A/N: Hi, y'all. Here's a new chapter.
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Hours earlier…
After dismissing the rest of his team, DI Steve Arnott sat alone in Discussion Room 4, or what they liked to call as major incident room. A MacBook Pro lay opened on the table in front of him, though his attention was elsewhere.
Something about the extortion case that they were currently investigating was bugging him, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. During the team briefing just now, he got hit unexpectedly by a sense of déjà vu—the numbers of patrol officers involved, the numerous complaints from the public, the MO. He couldn't ignore the feeling that this case seemed awfully familiar.
Steve was so deep in thought that he visibly startled when DC Chloe Bishop suddenly entered the room, carrying a steaming mug in one hand.
"Here's the coffee you asked for, sir," she said, putting the mug next to his laptop. "And that would be your third one today, just saying."
The slight admonishment from his junior officer caused him to grin. "Thanks, Chloe. I'll keep that in mind."
His grin grew wider when he noticed the particular mug, a present from Kate for his 31st birthday. She had it custom made with "I'm A Waistcoat Wonder" colorfully stenciled on the outside, complete with a funny caricature of himself.
Chloe was pleased to see his smile. She had recently discovered who had given him the silly mug. "The office pantry is out of cleaned cups, so I took that mug out of your low drawer. Hope you don't mind, sir."
"It's fine, Chloe."
"You miss her, don't you, sir?"
Steve looked up, still smiling. He didn't need to ask whom Chloe was talking about. "Sometimes, yeah."
"I heard that she's coming back."
"You heard right." He nodded, and looked at her closely. "Will that be a problem?"
"No, of course not, sir!" she exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink. "I mean, DI Fleming is a very good investigator. I'm sure the two of you will make a great team once again."
"Aren't you afraid that your input and contribution to the team might be overshadowed by hers?" Steve kindly asked.
Chloe's pretty face turned even redder. "I didn't mean it that way, sir. I just…"
"Listen, I understand what you're meaning to say," he responded with an intent gaze. "Rest assured, Chloe. You are pro-active, you are smart, and you are willing to work harder than most people. The police force should have more officers like you. Even with DI Fleming returning here, I still need you in my team. Don't ever forget that."
Chloe straightened up, her face brightening. Albeit timidly, she replied, "Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate it."
"Good. Now I need you to do something else for me."
"Of course, sir. How can I assist?"
Steve pulled a notepad towards him and started writing. "A year ago, before you joined us, AC-12 brought down a group of RPU's traffic officers who had been taking kickbacks from traffic offenders. Or rather, non-offenders who have been threatened with traffic fines or penalties if they didn't pay the officers certain amount of cash."
"And you think these two cases are connected?"
"Exactly." He finished writing and tore the page off the pad, passing it over to her. "Nineteen out of twenty one traffic officers were convicted. Here's the list of their names, the ones that I can still remember. We call it Operation Traffic 21. You can cross reference the case number through the filing system. I have all the records on my desktop computer, but I'd prefer to do my research the old fashion way. So I need you to get those casefiles from the archive and bring them all here."
"I'll get right on it, sir. Would you like me to get you some lunch as well?"
Steve frowned and glanced at his watch. The time was half past twelve in the afternoon. "Shit. It's lunchtime already?"
Chloe smiled benignly. "I think you need to take a break for a moment, boss. You've been working too hard."
Chuckling, Steve said, "Guilty as charged. But I ate a big breakfast this morning, so I'm going to skip lunch. Thank you for the offer, though."
"Alright, sir. I'll return with the files soon."
After she left, Steve returned his attention to his laptop. He logged on into HOLMES 2—an information technology system that is predominantly used by UK police forces to assist senior investigation officers in their management of the complexity of investigating serious crime—and began to key in relevant data of the current case. He would later key in the data of the traffic case after he received the files from Chloe, so that the system could process the mass of information it was provided with, before it meted out the precise clues on connections that were still beyond Steve's grasp.
DCS Carmichael suddenly chose that moment to enter the room.
"As you were, DI Arnott," she said before he could even rise to his feet.
"Ma'am." Steve sat up straight in his chair, wincing slightly when his aching back started to protest by that position.
"How's the investigation going?" she asked, noticing the HOLMES 2 main page on Steve's laptop screen.
"Not as fast as we want it to move, ma'am, but we just had a breakthrough. I think there's a connection between this case and one of AC-12 previous cases."
He then proceeded to tell her about Operation Traffic 21, where nineteen traffic officers were convicted the previous year for taking kickbacks from innocent motorists.
"So…what? You think these two cases have the same mastermind behind them?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's exactly what I think," Steve replied. "Those convicted traffic officers were at low level and wouldn't have the right brain to initiate an operation of this scale. We thought there could be someone at the top who had been giving them instructions. But of course, they all kept mum when questioned and wouldn't say a word about the officer in higher authority"
He sighed. "And now, almost the same MO is repeating in this extortion case. Just like before, there have been various complaints from the public. Only this time, instead of traffic officers, it now involves patrol officers who are extorting money from small scale shops and stores. The matching parallels are too great to ignore."
Carmichael crossed her arms with a thin smile. "What you're actually saying, DI Arnott, is that there's still institutionalized corruption in the police force?"
Steve met her steady gaze, head on. "Yes, ma'am. I'm saying exactly that."
He then added, "Isn't that why we're here in anti-corruption, to discover the truth because we care about integrity and accountability?"
They stared at each other for several tense moments as Carmichael silently pondered over Steve's statement, which were the exact same words that another man had said to her recently.
Steve Arnott was indeed Ted Hasting's protégé, she reluctantly admitted to herself, heading towards the door after giving Steve a once-over.
"You look tired DI Arnott."
"I'm fine, ma'am," he replied.
"If you say so." She paused at the doorway. "Oh, in case you don't know, Kate is coming in to see me today."
"Yeah. I know."
Carmichael lightly snorted. "Of course, you do. She told you?"
"She tells me everything, ma'am."
She emitted another trademark smirk of hers that he found so irritating. "Hmm…I bet. Carry on, DI Arnott."
"Ma'am."
Steve sat slump in his chair after she left. He ran a weary hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Jesus…"
Even before he could focus his attention back onto his laptop, someone knocked at the door. He glanced up and found a young Asian woman standing there. It was Amanda Yao, a specialist technician from the Cyber Crime Unit.
"Sorry, sir. Is this a bad time?" she tentatively asked, noticing his cloudy expression.
He managed to smile back. "No, it's fine, Amanda. What you've got for me?"
She handed over a folder she carried. As Steve vetted through it, she explained, "This is a report on what we found on those laptops and mobile phones that we seized from the patrol officers. Mostly, nada. But, the metadata we accessed on one particular laptop has traces of communication with another user internet protocol address located in Spain."
Steve looked up sharply, shocked. "You're kidding."
"I know, sir. I was surprised too."
"But…Thurwell is dead."
Steve was talking about former Detective Chief Inspector Marcus Thurwell, who had had links to the OCGs. He had retired and relocated to Spain, but was later found dead by the Spanish authority only a month ago. AC-12 believed that Thurwell had been the corrupted officer involved in the cover up of the controversial investigation into the sexual allegations at Sands View Boys Home, among other things.
"That laptop computer belongs to PC Joseph Hayder. The last communication with Thurwell's IP address was just a couple weeks before Thurwell's death. Nothing after that," said Amanda.
Steve nodded. "Did you manage to discover how long this had been going on?"
"We managed to trace the exchange as far back as twelve months."
"Hmm…" He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his chin as he contemplated. "Right after we brought down the traffic kickbacks ring."
"Sir?" The civilian officer was obviously puzzled.
Turning to her, he said, "Amanda, this is great findings. Well done. We have to look at this case from another angle now, so I want you to get your head together with Chloe. I just sent her to the archives to get some old casefiles. There's a certain connection between this case and a previous case. We need to quickly find out what it is. I'll let Chloe brief you more on this."
"Of course, sir. I will talk to her."
Exiting the room, she grabbed the door and meant to shut it close, but Steve quickly said, "It's okay, Amanda. Leave it open."
"Very well, sir."
Steve was left smiling in anticipation. He was getting close to crack the case, he just knew it! The clues were there. What they needed to do now was to determine the damned connection that linked them all together.
After several minutes of focusing on his laptop, Steve became aware of someone hovering nervously at the opened doorway. He turned and saw Elaine Thompson, a civilian hired by the building maintenance contractor to clean the office.
"Sorry to disturb you, DI Arnott."
"Hey, Elaine." He smiled at the middle-age lady, who was about ten years younger than his own Mom. "No, you're not disturbing at all."
"I thought everyone is at lunch," she said. "I need to clean this room."
Steve looked around. The room was not overly messy, but there were several dustbins that needed to be emptied. His team was on overtime late last night. Hence, empty food wrappers, pizza boxes and energy drink cans filled the dustbins to the brim. He shook his head, slightly annoyed by his team's laxity. He hated to give them a lecture on orderliness, but they needed to be reminded that they were professional police officers, not scrappy teenagers. He added that to his agenda for the evening briefing.
"It's okay, Elaine. Come on in."
"Thank you, sir. I won't be long," she said, pushing in her cleaning trolley.
He rose to his feet, stretching a bit to lose the kinks in his back before grabbing his mug of coffee that had gone cold. He took a sip—shrugged when he discovered that it was still drinkable—and stepped out of the cleaner's way by standing in front of the white board. Staring at the info written all over the board, he was barely aware as the elderly woman moved silently around the room, emptying the dustbins and brushing her feather-duster over dusty surfaces.
"I need to shut the blinds, sir. If that's okay? Easier for me to get rid of the dust balls."
"Sure, of course," Steve replied absentmindedly, taking another sip of his cold coffee as he stared at the photo of PC Joseph Hayder, the one whose laptop had traces of communication with Thurwell in Spain.
Behind him, Elaine was quietly closing the door. Steve took no notice of this until she came close to speak directly into his ear, "You killed Amelia. You killed my baby girl."
Huh?
Steve swirled around to stare at the woman in confusion, and that was when she struck.
Unbeknownst to him, Elaine had already grab a pair of scissors from her cleaning trolley. The sharp metal blades were at least five inches long, and they now lay buried in his left abdomen. He didn't know how that happened, he didn't even have the time to react. He could only stare stupidly when the elderly woman grabbed the handle and yanked the scissors out, sending blood spurting everywhere.
"What…?"
Still in shock, Steve couldn't feel the pain yet. He watched in puzzlement as Elaine hastily took off her blood spattered work apron and wrapped it around the blood drenched scissors.
The mug fell off his suddenly lax grip, his knees buckling. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back. Something warm and sticky was spreading wide underneath him. He knew it was his life blood, gushing out like a water tap. He could even smell its sharp metallic scent. But he still couldn't understand. Confused.
Why is she doing this?
"Elaine…?"
The elderly woman glared down at him with a strange look of satisfaction. "My Amelia died because of you, my Jamie died because of you. You killed my daughter and my grandson. You killed them both."
Amelia? he thought. Amelia Thompson?
Steve's blood instantly ran cold when realization dawned on him. He knew who Amelia was. How could he ever forget about her?
"You remember her now, don't you, mister supercopper?" Elaine said through gritted teeth. "You made my daughter's life a living hell. Now I sent you to hell yourself. Say hi to her for me. Tell her that Mommy can sleep in peace now."
The woman then calmly opened the door, looked both ways outside, before she pushed out her trolley and silently shut the door.
The pain, excruciating and paralyzing as it was, began to set in. Steve stared in wonder at his bloodied hand, the one that had been pressing at the wound, alarmed by the realization that he was still bleeding profusely. His mobile phone lay next to his laptop on the desk across the room, though he could hardly move to reach for it. He tried to cry for help, but his mouth felt too dry while his entire body was weakening at an alarming rate. He was in a very serious trouble.
Blinking hard through a narrowing vision, he could hear the sound of voices as some of his co-workers walked past the door outside.
"Help…" he croaked, but his voice was barely audible. "Help me…"
Slowly, the world turned dark on him.
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Present time…
Steve came round instantly with a sharp intake of breath.
At first, he felt confused by his surroundings. The view of the light blue walls, the smell of antiseptic, the beeping sound of a vital monitor machine. He began to gradually remember that he was lying in a hospital bed—weakened, and feeling sick to his stomach.
A calming hand then landed upon his arm, followed by a kind familiar voice, "Steven?'
Slowly, he turned his head to the side. It was his old gaffer, Ted Hastings.
"Sir?"
The older man smiled back, though he looked slightly worried. "Are you in pain, son? Want me to call the nurse or—"
"No, sir. I'm fine," Steve hastily said, "It's just…bad dreams, is all."
Hastings still didn't look convince. "Is your back bothering you?"
"A little. But it's okay." Steve was very glad by the other man's presence. "Thank you, sir…for visiting me."
"I would have come sooner, but I was out of town yesterday," Hastings explained. "I caught the first train back this morning. When I heard how close we were to losing you, I…"
He sighed and shook his head. "Mother of god...You scared me to death. And to think that you were attacked inside the office. If I were there, this would never have happened. Bloody Carmichael! She should have made that office safer."
Despite it all, Steve grinned. Obviously, his old gaffer still had a beef with his new gaffer. "I have myself to blame, sir. I let down my guard."
"Yeah, that's also true. Careless of you, son. Anyway, Kate and her team are investigating, but they still have no clear idea who attacked you. They don't even have a suspect. So far, everyone in AC-12 is clean."
Steve had to look away, in case Hastings noticed the sense of guilt burning in his eyes. He stared at the empty sofa across the bed. "Um…have you seen my brother?"
Shane had stayed overnight inside the ward to keep Steve company, and he had used the sofa as his bed.
Soldiers. They could bunk anywhere.
"Yes. I asked him to take a break. He is now with Kate at the canteen downstairs."
The older man then tilted his head slightly to one side. "Is there something going on between those two?"
Steve chuckled, and instantly grabbed his wounded abdomen with a grimace. "Sorry, sir. No comment."
After a short silence, he said, "Sir, I've been meaning to ask."
"Go ahead. Ask away."
"How's retirement life?"
"Awful," Hastings hotly replied. "I'm still appealing, but the powers that be are taking their own sweet time deliberating over it."
He then gave the younger man a closer look. "I heard about your medical assessment regarding your back injury. The Occupational Health have not given their final ruling yet?"
"I don't know, sir. But I have a feeling they want to pension me off already." Steve sadly shook his head, his voice breaking. "I just…I don't know what I would do with my life if…if that is true."
After giving Steve some moment to gather his composure, Hastings then reached up to squeeze his shoulder. "You're still young, Steve. And you are one of the best officers I've ever worked with. You're valuable to the police force, extremely valuable. They won't simply let go a highly competent officer like you."
Steve listened, teary eyed, as his old gaffer continued to say, "But I have to admit, you have been working very hard all these years. You seldom take leave, you never go for vacations. Even after you hurt your back, you still work harder than ever, and it got me worried at some point. Maybe it's time you take a break before you completely break yourself."
"I love my job, sir…"
"I know that, son. I know. But to do your job well, you need to take care of yourself first. The attack on you yesterday might be a silver lining. After you leave this hospital, go recuperate somewhere nice for a while. And then come back with fresher body, mind and soul."
"But I'm in the middle of a massive case," Steve protested, but it sounded weak, as if his heart was not really into it.
"Steven, those cases never end. Whether you're in office or not, they would never stop coming. Trust your team to do what you've led them to do. You are very well trained, and now so are they. They'll be fine."
Hastings tightened his squeeze on Steve's shoulder. "All you need to do, is get better. Take one step at a time, son. Like you always do. And you'll also be fine."
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It was almost dark outside.
Several floors below, at the hospital canteen, Shane Arnott and Kate Fleming sat together at a table in one corner with a cup of coffee for each of them, as well as a plate of puff pastries though they were not actually hungry. The food was just something they picked up on autopilot, their mind clearly focused on Steve and his attacker.
Kate reached over to link her fingers through his. "Shane? Come on, talk to me."
He looked up from his coffee, deadpan. "Sorry. What are you talking about?"
"You've been too quiet. This is not you at all."
"I'm just worried about Steve."
"I know. We both are. But I think there's something you are not telling me."
Grinning, he placed his free palm atop their joined hands. "Okay, you're right. So I'm telling you now. I'm crazy about you."
She released her grip with a huff and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Stop fooling around, Shane! I'm serious."
"I am serious," he responded with an intense look. "When I heard about your split with Mark, I thought…Well, I hope we finally have a future together. You are such an incredible woman, Kate. Mark was stupid to let you go."
Softening, she grabbed his hand once again. "It's not his fault. We both tried for our son's sake, but it just didn't work out."
"You deserve to be happy."
She gave him an inquisitive look. "Will I be happy with you, Shane?"
"You'll never know until we try."
They sat staring at each other for a full minute until Kate shook herself back to reality. "Look, can we talk about this some other time?"
"Sure." Shane nodded, and picked up his cup to take a sip of warm black coffee.
"About Steve, do you know something that I don't?"
The coffee almost spewed out of his mouth at her abrupt questioning, but he managed to calmly gulp it down as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "What exactly do you mean?"
"When I came to visit Steve this morning, he seemed dodgy. He still insisted he couldn't remember his attacker, but he also gave certain vibes as if he did. I don't know, Shane. Steve is my best mate. I knew him so well I can read him like an opened book. But maybe I read him wrong this time."
"Actually, you're not wrong," Shane muttered, sighing inwardly.
Surprised, Kate's eyes widened. "What did you say?"
"I said, you're not wrong," he repeated. "Yes, Steve is hiding something from you. Something real significant."
"You knew," Kate sputtered, incredulous, "And you wouldn't even tell me?"
"I will not break his confidant. You need to find that out yourself."
"But, Shane—"
"I understand that you have a case to solve, Kate. I do. But only Steve can answer all your questions, not me. So speak to him."
"I've tried."
"Try again. I can't help you with that."
Kate glared, but she understood Shane's position. The Arnott brothers were fiercely protective of each other.
"Okay. Just answer me this. Does he know who attacked him?"
"No comment."
"Oh, for god's sake…" She rolled her eyes, and tried again, "Come on, Shane. Did Steve tell you who attacked him?"
"He didn't. But I did a quick research and came out with my own theory. I got a suspect in mind."
"Who is it then?"
"I can't say. I don't want to jeopardize the objectivity of your investigation."
She gave that a thought for a while before saying, "So, you aren't willing to share that theory with my team. Should I arrest you for perverting the course of justice?"
"Yeah. Nice try, Kate." He scoffed, smirking back. "My theory is just that, a theory, not a fact. I'm not perverting the course of justice in any way, as well you know it. But feel free to threaten me again, DI Fleming. You sure sound sexy doing it."
Kate released a heavy sigh, her eyes rolling. Silly man.
But Shane was right. He had no obligation to tell her anything that came to his mind. This also proved that the Arnotts were not only protective of each other. They were extremely loyal.
"Okay, fine. I will talk to him again."
"A word of caution, Kate," Shane seriously said. "You know Steve very well, don't you? You know how utterly stubborn he can be. So be gentle. If you push him hard, the harder he'll push back."
She nodded in understanding, and gave his hand a brief squeeze. "I'll do my best."
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TO BE CONTINUED…
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A/N: The story is not over yet. Stay tuned for the next chapter.
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"My job's pretty much the only thing I've got left." – DI Steve Arnott
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* ABBREVIATIONS:
AC - Anti Corruption
DC - Detective Constable
DCS - Detective Chief Superintendent
DI - Detective Inspector
DS - Detective Sergeant
HOLMES - Home Office Large Major Enquiry System
MO - Modus Operandi
OCG - Organized Crime Group
PC - Police Constable
RPU - Roads Policing Unit