Ravi adjusted the laptop and brought up a page.
‘Our old friend Facebook,’ Shona said, studying the screen. It seemed no drug operation nowadays was complete without a social media angle. ‘Sweet Life? This is our supplier?’
Ravi nodded, suddenly serious. ‘This is a closed group. The tabs are being bought online and sent out through the post. It’s cheap, two pounds a tablet, and easy.’
Shona thought of Callum, her lifeboat colleague and postman. It was the perfect distribution network. No pusher at a fixed address the police could monitor, no dealers on the streets to attract attention, just the local postman on his regular route. On the screen someone calling himself @Diazaman had posted a picture of pills, the date scribbled on a piece of lined paper next to them and advertised as a tenner for the lot, payment via direct messaging, untraceable by the police.
‘Even worse, you don’t know what you’re getting,’ Ravi continued. ‘Etizolam, that anti-epileptic you mentioned, it’s being used to make fake Xanax pills. If you overdose, the doctors at the Royal have no idea what to treat you for.’
‘Any chance we can trace this group?’
‘Doubt it. Facebook might take it down for breaching their rules, but the dealers will just create a new group. In fact, they may have already moved on.’ Ravi moved the curser down the page. ‘They’ll be on other social media like WhatsApp by now. The last posting on the site was a few weeks ago.’
‘What about tracing any of the site users?’
‘Possible, but they won’t know who they bought from.’
‘How do you know the Sweet Life group is local?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but this Quinox was mentioned by A&E. I checked with Divisional Intelligence and you were right, boss. It’s a benzo brand name from the Far East, anti-anxiety, and seizures. Not widely available here.’
‘Okay, write up what you’ve got and put in a request to Division for a drugs dog. Contact the Royal Mail sorting office and say we’d like to send it in to pick up any undelivered packages. Let’s see where that gets us.’ Shona’s mobile rang; the screen flashed up DCI Gavin Baird’s number. She picked it up, waving Ravi out the door while mouthing ‘good work’ and giving him a thumbs up.
‘Shona, this prescription drugs find,’ said Baird without preamble. ‘I’ve decided it comes under the remit of Op Fortress. You’ll need to send up everything you have. We’ll be taking it from here.’
‘We’re just gathering initial findings now, sir.’ Shona kept her voice even. ‘There’s a possible link to the body we recovered from the Solway Firth. I’d like to see any forensic results.’
‘I thought that was Cumbria’s problem. Even if you have an ID or a witness, get them to deal with it. I heard you put an appeal out over the weekend. Should have cleared that with me first.’
‘Yes, sir. We dealt with it along with the baby milk press release as an efficient use of resources.’
‘Fine,’ said Baird flatly. ‘But get everything you found today to me. I’ll be down tomorrow to brief your team. We’re going for co-ordinated strikes right across the region within forty-eight hours.’ He hung up.
Shona crossed to where Ravi shared a back-to-back desk with Kate. Both were busy, heads down, tapping away on their keyboards. They looked up as she leaned on Ravi’s chair and called Murdo over.
‘Orders from DCI Baird. Wrap up everything you’ve found on the Sweet Life group and the forensics
from the Carmine unit. Get it up to Op Fortress by close of play today.’
‘In the name of the wee man,’ Murdo shook his head, ‘do the officers on the ground not deserve a go at this? We’ve got the contacts; it’s our patch folk are dying on. Ravi’s played a blinder on this.’ He looked at Shona for support, but she shook her head. Baird was out of order. This was no way to treat talented and dedicated officers, but she couldn’t see how she could defy him over this.
‘Sorry, guys. This is going up the line. Suck it up and move on.’
Ravi rolled his shoulders in a shrug, but an uncharacteristic frown gave away his true feelings. She couldn’t blame him. Even Kate, who Shona had expected to crow over the decision, looked put-out. Op Fortress was turning into a ravenous beast, devouring resources and opportunities for her officers. Shona returned to her office and, between prioritising her paperwork, fantasised about exactly how she could put a certain senior police officer in a shallow grave and get away with it.
Chapter 8
Shona arrived at Cornwall Mount on Tuesday morning knowing she would need to tread the delicate line between rallying her troops and sharing their resentment at the loss of the Sweet Life investigation. The thing was to keep them busy.
‘Kate,’ she called, sweeping into her office and dumping her handbag on the desk, ‘I want the baby milk update in ten minutes.’ She scanned the outer room for her sergeant. Murdo was in the far corner, taking a call on his mobile. He raised a hand to acknowledge he’d be with her in a moment.
‘Baird will be here this afternoon. Op Fortress,’ Shona said when Murdo came into her office, handing over a white coffee in her Charles Rennie Macintosh mug. ‘He’ll be briefing the teams making the early morning arrests. Make sure we tie up any jobs we can and get everyone off early tonight. They’ll need to be back here by four a.m. Has all the Sweet Life material gone?’
‘It has. Can’t say everyone’s too pleased about that.’
‘Well keep them at it today, Murdo. Let’s see if we can bury some of that chippiness before Baird arrives. Results are what count. Get everyone into the conference room and let’s get on.’
A bank of serious faces stared back at Shona. Some rested their chins on hands, one or two chewed the end of their pens. ‘Right. Thoughts?’ she said once Kate had outlined progress on the baby milk inquiry.