appeared in Tamarâs bank account, the funds originating from a Bahamian bank. Twice a year Tamar Yachts paid Fallon a hefty dividend from his shares, the sums involved matching the supposed income from the charter business. An HMRC investigator, risking the wrath of her boss, decided to take an unauthorised trip to the Bahamas. She discovered nothing. Literally. The charter company didnât exist, other than as a managed office sharing an address with hundreds of other companies. It was then that HMRC had contacted the police, realising the income flowing in from the dummy charter operation was most likely drugs money.
âYou all know your roles,â Hardin said, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at each officer in turn. âPhil will liaise on additional evidence, Mike will run the interviews, Charlotte will manage the post-arrest local inquiry teams, and Darius, when you return from your jaunt, youâll be collating the threads and working with the team to turn what we have into something the CPS will wet their knickers over. Finally the Tactical Aid Group will be carrying out the raids and you can bet I want you guys there as well to prevent the trigger-happy cowboys messing everything up. Apart from that it is just a waiting game. Questions?â
There were dozens. Operational, technical, legal, Hardin dealing with each in turn in his methodical manner. An hour later and he wrapped the meeting up with a final pep talk.
âThe objective is to shut down the cityâs drug supply network and catch Fallon red-handed. Once we have Fallon we will be able to round up everyone from him down. Itâs been tried before and weâve always made a hash of the endgame; Fallon has always evaded us.â Hardin paused, looking gloomy, before smiling and adding with a whisper: âUntil now.â
Riley glanced across at his fellow officers. Garrett wore a serious expression whereas Davies grinned, eager to be up and at them, kicking down doors and smashing heads. DI Savage smiled at him again.
Afterwards, as they left the room, Savage came across to them.
âIf, Darius â God forbid â this all goes wrong, youâll be glad to be on a beach four thousand miles from here.â
âIf this goes wrong, maâam,â Riley said, âI think a million miles might be a safer distance.â
Alec Jackman lay back on the bed in a state of post-orgasmic exhaustion. The girl beside him slept, almost silent, the only noise the faint sound of her shallow breathing. Jackman traced the line of the sheet as the material rose along her legs to her hips and fell down to her waist. She had pushed the sheet down from the top half of her body and Jackman let his eyes rest on her breasts. Round, but small and pert. Tiny goosebumps marked the mesmerising curves and her nipples stood erect.
As Jackman pulled the sheet up to cover her, the girl stirred and yawned, but she didnât wake. She would be tired. Worn out. Sometimes the young ones were shocked at what he could do. What he could
still
do. Most men of his age werenât as fit as him, most were heading downhill toward a six-foot hole in the ground and oblivion. At times like this Jackman almost believed he would live forever. Rubbish, of course, but there was no reason he shouldnât go on enjoying himself as long as possible. And he usually went on a long while. The coke helped, although he hadnât done much. The drug was mostly for the girlâs benefit. A little inducement to keep her sweet.
Jackman glanced at the bedside clock. He ought to be out of here, he had an important meeting to get to and then home to his wife, Gill. He had promised he wouldnât be too late and he didnât want to push things, even though he realised she probably had an inkling of what was going on. She knew the score. Understood the price to pay. All those shoes, handbags, the hired help, the nice house. The goodies cost money and the
âYou all know your roles,â Hardin said, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at each officer in turn. âPhil will liaise on additional evidence, Mike will run the interviews, Charlotte will manage the post-arrest local inquiry teams, and Darius, when you return from your jaunt, youâll be collating the threads and working with the team to turn what we have into something the CPS will wet their knickers over. Finally the Tactical Aid Group will be carrying out the raids and you can bet I want you guys there as well to prevent the trigger-happy cowboys messing everything up. Apart from that it is just a waiting game. Questions?â
There were dozens. Operational, technical, legal, Hardin dealing with each in turn in his methodical manner. An hour later and he wrapped the meeting up with a final pep talk.
âThe objective is to shut down the cityâs drug supply network and catch Fallon red-handed. Once we have Fallon we will be able to round up everyone from him down. Itâs been tried before and weâve always made a hash of the endgame; Fallon has always evaded us.â Hardin paused, looking gloomy, before smiling and adding with a whisper: âUntil now.â
Riley glanced across at his fellow officers. Garrett wore a serious expression whereas Davies grinned, eager to be up and at them, kicking down doors and smashing heads. DI Savage smiled at him again.
Afterwards, as they left the room, Savage came across to them.
âIf, Darius â God forbid â this all goes wrong, youâll be glad to be on a beach four thousand miles from here.â
âIf this goes wrong, maâam,â Riley said, âI think a million miles might be a safer distance.â
Alec Jackman lay back on the bed in a state of post-orgasmic exhaustion. The girl beside him slept, almost silent, the only noise the faint sound of her shallow breathing. Jackman traced the line of the sheet as the material rose along her legs to her hips and fell down to her waist. She had pushed the sheet down from the top half of her body and Jackman let his eyes rest on her breasts. Round, but small and pert. Tiny goosebumps marked the mesmerising curves and her nipples stood erect.
As Jackman pulled the sheet up to cover her, the girl stirred and yawned, but she didnât wake. She would be tired. Worn out. Sometimes the young ones were shocked at what he could do. What he could
still
do. Most men of his age werenât as fit as him, most were heading downhill toward a six-foot hole in the ground and oblivion. At times like this Jackman almost believed he would live forever. Rubbish, of course, but there was no reason he shouldnât go on enjoying himself as long as possible. And he usually went on a long while. The coke helped, although he hadnât done much. The drug was mostly for the girlâs benefit. A little inducement to keep her sweet.
Jackman glanced at the bedside clock. He ought to be out of here, he had an important meeting to get to and then home to his wife, Gill. He had promised he wouldnât be too late and he didnât want to push things, even though he realised she probably had an inkling of what was going on. She knew the score. Understood the price to pay. All those shoes, handbags, the hired help, the nice house. The goodies cost money and the
Similar Books
