Fallen Angel (27 page)

When DCS Higgins received an urgent request to meet with the Area Commander, he assumed it would be to discuss the Duncan Jenkins case. Jenkins's desire for publicity had ensured that far too much information about the workings of the unit had gone into the public domain. If the police were to remain one step ahead of kidnappers in the future, a radical upheaval and redrafting of all their procedures would have to take place. Never again would they be able to get away with simply providing a small portion of whatever ransom had been requested, along with a note from the family of the victim asking for more time. The tactic was now far too well known – every kidnapper would be expecting it.

‘Excuse me, sir,' said the Constable at the desk beside him. ‘The Area Commander is ready to see you now.'

Higgins sat down on the leather chair opposite, but he could instantly tell that this was not an informal meeting.

‘Do you know this man?' Assistant Commander Patterson laid the glossy black-and-white photograph on the desk directly in front of DCS Higgins, who leaned forward and studied it closely. It showed a dark-haired, rugged-looking man in a black leather jacket standing next to what looked like a low brick wall.

Higgins waited a few seconds before he spoke. ‘No.'

Patterson nodded, got up from his chair and began to
pace around the room. ‘His name's Stanley. Jack Stanley. We've been after him for years. He's linked to drugs and organized crime on a bunch of estates throughout South London. In particular the Blenheim Estate. He's always managed to stay one step ahead of any investigation that's been launched against him. Earlier this year his file was passed on to SOCA.'

Higgins scratched his head. ‘I'm sorry, sir, but I don't quite see how the work of the Serious and Organized Crime Agency is relevant to …'

Patterson moved back towards his desk and slapped another photograph down over the first. It showed the same man, but this time speaking to a woman whom Higgins knew only too well. A woman he thought that he knew, a woman he thought he could trust: Stacey Collins.

Higgins's face became red with anger.

‘I know about her role in the Eliot and Dawney cases, but what is she up to at the moment?' asked Patterson.

‘She's a team leader and has just been assigned to the case involving that young kid stabbed to death on the Blenheim Estate. There must be an explanation for this, sir. Although sometimes she can be a bit a maverick, she's a good officer.'

‘She grew upon the Blenheim Estate, didn't she?'

‘I think so.'

‘Has anything happened to make you think that she might be corrupt – any cause for suspicion of any kind?'

Higgins curled his brow as he thought hard. His mind wandered back to the information Collins had provided about the first drop site. There had been rumours about her connections with some dangerous underworld figures.

‘Not that I can think of.'

Patterson sat back and rubbed his chin. ‘I want you to sideline her on her current investigation. I need to make sure that she no longer has access to anything sensitive. She's now the target of an internal investigation.'

‘But if I do that suddenly, she's going to become incredibly suspicious. Surely we should just continue as if nothing has happened but keep her under close watch?'

‘Okay – but keep her on a tight lead. Is there anyone you can trust, anyone you can put on to her team?'

‘There is one person I could bring into this.'

‘Who do you have in mind?'

‘A DI by the name of Yvonne Drabble.'

They had driven in absolute silence for the best part of an hour, but for once Stacey didn't mind. Despite her best efforts she was unable to engage in any kind of conversation with her daughter.

At least Sophie was sitting in the front – things had improved enough for her to make that one small concession towards the two of them having a proper mother–daughter relationship. It had given Stacey the first inkling of hope that one day things might be the way they should be: laughing and joking, talking about their boyfriends, going shopping and even sharing their clothes.

The car slowly passed a large park on the right. From there it began to climb up a gentle slope, passing a series of large gated houses with extensive grounds. The road continued until it reached a dead end. The way ahead was closed off by a large metal gate with signs that read
NO TRESPASSING and BEWARE OF GUARD DOGS
.

Stacey pulled forward slowly, wound down her window and pressed a button on the gate's intercom. A gruff voice she did not recognize answered.

‘Who is it?'

‘It's Stacey.'

‘You got an appointment?'

‘Just tell him it's Stacey.'

There was a long pause, then a squeal and grinding of metal against metal as the large gate began to roll back.

A circular gravel driveway, with a fountain at its centre, led to a huge mock-Arts-and-Crafts house. The man whom she'd come to see was waiting for her at the front door, a bemused look on his face.

‘What the hell are you doing here, Princess?' he asked. ‘It's not safe –'

Stacey placed a finger on her lips to silence him.

‘What is this?'

‘Please, for once just listen. I came because there is something I need …' She had run through this many times in her mind, but now she was unable to make the words come out right.

‘I mean, I've come here because there is someone you need to meet.'

Jack Stanley looked past her shoulder and into the car. ‘Who?'

Stacey turned and followed his gaze. Sophie was still in the passenger seat, but now she was looking up, staring intently at the two sets of eyes that were fixed on her. Sophie hadn't heard what had been said, but she sensed something was happening. She recognized the man who had brought her to her grandparents' flat after she'd spent
the night away from home. She thought she was getting into trouble. Stacey opened the door, and Sophie got out, looking at the two of them.

Stacey held her daughter's hand and led her closer to Jack Stanley. ‘Sophie, this is your father.'

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