Closer Than Blood: An addictive and gripping crime thriller

“His brother? He didn’t say nothing about that.”

“Probably would have done if you’d given him the chance. Anyway, it’s a good job we didn’t buy off him in the end. Word is he stole that coke from the Russians and they want it back, along with his head.”

“Russians?”

“Yeah, a gang of them from London. They’ve put feelers out for Jake, want him dead or alive as long as they get their bag back. Fifty grand, they’re offering, so you tell your brothers that the one who finds him gets a cut. Any idea where he might be hiding?”

“No,” Eddie replied, his voice filled with greed, “but I can think of fifty thousand reasons to find out.”

Chapter 14 (#ulink_025c47a5-7018-51ca-8d88-3a7589256b72)

Barry and I sat in near-silence outside the Chief Superintendent’s office, broken only by the curses I was muttering under my breath as we waited for her to call us in.

“We’ll find him before they do,” Barry said finally, doing his best to sound positive. “There’s not many places he can hide.”

“Fifty grand!” I replied, shaking my head. “I know a dozen people who would carve his heart out for half that. It’s going to turn into a free-for-all. And speaking of which, what kind of fucking moron steals drugs from a Russian gang?”

“It is pretty stupid,” Barry agreed cautiously. “But maybe he didn’t realise …”

“This is Jake we’re talking about. If there’s one thing you can say about my brother, it’s that he doesn’t care who he’s screwing over, as long as he gets what he wants.”

I was about to say more, but broke off as the Chief Super opened the door to her office and gestured us in. She was back in uniform today, her shirt and trousers spotless and perfectly pressed.

“What news?” she asked as we all took seats around a small table near her desk. “Have you found him?”

“No, and we’re not the only ones looking.” I launched into my explanation, watching Striker’s frown deepen until it was almost a scowl.

“So,” she said when I’d finished, “let me make sure I’ve got this right. What you’re telling me is that the Russians your brother stole drugs from have put fifty thousand pounds on the table for his head?”

“That’s about the size of it,” I confirmed. “And I still have no idea where Jake is.”

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, what’s your next step?”

“Well it occurs to me that if the Russians have been offering money, they’ve been talking to people and that in turn means a trail we can follow. Instead of looking for Jake, I think we should concentrate on them.”

“OK, I can see the logic in that. Where are you going to start?”

“My team are already out and about asking questions. While they’re doing that, I was thinking we could canvass the local B&Bs and hotels. They’ve got to be staying somewhere, and if Jake was telling the truth then they don’t have much of a network down here. I also want to find out if we’ve got anything from the ambulance on Wilsons Avenue – there were loads of people with their phones out when we arrived.”

“Good.” Striker nodded. “I’ll get CID to help. I’d like to avoid using uniform as much as possible, I don’t want to spook these Russians and provoke them into doing something stupid. What else?”

“Well …” I thought furiously for a moment. I’d been too worried to think this through properly, but the Chief Super was the type of senior officer who expected her troops to come to her with answers as well as problems. “I can visit a few people, see if anyone I know has actually spoken to the Russians. If they’ve been putting the word out, someone must have been face to face with them.”

“Do that. I want these men in a cell before someone else gets hurt or they find your brother and disappear. If you need more resources, I’ll throw the whole damn division your way.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” I stood, recognising the dismissal for what it was, and ushered Barry out.

“That could have been worse,” Barry whispered as we took the stairs down to our office.

“It could have been,” I agreed, “but it could have been better too. These guys are professionals, and despite what I said upstairs I don’t think we’ll find them easily.”

“What do you need me to do?”

That was one of the things I loved about my team. We’d been working together for a long time now, and no matter how difficult the task they simply got on with it – no fuss, no bullshit.

“This fifty grand changes things. It’s going to draw some of the nastier bastards out from whatever rock they’ve been hiding under. So speak to your regulars, see if anyone interesting has surfaced. It’s early days yet, but you never know.”

We’d almost reached the door to DIU when it burst open, Phil Blunt careening through it with a dark expression on his face. The moment he saw me, he thrust his phone at me.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” he growled.

I took the phone and looked at it, seeing the webpage for the local paper, The Argus. I had little love for them, having had my fair share of negative press over the years, and so I wasn’t terribly surprised when I read the headline “War in Woodingdean!”

“Great,” I muttered as I read on.

A little before 9 o’clock last night, the sleepy village of Woodingdean was rocked by a scene more in keeping with downtown L.A. than the Sussex coast. According to reports, armed men, rumoured to be from a drug cartel, stormed the family home of Sergeant Gareth Bell, an officer known for …