response from me…just watch this space…stay out of this Jeff…and thank you for what you have done for me’.
Because he had been in consultation with Randall-Ord and then later Baxter Hodder did not hear the radio transmissions asking an officer to visit his home address to locate the ‘missing driver’ from the collision in Whitley Bay.
Grace had thought it prudent to take a couple of days off longer than Lauren just in case she found it difficult to return to Uni, especially given all of the controversy over ‘her’ Facebook postings. As she answered the door she saw a Uniformed Officer ‘Mrs Weston’?
‘No. Mrs Hodder’.
The Officer, recognised the unusual name and tried to change ‘tack’ immediately thinking that he may be better off speaking to Detective Sergeant Hodder.
‘Oh, I’m sorry I seem to have the wrong address’.
‘No you don’t young man…my daughter is called Lauren Weston and you obviously know who my husband is. Please come in…but watch that you don’t trip over the Dyson in the hallway. Years of living with the lying, conniving, manipulative Hodder had sharpened Grace’s senses, and over that time she had sat through countless master classes in deception of all types. This young officer was an amateur, a mere rookie.
The officer explained as sensitively as he could what he knew of the ‘accident’. ‘Mrs Hodder, was Lauren driving the car this morning’?
‘Yes. She was with her boyfriend, Ricky. Are they alright’?
‘Mrs Hodder, from the little I know of the incident I understand that Ricky has been taken to hospital with back and neck injuries, but that Lauren was not at the scene when the Emergency Services arrived’.
Grace’s hand shot up to her mouth in disbelief, and she seemed to gulp the air in panic as she breathlessly whispered ‘Where is she’?
‘I was rather hoping that you would be able to help me with that’ ventured the officer feeling the wrath of Hodder as he spoke each word.
‘I have no idea…have you tried all of the Hospitals or her Uni…she could be injured, dazed or in shock…she has just recovered from a traumatic event. Does my husband know’?
‘I’m not sure Mrs Hodder, because we were looking for Lauren Weston the name of your husband did not automatically ‘compute’ with me. I’m sorry’.
‘It’s not your fault, I should tell Jim’.
‘Mrs Hodder, I know that this is most unusual, but I will get into trouble if I don’t have a quick look around your home. I’m sure if you speak to your husband he will tell you that that is standard procedure’.
‘Go ahead…help yourself’ said Grace in a dazed dreamlike state.
At about the same time whilst sitting in the office, the informant’s line rang and Baxter took the call. ‘Jim it’s for you’. Hodder took the handset and heard Bostock say…’Good morning Mr Hodder, I trust that you are well’?
‘You did not call to enquire as to my welfare. What do you want’?
&
nbsp; ‘The same thing that I have always wanted Mr Hodder…Parks, and that is not a subject that is open to negotiation….
But as an incentive I would like you to listen to this’…Hodder then heard ‘rustling’ down the line as the handset was passed to a frantic, tearful and terrified Lauren who came on the line ‘Dad. Dad, please help me’.
There was a further ‘muffling’ sound as Bostock said ‘I take that we now understand each other’.
The line went dead.
Hodder was panic stricken. He had no idea where his daughter was, or what condition she was in.
He did however, know two things. He had to find Parks, and he had to find him very quickly.
After the events of recent days the second came as no surprise to him at all. If he had ever doubted it, Hodder now knew for certain that there is no situation that a Police Officer can’t make worse.