A/N: I didn't get Ashes to Ashes for Christmas, so BBC and Kudos are still the overlords. There's always next year...
Many thanks to those who read, and especially those who reviewed, Chapter 5. I'd hoped to post this chapter last weekend, but a nasty chest infection and a high temperature put paid to that idea. Anyway, here it is, and ailments permitting I hope to post the final chapter before Twelfth Night.
Being ill last weekend deprived me of the chance to wish my readers a merry Christmas, but I hope you all have a happy, healthy, wealthy, Ashy New Year!
Please make a New Year's resolution to review...
Discussion had to stop when they entered the main office, where the Judds still sat with Michael cradling Megan and his wife resting her head on his shoulder. Gene took one look at the scene before him and vanished into his office - typical, he can't deal with any sort of emotion, Alex thought, as she went over to where Bammo and Cotsey sat.
"It's gone 4.30, boys," she murmured "You can go. Christmas treat. I'll square it with the Guv."
"Thanks, Ma'am." Cotsey grabbed his coat and was out of the door before she could have said "Santa Claus." Bammo lingered.
"Might you, um, need 'elp with 'im, Ma'am?" He cautiously jerked his head in Judd's direction. "If 'e tries to make a break for it before the Guv's back?"
Alex had not entirely discounted the possibility, but she knew from Judd's dealings with Neary that he was a man of honour.
"Thanks for thinking of it, but I don't think so. He's given us his parole, and everything he loves in the world is right here, in this station." Bammo nodded his understanding and left.
It was only a few minutes later that Steve, the regular after-hours Skip, entered the office and silently attracted Alex's attention. She rose from her desk and joined him in the corridor.
"Ma'am, DCI Bishop of the City of London Police is at the desk. Says she's come to collect Mrs Judd and her daughter."
"That's right, Steve, thanks. I'll come out and have a word with her."
As they walked along the corridor together, she added, "I didn't expect to see you here today. There was a cover on the desk earlier, PS Clarence. Has he gone already?"
Steve shrugged. "Must 'ave done. Didn't even notice him."
"That's a pity. He got me some useful information earlier today. I'd have liked to have the chance to thank him."
Steve displayed a bovine lack of interest. "You know how it is with holiday temps, Ma'am. They come in, do their shift, get their double-bubble and go."
DCI Bishop was a stylish, middle-aged, dark-haired woman of average height, dressed in a crimson coat with fur-edged hood, open to reveal a close-fitting red velvet party dress which emphasised her ample curves.
"DI Drake?" She held out her hand, and Alex shook it. "DCI Myra Bishop. Pleased to meet you."
"And I to meet you, Ma'am. Thank you so much for arranging everything today. I know it must have been difficult for you."
"Think nothing of it. All in a day's work where I come from. I must say it's good to meet another ranking lady in the Force. We girls have got to stick together."
Alex smiled. "Indeed we must, Ma'am. Mrs Judd and her daughter are in the office. Judd is with them. I warn you, Ma'am, it's likely to be difficult to get them away. Megan, the little girl, is convinced that Santa Claus will let her father stay with her forever. She's going to be very upset."
"Well, let's see what we can do about that," DCI Bishop said serenely. "If Judd's prepared to turn supergrass, she might see him sooner than you think. In the meantime, we'd better leave as soon as we can. I'm taking them to their new location, so I've a long drive ahead."
"Of course, Ma'am. This way, please."
On seeing an unknown female entering his domain, Gene emerged from his office with a respectful air which somehow managed to imply belligerence. Judd and his wife looked up with something like despair. Now that the moment of parting had come, the prospect of a new home and a new life for his family was suddenly less alluring.
Alex led DCI Bishop over to Gene. "Guv," she said quietly, "this is DCI Myra Bishop of City of London Police Witness Protection. Ma'am, this is my superior officer, DCI Gene Hunt."
"Ah, the celebrated DCI Hunt! It's an honour." She shook his hand.
Gene looked askance, as though he thought that she were making fun of him, but her warmth seemed perfectly genuine. "Er, pleased to meet you. Drake's already briefed you?"
"Yes." DCI Bishop spoke softly, as Megan was still asleep. "The two of you have done well today."
"Er, thanks." Gene was clearly put out by having to address a female officer on equal terms. "So, all ready to go?"
"Yes." DCI Bishop moved over with Alex to where the Judds sat awaiting their fate, and bent over them.
"Hello, I'm Myra Bishop. My car's outside."
Mrs Judd turned to her husband, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Mike..."
His face was racked with anguish, but he managed a lopsided smile and freed one arm from Megan to put it around his wife's shoulder. "Chin up, love. We both know it's the safest thing for the two of you. Won't be long. You know I'll be with you both as soon as I possibly can." He leant over and kissed her. The movement disturbed Megan, who opened her eyes and looked up at the newcomer with sleepy wonder.
"Who are you? Are you Father Christmas's wife?"
DCI Bishop smiled and shrugged her coat off her shoulders to reveal the expanse of red velvet beneath. "You could say that, yes. I'm Myra, and guess what? I'm going to take you on a magical Christmas journey!"
Megan sat up. "Now?"
"Yes, right away."
"All of us?"
"No, just you and your Mum for now." Judd strove to sound reassuring, but his voice was close to cracking with emotion. "But I'll be with you both as soon as I can, I promise."
Megan began to cry. "B-but S-Santa promised you'd stay for ever!"
He hugged her so tightly that she would have bruises later. "And so I will, darling. I've just got to stay here for a bit to talk to the nice lady and gentleman here about the nasty men. It won't be long. You won't even notice I've gone..." He stopped, choked with tears.
"Daddy!" Megan sobbed into his coat. Mrs Judd reached around her to embrace her husband, and he kissed her as she took Megan from him.
" 'Bye, darlings both. See you soon."
"S-see you," Mrs Judd managed before breaking down. He kissed them both for one last time. Seeing that Mrs Judd was in danger of dropping Megan, DCI Bishop deftly took the crying child from her and cradled her against her substantial bosom. To everyone's surprise, as soon as she took Megan, the little girl's sobs subsided and she rested peacefully against her shoulder.
"My husband and I are good with children," she said quietly. "We've both had a lot of practice. I'll get her out to the car."
She left, and Judd hugged and kissed his wife again. "Don't worry about me, love. Everything'll be fine."
"I love you, Mike." She clung to him as though she would never let go.
"Me too, Sue, me too. Remember, you've been an absolute gem with all this. A gem."
Reluctantly, she pulled herself away and hurried out. Alex followed her, and Judd sank into his chair and hid his face in his hands.
DCI Bishop's car was a large silver Nissan with an enormous boot and a round red nose tied to the radiator grille. "I call it Rudolph," DCI Bishop explained to Megan, smiling. "Now, let's get you and your Mum into the back, and we can be off."
"Where are we going?" Megan radiated absolute trust.
"That's a secret for now. You'll find out when you get there." She settled them into the back, wrapped them in cosy rugs, and poured them hot, sweet tea from a flask. "Nothing like the cup that cheers to keep you going, I say. And you'll find a hamper with mince pies and sherry under the seat if you want anything else. My husband gets offered a lot of those in his line of business." She got into the driving seat, started the engine, and waved goodbye to Alex, who stood watching them from the top of the steps, as she drove off.
Alex returned inside to find Gene at the desk, watching Steve escorting Judd down to the cells.
"Aren't we interviewing him?" she said, surprised.
Gene shook his head. "Nah, it's past beer o'clock, an' it's been one 'ell of a day. Bammo an' Cotsey 'ave 'ad the sense to scarper. We'll start early tomorrow an' make a day of it. It's not as if we need Judders' evidence to nick anyone else, Neary an' 'is mob are all banged up awaiting trial, an' O'Neill's playing ball. In the meantime, I need another drink."
"And Luigi's is closed today," Alex said sympathetically. He's missing the Scotch he gave the Judds, and he may not have a refill in the office. "I've got a couple of bottles in my flat. Care to come up?"
"Yeah. Gimme ten minutes, I've got a call to make first."
"You're on." That suited Alex just fine. Something DCI Bishop had said, had sown an idea in her mind, and she wanted to act upon it at once. While Gene headed back to his office, she nipped into the kitchen, helped herself to one of the spare mugs, made a cup of tea, obtained the key to Judd's cell from Steve, and headed down there.
Judd sat on the edge of the hard bed, his face in his hands. At the sound of the key turning in the lock, he looked up, wiping the tears away with the heels of his hands, and relaxed as he saw Alex. He must have feared that it was Gene, coming to beat him up, she thought as she locked the door behind her.
"Sorry to disturb you," she said conversationally. "As you know, the canteen's closed today, so we're thrown onto our own resources. I didn't expect you'd want any more food tonight, but I brought you this."
"Thank you," he said huskily, and gripped the mug in both hands, letting its warmth seep into him.
"I don't know if the Guv has told you, but we're calling it a night. We'll start interviewing you tomorrow."
"Yes. I'll tell you everything. I know I have to, now. My girls are the hostages for my good behaviour."
"I know you will," she said gently. "Not because of that, but because you gave us your promise, and we know that you are a man of your word."
He pulled a face. "I don't know if that will be enough for Hunt."
The ghost of a smile passed across her face. "Oh, he'll be fine, so long as you co-operate. Anyway, you'll be needing a lawyer. Do you have one?"
He frowned. "Only Neary's lawyer. Howson. I got rid of the one who failed on my appeal while I was in jail."
"For God's sake, don't use anyone connected with Neary. It could be terribly dangerous."
"Believe me, I'm not intending to."
"It'll get back to Neary soon enough, that you've been arrested. There are criminal networks, even in prisons. If you use Howson, he'll tell Neary, and Neary might use his contacts to try to have you killed before you can talk."
"Or get Howson to do the deed himself," Judd said grimly. "I'd already considered that. The man's a thug. The trouble is, I don't know any lawyers I can trust."
Alex pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and scribbled a phone number. "Try this one. Evan White. I can assure you that he's trustworthy."
Despite his grief, Judd could smile slightly. "A lawyer recommended by coppers? That's something new."
"Oh, he and we are old sparring partners." And he could do with the work, with my younger self to bring up. "Just remember to tell him at the start that you're turning supergrass, or he'll be trying to get you out of jail." She leaned as heavily as she could on the crucial word, hoping that Judd would pick it up.
He looked thoughtful. "Supergrass. Bertie Smalls was the first of those, wasn't he? In 1973."
"That's right." A momentous year. The year when I was born and when Sam joined Gene in Manchester.
"He was the one who struck a deal for immunity from prosecution in exchange for giving them all his information."
Alex jumped with well-simulated alarm. "Oh, my God, don't tell anyone I said that!"
A look of understanding passed between them. "Don't worry, you didn't say it, I did."
"Of course, you've already made an agreement with the police to give us all your information," Alex said carefully. "Any deal with the court would have to be completely separate."
"Of course," Judd agreed. His expression was neutral.
"And Smalls is the only supergrass who's avoided getting some sort of sentence. But others have achieved significant reductions by telling the police what they know."
"I know. Just one thing."
"Yes?"
"Will I be told where my wife and daughter are?"
"I'm afraid that will be up to the Witness Protection Unit. I won't be told myself. All I can tell you for now, is that they'll be safe. Of course," she added, her voice going into neutral, "how much you're told following your release will depend upon whether you're accorded witness protection status too." Which could be part of any deal you get Evan to make with the police and the court.
He drained the cup and handed it back to her. "Thank you." They both knew that he was thanking her for more than the tea.
She took it. "Well, see you tomorrow, then. I'm sorry your cell isn't more comfortable."
"At least it's warm and dry," he said wryly. "Better than I've been used to lately."
"Good night." She left, locking the door behind her, and returned the key to Steve, feeling well pleased with herself. She had managed to impress DCI Bishop's suggestion upon Judd without compromising the investigation. I know he'll be able to rely on Evan to strike the best possible deal with the court. With any luck, Judd might get witness protection and be reunited with his family as soon as he gets out of jail. Which, if he gets immunity and time spent in custody is taken into account in his sentencing, might not be long after the end of Neary's trial.
-oO0Oo-
Mackintosh's wife sought him out amid a crowd of their guests.
"Charlie, sorry to disturb you, but there's a phone call for you."
"Excuse me," he said politely to his father-in-law, but his brow was like thunder as he followed his wife out into the hall.
"Who the hell's phoning me at this hour on Christmas Day?" he snarled. "Can't it wait?"
His wife schooled herself not to flinch. "I'm sorry, dear. It's DCI Hunt. I told him you were busy and he said that he'd call back tomorrow, but I thought that it might be important."
Mac considered for a moment as he calmed himself. "Yes, it might be. Good girl. I'd better talk to him. I'll take the library extension. Hang up the living room phone when you hear me."
"Of course I will." Relieved at having avoided his wrath, she fled to the living room while he walked into the library and picked up the receiver.
"Mackintosh." He listened for the click as his wife hung up and the noise from the party cut out. "What can I do for you, Gene?"
"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, Sir. I did tell your wife that I'd speak to you tomorrow if it wasn't convenient now."
"Well, since you have disturbed me, what did you want?"
"I thought you might like to know as soon as possible that Michael Judd's under arrest, Sir."
Mac's heart skipped a beat, but anyone looking at him would have seen no change in his demeanour. "Really? Good work. How did you find him?"
"At the Crisis at Christmas shelter in Bermondsey, Sir. Turns out Lady Joan's observation was spot on. She'd roped in DI Drake as a volunteer at 'er shelter, 'elping in the kitchen an' so on. I gave 'er a lift there this morning with some donations an' Lady Joan asked me if I'd step into the breach for 'er. The bloke who was meant to be playing Father Christmas 'ad let 'er down. Couldn't disappoint all those kiddies. I spotted Judd's daughter among 'em an' Drake located Judd an' 'is wife. We were just in time to stop a couple of gunmen grabbing 'em."
"Good heavens. Who are they?"
"One's a Chink an' we'll need an interpreter, Sir. The other's Patrick O'Neill."
"Oh... We thought he was in Belfast, didn't we?"
"So we did, Sir. Drake an' I 'ave interviewed 'im an' 'e's confessed that 'e's working for Dermot Leary."
"Really?"
"Yes. Through one of Leary's middlemen, of course. Maugham. He's given us some leads on Maugham, we'll follow 'em up tomorrow."
"Which might give you a lead back to Leary?"
"We 'ope so, Sir."
"I know he's very good at covering his tracks."
"Yeah, like Teflon. Can't get anything to stick."
"In the meantime, what about Judd?"
"We've got 'im in the cells 'ere an' will start interviewing 'im tomorrow. He's promised full co-operation in exchange for a guarantee that 'is wife an' daughter will be protected from reprisals."
"How on earth will you be able to deliver on that?"
"DI Drake's arranged everything, Sir. She's sorted out witness protection for them. They're on their way now to a secret address. New identities, the lot."
"Ah, that'll be with DCI Palmer."
"Met Head of Witness Protection? No, Sir, 'e's away over Christmas. DCI Bishop of City of London's subbing for 'im. She's arranged the whole package."
"Good work, Gene. Thanks for letting me know. A merry Christmas to you."
"Thanks, Sir. The same to you."
Mac hung up and sank into a chair. Almost at once the phone rang again, and he seized the receiver.
"Mackintosh."
"Mac, I want a word with you!"
"Oh, is that you, Charlie?"
He strove to remain calm. "Don't worry, Anne, dear. I'll take this one here. Hang up your extension right away." To his relief, she did as she was told.
"Mac!"
"For God's sake, Leary!" He lowered his voice. "I've told you before not to call me here. It's much too risky."
"Don't ye come over all high and mighty with me, Mr Detective Superintendent Mackintosh!" The harsh, hectoring voice seemed to drill through his brain. "I'll call ye when and where I like. Do you know what's just happened?"
"Yes, I do." Mac allowed himself to sound irritated. It would never do to let the man think that he had any power. "I've just taken a call from Hunt."
"What the bloody hell was he doing at the shelter? I told ye to leave O'Neill a clear field to get Judd and his family!"
"I know. I'd ordered Hunt to stay away from the shelter. He disobeyed me. He and his DI were there doing charity work, not on duty. They spotted Judd and arrested him."
"They nicked O'Neill too!"
"I know. I'm sorry."
"He's a liability now. We'll have to get rid of him before he talks."
Mac's blood ran cold as he remembered Gene's report. "What makes you think that he will talk? O'Neill's an old hand at this. He knows the game. You needn't worry."
"Not a risk I'm going to take. I can't be seen to be associated with him. He's on his own, and he'll know that. He might confess to get a reduction in his sentence. When ye know which jail he goes to on remand, ye'll tell me. Then I'll get one of my men in there to rub him out."
"Of course I will. He's still at Fenchurch East at the moment. I'll make sure Hunt tells me as soon as he's transferred."
"You'd better!"
"I'll do more. I'll make sure that he goes to the Scrubs. I've got a prison officer on the inside. He'll see to O'Neill. It'll be recorded as a cell suicide. Divided from his wife and child, depressed because he may never see them again. Nobody will question it. You won't have to do a thing."
"Ye do that. And you'll do more. I've lost Neary's money because of you and your team."
"We've both lost it. Don't forget that. Because of a Northern oaf who disobeyed my orders. That isn't my fault."
"Your man arrested my man. I'm having to abandon my best hitman. I'll not forget. You owe me, Mac. Big time."
Mac tensed. "What do you want?"
"It'll be just as I told you it would be, me lovely boy." Leary's false jocularity was infinitely more unnerving than his anger and threats. "I've lost out on Neary's empire, so I'll be hitting the gold truck, and this time it'll all be mine. No more fifty-fifty splits for you and me. And ye'll turn a blind eye. Ye'll call off your hounds. Ye'll stifle every hint of an investigation. Ye'll mislead, confuse and divert your troops whenever and however I tell you to. Because if ye don't, I'll shop ye."
"You'll do what?" Mac sounded as though he were scraping a black beetle from his shoe.
"Don't flatter yeself, Mr Policeman, with your shiny office and your fine car and all your high and mighty airs. You're worse than me, and ye know it. There's honour among thieves, but you betray every man and woman ye work with. I've kept a dossier. I've got times, dates, photos. I've got evidence of ye briefing blaggers, passing the money to your bankers. Jarvis, Willis, Crawford, Ferguson, all of the corrupt little bastards ye've got under your thumb. And I'll turn all my evidence over to the police, if ye interfere with the gold blag."
Mac laughed lightly. "Do you really think they'd believe you rather than me?"
"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't be so crude as to approach the cops meself. I have my officers in the Met as well as you. I won't tell ye their names, their lives wouldn't be worth three days' purchase if I did. All I will tell you is, none of them are Hunt. And not that woman DI of his, either. I'll have to get a look at her. Pretty as a picture, so I hear. If ye foul up my gold blag, I'll give my information to one of my boys to give to Discipline and Complaints, and don't think they'll ignore it like you ignore complaints of corruption. Do you get me?"
"Yes, Leary. I get you. But you'll have to tell me when, where and how the raid's coming off, so that I can make sure you get a clear run at it."
"That I will. Merry Christmas, Mac. We'll be in touch. Starting with when ye've put O'Neill out of this world."
There was a click as Leary hung up, and Mac slowly put the receiver down.
The loss of Judd was a catastrophe. He and Leary had been working together to try to get the man for months, but Judd and his family had been hiding themselves too well. Lady Joan's tipoff to Hunt had been a Godsend. Mac and Leary had already agreed that the key would be to get the three of them together, and use the wife and daughter to make Judd talk.
Who could ever have predicted that that fool Hunt would disobey a direct order? But I can hardly take him to task for it when he's had a successful result and proved me wrong. Judd will start talking tomorrow, too soon for me to be able to do anything to stop him. The Met will have all the evidence they need against Neary within a week, and from now on all his bank accounts will be identified and watched. Anyone who tries to withdraw from them would be a marked man.
There isn't even a chance of getting control of the wife and daughter in time to stop Judd talking. Palmer's my creature. If only he had been available to sort the witness protection, I'd have been able to snatch Judd's family within twenty-four hours. But there's no hope of getting DCI Bishop to tell me where they are. The woman's known to be a sea-green incorruptible. Damn her, damn Hunt, damn Lady Joan and damn that meddling DI Drake.
Now Leary's got a hold on me, and he won't let go.
However. There was no point in crying over spilt milk. His plans for Judd would have to be written off. His partnership with Leary was at an end, but already Mac was seeing ways to turn that to his advantage.
I've already made sure that if Leary goes ahead with his plans for the gold blag, he'll have to keep me informed. But what if the police were to arrest him and his gang right afterwards?
Yes... I'll talk to Carnegie. He and his Fenchurch West goons can nick the gang and the gold. The gold vanishes off the face of the earth. No more fifty-fifty splits for me, I'll get the lot. We'll wipe out Leary's men and any security guards they haven't killed. Everyone will think the gang was responsible. And Leary won't have any comeback on me unless he's prepared to confess that he was behind the blag. If he's there in person, I may even have the chance to take him out permanently.
One big, final operation. Then I'll seek medical retirement. Nobody will suspect a thing.
Hunt's a danger, though. I took him on because he had a reputation of being a reactionary dinosaur. His performance was slipping when he first transferred here, but DI Drake seems to have transformed him.
He's thinking for himself, and that's dangerous. I must get him onside. It shouldn't be too difficult. He was under Stephen Warren's thumb for years in Manchester.
I'll have to see to DI Drake, too. Find out more about her background. There are no transfer papers on her file. Where did she come from? What are her weaknesses? I need to neutralise her.
"Charlie?" His father-in-law's voice stirred him from his reverie. He swiftly got to his feet and moved to the door.
"Here I am."
"So this is where you've been hiding. Anne told me I'd find you here. Come on, or you'll miss the carol singers."
His wife joined them in the corridor and tucked her arm through his. "Come and join your guests," she reproved him gently, knowing that he would not dare to be angry in her father's presence. "They're asking for you."
"Must you always bring your work home, even today?" his father-in-law rumbled.
"Sorry, it was an urgent call."
"What, both of them?" his wife said innocently, and felt him tense.
"Yes, of course they were!" he said irritably. "Hunt rang me to tell me that they've caught a fraudster we've been looking for for months. Then I was called to agree a prison transfer."
"Ah, well, if you've caught someone, that has to be good news, doesn't it?" his wife said with a smile.
"Oh, yes. Very."
TBC