‘Tell me about Harry Rawlins.’ Jack’s tone was calm but cold.
‘I never met the man,’ Audrey said. ‘I know he was a big noise back in the day. I mean, he even put the willies up the Fishers and no one did that.’
‘Go on,’ he prompted.
‘I don’t understand what you want me to say,’ she whined. ‘I never met him, like I said.’
‘You lived in his world, Audrey, so tell me about him.’
Audrey shuffled on her thin, plastic-covered mattress.
‘Well, he lived out in Potter’s Bar. Married to Dolly — you know that bit. No kids. I don’t know much about him. I didn’t live in his world at all, DC Warr, I only skirted round it.’
‘DC Warr?’ Jack knew he had Audrey on the back foot. She was uneasy and she was scared, and she was compliant.
‘He was like a myth, you know?’ she went on. ‘My Shirl told me she’d met him once and I was properly worried. I didn’t want her near him. We was the sort of people that Harry Rawlins would use up and spit out. I mean, those poor men who got blown up in the armed raid were meant to be his friends and he left them behind quick enough. Just imagine what he’d do to someone he didn’t care about. I’m really sorry, I’m just guessing what you might want to hear. I don’t know him.’
In the short silence that followed, Laura, listening from outside, racked her brains trying to think how Harry Rawlins might be linked to their current investigation. But then Jack had followed the Fishers as a lead when no one else made a connection, so perhaps Harry Rawlins was integral in some way.
‘What family does Harry have?’ Jack kept his voice monotone.
‘I don’t know anything about Harry’s family,’ insisted Audrey.
Jack moved to lean on the wall near the foot of her bed.
‘You do know,’ he continued coldly. ‘Think about it and you’ll remember. Harry Rawlins must have had family. Cousins, nephews. He’d have had a crew that he always used. Who hung around in that group?’ Audrey’s gormless face was starting to annoy him. ‘Think, Audrey!’
‘I dunno. I’m sorry that I don’t, but I don’t.’
Laura heard a movement from inside the cell and before she’d made a conscious decision, she had opened the door. Jack was now standing next to Audrey and she was leaning away from him.
Laura spoke quickly. ‘We’re done.’
Jack walked off, leaving Laura to thank the custody sergeant for his discretion. When she caught him up, she had to physically grab his arm to make him stop and listen to her.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Jack, but... Look, I’m on your side but this isn’t you. You’re acting like you have another agenda that you’re not telling anyone about. You can talk to me, you know.’
‘I’m really sorry, Laura. I just spent yesterday clearing Dad’s cottage ready for sale and...’
Jack dipped his head in shame. He was actually using his dying dad as a lie to explain away his unprofessional behaviour. Laura interpreted the head-dip as sadness and put her hand on his shoulder.
‘Go home,’ she said. ‘I’ll cover for you with Ridley.’
Jack put his hand on top of hers and stroked his thumb back and forth. He looked into her dark blue eyes and told her how grateful he was. He couldn’t find the will to care about her feelings at all. All he wanted was to find out whether Harry Rawlins was his dad and if those fucking Grange women had committed the biggest train robbery in living memory.
Knowing these two things would make everything fall into place. Then, for the first time in his life, maybe he’d feel whole.
Chapter 26
Jack was desperate to find someone who had known Harry Rawlins and, more importantly, who knew a living member of the Rawlins family. As things were, he didn’t even really know what Harry looked like. Every photo he’d been able to find of Rawlins was blurred, or his face was partly covered, or showed him side on to the camera. He seemed to be a dab hand at remaining incognito.
As Jack trawled through old files and new databases, he came across numerous names who could have helped if they hadn’t been dead. So much time had passed. At this rate, he was going to have to convince Ridley to dig up Harry’s second grave.
After an hour of searching, Jack settled on the name of DS Alex Fuller, mainly because he was one of only a handful of people from the eighties who was still breathing. Fuller had been Resnick’s right-hand man and, at times, his biggest critic. One report from Fuller caught Jack’s eye. In it, he expressed concern to the then superintendent about Resnick’s emotional stability and requested a transfer out of Resnick’s team. Fuller’s report showed him to be an honest, ambitious man who didn’t want his own career to be hindered or tainted by the unfounded obsessions of his boss. Jack felt an immediate affinity. Right now, he, too, thought his boss was on the wrong track. He called Fuller.
Alex Fuller was a stout man in his mid-60s. He had been handsome in his day and the years had been kind to him. He had a full head of white hair and he carried his once muscular physique well. He’d still be a handful if he ever got into a brawl.
‘It’s good of you to see me, Mr Fuller,’ said Jack.
‘Alex. And I’m happy to help.’ Fuller didn’t ask what Jack would like to drink, he just got on with making a pot of tea for them both. ‘Fire away, son. I’m listening.’
‘I’m interested in Harry Rawlins.’
Fuller let out a belly laugh. ‘Fuck me, that name never goes away, does it? What’s he done now? Risen from the grave and robbed a bank? He’s not the missing man on the Hatton Garden job, is he?’
‘I read your case files today. Rawlins was certainly notorious.’
‘That’s one word for him. So, you think he’s connected somehow to a new case?’
‘We’re exploring a variety of avenues.’
Fuller grinned at Jack’s use of such a stock phrase when talking to an ex-copper. He must be new to this.
‘You wrote about an occasion in 1984, when you raided the home of Trudie Nunn. She was hysterical apparently, screaming, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” At the time, you assumed she was talking about Jimmy Nunn.’
Fuller bowed his head as he recalled the moment.
‘The only assumption that ever mattered was that Harry Rawlins died in the explosion in the Strand underpass. From that moment on, it was all smoke and mirrors and the only person who knew it for a fact was George Resnick. I remember the raid on Trudie Nunn’s flat... So you think the “he” she was talking about was Harry Rawlins? I think you’re right.’
Jack told Fuller about the exhumation, and how one of the few remaining teeth from the jigsaw puzzle skeleton was currently being tested against Jimmy Nunn’s dental records. Fuller nodded, as if that all made sense.
‘Look — for most of his career, Resnick taught me nothing at all about the art of being a copper. He was a cantankerous old prick, resentful and fucking hard to like, meaning no one wanted to work for him. But he was an exceptional policeman. He had commendations coming out of his ears, he’d put more bad’uns away than anyone I’ve ever worked with and his gut instinct was to die for. It was only when the force couldn’t keep up with him that things went off track. Unfortunately, that’s when I knew him. I wish I’d known him when he was younger.’ Fuller looked directly at Jack. ‘You’re standing there with the same look in your eyes as Resnick back in the day. Like you’re about to ask me to believe in something, based on nothing more than gut instinct. I let him down on that score so many times and that weighs heavy. So, ask what you came to ask.’