CHAPTER 32
It wasn’t that bad a drive back, especially as Dad spent most of it asleep. He can be more than a little helpful with advice about my driving at times, the satnav being replaced by the frontseatnav, and his snores were more easily ignored. It is still a bloody long way, though, but as they had left the parental car at our house I didn’t need to make it interminable by going all the way out to Abergwaun. I did the ritual of the milk in the last petrol station before home, and once in Siân did the dance of the kettle.

“Do you think the curry house is open tonight, love? I can’t be arsed with cooking tonight”

She stuck her head round the kitchen door and showed me the phone. “Already ordered. Got jalfrezi, bhuna and bits. I know what you like—mix’n’match? He said forty-five minutes. Time for a quick shower”

She brought the tea over, and then kissed me on the mouth, which was very, very nice.

“Thank you for sharing with me, my sweet”

I laughed. “We always share our curries, aye?”

“You know full well what I mean. That was a proper Christmas, family, the whole thing. I looked at that Alice, and thought of my Mam, and, well, thank you. Now, shower, and on your own it will be otherwise the food will end up left on the doorstep”

Promises made, promises kept later upstairs, but no lie-in in the morning as we both had work. The kitchen still held the smell of the curry, and I had the obligatory moment of worry about whether I would release any of it at work. Sod them, I thought: they’re coppers, they’ve had worse.

That week held absolutely nothing for us, as it seemed the shits we were looking for were indeed having a break for the holidays, but I did end up picking up some crap over THAT night shift. Why does ‘celebrating’ seem to have to involve hitting people for no valid reason? None of it was that serious, thankfully, and certainly nowhere near what had been done to Omar and the others, but still. I had to sort out four lots of Inspector’s Bail, and I realised in the middle of the third one that it was even more of a cliché: new bod gets New Year’s Eve while the regulars go out on the town with everyone else.

Chris was back with us on the Tuesday, and we had a slight argument, which in the end he won. I wanted to plot up on the two nights, awaiting a ping from the ANPR before putting him in play, but he would have none of it.

“Listen, Lainey, all we know is that we’ve put faces to two of them but they are at least three strong and most probably four. What happens if I get clocked going into the trap, eh? They could have one or two watching and only call the others out if they see a possible target. If I’m not there, they might hit someone else, and I couldn’t live with that, girl. They’re getting worse each time”

“So what are you saying? You sit there all evening, on the off chance?”

“Yes, basically. I sit there, I make it clear I’m alone, and I trawl the pink pubs. Full-on aging twink, yeah?”

“You’re not bloody aging, butt!”

He laughed, a little nervously I thought. “For a twink I am positively ancient! We don’t have the greatest of shelf lives, do we? Now, we doing this or not?”

I sighed, but he was right. We had our own surveillance, but clearly so did the opposition. Setting him in place early would make sense.

“And I’m not wearing a wire or whatever it’s called!”

“And why the hell not, Chris?”

“If they get me like they got Omar, they’ll find it. The way they’re going, I’d wind up dead for that. I’d rather not, OK?”

We were in the briefing by then, the team laughing happily as he played his prima donna role. Diana stuck her hand up.

“Aye?”

“Transponder, Ma’am. Tracker device, same as on a car. What you wearing, Chris? Would it involve a belt?”

She was holding up some sort of rainbow-coloured belt made out of what looked like tape. Chris’ eyes lit up.

“Of course! Super tube!”

The two of them caught my frown, and Diane—DIANE!---actually giggled.

“Not a climber, then, Ma’am?”

It was Blake who explained it all. “Rock-climbing stuff, Ma’am. Used to make slings for people to tie onto the rocks, comes in big rolls, you buy it by the metre. Buckles are sold as well, just takes a bit of needlework. Tape’s tubular, innit, let us fit a transponder inside. Chris thought what with the rainbow colour and that, LGBT shit, aye?”

I looked round the room with a sense of something close to love. “None of you lot been off at all over Christmas?”

There were a couple of blushes, and some averted gazes, before Diane took the lead.

“Sergeant Gould’s boy, Scott, yeah? Sent us a thank-you card for what we’ve done. I mean, I know we haven’t done it yet, but you know what I mean. We sort of agreed to put some er…”

Suddenly there were snorts as people tried not to laugh, and Diane pointed at Chris. “You said it, you can tell her!”

The man was grinning happily. “Lainey, you know there’s no paid overtime for this? You told us that”

“Yes, I remember. What’s the joke?”

A beatific smile. “No joke. This lot simply agreed to… do it for the Queen”

I had to laugh, but I did call him a cheeky sod with an infantile sense of humour. I had a reputation to uphold, after all. Diane revealed the other aspect of their plotting.

“Hands free kit is what he suggested. We can’t put a mike on him, so he dials one of us when he goes outside, and just leaves the phone on. Anything happens, we hear it. Nothing suspicious, all normal, nothing to trigger their extras, yeah?”

Once more, I looked round the room. “Boys and girls, you make me very proud indeed. It’s go then for Thursday evening. Those who’ve drawn Taser authority know the drill; the rest of you make sure you’ve got fresh sprays and full restraint kits including the straps. This is it, this is where it stops for people like Omar, aye?”

Blake pointed. “For people like our mate there, you mean?”

I nodded. “Aye, for people like Chris it is. Clear the decks as much as you can, and I’ll go and set up the ANPR”

I slept badly the next two nights, fretting about him. I mean, he was a volunteer, but he wasn’t trained, wouldn’t be equipped in any way apart from that belt. He could end up very badly hurt, not to mention the fact that I was amazed the DVLA were allowing him so much time off to work with us. Some serious strings were clearly being pulled, and I resolved to press Wyn about it once we were done with the case. Thursday afternoon, though, I had more immediate matters than Chris’ employment, as we plotted up around the Pink Pubs of the city. The ANPR was on line, Traffic cars waiting at a couple of the most likely junctions, the unmarked cars were in place and uniformed support were sitting with flasks and sandwich boxes in odd corners of the back streets. No radios in use for anyone involved in the city centre, but they were all on and charged.

“Away you go, lad. And, well, stay safe, aye?”

Eight o’clock, and he was in the first pub, the Red Lion. Two cokes later, and the ANPR went off, triggering a call to my works mobile.

“We have a positive on Hansen’s car on the M4, Ma’am. Just turned down the 4232 by the Travelodge, according to Traffic”

Twenty minutes later “Ma’am, CCTV operator’s seen Evans’ van in Tredegar Street”

“Thank you, Control”

I rang a couple of numbers to pass on the news, and then Chris himself.

“The rats are on their way, butt. You sure about this? Still time to get out”

His voice was faint. “Absolutely, girl. I have my pride, and I don’t mean the march. I’ll ring when I leave”

He hung up, and I rang again. “Control, how’s the tracker looking?”

“Well, he’s in the Red Lion, Ma’am. That right?”

“Spot on, Control”

“Thank you. And we now have CCTV of Hansen’s car parked behind Evans’ van. They’ve just been joined by a Range Rover”