The Informant Read Online Free PDF Page B

boundaries. I don’t want to
. . . I’d never put you in an awkward position.’
    The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then Turnbull smiled broadly. It had taken a while, but they’d got there. Bradley knew the score. Without Turnbull spelling it out he
understood what was required to get the job done and he knew, since it was technically illegal, to keep his mouth shut about it. Turnbull leant back in his chair, placed his fingertips together, it
was all looking good. He could assure the Assistant Commissioner, keep her sweet. But more importantly his own project was launched, and anyone who thought Alan Turnbull was just another noddy cop
sitting it out for his pension was in for a rude awakening.

5
    At Stansted Airport, Joey Phelps was one of the first off the plane. He strode along the moving walkway to the Arrivals Hall rapidly tapping the screen of his iPhone with his
thumb. In his grey silk shirt and pressed chinos he appeared in sharp contrast to the baggy Bermudas, flip-flops and hangovers being sported by most of his fellow passengers returning on the early
morning flight from Ibiza. Keeping pace with Joey but two steps behind, Yevgeny, a mountain of muscle, carried two Italian leather holdalls and a slim attaché case. As Joey zigzagged through
the meandering holidaymakers, his minder in tow, people turned to gawp. Well over six foot, handsome, expensively dressed; was he some famous actor or a footballer they couldn’t quite put a
name to?
    Joey was oblivious to the ripples he caused in the crowd. The phone was now clamped to his ear.
    ‘Yeah, Phelps. Karen Phelps. Well, is she there? Can you get her for me?’ Joey tried to get a handle on his irritation. There was no point shouting at these bozos. Ashley had texted
him the number of the hostel where Kaz was apparently staying. Some kind of scabby bail hostel. Why? He couldn’t fathom it at all.
    ‘Yeah right, well get her out of bed. I’ll wait. Thank you.’ Feeling the anger rising Joey started to count in his head. He’d read the books, sometimes it helped.
He’d have postponed the trip to Ibiza if he’d known she was getting out. Then he could’ve taken her with him. It would’ve been perfect. They could’ve turned a business
trip into a proper holiday. And it would’ve been a great way to ease her back into the firm.
    Ibiza was one of his new operations. Mephedrone was the clubbers’ current drug of choice and since the EU had helpfully made it illegal at the end of 2010, Joey had got in on the ground
floor. He’d set up two labs on the island to synthesize the drug. He’d imported an old hippy chemist from Amsterdam, who used to make MDMA for his old man. Then he’d hired Yevgeny
and a bunch of his mates, all former Russian soldiers who’d served in Chechnya, to handle security and discourage competitors. Joey was really proud of what he’d achieved and desperate
to show it all off to his big sister. After what seemed like an age a sleepy voice came on the line.
    ‘Joe?’
    ‘Babe! Why didn’t you tell us you was coming out? We’d’ve been there. The whole fucking family’d’ve been there!’
    Kaz yawned; her first night’s kip on the outside, she’d slept like a kid. Her mind was still wandering in some cosy dreamland. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell
you.’
    ‘And what you doing staying in a fuckin’ hostel?’
    ‘It’s a condition of my licence. But I got a place in one of the college halls of residence once term starts.’
    ‘You’re not going through with all this college malarkey, are you? I know you gotta give ’em the spiel, but now you’re out . . . I mean, c’mon.’
    Kaz stifled a yawn. ‘Joey, I’ve told you. It’s not some scam to impress the parole board. I’m doing it ’cause it’s what I want.’
    ‘Listen babes, you want it, that’s good enough for me. Always has been, always will be. You know that. I know this geezer in the property business. Big warehouse