Escape From The Country - Chapter Four

Nothing To See Here.

After being spooked by the spooks, Superintendent Francesca Rossi feels darker forces making themselves known in her investigation of the English Far Right riots. If you enjoy this story then please consider taking out a subscription to my Substack, liking the piece and sharing it with your friends.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stuart’s head was hammering. Cocaine crumbs lingered at the back of his nose which had become a streaming cascade of runny snot. He was curled up on a hard concrete bench in a cell that smelt of shit and bleach. The metal hatch scraped back and his name was spat through it by some copper. Stuart put his feet on the floor and was told his brief was here. “Is this a fucking wind up? I ain’t got no fucking brief.”

He was taken to an interview room where an expensive looking Indian woman in a dark suit was sat. She said her name was Sangita, she was representing him and her fees had been kindly covered by The Right to Speak organisation who would also pay his bail.

“That’s a fucking result. But are you actually British though?”

“Born and raised in Fareham Mr Hill. And we’ll get you out of here in double quick time because the Police have nothing.” The lawyer was confident as she clarified some details with her suspicious client and outlined her plan.

At Southampton Central, Francesca headed back up to the MIR from the disturbing meeting with Kemp and the spooks. Sutton called her over as soon as she got through the door.

“Guv, I just had a call from custody because one of our rioters is now being represented by Bagley Steinberg, the big time London law firm.”

“Who’s the suspect?”

“Stuart Hill. He got nicked trying to smash up the cleaning company where he works after he’d spent the night rioting off his head on beer and cocaine. He’s also become a bit of a hero online.” Sutton showed Francesca the Instagram video of Stuart confronting the female police officer and the thousands of comments supporting him.

This really was a war and momentarily Francesca was not sure how to fight it. She pulled up a black cloth-seated office chair and sat at her desk. Her first priority was to ensure that Stuart Hill’s case was totally watertight before any interview involving his brief. She took a yellow legal pad from her desk, wrote down her to-do list and got started.

“Sutton. Get back on to custody and get Hill swiped again for cocaine. If he is still positive then we won’t interview him until he’s clean. Do we have his phone or computer? And do we have statements from the cleaning company boss?”

“Brigham and Bennett are in Aldershot now Guv. They are going with the local CID to Hill’s bedsit and the cleaning company where he worked.”

Francesca’s team had already pulled up background on Hill. He had lost his job as a baggage handler at Heathrow in a hire and re-fire scam during Covid. He then lost his family after losing his temper one time too many and was issued a restraining order before winding up in his current situation.

Francesca went back to her own desk and poured the last of the Italian coffee from her flask. She heard Sutton calling to order the drug tests and wondered if they were pushing their luck. Her phone buzzed with a text from Andrew asking what she wanted for dinner. She replied with a wine glass emoji.

Somebody called across the room “Ma’am phone call for you.” It took a couple of seconds for her to realise that she was ‘Ma’am’ before she waved and yelled out her extension number.

It was DC Ray Brigham who was at Hill’s bedsit. Brigham was an old school Met Detective, who had been instrumental in solving the Brockenhurst Burials case. He was retiring soon which was a shame because his experience and knowledge were invaluable.

Brigham was not happy. “Guv, this whole place has been wiped fucking clean. No phone, no laptop, no fingerprints and not even a fucking pube in the shower - excuse my French.”

“Fuck.” Several people looked round from their desks at Francesca. “What do the neighbours say?”

“Nobody saw nothing, heard nothing or knows nothing. It’s a fucking stitch up guv.”

Francesca thanked Brigham and went into a side room to make another call.

“Kemp, have you and your lot been fucking around with our evidence? Stuart Hill’s flat has been cleaned out.”

Kemp denied Special Branch’s involvement and promised to ask MI5 “But fat chance of a straight answer from them this century.”

Her phone rang right away and this time it was Bennett. “Guv. I went to the cleaning company. Nobody wants to press charges.”

“What about the lad who got hit with the baseball bat?”

“No guv. He says it was all a big misunderstanding and nothing to worry about.”

“This is fucked Bennett.” The Detective said he was going back to the cleaning company with Brigham to try again. This is how wars start she thought: provocations and reactions.

“Ok Bennett, but tell Brigham this is not the Met. Everything needs to be 100% clean.”

Francesca looked around the MIR. There were people typing, reading and speaking on phones and all with the same objective: to keep people safe. For the first time in her career Francesca was scared that the Police might not be able to keep the peace and simultaneously defend themselves from attack.

Roberta Warren put her head back in her chair and felt the late afternoon Balearic sun on her face while her husband, Jordi, spoke on the phone. Around the bay, past Palma Cathedral, a cruise ship at the port sounded its horn in preparation for departure. Below her and just beyond the pool she heard the Mediterranean Sea invitingly caress the limestone rocks.

The phone call ended. Jordi smiled at his wife and placed his hand on her bare oiled thigh.

“The team have done a great job and the police are panicked. The Superintendent in charge just got off a call with two of her Detectives. Apparently, she looked like a ghost.”

“Looked like a ghost or looked like she’d seen a ghost Jordi?”

“It’s the same mi amor.”

Thank you for reading the latest chapter of Escape from the Country. If you enjoy this story then please consider taking out a subscription to my Substack, liking the piece and sharing it with your friends. You can also download my short story collection: Love Hangover and Other Stories HERE