Jude nodded once, picking at his nails. “He said as much.”
“Have you heard of Graham Radley?”
“Who hasn’t?” Everyone in Worthbridge knew the name.
“Do you have any reason to believe Callum Reid was one of his associates?”
Silence stretched before he finally answered. “Not at the time, no. Not until…” He shifted in his chair, cracking his neck from side to side. “I always knew there was someone above him. Someone pulling the strings. Did I know who? No. Not back then. He made calls, got orders. Then he’d disappear for a few days, and I’d get a little breathing space. Enough to go to the library at least. But he always had someone watching me. Then he’d come back and it started again.”
Patel waited.
“I never heard names. But one time… I saw a face. Just once. A man I didn’t know then. And didn’t see again.” He paused, closing his eyes. “Until a few months back. Here. In Worthbridge.” He opened his eyes to lay them on Patel. “Outside a pub. He was arguing with a woman. Piper Webb. I know her. She’s the sister of a man I’d dated briefly. Then I saw him again, clear as day, when they reopened the school. Cutting the ribbon. Smiling for the cameras.”
Patel’s eyes narrowed. “Graham Radley.”
Jude’s gut twisted. “Yes.”
“We need Radley caught in the act. Red-handed. No room for manoeuvre. No loopholes his barristers can twist into daylight.” Patel prodded a finger on the desk. “We want to dismantle the operation pulling boys from your school into running gear and moving product. We want the supply lines shut down. His reach severed. His reign finished.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “And you, Mr Ellison, may be in a position to help us do that.”
“How can I do that?”
“You work Reid.”
Air snagged in Jude’s throat.
“In exchange, you get protection. Police presence at your address. Safeguarding measures in place. What we want is leverage: a way to get Reid back inside Radley’s circle, into his house, with a recording device running.” She let the words settle. “You’d be giving us the one thing we’ve never had against Radley—direct evidence.”
Jude blinked, pulse drumming in his ears.
“What do you say, Jude? Are you ready not to run this time? To be the hero we already know you are? To take a risk for the greater good of all those who attend Worthbridge Academy?”
Chapter twenty-one
Covers Off
Warren had lost count of how many times he’d run through it in his head.
The knife, the struggle, Jude’s face when the cuffs came out of the glovebox. That look.Christ, that look.He’d had perps spit in his face, point guns at him, swear blind they’d gut him. None of it had got under his skin the way Jude had stared at him as though the ground had vanished beneath his feet.
And when he’d had to listen to Patel reading him the riot act whilst watching Jude disappear out of view in the back of a patrol car…that was gutting. More damage than Reid’s rusty kitchen knife could have done to him.
The procedure after was automatic. He had the full debrief in the secure room. Senior officers circled him like sharks, wanting his first account before the adrenaline had drained. A written statement had been logged, typed up, signed off. Then came the body check by the FME for scratches and bruises, photographs of his split knuckles after he’d lost his temper with Reid’s jaw.And along came the Professional Standards officer making notes with the look Warren knew too well, weighing up if his use of force would stand in front of a tribunal. If he’d fucked up any hope of them securing a conviction.
Then came the debrief with Patel. Clipped questions, clipped answers. What went right?Not much. What went wrong?Almost everything.What he should have done better?Where to start.
He could still hear Reid’s taunts, the filth he’d spat about Jude, and he hated himself for letting it needle under his skin. The threats, the crack of his fist across Reid’s jaw. None of it looked good written down in black and white. But the worst wasn’t what happened on the street. That had started days before, with him.
That note in the glasses case. His handwriting. Hisrisk.
A stupid gesture meant to give Jude a lifeline had catastrophically backfired and killed the whole op. He’d never believed it could fuck him up like this, though. That Reid would find it, use it, and show up at his door with a blade pressed to his throat. But that’s how they were here now. How his cover got burned. His op compromised. Now benched until further notice, maybe for good. Reid was in custody, sure. But Radley was still out there. Still moving pieces, poisoning kids in seaside towns.Un-fucking-touchable. And Warren had handed him a warning shot by screwing up the one thing he was supposed to protect.
Yet through all of it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jude.
He’d been processed too. Statement taken, Victim Liaison hovering, shuffled into another interview room somewhere down the corridor. Warren pictured him there. Pale, silent, despising him with every breath. He should let it lie. Walk away. Patel had made that clear enough. He’d compromised the op, and now he had to swallow the consequences: stay away from the station, stay away from Reid, stay the hell away from Jude.The order was simple. Go home. South London. Back to the Met. More than likely back to a desk, pushing paper instead of people. That was the price.
And Christ, it tasted worse than blood in his mouth.
Because he couldn’t. Not with Jude’s face in his head.
