This is Where You Bluff (The Steve Ash Trilogy Book 3), page 1
Robert Needham
This is Where You Bluff
The Steve Ash Trilogy: Book 3
First published by Gutshot Publishing 2021
Copyright © 2021 by Robert Needham
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Robert Needham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Robert Needham has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
Editing by Liz Hedgecock
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
In Memory of Barbara Barnes.
You are dearly missed by all at the East Herts Poker Club
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 29
Three Weeks Later
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Three Days Later
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Twenty Years Later
Chapter 47
Thanks For Reading
Authors Notes
About the Author
Prologue
The driver sat in the car outside Nottingham police station. In a briefcase on the passenger seat was five million pounds in used banknotes. It was just before nine pm, and the roads were quiet. He switched the air conditioning on, but the cool air did nothing to penetrate the hoodie he wore, the hood pulled up and over his face.
He watched as the clock ticked over to 21:00 on the dashboard and the peaceful atmosphere was broken by the sound of a gunshot. People emerged screaming from the police station, trying to get away from the shooter. He watched as two men ran over to the car: one holding a Glock 17, the other with his hands cuffed behind his back.
They reached the car, the gunman running to the opposite side of the vehicle while the handcuffed man stood with his back to the door, trying to open it. The gunman clambered through the back seat and helped the prisoner into the car, and as soon as they were in the driver put his foot to the floor, spinning the car a hundred and eighty degrees and careering around a roundabout. He glanced in the rear-view mirror as they shot through the city centre, blue lights flashing behind him. He wove in and out of oncoming traffic, flashing his lights to make sure the drivers in front got out of the way.
“Do you have a plan?” the prisoner asked from the back seat.
Oh yes, the driver thought, looking at the suppressed Glock 17 in the driver’s-side door. I have a plan.
Chapter 1
Jessica Rice felt sick. Four days had passed since the operation to catch Achilles, but today was her first day back in the office. She walked up the hill towards Hammerman’s Entry, where the office was based. Commuters passed her by like drones, oblivious to the anger that threatened to overwhelm her. I’m gonna put every one of those fuckers in prison if it’s the last thing I do. She stopped in at a Starbucks on the way to the office and picked up a skinny latte. The shop was busy with people dressed in suits or blouses and jackets, all avoiding eye contact with each other, and Jessica did the same. The windows were steamed up, the condensation forming against the cold spring Edinburgh day that waited outside.
She slurped her coffee, and as she reached the crest of the hill, took a right down a quiet alleyway into a building whose sign said ‘Dawson’s Logistics’. She scanned her ID card at the gate and went in. People busied themselves at their desks, and if Jessica caught their eye, they offered a weak smile before looking away. She took her laptop out of her bag, then slung the bag underneath her desk. She logged in and waited for her computer to connect to the network, a circle of dots spinning on the screen.
“How’s it going?” a thick Glaswegian accent asked. Jessica looked up and saw Khan, an Indian with a purple turban. He smiled at her as he pulled a chair over from the empty desk to her right.
“I still can’t believe they’re gone.” Jessica sighed, and looked at the floor. “I keep going over the build-up to Achilles’s capture in my head. Could we have done anything differently? Did we miss something we should have spotted?”
“We all knew what the risks were. Nobody could have predicted a bomb, though. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
Jessica looked up at Khan. “Lopez had two sons and a wife. Do you know how old his kids are?”
“Er … no.”
“Four and six. How does his wife tell them their dad is gone? I just…” Jessica looked at the floor again, breathing deeply to try and stop her tears.
Khan placed a hand on her arm. “Listen, they’ve got a new chief inspector in: he’s called Samuels. He asked to meet you once you got in today. I said I’d let you know.”
Jessica composed herself before looking at Khan. “Where is his office?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you.” Jessica locked the screen of her laptop, then stood up, coffee in hand, and followed Khan.
They walked down a long corridor away from the main floor, flanked by glass offices on either side. As they walked past Travis’s old office, Jessica stared straight ahead, although it was impossible to miss the bouquets of flowers that sat on his desk.
Khan knocked on the glass door of the next office along, and slid the door open before standing back. Jessica walked in, the man behind the desk waving for her to do so, and sat down in front of the desk. Chief Inspector Samuels was a tall wiry man in his mid-fifties, with curly black hair and a cut on his upper lip which Jessica assumed was a nick from a razor blade. Khan poked his head inside and said, “This is DI Rice, sir.”
“Thank you, Imran.” Samuels replied. Khan nodded his head in response before sliding the door closed and walking away. Samuels looked at Jessica, an empathetic smile on his face.
“Jessica, I am so sorry to hear about the loss of DCI Dawson. I’m told he was a close friend of yours as well as your boss.”
“Thank you, sir” It was weird hearing Travis’s formal name. Nobody had ever called him DCI Dawson. Nobody had even called him sir he had insisted on first-name terms.
“I’ve been following the Jacques mob case from afar for some time, so I’m quite well versed in the who’s-who of Jacques Casinos. I understand you were running the operation when things went wrong. Would you be able to explain exactly what happened on the night of the operation?”
Jessica smiled tightly. “Well, Travis … sorry, DCI Dawson … wanted to go into the field and capture Achilles himself, and he took DI Lopez as back up. I was running things from here. We had decided not to include armed units in the sting because it was a wide-open area that should have been deserted, so too many people around would have been conspicuous—”
“Just remind me, where were we meant to be capturing him?”
“He was in a car park at a village common.”
“Ah, OK. Carry on.”
“Things were going well. DCI Dawson had fired his taser and Apostolou was on the ground. We didn’t want to take any chances so we didn’t give him any warning; he has a bit of a reputation for escaping the police. He was the guy who escaped from the Met on a jet ski.”
“Hmm. That’s not how you’re supposed to do things, but if he’s a special case…”
“That was our feeling. Our intelligence suggested that there was a girl in the boot of the car. We heard DCI
“Hmm.” Samuels sat back and swivelled gently from left to right as he thought. “Do you think the Jacques mob intended to kill Apostolou, or do you think it was meant for the police?”
Jessica sat back in her own chair, thinking. “I’ve wondered that for the last few days, but I’ve come to the conclusion that they were trying to kill Achilles. We thought there would be money and a girl in the car, but there was no evidence of any notes or a body. I suppose the fire was intense, so it could have burned away. But my gut says that the forensics team would have picked up some human remains, if there was genuinely someone inside and he was supposed to drive away. They found nothing, so I think they meant to kill him and got our guys instead.”
Samuels leaned forwards, looking at her inquisitively. “He was their friend, though. Do you think they’d kill him, just like that?”
“Yes, I do,” Jessica replied without hesitation. Samuels looked even more perplexed than before. “They’re ruthless when they want to be. Alexander Jacques rarely gets his own hands dirty, and keeps their nefarious businesses at arm’s length so that he can dispose of people if they become too hot. They’re inconspicuous, but most of all, they’re clever. They destroy any evidence before the police can get to it, whether it’s a friend or an enemy.”
Samuels sat back in his seat. “I see.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes to mull the detail over. Then he made eye contact with Jessica. “How are you coping? Mentally, I mean?”
Jessica sighed. “I’m hurting about what happened, but being at home was driving me crazy. I can’t stop thinking about the case, and it’s worse if there’s nothing I can do about it. I want to catch those motherfuckers, for Travis.”
Samuels inhaled sharply. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He stood up. “Jessica, I want you to lead the case. You obviously know a lot about them and you’ve got fire in your eyes. It’s tenacity we’ll need to catch them. I suggest you go back to your desk and start helping to trace what’s happened to Apostolou. Khan’s been looking into it for the last few days; we just found some CCTV of him hotwiring a car in Ruddington. We traced the vehicle to Nottingham before the car stopped being picked up by ANPR. We’re a day behind, but we’re catching up.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jessica stood up, and left her new boss’s office. Thank God I don’t have to sit at home stewing.
Chapter 2
“So that win takes our bankroll up to two hundred and eighty thousand dollars1. I’ve gotta say, guys, I’m pretty chuffed with that. A few years ago, I had three hundred dollars and a dream. If you’re just getting started out, keep learning, keep grinding, and don’t bet your rent money. For now, though, this is Grant Johnson signing out.”
Grant hit the ‘end live stream’ button on the OBS software on his computer and watched as the stream played the outro video. He suddenly felt fatigued and rubbed his face with his palms. It was getting late, and the respite nurse was about to leave. I wish we didn’t need her at all.
Grant sighed before standing up from his office chair and walking downstairs. Rebecca was sitting on the sofa, a ventilation mask covering her face. The left corner of her mouth curled into a smile when she saw Grant, but it was the way her eyes shone that filled Grant’s heart.
“How did the … stream go?” Rebecca asked.
“I won ten grand for a second-place finish. I’m up to two hundred and eighty now.”
“I knew you’d … smash it.”
May, their nurse, walked into the living room with her coat on. She was originally from the Philippines and still had a heavy accent. She had been a blessing: empathetic and caring. She’d even played a few hands of poker with Grant, and much to her delight had beaten him for a tenner. He didn’t tell her how lucky she’d been with the cards, though. “Are you guys going to be all right if I leave you to it?”
“Absolutely. Thank you for everything again, May.” May let herself out and Grant picked the remote up as he sat down on the sofa beside his wife. “Did you have a good day?” he asked.
“Yeah … it was nice … the girls and I watched Mamma Mia … and we all had a bit of a sing-along.”
“Ahh, that sounds lovely.” Grant smiled cheekily at her. “What do you say to a cuddle and a movie?”
“Yeah … let’s put one on.” Netflix was loading when a sudden knock on the back door surprised them both. Who the hell is knocking on my door at this time of night? The knocking didn’t stop, but got louder. Grant stood up, muttering under his breath, and walked to the back door. He opened it with a swing. “Achilles?”
Achilles barged past Grant into the kitchen. “Quick, shut the door.” He looked dirty and smelt awful. The acrid reek of smoke almost overwhelmed Grant, who did his best to keep his composure.
Grant closed the door gently and turned to see Achilles bolting towards the living room. “Achilles, wait!” Grant shouted, but Achilles ignored him. Motherfucker.
Achilles barged into the living room, then stood in the doorway. “What the…”
“Who … the hell … are you?” said Rebecca. Grant pushed past Achilles into the living room and looked at Rebecca, who was staring at Achilles with some venom.
“Babe, this is Achilles, the guy who was my mate in prison.”
Achilles snapped back into focus, ran over to the white cotton curtains and peered between them.
“Achilles, what are you doing?”
“I’m checking nobody followed me here.” After a moment or two, Achilles let go of the curtains and faced his hosts. “I’m sorry for showing up on your doorstep like this, but I didn’t know what else to do.” He rubbed his face with his hands before looking at Rebecca. “What’s with the mask?”
“Rebecca has Motor Neurone Disease. The motor neurones in her brain stop working and it makes her—”
“Really … fucking … ill,” Rebecca said.
“I’m so sorry.” Achilles shook his head. “I had no idea. Is there a cure?”
“Afraid not, it’s terminal.” Grant replied.
“Jesus.”
“Achilles, you’re my friend, but you’ve crossed a line here,” Grant said sharply. “What are you doing here and why do you smell like you’ve been in a bonfire?”
“Oh, yeah.” Achilles walked to the other side of the living room and made to sit down in an armchair.
Rebecca gave him a look. “Don’t … sit in one of those … till you’ve changed your clothes … and had a wash.”
“Ah, sorry.” Unsure what to do with himself, Achilles put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “Everything has gone wrong. I’m not sure if you saw, but my escape on the Thames made the headlines.” Achilles couldn’t help smirking. “So the police are definitely after me, but I think my employers might be trying to kill me as well.”
Grant took a step towards Achilles. “You think what?”
“Well, they arranged a car and some work for me, only the car blew up when someone opened the boot.”
“The car blew up?”
“Yeah. Luckily for me, the officers who’d arrested me were the ones who opened it. They’d put me in the back of their police car, but the blast smashed the windows and I managed to escape.”
Grant frowned at Achilles. “And then you came here?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what the hell else to do.” A look of remorse washed over Achilles’ face. “You might be my only friend in the whole world, mate. So … do you mind if I lie low here for a bit?”
“Achilles, you are my friend, but you can’t stay here. Not if people are trying to kill you and the police are trying to arrest you. It’ll put my family at risk.”
Achilles looked at the floor sadly. “I was worried you’d say that.”
“Achilles … would you mind … leaving the room for a moment,” said Rebecca. “I want … to talk to Grant.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Grant looked at her quizzically as Achilles left the room.
“I think … he should stay here tonight.”
