Chapter 6
With Panjabi suitably chastened – or as near to it as she was likely to be – and Leece under no illusions as to his fate if he confirmed, or contributed to in any way, the rumours surrounding Ferguson's abrupt departure, Reid was able to turn his attention to DC Duke's notes of cases he had been working on that involved Vince Wilkins; or, to be more accurate, involving information that Wilkins had provided.
The most intriguing thing he came across was a brief comment in one of Duke's reports, stating that Wilkins claimed he could identify the major contributor to the Denton drug problem. He could find no further reference to this, despite combing through all the files three times. Sitting back and heaving a sigh, a combination of weariness and disgruntlement, he looked at his watch and found to his horror that he had spent eight hours on this task. He could do with something to eat, and a stiff drink wouldn't go amiss, either, if only he were allowed one. It would have to be some black coffee, but not the canteen's; it tasted like hot water that somebody had waved a Nescafé advert over.
Another thought came to him: this would be an ideal time to check up on Duke's informant, in the absence of his official handler. And Wilkins' favourite haunts were seared on Reid's brain after a day of going through all the relevant documentation. If Wilkins could finger the local drug baron, something good would have come of this mess.
Reid grabbed his jacket and headed out to the car, then for a trawl of a couple of likely pubs. He found Wilkins in the second port of call, the Station Tavern. He also, much to his astonishment and concern, found Billy Duke. The two were sitting in close conference at a table, as far away from the door as possible.
Reid strolled up to the bar and ordered a Coke, took a couple of sips, then meandered in the direction of a quiz machine, which hid him from Wilkins' and Duke's view until he was right beside them.
"'Ello, Earl. How's Val doing?" Reid helped himself to a seat at their table, and was gratified to see the dropped jaws of both men. Wilkins obviously knew exactly who he was, as his next move was an attempt to leave.
Reid caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him back down into his chair. "That's not very sociable of you, Vince. It's actually you I came to talk to. You," he nodded at the still-dumbstruck Duke, "can stick around if you want, though." He turned back to Wilkins. "I need some information and I believe you're just the man to give me it. Tell me who's got the monopoly on supplying drugs in Denton."
Reid thought Duke was going to choke on his whisky chaser. Wilkins simply stared back at him in shock.
"Come on, Vince, I haven't got all night. We're very busy back at the nick, as Earl here may have mentioned."
Wilkins finally found his voice, and it was falsetto with fear. "Are you freaking insane? Do you know what would happen to me if I shopped..." He broke off just shy of naming the culprit.
Reid mentally cursed the man, and retorted, "Didn't stop you from offering him up to Earl before, did it?"
Duke started to protest, but Reid talked him down. "Just one name, Vince. How hard can it be? And then I'm gone, you won't need to talk to me again - unless, of course, you get up to anything naughty yourself. Tell you what," he said, the idea suddenly occurring to him. "Here's my mobile number. Call me, text me - all you have to say is the name. Nothing else. I'll know what it means."
So confident was Reid that he'd chosen the right tactic that he finished his drink, left his card with the astonished Wilkins, and walked out of the pub.
Outside on the pavement, he pulled his jacket closer to defeat the chill wind. Normally he would have lit up now, but the overwhelming feelings of success and satisfaction at catching Wilkins on the hop like that seemed to have the same effect as a nicotine hit. Better, he could also feel smug about the lack of harmful by-products. He was less sanguine about the presence of Billy Duke in the pub and in Wilkins' company. Either Duke was as bent as Knight thought he was, or there was something else going on which hadn't yet bobbed to the surface. He'd need a chat with Billy in private as soon as he could get one.
Reid walked back to his car, deep in thought, which meant that he was taken completely unawares by the punch to his kidneys and the crack on the head which the doctor would later describe as a "classic blunt instrument" injury.
oooOOOooo
He awoke to a sizeable group of people staring down at him and the reflection of blue flashing lights in the pub car park.
"Guv!" he heard a female voice exclaim, and through a fog of pain and confusion he discerned the anxious face of Tina Panjabi. Then someone else said, "He's coming round now. Give him some air," and Panjabi, protesting, was moved aside by the paramedic team. The crowd began to disperse until only the police officers and ambulance crew remained. Reid groaned as he was stretchered into the ambulance, and the paramedic with him placed an oxygen mask over his face, oblivious to the fact that at this precise moment Reid's agony was less from his injuries and more from his acute sense of déjà vu – not to mention the thought of having to once again receive a solicitous hospital visit from a superior officer. He knew Gardiner would be round, without fail. He just prayed nobody told Frost.
OooOOOooo
"I don't know what's wrong with this relief," the super commented, plucking a grape from Reid's bedside fruit basket. "If I was a superstitious man I'd say it was a curse."
Reid began to make scathing noises but quickly drew in his breath in pain. Gardiner became attentive. "Need a nurse?" He reached for the buzzer to summon help.
"No," gasped Reid, "I'm fine...the painkillers'll kick in, in a bit." He let out a long, controlled breath and slumped back onto his pillows.
"I don't suppose you've any idea who did this?" Gardiner asked, keeping one eye on Reid as he helped himself to more fruit and offered some to the patient.
"No, thanks," declined the latter, wincing slightly. "And, no – since whoever it was came from behind, and it was dark, I've no idea who they were." He was still trying to straighten out in his mind whether he should tell Gardiner why he'd been at the Tavern in the first place, let alone mention his conversation with Duke and Wilkins. Of course, both of them were prime suspects for the assault. He had better say something.
"I was actually at the pub on official business." He managed to make it sound like a throwaway remark, but it had anything but the desired effect.
"What?" Gardiner was aghast.
Reid rolled his eyes in mock martyrdom. "Don't worry, I won't claim the overtime."
"So were you meeting someone there?" The super sat forward on the edge of his seat now, his attention fixed on Reid.
"I didn't plan to, no. But I'd been going through Billy Duke's files for information about Vince Wilkins, and discovered something that I thought was worth following up on. I knew where Wilkins hung out, so I took a punt and got lucky. He was in the Station Tavern when I arrived, and I managed to...have a word with him."
"Go on."
Reid reached for a glass of water, which Gardiner obligingly poured and handed to him. He took a sip and went on, "The case notes hinted that Wilkins could identify a major drug supplier, and had offered him up, still naming no names, to DS Duke. When I got to the Tavern, I found the two of them sitting together."
"What, Wilkins and Duke?" interrupted an incredulous Gardiner.
"Yes, and I tried to take Wilkins up on his offer of information, but he wasn't happy I knew about it, although he almost let the name slip. So I left him my mobile number – I think he'd be more likely to grass anonymously, rather than tell me face to face – and just left it at that. I went out to the car, and...well, I don't remember a lot after that. Obviously the two incidents might be related."
"You think?" Gardiner enquired, raising a sardonic eyebrow.
A doctor appeared, glanced at Gardiner (who was out of uniform), and announced, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I'm afraid. Are you a relative?"
"I'm Detective Inspector Reid's senior officer." Gardiner rose to his feet and towered over the five foot-five white-coated specialist.
"Unfortunately that doesn't count as next of kin," came the reply, accompanied by a whiff of sarcasm. "There's a waiting area just down the hallway." He held the room door open and Gardiner left, signalling to Reid that he wasn't going far.
The doctor closed the door and turned to his patient. "Well, Mr. Reid, we've been looking at your x-rays, and while I'm pleased to say there's no significant new damage, we are sufficiently concerned about your previous head injury that I've arranged for a CAT scan. Someone will be along to take you for that in about half an hour, all right?"
"What, you think they've damaged the previous fracture?" While not unduly alarmed, Reid wanted to be aware of all the possibilities.
"That's what we're going to investigate with the scan. Fortunately, you were discovered fairly soon after the attack, it would appear, and we've been able to minimise any swelling that might have occurred, as well as check for bleeding. That all seems to be under control, it's just the pre-existing fracture line that we'll be focusing on, OK? Any more questions?"
"Once I've had the scan, can I go home?" Reid asked, eyes shut. He felt drained but unable to sleep.
"We'll talk about that after you come back up from radiology," replied the doctor. He was quiet for a moment, then when Reid opened his eyes again to check if he'd left, continued, "Try and rest. Your whole body's still coping with the trauma of a head injury, there'll be all sorts of knock-on effects for a while yet. Just call for the nurse if you feel anything unusual happening, any pain or problems with your vision. I'll see you in a while." He actually patted Reid on the arm as he left.
Gardiner stuck his head round the door a few moments later. "I'm going now, Terry, but I'll pop back later. You get some sleep."
"Fat chance of that round here," scoffed Reid. "They'll be along soon to take me for one of those bloody tunnel scans. Don't suppose you could smuggle me in some fags?" he added, only half-jokingly.
