VILLIANS & THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
R.J.Goode
Published 2011 by Can Write Will Write at Smashwords
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Copyright © R.J.Goode 2011
ISBN 978-1-4660-8536-7
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VILLIANS & THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 1
SATURDAY 26 MARCH 2011
It was a very cold day and a pitiless north wind swept across the cemetery. The Tramp was shabbily dressed but clean in his person. If he was a down and out
then his gait belied it, for he stepped out with confidence. He was noticed by a man who was dressed in an expensive tailored overcoat, a man in his late twenties. There was something familiar that the prosperous man noticed about the Tramp but couldn’t’t readily identify. Their paths came together later at the coffee stall that was just around the corner from the cemetery. It was out of sympathy and curiosity that the young prosperous man offered to pay for the Tramp’s coffee and meat pie.
‘I saw you in the cemetery,’ said the Tramp.
‘Yes, unfortunately; I was visiting my wife’s grave.’
‘Sorry! said the Tramp.
‘Have you recently lost someone?’
‘No.’ said the Tramp with solemn finality.
‘You weren’t’t having a kip, were you?’ said the other with a smile.
The Tramp’s face was expressionless.
‘If you must know I was checking out my own grave,’ he said looking intently at his benefactor.
‘It’s next to my wife’s grave she died four years ago. She was only forty-four.’
‘Was it an accident?’
‘No, she was diagnosed with a brain tumour and she died six months later.’
‘That’s terrible.’
There was a long pause between them; finally the younger prosperous one stuck out his hand.
‘Lloyd Macey and you I believe are Vincent O’Shea top sport presenter?’
The Tramp’s posture stiffened his head jerked up his eyes pierced the younger man who involuntary stepped back
‘It’s ok Vincent I’m not prying, it’s just that I thought that I recognized you back there in the cemetery.
‘I was curious, lets face it, there’s not much action in there for a top journalist like you,’
‘Fair enough, and I’m sorry about your wife,’ said O’Shea.
‘Yea! Let’s finish here and go and find a decent pub, but don’t expect to get a story out of it,’ warned Macey.
‘No matter’, said O’Shea with mock disappointment.
Macey had a need to talk to someone preferably someone who was feeling vulnerable like himself. He only hoped they wouldn’t’t cry in each others beer. He had heard rumours that O’Shea was on the run; from whom he knew well enough but why he had no idea.
O’Shea on the other hand had recognized Lloyd Macey the International footballer immediately; a professional Sports Commentator and Presenter it was his job to know Sporting celebrities.
O’Shea reflected on Macey’s brilliant football career, a career that began at the age of fifteen. He had been spotted as a schoolboy international; signed by a Premier League club and coached and nurtured through their development teams making his debut in the Premier League aged seventeen.
There was no doubt he had been a gifted footballer, he had played for two Premier League clubs and was an England international; was transferred for millions of pounds and so quickly became a wealthy young man; common enough in the modern era of the game. To complete the fairytale he married his long-time girlfriend Jillian, who he had known since school-days.
He did the usual celebrity and well publicized things like buying his mum and dad a nice house in a good area, financially helping his old school but he didn’t’t neglect to indulged generously in himself and his wife Jillian.
They bought a large modern house in Kentish town and another in Spain for the sun. Both indulged in designer clothes and mixed with like-minded people and friends. They enjoyed the high-life.
A few years later the Good-Life palled, Jillian wanted a family but unfortunately she had many failed pregnancies. She had hoped a family would help to settle down Lloyd who had several affairs with young football groupies. Jillian no longer enjoyed the company of the other footballers wife’s and stopped socialising with them. She was an attractive but an homely girl or maybe she was a wise girl. Inevitably the next stage for a bored unsophisticated disillusioned rich girl was more booze and then more
drugs. Experimental drugs at first and then addiction. Sadly a year or so later Jillian overdosed when she learned about Lloyd’s six months old daughter.
Lloyd was grief stricken and went completely off the rails; his game suffered and he was dropped from the first team and England. When he met O’Shea he had bottomed out about 3 weeks ago and was beginning to get a grip of himself and a handle on his situation. His core sorrow was the reasonable belief that he had caused Jillian’s death; many would agree with him.
The reason why O’Shea was on the run is because he’d recently ripped off 3 million pounds from a Match Fixing Syndicate, a criminal organization he had become involved with soon after his wife Sonja’s death. He was on the run because he feared for his life but he was determined to stay alive long enough to secure his daughter Tammy’s future. He admitted to himself he’d stole the 3 million pounds but he wondered; is it stealing when it’s taken from criminals; he didn’t’t think so. He further justified it when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and was given only six months to live.
He had been busy over the recent weeks investing the money in property and bonds and paying school and future university fees. He had asked his sister Connie to provide a home for Tammy after he was gone, Connie had agreed willingly. There was a financial settlement but she would have looked out for Tammy anyway; Connie was very fond of her niece.
CHAPTER 2
O’Shea and Macey made their way in Lloyd Macey’s Mercedes Sports car to the Pelican Hotel, a regular watering hole for Macey.
‘Lloyd, I’m not suitably dressed for here and I don’t want to be conspicuous and the King’s Head is just around the corner. Do you mind?’
‘Ok Vincent, sorry I didn’t’t think.’ Macey insisted they went into the lounge bar as befitted his status and because he didn’t’t think he was too popular with the tap room clientele. Macey ordered a double gin and tonic for O’Shea and a lager for himself.
‘You look like you could do with a feed’, said O’Shea to Macey.
‘I’m off grub at the moment, I’ll have a chicken sandwich, what about you?’
‘Me? I’ll have the scotch eye fillet with veggies,’ said O’Shea.’
‘Good for you!’ said Macey.
‘What’s Lloyd Macey going to do now?’ asked O’Shea in his professional TV manner.‘The club don’t want to know, I’v been replaced in the
team and I’m on the transfer list.
‘Any other clubs showing any interest?’ asked O’Shea who already knew the answer.
‘Of course not; the stink has got to go away first. I need a few games in the A team to work my way back.’
‘And that’s going to take time,’ observed O’Shea. Their meals arrived and they fell silent, both appearing to concentrate on their meal.
‘There’s racing at Glouster, do you fancy it?’ asked Macey. What a tempting offer thought O’Shea, he loved the atmosphere of a race meeting. The excitement and the expectation of winning; the attractive elegantly dressed women; the owners with their air of wealth and power. And because he was as a well known TV sports celebrity, he was always welcomed with open arms.
Consequently to be seen with and accompanied by a jumped up disgraced football player didn’t’t sit well with his self image. SNOB? Of course I am, he laughed to himself.
‘Dressed like this? I don’t think so, but you go Lloyd.’
‘Where are you staying Vincent?’ A hostel? ‘You’re joking! A bloody hostel! You!’
‘Yes the Y M C A. Old boy
‘Which one?’
‘Camden Town.’
‘I’ll drop you off. Fancy going to the match tomorrow?’
‘Match? Which match?
‘Manchester United and Real Madrid.’
‘Where?’
‘Madrid of course.’
‘Of course, ok.’
‘I’l pick you up at nine in the morning, its on me.’
‘Fine!’
It was an important part of O’Shea’s attempt at keeping a low profile to use an ATM sparingly, so he was happy to accept Macey’s generous offer.
The hostel was perfectly alright for someone like O’Shea who in the circumstances had realistic expectations; who only needed a roof over his head. Besides hostels these days are clean with modern facilities and because of their youthful international clientele are naturally vibrant. The majority, who are the young, accept the not so young with good grace. Vincent O’Shea soon adapted to the basic accommodation, after all he had been to a public school. It wasn’t the austerity of the place that irritated him, it was that some of the guests made a virtue of it.
He had registered as Timothy Vickers, the TV initials amused him; his home address he gave as Northern Ireland, even though his accent was well spoken English. He had dressed down with jeans, dark blue reefer jacket, grey polo jersey and trainers, all of his attire was worn but clean. The beard he’d grown was jet black speckled with grey, same as his hair; he looked to be a late middle age man down on his luck.
His friends, acquaintances and TV sports fans wouldn’t’t have recognized him. Macey had eventually recognized him because as an athlete he was constantly observing and evaluating his opponents; especially the way they moved; their characteristic gait.
CHAPTER 3
Macey was on time and so was O’Shea, he was waiting outside the hostel not wanting to receive Macey inside.
‘You have to look the part Vincent,’ said Macey and handed him a Manchester United scarf and a classy jaunty leather hat.
‘Thank you its important for me that I blend into the crowd.’
They reached Gatwick in good time to check in and confirm their flight; so led by O’Shea they made for the bar.
‘A a gin and tonic would be very acceptable old chap.’
‘Not a problem; a large G and T and a flat white coffee for me luv.’ The bar was busy but they managed to find a couple of seats at the end of the bar.
‘Do you want to talk about it Vincent, I mean why you are sort of in disguise and on the run?’
‘I could say I’m on a sabbatical, re-charging the batteries; that I’m drained from over exposure. Would you and the Media accept that?’
‘No!’
‘Thought not; you wouldn’t snitch on me to earn a quid would you Lloyd?’
‘Depends on how many quids.’
‘As far as the public and my Fans are concerned, Ive done nothing wrong. Anything else would be very hard to prove without my cooperation.’
‘I’m only asking in case there’s something I could do to help.’
‘You are very kind Lloyd but no, there is nothing you can do to help.’
The flight was uneventful; O’Shea had another couple of gin and tonics and was in a jolly mood on arrival at Madrid Airport; about an hour later.
‘I’d like to go to the Casino for an hour or so; you don’t have to come Vincent, you can have your ticket and I’ll get you a taxi to take you to the stadium.’
‘Don’t worry I’m happy to watch you lose your money; easy come easy gone, I suppose.’
‘Great! It’s only for a short time.’
Macey was known by the security men at the Casino and was greeted with respect. Macey led the way to the High Rollers Lounge.
‘I’ve got to have a leak.’
O’Shea followed him. Inside the empty luxury Restroom Macey relieved himself while O’Shea washed his hands.
In the large mirror O’Shea saw a man enter wearing a ski mask and holding a gun with a silencer attached. ‘Sorry Vincent, needs must,’ said Macey with a shrug.
‘You mongrel,’ the words were mouthed silently by a horrified O’Shea,’
The man raised the gun turned and shot Macey twice; once in the chest and again above the nose. He slide silently to the floor; dead.
O’Shea was totally overwhelmed by terror, he gripped the washbasin to stop himself collapsing. Unbelievably in seconds he had watched in the mirror an acquaintance’s life silently taken, and he expected to be next. But the man walked out of the Restroom without a word; only pausing to place a an envelope beside O’Shea.
He mechanically picked up the envelope and put it in his pocket; the terror was subsiding. His head started to clear and the adrenalin began to take over. He realised he didn’t want to be caught with Macey’s dead body and especially in a posh Spanish loo. He needed time to get away, to get clear of the Casino.
He took hold of Macey’s ankles and dragged him into a cubical; removed his wallet and the airline tickets. He then locked the door and managed to climb over into the next cubical. His mind was racing, he took off the hat and the Manchester United scarf and dropped them into Macey’s cubical.
He was expecting someone to enter the Restroom at any moment but nobody did. He then left and saw why no one
had entered; there were cleaner’s ‘CLOSED FOR CLEANING’, signs installed no doubt by the killer’s accomplice.
There was a group of Man. United supporters leaving the Casino and he managed to merge with them; thus avoiding the CCTV cameras. Outside it was a cool sunny day and he rejoiced in the normality of the crowd and the busy traffic.
He paused to examine the late Macey’s wallet it contained two thousand in hundred pound notes and one thousand in euros. He took the notes and dropped the wallet into a rubbish bin.
A taxi took him to the airport where he bought another airline ticket to the De Gaul Airport Paris, leaving at 7pm. He had two hours to wait. In an airport tourist shop he bought a cordless shaver and in a toilet cubical he shaved off his beard. He spent the next hour in the bar nursing a gin and tonic and hiding behing a newspaper.
During the flight he had endured an earnest young American girl who insisted on denouncing the cruel and barbaric spectacle of Spanish Bull Fighting. Wasted on O’Shea who could only see in his mind’s eye Lloyd Macey’s startled look as he fell to the floor dead. Two double whiskeys later his plane landed in De Gaul Airport Paris. A taxi then took him to the Gar du Nord railway station, where he managed to buy a ticket on the Euro Star; a
glamour trip he would normally have enjoyed but not today;
he was too stressed out.
Back in London he took a taxi from St Pancras to his apartment in Chelsea; he had decided there was no point in hiding any longer. If the Syndicate had wanted to kill him he would be dead already; they must have something else in mind for him. No, his circumstances had changed.
His apartment had been empty for six weeks so it was a little musty, as to be expected, but it was so good to be home. He poured himself a whisky and downed it and had a hot shower. Dressed himself in his usual good clothes and poured himself another whiskey. Gradually he began to feel in control.
He opened the envelope and on a plain sheet of paper was a phone number and the instruction, ‘phone tonight!’
Instead he phoned his sister Connie.
‘It’s me.’
‘So it is,’ she replied, slightly irritated.
‘How’s Tammy, is she alright?’
‘She’s fine. Why?’
‘I’m a concerned father, don’t you know? He was surprised at his attempt at whimsy; must still be in shock.
‘Better late than never, brother dear. She’s coming home
for a few days; I’ve booked the two of us to go to see
Mamma Mia at the Prince of Wales. You could take my place
if we cant get another ticket’ He hesitated for a moment
‘Yes ok. Either or. Let me know will you?’
‘Of course. Everything alright with you?’
‘Fine, I have to go Connie, things to do. Will you phone me?’asked O’Shea.
‘Yes I will. Bye!’said Connie.
He sincerely hoped he could keep the commitment he’d just made. Next he rang the number on the plain sheet of paper ‘Can I help you?’asked the barmaid.
‘Ive been asked to phone this number.’
‘And you are?’
‘Vincent O’Shea.’ There was a pause.
‘Yes Mr O’Shea, a lady rang and ask me to pass on a message, her name was Rita Hay.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Wants to see you at 10.30am Monday usual place.’
‘Thanks that’s very kind of you.’
‘Your welcome.’ You naughty boy, she said under her breath.
‘The usual place’, was a wine bar in the Strand called Woody’s Wine Bar, a stylish art deco watering hole catering for the young and affluent. Joe Gillard was already seated in a discreet corner of the bar.
‘Vincent!’ He called and gestured for him to come over and take a seat.
‘What would you like Vincent?’
‘A large flat white coffee, thanks.’
‘A pot of Earl Grey tea for me, thank you.
‘I believe you’ve been living rough Vincent, it must be a relief to be back?’
‘It wasn’t that bad; I suppose it was Macey who told you?’
Gillard didn’t answer.
‘Pity about Macey?’ said O’Shea.
‘I agree it should never have happened but it wasn’t down to me; fact is he was a loser, he owed them five hundred thousand pounds in gambling and drugs, and he was threatening to go to the police. Now you took them for three million pounds; so why didn’t they take you out at the same time?’ asked Gillard.
‘Maybe they tried to; I think they hoped to set me up for Macey’s murder but here I am.’
I’ll tell you why they didn’t kill you at the same time as Macey, its because they knew poor old Macey had no way
of paying back the half million pounds; but you they are going to give a second chance; the opportunity to make amends. You are going to make amends because they can
lean heavily on you; Macey had no one near and dear,
whereas you have Tammy and Connie.
Fortunately the tea and coffee arrived, Gillard gave the waiter a twenty pound note and waived him away.
O’Shea’s stomach had tightened with rage and the rage soured his being. He controlled the rage and asked.
‘What do you want from me?’’
‘First you are going to pay back in kind what you owe; then your going to earn for them and yourself.’
‘I should live so long; how am I going to do that? I don’t have anything like that kind of money anymore; Ive spent it on my daughter’s future. Sorry.’ he said softly.
‘Its simple and easy,’ said Gillard, pausing to pour his tea and adding milk but no sugar.
‘To begin with you will ensure the favourite teams for the FA CUP semi finals win their games. Easy don’t you think?’
‘Easier than fixing the favourite to lose.’
‘Exactly! So I want you to present to me how the two semi finals can be fixed and I want it by the end of the week.
We will meet here Saturday morning ten o’clock.’
In the past he had helped to Fix international cricket matches, major horse racing in England, France, Hong Kong and Australia. His contacts were world wide, they were influential and placed in key positions. They ranged from
players, umpires, referees, coaches, officials, managers and then there jockeys and boxers. He had influenced
them all and they all had their price, and not always a monetary one.
But he knew all that was finished, he could do it no longer. His intention and focus now was to smash the Syndicate and have the killer of Lloyd Macey, who he considered a victim of the system, made to pay. Above all to rid himself of their threat to his family and try to rid himself of guilt.
Connie rang to say she had a Mama Mia ticket for him for that evening; and she thought it would be best if they met up at the Prince of Wales Theatre at 6.30 pm.
That would then give them time to have a bite to eat and a chat before the Show. He thanked her and said he’d love to have the chance of a catch up.
O’Shea made sure he was on time and he was
rewarded by a warm enthusiastic greeting from Tammy and Connie. He was relaxed and happy in the company of the only two people in his life he really cared for; and it made him realise just how tense and stressed out he had been over the last 3 days nightmare.
‘You haven’t been on Telly for some time now dad, why is that?’
‘I’m having time out to recharge the batteries, Ive felt
very tired lately and burned out, it’s a sort of
sabbatical.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Tammy.
‘It’s another word for skiving,’ said Connie, pulling a face.
‘I’m thinking of writing my auto biography during my well earned break.’
‘Your too young for that, at least I hope you are,’ said Tammy; she hadn’t been told of her father’s illness.
They spent a very pleasant hour or so, before going on to enjoy the Mama Mia Show.
CHAPTER 4
Detective Chief Inspector Thompson with Detective Inspector Kershaw left Northgate Police Station at 8.30 on Tuesday morning to catch a flight to Madrid from Gatwick Airport. Arriving at Gatwick an hour later, Thompson parked his car in the overnight car parking facility and they made their way to the terminal.
‘We’ll check in and then we have an hour to fill in,’ said Thompson.
‘We could always find a bar as a last resort,’ said Kershaw with a straight face. Thompson took her arm and firmly steered her to the bar.
‘A lager please and a mineral water. Alright for you Cathy?’
‘Fine! Thanks Bob.’
‘I am not complaining about a day off to visit the land of the Olays but is it really necessary?’ grumbled Thompson.
‘It is if the Chief Constable so wishes it and he does because the Media and especially the Tabloids are making a meal of Lloyd Macey’s murder. And don’t forget Macey lived in North London. Our Patch!’
‘You are so reasonable, so understanding and nearly
always so bloody right,’ said Thompson, with an imitation
of a smile.
‘Drink your beer and enjoy the moment,’ said an amused Kershaw. Which is exactly what he did.
They had arranged to meet the Spanish Police at the Casino at 2pm they arrived at 1.45pm. A Policia met them at the entrance of the Casino and escorted them to the Men’s Rest Room, now cordoned off as the Scene of Crime.
The Spanish Authorities had provided a police officer of equal rank as Thompson to show their respect for his rank and regard for his reputation. His name was Manuel Salvador and he spoke good English which was a relief to Thompson and Kershaw.
‘Where was the body found? Asked Thompson.
‘In this cubical, he was placed on the seat, the scarf and hat here and here,’ he indicated in a precise manner.
Which Thompson noted and appreciated.
‘We understand he was shot?’ inquired Kershaw.
‘Yes he was he was shot in the head and chest but not here. He was shot at this urinal,’ he said, pointing.
‘So he was put in here after he was shot?’ observed Thompson.
‘The facial bullet at the top of the nose passed through his head and hit the wall here, see the chipped tiles and the bullet was found here.’ The shattered tiles and the spot where the bullet had been found were marked with
tape as were the spots of blood.
‘There was probably a third man here at the time of the murder.’
‘Why do you think that?’ asked Thompson.
‘The CCTV tape show Macey arriving at the Casino with a companion.’
‘Couldn’t he have been the killer?’ asked Kershaw.
‘Its possible but we think the killer was waiting somewhere outside the Rest Room.’
‘Or could he have followed them?’ suggested Thompson.
‘Again its possible; he could have followed them but we think he was waiting for them because we found a half smoked cheroot outside the Rest Room door.’
‘If he was waiting for them, then it implies that the killer knew their movements. Which means one of the them knew the killer,’ said Kershaw.
‘We also think the third man tided up and put the body in the cubicle.’
‘Can we have copies of the CCTVs tapes?’ asked Thompson.
‘Of course, but I think we should go now to the Station and we will brief you further.’
‘The autopsy will happen tomorrow in London,’ said Thompson, in an attempt to offer something in return for the Madrid Police generosity.
The Chief Inspector’s car was driven, with the siren blaring, by his driver with authority and at great speed. The British contingent showed no obvious signs of discomfort at the car’s reckless speed; later, safe inside the Station Thompson and Kershaw watched the tapes together with their Spanish colleagues. They noted Macey’s bearded companion was wearing the scarf and hat left in the Rest Room cubicle .
‘There’s no CCTV monitoring the toilet area?’ queried Thompson.
‘No, the privacy laws protect the clientele in such a sensitive area,’ said Salvador.
’How long was it before the body was found, inquired Kershaw.
‘We estimate 3 hours, because the killer or killers placed a ’Closed for Cleaning.’ notice outside the toilets so that it was about two and a half hours before the cleaners arrived, at the toilets,’ said Salvador.
‘Can we agree it was a Professional Hit?’ asked Thompson.
Kershaw and Salvador both agreed that it was.
‘Question is was he a local or a British killer? queried
Thompson. ‘What brand was the cheroot?’ asked Kershaw. ‘It was a British brand; expensive apparently. ‘Do you have CCTV tapes of the airport Chief Inspector?’
‘Yes we do.’
‘We’ll have a quick look and then I would like to take them back to London and have them carefully checked to see if there are any known faces that would interest us,’ said Thompson.
‘Certainly.’
‘I don’t think we can do anymore here Chief Inspector. What do you think Cathy?’
‘The victim Macey didn’t have his wallet or airline ticket, will you search the area for them Chief Inspector?’ asked Kershaw.
‘Relax Inspector we are as thorough as London Police and anything we find we will pass on.’
‘Thanks for your cooperation, we’ll be in touch,’ said
Thompson attempting to sooth ruffled feathers.
‘I’ll arrange a car to take you to the airport.’
‘We have a couple of hours before our flight could you recommend a good restaurant?’ asked Kershaw.
‘The Valencia Restaurant is excellent, my wife and I are regulars. The car will take you there.’
They shook hands and left.
CHAPTER 5
Arriving back home in the early hours of Wednesday morning Thompson was surprised to see the lights on in the lounge and hall.
Ziggy their recently acquired spaniel was barking to alert his mistress and the neighbours to Thompson’s arrival; Zac the large black and white tom cat only purred his pleasure.
‘Hi Bob!’ called out Molly.
An excited Ziggy greeted Thompson enthusiastically.
‘Your up late my love?’
‘I need to talk to you and there won’t be time in the morning.’
‘Any chance of a drink?’
‘Hot or cold?’
‘I’d like a big hot mug of tea with a shot of whiskey,’
‘I can do you a chicken sandwich?’
‘Yes please!’
A relaxed Thompson waited to listen to Molly’s concerns.
‘So is it serious?’ asked Thompson.
‘Well the serious good news is Denise is pregnant and you are going to be a granddad.’
‘That’s great news!’ said Thompson with a big smile.
‘And what’s the news that isn’t so good?’
‘Its nothing that can’t be sorted. As you well know the Garden Centre has taken off and, even though Ted is now working full time, we will need another pair of hands when Denise leaves to have the baby.’ Thompson moved uneasy in his chair because he though he knew what was coming next.
‘I help when I can; unfortunately we have another major murder case which is going to take up my time.’
‘I’m not talking about you! We both know your not going to give up the Job until you have to. No! We need a part-timer and you mentioned Reece Hughes was looking for something to do.’ True ex sergeant Reece Hughes had recently retired from the Job; Thompson had known him for years. He felt a little guilty at not being able to be more supportive; the Kings Garden Centre had been their dream for the future and it should have been a joint effort and given them the satisfaction of working together. As those readers who have followed Thompson’s career will know; he had been just about to retire when he was promoted to Detective Chief Inspector; after he had been involved in several successful homicide cases.
He though Fate was mocking a man like Reece Hughes who had been a good copper working for 20 years or more
to keep his Patch free of villains was now reduced to keeping his garden patch free of weeds. Thompson was well aware it could easily have been his lot but he determined he would hang on in the Job as long as he possible could.
‘I will talk to him I promise,’ he certainly would; it would keep Molly happy and off his back.
CHAPTER 6
O’Shea was enjoying breakfast in his luxury apartment and savouring the contrast from his time in the Camden Town Hostel. He had survived the basic accommodation and the company of some young people who had never known anything better. He had also experienced the company of thrifty people who stayed there by choice who, like himself, didn’t mind the no frills life style for a short time.
The phone rang;
‘Good morning,’ said O’Shea.
‘Hello! Is that Mr O’Shea? enquired a female voice, with a strong Geordie accent.
‘Yes, Vincent O’Shea speaking.’
‘My name is Nancy Walters, I’m Lloyd Macey’s sister.
‘I’m sorry about your loss but I only knew Lloyd for a very short time, two days in fact, but you have my deepest sympathy; he was a good man.’ He knew he could acknowledge Macey’s death because it was in all the Media especially the Tabloids.
‘He told me he was going to see the Man United and Real Madrid game and you were going with him. So what happened Mr O’Shea?’ anger had crept into her voice.
‘Can we meet to talk about it?’ urged O’Shea.
‘I rang to see if you could tell me why Lloyd was murdered.’
I know he was very pleased to have your company so what went wrong Mr O’Shea?’
‘Yes I was with him but why Lloyd was murdered I don’t know. I can only think he was involved with criminals.’
‘The Newcastle Police are coming here to talk to me at eleven, I’ll tell them what I know.’ She then hung up.
O’Shea’s mind had been up for him. Newcastle Police would be told he was with Lloyd Macey when he was murdered and before the day was out they would pass that information on to Northgate Police. He decided he would have to contact DCI Thompson the officer in charge of the murder investigation.
He knew DCI Thompson, he had met him 25 years ago when Thompson played rugby for a London club and was at the time under consideration to join a Premier League club, until a serious knee injury had ended his rugby career.
At the time he was DS Thompson, they met when O’Shea a county cricketer was being threatened, because ironically he refused to throw a game; he was a wicket keeper-batsman. Thompson had arrested a middle ranked villain.
He slowly picked up the phone knowing that once the call was made his life would be an open book and all his past misdemeanours would be on view for all to see. He dialled Northgate Police Station’s number and asked to speak to Detective Chief Inspector Thompson.
‘Could you give me your name and address sir,’ asked PC Sally Jones.
‘My name is Vincent O’Shea my address is 58 Kings Apartments, Mulberry Walk Chelsea.SW10. phone 0207371851.
‘The Chief Inspector isn’t here at the moment Mr O’Shea but your call has been logged and I will inform Chief Inspector Thompson when he returns to the station.’
‘I’d be grateful if you could contact him NOW, its most urgent, and I know he’ll appreciate the call.’
‘I will do my best sir. In the meantime could you stay by the phone?’
‘Of course.’ What PC Sally Jones didn’t tell O’Shea was that DS Bedford and DC Teague were already on their way to pick up O’Shea for questioning.
CHAPTER 7
Thompson arrived at Northgate around 10.30am Kershaw was already in her office. Sally Jones on the desk signalled Thompson .
‘A Mr Vincent O’Shea called. Would that be the real Vincent O’Shea sir?’
‘Yes, I only know the real ones; what did he want?’
‘He wanted to talk to you, I have his details sir.’
‘What time did he phone?’ She checked the log, 9.35.
‘Thanks Sally.’
He walked along to Kershaw’s office, her door was open.
‘Morning Cathy!’
‘Morning Bob!’
‘Have we picked up O’Shea yet?’
‘Bedford and Teague are on their way back with him, they’ll be here in 5-10 minutes. Do you want to sit in on the interview Bob?’
‘Yes, by the way he tried to contact me BEFORE he was picked up.’
‘That does make it interesting,’ said Kershaw.
‘We’ll question him in interview room number one, give me a call when you have it set up.’
‘Ok!’
Thompson dialled the Garden Centre and Ted, Denise’s
partner answered the phone.
‘Congratulations Ted I’m happy for both of you .’
‘Thanks Bob.’
‘Is my lovely daughter Denise there?’
‘She’s right besides me Bob.’
‘Hello you! Thanks for making me a granddad. When Is it due?’
‘I’m 6 weeks pregnant.’
‘Well take it easy, and I’d like a boy please.’
‘Then you’d better organise Reece Hughes to take my place.’
‘Will do! I intend to see him today and I’m sure I can persuade him to help out at the Garden Centre; I promise you. Take care; unfortunately I have to go duty calls.’
‘Bye dad! We’ll catch up later.’
When Thompson arrived in the interview room Kershaw and O’Shea were happily chatting about sport, a subject they
both had in common.
‘Hello! Vincent its been a long time,’ said Thompson, shaking O’Shea’s hand.
‘Only about 25 years Robert,’ said O’Shea with a smile.
‘At that time Vincent you were playing County Cricket and playing for England. Now look at you, you’re a national celebrity.’
‘Its not all it seems Robert; and you, you’re a famous
and successful Detective Chief Inspector.’
‘Have a seat Vincent and lets see if we can sort things out,’ he gestured to the chair. ‘You rang saying you wanted to see me urgently. What did you want to say?’ asked Thompson.
‘I could ask you the same question. You had me picked up, can I ask why?’
‘Either way we will ask the questions and we will need answers, old lad’
‘Ok! You probably know I was in Madrid on Saturday and that I was with Lloyd Macey.’
‘We do,’ said Kershaw.
‘Unfortunately there’s more to it than that, said O’Shea.
‘Go on,’ urged Thompson.
‘I only met Lloyd a couple of days before went to Madrid. We had bumpt into one another when I was on the run; which I will tell you about later. He invited me to the Man United game, he paid for everything, his treat.
‘Any idea why he would want to do that?’ asked Kershaw.
‘At the time I thought it was because I was a celebrity and loved by all,’ he said without humour.
‘Never mind, go on,’ said Thompson with a wink to Kershaw.
‘When we got there he wanted to spend time at the Casino, there was plenty of time before the 4 o’clock
kick off .We’d had lunch and drinks so I thought why not it was his money to lose. He needed to go to the loo and I went along with him; I was washing my hands while he was relieving himself at the urinal. Then unbelievably I saw in the mirror a man enter wearing a ski mask and holding a gun .Lloyd said, ’Sorry Vincent needs must.’
But the man turned and instead of shooting me he shot Lloyd twice. I thought I’d be next but he walked out leaving me with an envelope.’
‘What type of gun was it, did you notice ?’
‘No Robert, I do know it had a silencer.’
By telling it to someone for the first time, he relived through the event again and it caused O’Shea to tremble and start to sweat.
‘We’ll take a break now Vincent. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘A cup of tea with two sugars please, Robert.’ A constable arrived with three teas and set them down on the table .Kershaw mouthed a silent, ‘Thank you.’
‘ When your ready,’ said Thompson.
‘That would have been the last thing you’d have expected,’ said Kershaw.
‘True,’ said O’Shea who seemed to have recovered a little.
‘When you ready,’ encourage Thompson again.
‘I was in shock, but I knew I didn’t want to be caught with a murdered English International footballer in a Spanish loo. So to buy time I dragged Lloyd into a cubicle, put him on the seat, locked the door and managed to climb out.’
‘What about your scarf and hat,’ asked Kershaw.
‘I threw them into the cubicle.’
‘The CCTV showed you arriving in the Casino with a beard yet in the Airport you were clean shaven.’
‘I shaved it off.’
‘We know, we just wanted to hear you say so said Thompson. O’Shea shrugged.
‘Did you take his wallet?’ asked Kershaw.
‘Yes I did; I hardly has any money with me, I took two thousand Pounds and one thousand Euros which I am happy to repay. I needed the money to fly to Paris and then to take the Euro Star to Waterloo I was desperate to get home.’
‘From what you have told us you can already be charged for obstructing the Police and for not reporting a homicide. We also only have your word that there was a third man; you could have killed Macey yourself,’ said Thompson.
‘I’ve reported it to you and I haven’t tried to run
away I wasn’t prepared to take my chances with the Spanish Police I much prefer the good old British Bobby. As for killing Macey I hardly knew him and I haven’t a motive; anyway I’m not capable of killing anyone.’
‘I believe we are all capable of killing,’ said Thompson.
‘What about the envelope?’ asked Kershaw.
‘The envelope leads on to another story and to something I’m not proud of and to something I am guilty of.’
‘What’s that Vincent?’ asked Thompson.
‘It instructed me to meet a criminal contact to arrange corruption of Big Time Sport by match fixing; involving betting hugh sums of money and money laundering.’
‘You are involved in money laundering?’ said a surprised Thompson.
‘No, I only arrange for the parties to fix the game, match, race, whatever.’
‘You could, for a start, be charged for fraud. As for money laundering that will involve the Counter Terrorist Act; you are in serious trouble, old lad.’
‘Perhaps you should have your solicitor here?’ suggested Kershaw.
‘Wait until you’ve heard me out; I’m not concerned about me, I’m only concerned for my daughter Tammy and my sister Connie. They have threatened that Macey’s death was a warning that Tammy and Connie are at risk.’
‘How old is your daughter Mr O’Shea?’ asked Kershaw.
‘She’s sixteen, her mother died four years ago; my sister Connie has been a mother to her since then.’
‘What did you do to upset them so much?’ asked Thompson.
‘First I should explain I’ve terminal cancer and they have given me six months to live. It was because I’ve only six months that I decided to rip off the Syndicate for 3 million pounds to set up my daughter’s future. Now I will do anything to smash them, anything to keep my daughter and sister safe. I can and I will help you.’
‘What you have just told us is massive; we need time to take all this onboard Vincent, I have to confer with senior officers and maybe the Spanish Police.’
‘Guv why don’t we break for lunch and meet back here at two o’clock?’
‘Would that suit you Vincent?’
‘Fine! What time is it now, quarter past eleven; right then, I’ll see you back here at 2 o’clock.’ he shook hands with Thompson and left.
‘We need to run this bombshell past Fletcher and then despite having the wicked world landing in our backyard you and me will enjoy a lovely lunch. Agreed?’ She smiled and nodded a yes.
When Chief Superintendent Fletcher welcomed Thompson and Kershaw into his office he was well aware that Northgate could again be in the Media limelight; and the nation would have a high expectation of a quick result.
‘Match fixing, gambling and money laundering you say; the money laundering could impact on national security, serious stuff. Question is do we charge him or run with him; what do you two think?’
‘We can hand him over to the Serious Fraud Squad for the match fixing and the Counter Terrorist Squad for the money laundering. But the murdered man was British and lived on our Patch. We also believe the killer was British; therefore as far as I’m concerned its are case,’ said Thompson.
‘The match fixing, the money laundering and the murder are all inter-connected; I think we should run with O’Shea for a few days. His contact with the Syndicate is a good start, lets see where it takes us,’ said Kershaw.
‘By the way Robert O’Shea told me, before you arrived at the interview room, that Macey’s sister had spoken to him on the phone and that she was going to the Newcastle Police. Also, according to O’Shea, Lloyd Macey had threatened to go to the Police and, its one of the reasons why he was killed.’
‘Can I leave you to speak to Newcastle?’
‘I will speak to commander Crawford-Smith today and if he doesn’t object I’ll then be in touch with the Fraud and Anti Terrorist Squads to let them know what we have and what we are doing. In the meantime you two see how far you can get with O’Shea but don’t forget to keep me up with the play Bob.’
‘Will do.’
CHAPTER 8
Thompson and Kershaw didn’t go to the Feathers Pub, Northgate’s local; because these days they were too open to robust scrutiny from their colleagues, who may or may not have wished them well. Mischievous rumours had circulated that they were more than just a good investigative team. The truth is, they are very good mates who understand one another perfectly.
After Thompson and Molly returned from their New Zealand holiday; he and Cathy discovered that being apart, rather than bring them to their senses, had intensified their desire for one another and inevitably they’d had a fling. For Thompson it had been a guilt ridden trip, if delicious and enhancing for his self esteem, or so he told himself. Cathy simply enjoyed the pleasure their relationship gave her; she had no conscience she was a natural woman, as the song goes.
It lasted for about two months; by that time Thompson was no longer prepared to sneak around. He’d got over his lust for Cathy and wanted his old life and peace of mind back; for him the madness had passed. Cathy had known it wouldn’t last, hadn’t wanted it to last and accepted that it was over. She Knew Thompson loved Molly and his daughter Denise too much to risk losing them.
Their choice for lunch was a Chinese restaurant where one never needs to worry about the hosts being nosey. Their discretion almost verges on indifference.
‘My treat,’ said Thompson.
‘Sir you are too kind. You are not after your wicked way are you?’ she said coyly.
‘Never fair maiden.’
They settled on Wanton noodle soup for starters and then Thompson had Chow Mein steak with fried rice Kershaw had Prawn Egg Food Yung with soft noodles they each had a glass of house red.
The restaurant was very busy with city workers on their lunch break, but they were offered a reserved quiet alcove; probably because great respect is always shown to the Police by the Chinese. The custom of not discussing Police business in the Feathers Pub did not apply in the New Orient. However Thompson didn’t want to talk shop he had other things on his mind.
‘I am to become a Granddad,’ said a sombre Thompson.
‘Cheer up Bob it won’t hurt.’
‘No I’m pleased, or I will be once I get used to it.’
‘Molly will be happy to be a Grandmother won’t she?’
‘Of course, she’s besotted with the idea of a new baby.’
But Thompson had a sneaking feeling that Molly like himself couldn’t help feeling that being Grandparents
as wonderful as it was; it was also a tap on the shoulder from Himself telling them that they were not getting any younger. Even so it was like being a parent again with all the joy but without the responsibility.
‘I’ve been ordered to find a replacement for Denise at the Garden Centre so that Molly won’t have a problem coping, when Denise leaves to have the baby.’
‘Who do you have in mind?’
Ex Sergeant Reece Hughes he’s a keen gardener, has an allotment and wants something to do. At the first opportunity I want to go and see him.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem Bob.’
O’Shea elegantly dressed in a dark pin striped suit and a tailored dark blue overcoat hailed a taxi outside Northgate and gave a Golders Green address. It stopped in a street of smart Georgian houses, it was a short walk to the door of number 14 Fortune Rd and he rang the bell. An elderly gentleman opened the door and welcomed O’Shea inside. He had gone to see his friend Ben Leversen; his host led him into an expensively furnished sitting room and sat him down in front of a blazing fire. Mrs Smith his housekeeper, brought in a plate of chicken sandwiches two glasses and a bottle of Champagne.
O’Shea and Ben Leversen were old friends; it was a friendship based on their love of cricket. Leversen a long time member of the prestigious MCC was also a great admirer of O’Shea a County and England cricketer. On the other hand O’Shea a well-known TV Presenter and Cricket Commentator had the greatest respect for Ben Leversen; who was a brilliant world renowned director of documentary films. The other thing they had in common was they were both with the BBC.
Ben Leversen was the only son of Jacob and Ruth Leversen who had fled Poland in the 1930s to escape the Nazis. His mother was a well known writer and his father was a musician with the London Philharmonic orchestra; who also wrote music for films.
‘You wanted to talk to me Vincent?’
‘Yes Ben I do; I want you to do my biography, I want you to do my career and I want to confess my sins.’
‘Difficult when your not a catholic and I’m not a priest.
What is it you want to confess to?’
‘I’ve been involved in match-fixing.’
‘Surely not cricket?’
‘Cricket and sport in general; horses, boxers, in fact most popular sports.’
‘How did you manage to do that?’
‘Mainly bribery, involving large amounts of money;
sportsmen like many other people are greedy. But it has gone beyond that; what started out as a victimless crime now involves murder, international drug dealers and maybe Terrorism.’
‘If I expose all of that and you admit to your part in it, you will be crucified. You realise that?’
‘I’ve no choice, you’ll understand that when we get into the Doco.’
‘Did I say I’d do it?’
‘You didn’t say you wouldn’t.’
‘Your real crime Vincent is not that you cheated to make money; what your really guilty of is stealing the Fans certainty of a true result. Which then doesn’t allow them the joy they share with their team when it wins and even the despair when they lose. However your not really a bad person Vincent; Hitler was a bad person and your not in that league, so cheer up maybe they will forgive you.’
‘So will you do it?’
‘I’ll get onto the BBC’s Documentary and Sports people; you leave it with me for now, I’ll get back to you. Cheer up my friend, lets have another drink.’
O’Shea was already in Northgate’s reception when Thompson and Kershaw arrived back from lunch.
‘Enjoy your lunch Vincent?
‘Excellent! Robert’
‘Lets go in here,’ said Thompson offering a room off the reception.
‘So! Can I help you smash the Syndicate and catch Lloyd Macey’s killer?’ asked an O’Shea emboldened with the Champagne and Ben Leversen’s support.
‘Is that what you really want?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Alright, do you have any suggestions ?’ asked Thompson.
‘I am meeting the Syndicate’s man Joe Gillard this Saturday morning at 10.30 in Woody’s Wine Bar in the Strand. It could be an opportunity to get things going.’
‘Is that Joe Gillard of Gillard Turf Accountants?’ asked Kershaw.
‘Yes, he’s the youngest son of Billy Gillard the boxer.’
‘Why are you meeting him?’ asked Thompson.
‘They want me to Fix the winning teams of the two FA Cup Semi Finals.’
Thompson and Kershaw looked at one another in disbelief.
‘Your kidding!’ said Kershaw.
‘Oh don’t be surprised, Its possible to do so because here we have a sport, the Beautiful Game, with many players earning obscenely large amounts of money.
Who are multi millionaires with world wide celebrity status; whereas on the other hand and in stark contrast, the men who officiates at the matches, who control the games, the referees and linesmen are paid peanuts. Most do it for love of the game; they certainly don’t it as paid professionals and are often abused by the players and fans alike. So its no wonder my friends there are those who can be bought; though I hasten to add its more likely so in foreign parts than here in our fair land.
Consider the game in third world countries where there is extreme poverty and players are earning next to nothing. These days though, because the game is played competitively and commercially world wide, there is the occasional big match of international significance played in such countries. Imagine the temptation when those players or officials are offered hugh sums of money; sums beyond their wildest dreams to Fix a game. Then again my friends we shouldn’t be too shocked its only primitive capitalism or market forces in action.’
‘Thanks for the crash course on Match Fixing but how do you propose to actually do it, what are the nuts and bolts?’ insisted a still sceptical Thompson and a disbelieving Kershaw.
‘Which ever team is made favourite by the bookies the Fix will be for that team to win, which is a lot easier than
fixing the outsider to win. The object of the Afghanistan Drug Dealers is to launder their drug money; not necessarily to profit from big odds. The object of the Bollywood connection of the Syndicate, is to bet on a sure thing and they bet in millions.’ Sensing Thompson’s and Kershaw’s impatience he hurried on.
‘On Saturday I will give Gillard the names of the two FA CUP SEMI FINALS referees who I will have bribed to carry out the Fix or so he will be led to believe I have. However to make it work I will need your help, that’s because the referees will have to give their consent and their cooperation in the Sting.
Correct me if I am wrong Robert but if the Police are not charging anyone at this stage of operation you cannot be accused of entrapment?’
‘That’s correct Mr O’Shea but what are we being asked to do?’ asked Kershaw. O’Shea raised his hands to acknowledge their impatience.
‘If you, Northgate Police, could approach the referees and reassure them its a Police sting to catch the bad guys who are ruining the Beautiful Game. Then I’m sure they would be willing to cooperate; I can assure you none of them have ever been involved in a Fix.’
‘How are the bribes paid?’ asked Kershaw.
‘In used hundred pound notes in a suitcase, they keep it
simple. In the past they trusted me to pay the bribes; whether they will this time I don’t know, but I will find out on Saturday. So what do you two think Detective Chief Inspector and Detective Inspector?’
‘I think its going to be a long hard road old lad but lets kick it off on Saturday. Do you agree Cathy?’
Kershaw nodded in agreement.
‘By the way Mr O’Shea, Newcastle Police did have a visit from Macey’s sister Nancy Walters; so it was a canny decision for you to mention it,’ said Kershaw
‘Ok Vincent we have a lot of organizing to do between now and Saturday; DI Kershaw or I will be in touch. I don’t want you to leave London any problems phone me.’ said Thompson handing him his card.’
‘Thanks.’
After O’Shea had left the room Kershaw touched Thompson lightly on the arm.
‘Bob I can set up the surveillance for Saturday morning, I’ll use Bedford and Teague, it will leave you free to sort out Reece Hughes and the Garden Centre. Anything untoward happens I’ll contact you.’
‘You read my thoughts; that’s a relief, thanks Cathy.’
CHAPTER 9
Thursday 9.30am Kershaw had just finished explaining to Chief Superintendent Fletcher that she and Thompson were in the process of organizing O’Shea to be wired for his meeting with his handler Joe Gillard on Saturday morning. The Superintendent reminded her that O’Shea was a national celebrity and whether he was loved or otherwise he should be handled with care and caution. That he was big news and would she tell Robert to contact him as soon as possible. She quietly put down the phone and went looking for DS Bedford and DC Teague . They were in the CID room looking busy.
‘What are you and Teague doing at the moment Terry?’
‘Finishing off the Gordon case, the forge dodgy twenty pound notes ; he’s in court this morning and then we have a two o’clock appointment this afternoon with Mr Barker the Admin Manager of the Arsenal Football Club; they’ve had a burglary.’
‘Alright do that, I suppose we have to keep the Tabloids sweet; report to my office tomorrow morning at nine- thirty.’
‘Yes Ma’am.’
DS Bedford was in a good mood the Gordon case had gone
well ‘Flash’ as Gordon was known in the trade had gone down for eighteen months, an accepted occupational hazard for him and a good result for DS Bedford.
He and Teague were now in the car on their way to the mighty Arsenal Football Club.
‘Now why would anyone want break into the Arsenal grounds. More likely they would want to break out to escape Sarg.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Well they are not quite making it are they? There can’t be much silverware to nick. I mean what have they won lately?’ Teague was enjoying himself knowing full well DS Bedford was an Arsenal fan, even though he played rugby union.
‘They are never outside the top four in the Premier League, the toughest league in the world,’ said a heated Bedford.
‘True Sarg.’ Teague having drawn fire was happy to quit while he was ahead.
Security waived them through the gates and they parked outside the main entrance. The Administration Manager greeted them in the club’s impressive reception area.
‘George Barker Admin Manager.’
‘DS Bedford and this is DC Teague.’ They both showed their ID cards.
‘sorry to hear about your break-in sir. What did they take?’ Mr Barker shuffled uncomfortably, coughed, stuck his hands in his pockets.
‘A square metre of turf.’
‘A square metre of turf?’ echoed Teague, hardly able to believe his ears and luck.
‘It would be green sir?’ asked an innocent Teague.
‘Of course it was,’ said Mr Barker.
‘It could have been Yellowish,’ said a defensive Teague.
‘Alright sir what do you want us to do about it?’ asked an unamused Bedford.
‘I want the culprits caught and prosecuted for wilful damage to private property, Sergeant.’
‘Right sir; on the other hand it might be advisable to keep it quiet; if this catches on there could be more Yobs looking for souvenirs pieces,’ cautioned Bedford.
The relentless Teague asked, ‘Do you have CCTV Mr Barker we could look at?’ Again the hapless Mr Barker looked uncomfortable but managed a forced weak smile.
‘Yes constable we do.’
‘Do you have a clear picture of the Vandals?’ asked Bedford.
‘Not quite; you see they were disguised.’
‘Disguised?’ probed the disingenuous Teague.
‘Yes disguised as scuba divers with goggles and hats.’
‘Scuba divers!’ roared Bedford.
‘They probably had snorkels too Sarg it would all be part of the disguise,’ said Teague only just controlling his laughter.
‘Its obviously a prank carried out by fans from a rival club, it’s a score a trophy or a prize from the enemy. It probably now has pride of place in somebody’s lawn; who can now brag about it in his local. We can make discreet inquiries but there’s not a lot we can do.’
‘True Sarg there’s not too many villains with form for nicking turf.’
‘Do you mind me asking where on the pitch the turf was taken from?’ asked Teague.