As expected, Leah and Jonesy were silent.

  “We need to get this operation out of the way,” Nora suggested wearily. “Then we can look into a possible leak.”

  But those words gave way to another alarming possibility. That whoever was working against them could jeopardise the sting operation against Alan Prescott.

  16

  Alec Prescott should have just cut his losses and left Bedford.

  It would be simpler to run. It certainly would be easier.

  But he’d done a bit more digging on his benefactor, the type of man he was, and knew him to be a man you pay if you owe.

  And Thomas Howard was going to bring with him a fresh bag of money that he’d be able to use to replace the equipment confiscated by the police. It wouldn’t last forever, but it would do until he could get something more permanent set up.

  Perhaps it would be good to call it a day. Live the honest life as his sister had always wanted.

  No. He could never do that. He even laughed at himself for considering it. There were wolves and sheep in this world, and he knew which one he was.

  He texted Howard the address for a remote location so that they could meet. He’d take the money and then kill the man before disappearing for a while. Before his benefactor could find him.

  Because they hadn’t been able to get Howard properly suited up with a wire, there was a lot of guesswork taking place. Leah had spoken to the Strategic Firearms Commander about getting a team in place. Farah was also positioned on the scene and would step in if there was a risk to Howard’s life.

  Leah, Jonesy, and Jeff were watching the scene unfold later that night from a concealed position. Farah was down below wearing a Kevlar vest and observing through night-vision goggles.

  Farah’s voice crackled through Leah’s police radio. “Victor Charlie Five Four, sit rep, no obs.”

  Thomas had parked his car near a shipping container so that he could make a quick getaway if he needed to.

  Leah had her eyes on the car from the concealed position. Time seemed to slow down.

  “Victor Charlie Five Four, obs on secondary vehicle entering the main gate,” Farah’s voice came through, at which point everyone looked in the direction of the gate.

  A second car was pulling into the area. Thomas looked tense, and Leah could imagine that a part of him was hoping that this wasn’t a ruse, that this was indeed his brother back from the dead.

  The car was parked a good distance away from Thomas. Too distant for him to make out any specific features.

  “Kyle?” Thomas called out hesitantly. “Is that you?”

  Alec couldn’t say anything.

  From her vantage point, Leah smirked at this. “Not so talkative without your gadgets, are you?” She was looking forward to interrogating him when this was all over.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out.

  Everyone ducked for cover, even the ones who were concealed. Leah clamoured for her police radio and spoke into it. “Farah, tell me what’s going on?” She wondered if the young constable had fired off a shot pre-emptively.

  “It wasn’t me, ma’am,” Farah explained, her weapon still primed. “Shots fired; can’t see who’s been hit.”

  She braved herself and looked out into the parking spot.

  Thomas was crouched next to his car, ducking for cover, too scared to move in case he was hit next.

  But Alec Prescott was lying prone on the ground, writhing in agony.

  Farah did not know what to do. If she moved, she’d be leaving herself open for an attack. She looked around at all of the buildings, trying to see if there was a sniper among them.

  If she moved now, she’d be an easy target.

  But if she didn’t, then the gunman could fire again, this time getting Thomas.

  Bracing herself for what may be her last moment, she ran into the open area, crying out, “Victor Charlie Five Four, urgent ambulance required, serious casualty, gunshot wounds.”

  She ran over to the fallen suspect, who was bleeding heavily from wounds to the torso. “Shit!” she mustered, trying to stop the bleeding with her limited resources.

  Alec looked up at her, pale and sweaty from the mass blood loss.

  “Alec?” she shouted down at him, checking his pulse. “Can you hear me?”

  But Alec couldn’t get any words out, instead slipping into unconsciousness.

  She took an item of clothing and fashioned a makeshift tourniquet, which did little to stop the bleeding.

  It felt like the longest wait for Farah, for a bullet with her name to come raining down on her.

  But it never came.

  The tension was disrupted by the sound of the ambulance which pulled into the parking area.

  The paramedics hurried towards Alec and tried to provide medical attention before he expired. “Gunshot wounds to the abdomen,” one of them announced as they tried to patch him up. “Severe blood loss.”

  Another paramedic exclaimed, “Tourniquets are only given arterial control, looks like major arterial bleeds.”

  They placed an oxygen mask over Alec’s face and prepared to lift him.

  Leah and Jonesy rushed out from their hiding spot and took in the scene. “What the hell happened?”

  “No idea,” Farah replied, getting to her feet, her hands now covered in blood. “I’m guessing a sniper took Alec out.”

  “Which means that he wasn’t working alone,” Jonesy exclaimed.

  “Any idea where the sniper is?” Farah asked, not feeling safe until the sniper was in custody.

  “We’ve got AFOs out searching, yet there’s no sign of them,” the inspector replied, feeling the constable’s anguish.

  “At least we managed to get the bastard,” Jonesy offered, trying to sound reassuring.

  “Yeah,” Leah admitted, not wanting to put a dampener on things, but feeling the need to be realistic. “But that depends on when he’s going to be good enough to take questions.”

  She looked over to Thomas, who looked shaken by all the carnage, but nonetheless seemed to be all right.

  Suddenly, Leah’s phone started ringing. “DI West?” Her face fell as the other person spoke. “What? When? Are you sure?” Finally, she shakily said, “I see. Well, thank you for telling me.”

  She hung up the phone, looking at her fellow officers. “He’s dead. Alec Prescott died in the ambulance three minutes ago.”

  17

  “Well, that could have gone better,” Superintendent Wade replied with a huff. They were all stood in the office, waiting for the next order of business.

  “At least we know he’s not going to hurt anyone else,” Jonesy suggested, trying to look on the positive side.

  “But we don’t know who he was working for,” Nora snapped back, slumping down into her seat. “It was a risky enough operation as it is, putting a civilian in jeopardy.”

  “There’s got to be something we can do,” Leah asked, unwilling to give up.

  “There is,” Nora answered, gesturing to the door. “Go home and get some sleep. We’ll deal with this tomorrow morning.”

  But no one felt like sleep. The adrenaline was coursing through all of them.

  Leah turned to Farah. This was the second time she’d ended up in harm’s way in as many cases. “How are you feeling, Farah?” she asked, trying to imagine the worry going through her.

  “I’m still here,” she replied numbly before walking away.

  Sensing that something was wrong, Leah whispered to Jonesy, “Would you mind going over and talking to her? I think it might be easier coming from you than me.”

  Jonesy felt like he was being put on the spot, and a little affronted that she seemed to look at him as the best candidate for talking to Farah on account of his own PTSD. “I’ll try,” he offered, rubbing his eyes. “But I don’t know what good it’ll do.”

  He walked over to Farah, who was standing by the water cooler, pouring herself cup after cup after cup. “Just so you know,” Jonesy began, trying to move around her so he could address her. “I think you handled yourself really well out there.”

  “It’s part of the job,” she replied, not turning around to look at him. “Is this the part where you ask me how I’m holding up?”

  Seeing no point in beating around the bush, Jonesy came out and asked, “How are you holding up?”

  “Better than Thomas Howard, I can tell you that,” she responded, finally turning around to look at him.

  “How do you mean?” Jonesy asked, not having had the time to speak with the man.

  “Well, he hasn’t spoken since last night,” Farah replied as she helped herself to more water. “But I bet he’s gone over last night in his head several times. I would. But me? I’m fine.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking of blaming yourself,” Jonesy began, but she cut him off. “He was a civilian. It’s not exactly a common sight seeing someone gunned down before your eyes.”

  “Exactly,” she snapped, facing him and abandoning the water cooler. “He’s vulnerable. Human. Not like us. We don’t get to lick our wounds. We’ve just got to bottle it all up and move on to the next target. There’s no chance of us having a man shot dead in front of us and having it be the most significant moment of our lives. For him, it was the end of his life as he knew it. But for us, it was just another Tuesday. I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong with us. Like the only reason we function as well as we do is because we’re already dead inside.”

  “Farah…” Jonesy began, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she smacked it away as though it were a scorpion.

  “People think that I’m still mourning for what happened to me with that group,” she snapped, barely holding herself together. “That I’m a bundle of nerves waiting to collapse. But the truth is much worse.”

  “What’s the truth?” Jonesy asked gently, trying to remember when he’d been in the same headspace.

  “That I’m fine,” she answered with a shrug. “That in a few hours’ time, if some other mad bastard is out there with a gun, I’ll go out there and face him. That’s what’s worse.”

  Jonesy tried to think of something to say, remembering how everything his therapist had said to him had bounced off of him, that he couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to endure this pain.

  “When I had my near-death experience,” he began, choosing the words carefully. “I felt like I couldn’t look at everything the same way. I couldn’t do things the same way, be it drinking a beer or taking a walk. Everything had changed for me. And I was just waiting for the next time my world imploded on me. And I told myself that the best way to deal with it was to treat every day as though it were your last.”

  Farah nodded along with this, and conscious that she may be taking all of this to heart, he quickly added, “But I was wrong. In the end, I made myself miserable. And I made everyone around me miserable for a good few months. But I got through it. Because of Leah. You’ll get through it too. I promise you. A bad day doesn’t have to mean a bad life. And if you ever need to talk, I’ll be on hand to listen.”

  He turned around before turning back to her and saying, “And just so you know, if you think you’re cutting yourself off from people because you’re dead inside… the fact that you want to feel something should tell you you’re not as dead as you think you are.”

  He walked away, leaving her with those thoughtful words.

  Leah spent the next few hours, going through Alec Prescott’s personal effects. It wasn’t even a fraction of the equipment they’d confiscated, and she imagined all he had left to his name were the clothes on his back.

  She planned to send them off for further analysis, but it was the mobile that interested her. She scanned through the numbers, seeing if any of them jumped out at her.

  And then one did.

  She was so shocked, she almost dropped the phone in surprise.

  She recognised the number, having seen it several times before.

  It belonged to Detective Sergeant Jeff Rowan.

  18

  Jeff felt like he was hyperventilating.

  He could have maintained his contact with the cover and warned Prescott ahead of time about the sting operation. But clearly, his benefactor had found out about the meeting and seen to it that Prescott was silenced. Jeff remembered what the mysterious man had once said to him. “A false passport and a new life buy a man’s silence for a time. But a bullet to the heart buys it forever.”

  In truth, Jeff couldn’t let the man walk free. He didn’t think his conscience could take it if another man died because of him. He hoped that the detectives could bring him in alive, even if it meant the end of his career.

  But with Prescott dead, it was possible that the trail would go cold.

  Did he still have a way in with the benefactor? He had no way of knowing.

  “You can’t be serious,” Nora exclaimed, feeling like there were no end of surprises coming her way.

  “Don’t believe me, ring it,” Leah suggested, having scribbled the number down on a piece of paper.

  Nora was reeling, unsure how to take this in. “This can’t be happening,” she exclaimed breathlessly, and Leah wondered if she was going to collapse on her. “Are you telling me that one of our most experienced officers has been working alongside Prescott?”

  “Well, how else can you explain his number being in the killer’s mobile phone?” Leah asked, starting to feel vindicated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been doing all of this to undermine me.”

  At this point, Nora raised an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, DI West, the universe isn’t out to get you.”

  “It certainly feels like it,” Leah retorted, thinking about all the negative press she’d caught as a result of this case and curious how much of a role DS Rowan had played in it. “Do I have your permission to make the arrest?”

  Nora sighed, having long since run out of resistance. “Why not?” she asked sarcastically. “It’s not like I could stop you anyway.”

  At this, Leah marched out of the office and found Jeff filling in some paperwork. “How you holding up, Leah?” he asked cheerfully, before catching her piercing glare.

  “I’m good, actually,” she replied calmly, though her fury was palpable. “I’m a lot more clear-headed. You see, for the last month or so, I’ve been suffering from this pain in the arse. And I thought that it was just the scum of the earth getting the better of me. Every time we tried to make a move on Prescott, it always felt like he had the winning hand. Certainly, a lot of work for him to be doing on his own. And now I see why.”

  She held up a photo of the mobile and Jeff’s number written next to it. His face fell the moment he saw the phone.

  “Jeff Rowan,” she began with relish as she took out the cuffs, “I’m arresting you on suspicion of perverting the course of justice and aiding and abetting a known killer. You do not have to say anything, however it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something under questioning that you later go on to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be used as evidence.”

  She’d hoped that he would look overwhelmed and broken by the announcement. But if anything, he just looked relieved.

  She marched him down to an interrogation room and took her seat opposite him. If she had her way, he’d be eating prison food by the end of the day.

  But once she was sat down, she took him in—Jeff Rowan, hero copper, ace in Bedford’s hole, now bent.

  Once she started the tape, despite her urge to gloat, she asked, “What happened to you, Jeff? Why have you done this? Was it about the money? Were you always corrupt?” She thought back to the time she’d cleared his name, wondering if she’d been so wrong.

  “I am not corrupt,” he replied evenly, looking down at the table.

  “You betrayed everyone,” she finally announced. “You betrayed me; you betrayed your colleagues. Everything you’ve given your life to.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Farah was standing there. “You mind if I sit in on this?” she asked, looking to Jeff and her face showing no trace of the idealistic detective looking up at her role model. Instead, she looked at him with the same disdain she’d reserve for the worst criminals. When Leah nodded, Farah sat herself down and looked at Jeff. Though she knew she had to keep emotion out of this, she couldn’t help herself. “I worshipped you,” she started, sounding almost tearful. “Your passion, your empathy, the way you always wanted to help people. Never stopping until the wrong people were off the street. I never thought you’d be one of those wrong people.”

  For the first time, there seemed to be a crack in Jeff’s stoic facade. “Farah, listen to me, you don’t understand—”

  “You’re right, I don’t understand!” she shouted, startling Leah with the raised volume. “You were everything I wanted to be! And you just threw it away. And for what? For a bit of extra money?”

  Jeff was silent, and then he finally stated, “I’m not saying anything more without a solicitor.”

  Leah could imagine how the conversation was going to go, them laying out all the charges against him, him responding with ‘no comment.’

  Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Leah looked back over her shoulder, wondering if the entire conversation was going to be interrupted by people. “What?” she snapped.

  But then she saw Nora standing there. “You’re going to want to hear this,” she started, and gestured for them to join her.

  Leah and Farah exchanged a look and moved out of the small space and into the corridor. “I’ve just been getting off the phone to Superintendent Palmer of Anti-Corruption 5. And she was asking why DS Rowan hasn’t called in.”

  Leah had heard the name but was too furious to make sense of the conduct. “So, what is she saying?”

  Nora held up a piece of paper. “This is a signed authority from Superintendent Palmer to carry out an undercover operation to root out people with heavy links in organised crime.”

 

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