No Place to Hide

‘What we’ll do, Stevie, is have the bugger if we can get sufficient evidence. Then he won’t be able to come after you.’

Lockwood laughed. ‘You’re joking. Prison won’t stop him, no matter which side of the bars he’s on. Like the bloody Mafia, these blokes are, only worse. The Mafia would do what was needed and leave it at that. These buggers hurt people for the fun of it. They find the worst ways to kill you could imagine, then do it to your family first.’

‘Except you haven’t got any, Stephen.’

Lockwood grunted sourly. ‘Yeah, lucky for them.’

‘So, who is it you’re so scared of, eh? Give me a name. Something to work with.’

‘Petrosyan.’

‘Petrosyan? What’s that? Romanian or something?’

‘They call him the Armenian.’

‘Have you got a first name?’

‘Gagik.’

‘And where will I find him? Or, put it another way, where would you find him?’

‘Dunno. He’d find me if I put the word about that I was looking for him. He’s got ears everywhere.’

‘OK. And he wasn’t caught up in the arrests last week, when you were collared?’

‘Not that I’ve heard. But he’s the main man, isn’t he? You wouldn’t have got him.’

Pete smiled. ‘But we will. I can promise you that.’ He stood up. ‘All right. Thanks, Stevie.’

‘What, that’s it? You’re off? What about me? Come on, man. You made a promise.’ Lockwood’s voice was rising, his fear genuine.

Pete hammered on the door with his fist. ‘Don’t panic,’ he said. ‘It’s bad for you.’

The lock rattled again and Pete stepped aside to allow the door to swing inward.

‘What are you doing, you bastard?’ Lockwood shouted.

Pete turned and winked at him, then stepped out. He waited until the door was locked firmly behind him, Lockwood yelling desperately on the other side of it, before turning to the guard. ‘Keep him in there for now while I have a word with the governor.’

‘Right you are, sir. This way.’

*

Pete scooted his chair around to Jane’s side of the desks.

‘Ben.’

Myers looked up and Pete nodded for him to come around and join the rest of the team on the other side of their desks. When they were all together in a tight bunch, Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘Dave, keep half an eye on the rest of them, will you? This is strictly between us for now.’ He glanced around his team. He had their full and serious attention now.

‘What is it?’ Jane asked.

‘Has anyone here heard of the Armenian?’

Blank looks and shaking heads gave Pete all the answer he needed.

‘Gagik Petrosyan?’

More shaking heads.

‘Who’s he?’

‘Good question. I’ve been talking to the bloke who gave us Ian Sanderson. He says that Petrosyan is known as the Armenian, and he’s the likeliest source of the sux used to paralyse Jerry Tyler and possibly the insulin used on Andrew Michaels. Yet, not only was Petrosyan not arrested last week, no Armenians were.’ His gaze went around the team again.

‘None?’ asked Dave.

Pete tilted his head. ‘I checked with the prison governor.’

‘And you believe Lockwood?’ asked Jill.

‘His fear of Petrosyan was genuine. He didn’t want to tell me and, when he had, I let him sweat for a minute or two, to make sure. So, yes. I believe him.’

‘These Eastern Europeans can be some vicious bastards,’ Dave said. ‘Armenians, Albanians, Romanians – the gangs up London and so on, they’re into all sorts. People trafficking, prostitution, drugs, the lot. And you certainly don’t mess with them, that’s for sure.’

‘Yeah, but for none of them to be arrested . . .’ Jane’s voice tailed off as the significance hit home. There was no need to put what she was thinking into words. Deliberately or otherwise, there had been a leak. Someone had fed the gang vital intel on an ongoing operation.

Pete nodded. ‘Hence the need to keep this between us, at least for now. And I’m going to have to go to Silverstone with it. Meanwhile, all of you reach out. Tap up your CIs, see if you can get anything on these Armenians.’ He slapped his knees and sat up straight. ‘We might have had to hand the child-sex case off to London, but this one’s all ours.’

‘Shit or glory,’ said Dave.

‘Up to us to make sure it’s glory, then. Right?’

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_0807c6be-c497-57ca-8f38-bf6b6df41df4)

‘Steve Patton here. Fire investigator. Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you, but I’ve been kind of busy.’

‘Hello,’ Pete replied. ‘No problem. Thanks for calling. What have you got?’

‘Nothing basically. The caller blocked his number.’

‘Oh.’ That sounded suspicious right off the bat.

‘Yeah, so all I can tell you is, it was a youngish-sounding male.’

‘Nothing distinctive in the background?’

‘Nope.’

Pete grimaced. ‘OK. You couldn’t send me over a copy of the tape, could you?’