Bradfield sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘What Brennan has typed up seems to fit with all the conversation on the tape. It’s possible something is going down. Did Brennan have any idea of a location?’ he asked Jane.
‘He lives in Hoxton and reckons anywhere within a two-mile radius.’
Gibbs snorted. ‘That’s right next to the bloody City. There’s loads of banks around there, not to mention soddin’ cafés, so it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack, Tennison.’
‘Eagle could be a lookout and Brushstroke a decorator or something like that so...’ Jane said hesitantly.
‘The information that it is a bank is not reliable. It could be a pedigree-pet shop for all we know!’ Gibbs muttered.
‘Right, you can go finish your early shift now, Tennison. Let me have a think about the tapes,’ Bradfield said, and sat back to finish his sandwich.
Jane felt disheartened as he didn’t seem that interested. She walked to the door, then hesitated.
‘Should I type up a report?’
‘Yes, you do that.’
As the door closed behind her, Gibbs got up to stretch and said he was still feeling hungover.
‘Sit down, Spence, we need to take another look over this Brennan stuff.’
‘You are joking? He’s a weirdo and there’s nothing in those tapes that rings real alarm bells for me.’
Bradfield lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply before he continued.
‘There are two possibilities here, Spence. One, Brennan’s telling the truth, the tape is real and something big is going down.’
Gibbs laughed. ‘I know you don’t believe that.’
‘Two, he could be trying it on, faking it to get his name in the papers and make a few quid, sort of like a—’
Gibbs butted in. ‘Well, that sounds more like a nutter to me, Len.’
‘Let me finish, will you? It could be a sort of copycat for the job that went down back in September ’71. It was headline news for months and then some kind of government gagging order was made and it all went quiet.’
‘What “job” you talkin’ about?’
‘You’ve a short memory, Spence. Big robbery — they got away with five hundred grand from a bank in Baker Street.’
‘Shit, wait a minute, you’re talkin’ about that radio ham that heard the robbers and reported it. Yeah, it’s comin’ back now, the hangover was making me brain cells flat-line.’
Bradfield clicked his fingers. ‘It was a Lloyds bank, and I’m thinking the ham guy was called, shit, lemme think, I know, Robert Rankin, Rawlins, no, Rowland — that was his name. The press headlined it as the “Walkie-talkie” bank robbery, you remember it now?’
Gibbs nodded. ‘Yeah yeah, but it’s obvious this kid Ashley Brennan is just trying it on, maybe even got his mates to help fake the tape?’
‘Possible, but we are gonna have to check it all out, because if the tape is for real and we ignore it then we could all look like a bunch of pricks.’
‘We’ll also look like idiots if we waste time and energy trying to prove what we already know, that he’s a lying geek.’
They both turned to the door as Jane tapped and popped her head in.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I was about to start work on the report and something kept worrying me. Would it be possible for me to hear the tape again?’
‘Don’t worry, we are going to check out its authenticity,’ Bradfield said looking at Gibbs who rolled his eyes.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but can you please play it again? It’s very important,’ Jane asked nervously.
Bradfield looked at Gibbs. ‘She wants to hear it all again, Spence,’ he said sarcastically and Gibbs shrugged his shoulders.
Bradfield fiddled with the rewind switch and swore as he failed to stop it before the tape flapped loose from one of the reels.
‘Shit, hang on, lemme get it back on the bloody thing.’
‘It’s the bit where Brushstroke says something like “Get out, piss against the wall” and ends “I’m calling it a night now”.’
Bradfield fumbled with the tape. ‘Just let me fast-forward.’
He was so cackhanded that Gibbs took over and then, with the tape in place and fast-forwarded, he pressed play. Jane stood beside them listening then asked for it to be played again.
A bemused Bradfield looked at her. ‘Why?’
‘I could be wrong, but I really need to hear it again.’
As Bradfield rewound the tape and replayed it he and Gibbs looked at each other both shaking their heads wondering what on earth she had picked up on.
‘I think I recognize the voice,’ she said quietly, and both men turned to face her in unison.
‘You are joking?’ Spencer said.
‘I may be wrong, but I think that Brushstroke is John Bentley. The reason I remember his voice is because of the way he shouted at me to get out of the flat the time I took his mother home.’ She was trying to keep her voice steady.
Bradfield put his arm around her shoulders. ‘OK, just calm down — listen to it again, but you need to be bloody sure about this.’
Gibbs looked annoyed. ‘What were you doin’ with John Bentley’s mother? Are you friends with the family?’
Bradfield waved his hand for Gibbs to shut up.
‘Take your time, Jane. We can play it over a few times if it will help.’ He reached for Brennan’s log and skimmed down the times listed before pointing out that all the conversations had taken place late at night through to the early hours of the morning.
‘Seems like this Brennan kid never goes to sleep.’
‘I doubt it. He’s very overweight. Never goes out.’
‘Play it one more time, Spence.’
The three listened as the last section was replayed, and then Bradfield rewound the tape. After a pause Jane bit her lips with nerves.
‘I’m sure it is John Bentley. He scared me and that’s why I remember his voice.’
‘Well, seems this Ashley Brennan may be right about a bank job so I want a surveillance team on standby. If Bentley’s involved we can tail him from his mum’s home then see what he’s up to, and who with.’
Jane was feeling very nervous as Bradfield yet again put his arm around her shoulders, trying to give her encouragement.
‘Listen one more time: we’ll play the whole tape again just to be a hundred per cent sure. If you’re right we’ve got a good lead that we’d never have had without you recognizing his voice.’
‘How old is this Ashley Brennan?’ Gibbs asked.
‘He’s twenty, well, nearly twenty-one,’ Jane replied.
‘Jesus Christ, Len, are you taking this all seriously and ramping up a job on a few taped conversations made by a kid nutter? I mean it could be fuckin’ anyone doing house renovations. Before we start organizing surveillance why not check the kid out to see if he’s for real first?’ a fed-up Gibbs said petulantly.
‘He said that he had lost contact the last time — something about moving the aerial and he might not be able to make any further recordings.’
‘Terrific, so there’s no point going back to him, right?’ Gibbs stubbed out his cigarette.
‘Come on, Spence, loosen up. Since when do decorators use codenames and a lookout with a walkie-talkie? Yeah, I am taking this seriously, Spence. Years back I was on the arrest of the Bentleys. Clifford the dad, along with his sons John and David, were nicking lead off a church roof. David jumped Christ knows how far down off the roof and broke both legs. Clifford Bentley’s a real hard case who worked with the Krays. He’s in Pentonville nick for armed robbery. They’re tough bastards, that family.’