Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,106

now only had two legs. Foxy took the cap and headed indoors.

‘You owe me several pints, Jack. Don’t die before I can collect them.’

*

Jack was sitting at his desk when Ridley walked in. Ridley ignored him and went straight into his office. Jack remained silently at his desk and waited for everyone else to arrive.

Ridley led the briefing.

‘Barry Cooper died yesterday, as you all know. In his rucksack was just short of five million in twenties and fifties from the ’95 train robbery. We know this because of the information on the bands used to hold the bundles of cash together. The shoe print found at the side of Mike’s Range Rover, from where the petrol was siphoned, has been matched to the trainers Cooper was wearing when he died.’

Ridley looked at the jam-packed evidence boards and, without hesitation, removed the photos of Angela Dunn, Julia Lawson, Connie Stephens and Ester Freeman. He replaced them with pictures of Mike Withey and Barry Cooper.

‘Barry’s initials were written in Mike’s diary, identifying the person he was meeting at Rose Cottage on the night he was murdered. Thomas Kurts, otherwise known as Topper. Rashid Wassan, otherwise known as Stan, as in “Paki-Stan”. And Dennis Marchant, otherwise known as Dennie. These three are wanted for questioning in connection with aiding and abetting a fugitive and likely for a connection to the train robbery. They’re physically capable, they have the skills, the organisation, the weapons experience and the track record for this kind of crime. We have Topper, ’cos he was Reserve training at Colchester Garrison. But we don’t yet know where the others are. I want you to work with the Essex Police to locate them. Check their military records to get their whereabouts for the night of the robbery – I don’t want to discover any unbreakable alibis later than today. Barry’s death is currently being withheld from the public so as not to scare his accomplices into running. Get to work. Find them before they get spooked and disappear.’

As everyone knuckled down to their computer screens, Jack stared at the pile of four photos that Ridley had removed from the evidence board. Dolly’s picture was on top. Once again, he thought, the police had got it wrong. The women ticked all the same boxes as the army gang: they were physically strong enough if they used horses; they were gun-savvy because of Gloria; and they were definitely capable of facing off against a couple of male train guards and winning. These women had been surviving in a man’s world their entire lives. Underestimating them now would be Ridley’s downfall.

*

Julia held Suzie’s hand as they moved down to the edge of the river Dee and then east along the footpath towards the pre-arranged meeting place. Julia was walking at a brisk pace and Suzie was running to keep up, her second-hand Shawn Mendes rucksack bouncing up and down and rhythmically hitting her in the back of the head. Up ahead, Sam was dribbling a football around his backpack, which he’d thoughtlessly dropped without looking to see how muddy the ground was. The expanse of mud-free waste ground that he could have been playing on was currently empty. They were early.

‘Where we going then?’ Sam shouted, as soon as Julia came into view. ‘The beach, is it? I ain’t ever played football on sand!’

‘Where’s Darren?’ Julia was trying to remain calm.

Sam shrugged. He didn’t know or care where stupid Darren was and nor did Suzie, but Julia knew that he had no chance of surviving without her.

‘Sam. A coach is arriving to pick us up, OK? There’ll be a black guy driving ‒ that’s Rob. And Angela’s the one in charge, so you do exactly what she tells you, all right? I mean it, Sam! What did I say?’

‘Black dude driving. Angela’s the boss. I got it.’

‘Suzie, you don’t leave Sam’s side. You promise me.’

Suzie nodded frantically , as confused as she was excited. As Julia headed off to find Darren, Sam made Suzie drop her rucksack to make goalposts and then get in goal, so he could hammer the ball at her. All Julia could hear as she ran back up towards the house was, ‘Don’t kick it too hard, Sam. Sam, that’s too hard!’

What was she doing taking these three misfits on the bloody run with her?

Darren was cycling as fast as his legs could pedal, but the bike he was on wasn’t his and, with each push of the pedal, he