Undercover 03


By Katzmarek.






“You’re going to have to meet him without a wire from now on,” Hastings was telling Jess, “it’s too risky.”


“Risky?” she asked.


“Yeah. We believe Treadwell has his house covered with passive sensors. Those things are cheap and 
sensitive and would pick up even the smallest transmissions. I wish we could get one of those microwave 
thingys the Government Intelligence people use, but budgets and inter-service jealousy and all that stuff 
being what it is…”


“The computer geeks slipped one of their fancy gadgets into his house,” Sperle chipped in, “was supposed 
to allow us to tap into his harddrive. Nothing happened… they think he located and disabled it. Say 
Hastings, do you think we can confiscate his computer? Child pornography?”


“No evidence. It wouldn’t run before a Judge.”


“Evidence? Come on, Hastings, everyone has that stuff on their home computers these days,” Sperle said 
grinning.


“I don’t,” replied Hastings.


“Yeah, I sometimes wonder if you’ve ever seen your WIFE naked.”


“Hey!”


“Calm down, just joking.”


Jess tried to prevent herself blushing, with little success.


As the briefing broke up, Hastings approached her,


“I’ve got permission for you to spend some money on clothes. Stuff with labels… expensive. Nip out and 
spend the afternoon shopping. Just make sure you get receipts for everything. Remember your mummy and 
daddy spend a lot on you. You’re an only child.”


The detective grinned.


“Think you can handle a bit of uptown shopping?”


“It will be a burden,” Jess said beaming with delight.


“Here’s a credit card in the name of Dianne Sawyer. The envelope has a piece of paper with the password 
on it. Give me a signature as Dianne Sawyer and I’ll put it into the banking system. Now, the card has a 20 
grand limit, which will be ALL your expenses. If you need any more you’d better come up with a good 
story.”


“20 grand sounds fine,” Jess said, still grinning like a cat.


“Don’t get carried away. It won’t take much to burn through the card limit while living the high life. You 
don’t realise how easy it is to spend other people’s money.”


“I’ll be careful.”


“Receipts, Jess, even for a packet of gum…” Hastings said after her, as she left.


“20 fucking grand, are you kidding me?” Chris said when the two women met for lunch.


“Shh… I thought you’d like to come with me, seeing you’re on early shift. You can help me choose…”


“Let’s go,” Chris said quickly.


“Hey, wait. Remember I have to hand it all back afterwards.”


“What, they’re going to sell the Commissioner’s wife your used French lingerie? I don’t think so.”


Chris told her that this was the best fun you can have with your clothes on. Jess doubted that, although she 
couldn’t say she ever had a lot of fun with her clothes off.


If it weren’t for Chris, she’d have brought practically nothing except a business suit and a set of casuals. 
Her friend pulled her into a designer lingerie shop first of all.


“You need something sexy for those romantic nights in front of the log fire,” Chris told her, “Treadwell 
won’t know what hit him.”


“For the last time, Chris, I’m not going to sleep with him. He does nothing for me… he’s too old… 
skinny… and he’s a drug smuggler… and he’s losing his hair. He looks like a freak.”


“Get him to shave his hair off then. I like that ‘skin look,’ so butch.”


“That wouldn’t give him a personality, or take 15 years off him,” Jess replied.


“Hastings then. He’s about 28 or so… he’s got all his hair… and he’s a nice guy…”


“And married…” Jess added.


“You’ve checked him out then. Married guys are perfect… you don’t have to fix them dinner afterwards… 
and they buy you lots of stuff.”


“I wonder about you sometimes, Chris…” Jess told her.


A couple of lingerie outfits, some business suits and designer jeans later and the credit card was down 
about $9,000. Some top range cosmetics rounded off the afternoon. Chris was bubbling with enthusiasm 
but it had been difficult for Jess to get into the swing of things.


It was harder than she thought to spend other people’s money. Jess kept thinking of a scene where she had 
to explain to Sperle what she’d spent the money on and she felt guilty. She imagined him picking over 
every item and getting her to justify everything. She had to admit she was afraid of the old detective.


She was in the briefing room, the next day, when her cellphone peeped.


“Diane?” Gray said on the phone, “Gray Treadwell, What are you doing after work today? Would you like 
to meet me for a drink and we can discuss my property options.”


Jess mouthed ‘Gray’ to Hastings and he looked instantly on alert.


“Sure,” she tried to sound matter-of-fact, “where?”


Gray suggested a little waterfront bar called, ‘Silvio’s,’ and she agreed to meet around six.


“We can get a bite to eat there,” Gray said, “they do great pizza.”


“Right,” Hastings said afterwards, “good. I’m going to arrange for a young officer called John Vickers, do 
you know him?”


Jess nodded.


“He’ll be drinking at the bar when you get there. Arrange with him a signal and if you are getting into 
trouble he’ll come in as an old friend and pull you out of the situation. Listen carefully to what Gray tells 
you, even the smallest details might be important. Above all, relax, and don’t get drunk.”


“I can handle it.”


Jess wished she felt as confident as she tried to sound.


She dressed in one of her new business suits, supposedly having come straight from work. As Jess entered 
the bar, she immediately saw Constable Vickers at a table by the door. They briefly caught each other’s eye 
before Jess looked around for Gray.


She spotted him sitting on a barstool and went over.


“Hi.”


“Hi.”


They greeted each other, nervously.


“What’ll you have?” Gray asked.


“A Brandy and Ginger, thanks.”


Jess thought it was the sort of drink ‘Diane Sawyer’ would have.


“Top shelf already,” Gray said, raising his eyebrows.


“Hey Iannis,” Gray called to the barman, “Brandy and Ginger and I’ll have a Corona with a lemon twist.”


“Fucking yuppie,” replied the old barman, smiling.


“Pretentious bastard,” Gray called back.


“Hey!”


They both laughed.


Again, Jess had that ‘out-of-place’ feeling again. This was another of Gray’s haunts and she felt vulnerable. 
‘Small talk,’ she told herself.


“So, how did you do today?” Gray asked, taking up the challenge.


Shaken loose from her thoughts, Jess replied,


“Not bad… took around a couple of clients… I’m learning about presentations… finding out the difference 
between sidings and types of foundations… plumbing… that sort of thing.”


“You’re doing your block courses up here at the College?” Gray asked her.


Jess froze inside. It sounded like Gray knew a thing or two about Realty.


“Um, yes… the College,” she replied, unconvincingly.


“My dad is head of department up there. He designed the course… you ought to talk to him… there’s 
nothing he doesn’t know about property.”


Jess’s chest tightened in fear. Her little voice inside told her she was out of her depth.


“Sure… I’ll do that,” she managed to say.


“How long to go before you get your license?” Gray asked.


“A year,” she blurted out without thinking, “that is… if I pass the exams.”


“Oh you will… you’re good,” Gray smiled, “you could sell igloos to Arabs.”


Jess laughed, it released her tension a little. She somehow felt very pleased at the compliment.


“So,” she said, “is there anything you’re interested in?”


A smirk flashed across Gray’s face. Jess was suddenly aware of the unintentional double entendre and 
blushed.’ He thinks I’m flirting,’ her little voice told her.


“One or two things,” Gray replied, smiling.


Jess thought he glanced at her chest. ‘I’m sending out all the wrong signals,’ she told herself.


Just as she was thinking of a reply, she felt a hand on her shoulder,


“Diane!”


It was Vickers.


“Haven’t seen you in ages. How’s the real estate business.”


“Doug… ah… good to see you, cousin,” Jess said, pointedly.


“Doug Jackson,” Vickers said as he leaned across to shake Gray’s hand, “ I’m Diane’s cousin.”


Things were getting too complicated for Jess. ‘What was that buffoon doing?’ She hadn’t signaled him. She 
bristled with anger.


“Won’t you join us?” Gray asked Vickers.


‘NO!’ Jess screamed inside.


“Another time perhaps… I’m expecting company… a hot date.”


‘The fucking ham,’ Jess thought, ‘he’s making a dick of himself.’


Gray coughed slightly and said,


“Sure… nice to meet you… have a good night.”


Thankfully, for Jess Vickers left them in peace.


“He sounded optimistic?” Gray commented.


“He’s a wanker,” Jess replied, bristling with anger. “Excuse me a moment, will you? I need to visit the 
bathroom.”


Gray nodded and Jess got up and headed towards the door, passing Vicker’s table. As she drew level she 
turned to him and, smiling, said under her breath,


“What the fuck are you doing?”


Vickers smiled back and replied,


“Just giving you a bit of support. It’s getting boring just sitting here.”


“Be bored… and stay out of my way… unless I call, ok moron?”


Gray watched the exchange from across the bar, puzzled. It seemed to him there was some little game 
going on there.


In the bathroom, Jess decided she must get back to business. Upon returning, she asked Gray how much 
money he had to invest in property. 


“So I have an idea,” she told him.


After considering for a while, Gray replied,


“About 11 million, give or take.”


The breath went out of Jess. She mouthed the figure back at him to find him nodding.


“Are you serious?” she asked.


Gray nodded, again.


“Where the hell did you get that kind of money? Rob a bank?” Jess blurted out without thinking.


“That’s what everyone asks,” Gray answered, “like I can’t have run a successful business or made some 
wise investments. Everyone takes one look at me and thinks I stole it or something.”


“Sorry… I… I mean I guess it’s so much… and…”


“It was 18 million, but I’ve spent a bit. You know what the cops think?”


Jess was on alert.


“They think I’m a big time drug boss or something. I’ve got a friend with a lot of gang contacts and he 
hears stuff. I get really pissed off with it all sometimes. Just because I like to mind my own business… 
there’s all these assumptions… well fuck them!”


“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”


“No I’m sorry,” he touched her hand, “you just touched a nerve… not your fault… it was a natural 
question.”


Later, outside the bar, Gray said goodbye. He didn’t try to invite Jess back, just shook her hand and left. 
Jess thought it was cute of him. He’d plainly wanted to kiss her but had gone all shy.


Hastings wanted to debrief straight away, while everything was still fresh. He hovered over her like a 
mother hen while he set up the tape recorder. 


“Well done, well done,” he kept saying.


After she’d recounted everything she could remember, the detective said,


“Yes, we’ll have to have a little talk with Vickers. He said he had 18 million? Hmm, there’s been no strike 
on the lottery THAT big to my knowledge. There’s no record of him ever having been in business, either. 
Family in real estate? That was a stroke of luck, gave you an instant conversation subject.”


“Too lucky, if you ask me. I could have blown my cover story.”


“But you hung in there, that’s the important thing. It doesn’t sound as if he got suspicious. We’ll soon 
know when, or if he calls again.”


“What do you think about, what he said… about the Police thinking he’s a drug lord?” Jess asked.


“Testing you, I expect… don’t read too much into it… these guys are always full of bullshit… it’s their 
trade.”


“I think he was really pissed off about it,” Jess argued.


“Don’t believe a word… they love it… the notoriety… They all say that the police do this and that to them. 
They tell each other these hard-luck stories about police harassment, and it’s all crap and they love every 
minute of it… If they didn’t love it they’d be doing an honest trade, like real estate”


Jess wasn’t so certain.


That night, Jess fingered herself mercilessly and this time there was no Chris to interrupt her.  She needed 
to work off some tension.


It was generally the same scenario that worked for her. She imagined been taken, bound and struggling, 
while some faceless man forced her to do things she’d never do in real life.


Things like fellatio and exhibitionism and various rape fantasies. They repelled and fascinated her at the 
same time. Gray figured often in her dreams, always with an impossibly large penis. Jess’s dreams turned 
him into a cruel monster although now she began to add clever, persuasive speech to her fantasy of him.


Jess knew there was little of the ‘real’ Gray in her fantasy. He was neither a persuasive nor a particularly 
clever raconteur and she was pretty sure he wasn’t a sexual monster. Perhaps, deep down, she painted him 
the way she wanted him to be.


Jess judged him to be an amiable, educated guy with some mystery to hide. That mystery had got everyone, 
including the police and herself intrigued. Otherwise he could be anyone’s cousin, though with a lot more 
finesse than Constable John Vickers.


God, that young cop was an idiot!


The next day Gray and Jerry Hanlon were sitting in the sun on Gray’s balcony. Jerry drew on a joint and 
blew the smoke out into the morning breeze.


“You’ll get us all busted,” Gray told his friend.


“No way man. They’re watching us, you know. You and me… probably got a position set up behind us… 
in one of those houses up the hill.”


“You’re paranoid, Jerry,” Gray told him.


“That’s what I heard, man. We’re hot at the moment… any strange vans parked in the street all day… 
servicemen calling… has anyone been inside your place when you’ve been out?”


“Dude called a few weeks ago. Asked if he could look around… doing valuations in the street.”


“That’s bullshit, man. They’ve got a book, they look all that stuff up. It’s all fucking guesswork, anyway.”


“Yeah, well, I thought it was a bit strange… good talker, though… had me convinced.”


“So where did this dude go?”


“Everywhere, I just told him to look around,” Gray told him.


“You’re too trusting, man. He probably bugged the place… maybe planted a hot relay on your computer. 
They’re tapping you, man!”


“They can do what they like. The house walls are lead shielded,” Gray grinned.


“You smartarse!” Jerry laughed.


“Not me… some previous owner was a bit particular about his security. Pain in the arse, though. It means 
my bloody radio doesn’t work unless I plug it into an outside aerial. Fucked up my TV too.”


“That’s hilarious, man,” Jerry said laughing, “ I bet the cops are going nuts wondering why none of their 
bugs are working. They probably think you’re some clever dude and flushed them all down the garbage 
disposal.”


“Rubbish Jerry, I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. No judge would grant the cops 
permission to tap me. They can’t have any evidence.”


“You think so? Give me a look at your computer,” Jerry said, defiantly.


Gray showed Jerry his computer room and his friend went straight to the back of the drive.


“See that? On the end of your monitor cable… see that gizmo? It’s sending a signal to a van outside 
somewhere. They’d be watching your screen every time you switch on… following everything you do… or 
would… if they could get a bloody signal… haha.”


“Shit Jerry… what the fuck do I do?” Gray asked him, shocked.


“Nothing, Gray… can’t fight the system…. They do this shit all the time…. It’s a police, fucking state, 
man.”


Gray was in a state of shock. Hitherto he’d treated the rumours of a police investigation of him as a little bit 
of a joke. But now it was sheeted home to him that someone at Police Central was out to get him, Gray 
Treadwell, millionaire. It made his blood boil.


Later, Jerry suggested they check out some food at one of the beachside café’s. Over a couple of beers, 
Jerry asked him,


“So I hear you’re trotting out with that cop, from the Rainbow?”


“Real Estate agent, Jerry,” replied Gray, “ and all I did was meet her for a drink… Nothing happened.”


“Stiffed you eh?”


“Nothing was going to happen. She’s a nice girl… showed me some property… that’s all.”


“Well, she and her blond friend can show me their property anytime,” Jerry said, leering. “Go on… tell me 
you wouldn’t give her a bone… given the chance.”


Gray smiled.


That afternoon, Jess had a appointment with the police psychologist, a Doctor Schiller. The smart, greying 
man greeted Jess with a warm smile. 


“How’s it all going, Constable, any problems?”


“Not really… just some doubts,” Jess answered.


“Normal, tell me about them.”


Jess explained to Dr Schiller all her suspicions about Gray’s innocence. She even told him about Chris’s 
theory about Sperle.


“Nothing leaves this room, ok?” The man reassured her, “remember this though, all your doubts are 
normal. You must set aside, ‘bracket’ your feelings and keep your objectivity. These guys can be 
charming,” he went on, “ and they’re born liars. They believe their own bullshit. They all think they’re so 
much cleverer than the Police… big egos. That’s what trips them up in the finish, they outsmart 
themselves.”


Schiller explained that Jess might feel some ‘sympathy’ for the target. She might even feel drawn to him 
and that that was a very ‘human’ response. He encouraged her to call him, day and night, if she felt the 
pressure overwhelming her.


The following night Gray rang her on her cellphone and talked her ear off for half and hour. He told Jess 
about the tap on his computer and the probability his house was bugged. He was obviously spooked.


“Some previous owner had the house lead-shielded, otherwise the cops could hear me taking a crap, it’s 
freaky.”


Nonplussed, Jess tried to sound sympathetic. She wasn’t sure why he was telling her all this.


“Are you sure about this?” she asked him.


“I’ve got the thing right here… goes on my harddrive… I’m no computer expert, but I know what should 
be there and what isn’t.”


“Ok, ok… I’m sure it must be a mistake… there’s the Police Complaints Authority… and the 
Ombudsman… you should report things like that,” Jess told him.


“Waste of time,” Gray replied, “I’ve no proof it was the cops that planted the thing. Do you know of any 
islands for sale… in the Gulf?”


Jess said she hadn’t heard of any. Gray explained that he felt like his house had been violated… that he 
needed to move. He laughingly asked her whether she had room at her place.


Although tempted to invite him over, she demurred, and suggested they meet tomorrow for lunch.


Jess needed time to process the latest developments and to report to her supervisor. She didn’t know 
whether she believed him or not. She kept down the nagging doubts she was feeling about this all being a 
big mistake.


She rang in the following morning and was asked to come in to Central.


When Jess arrived at the debrief room, she found it was full of people. Besides the detectives, there were 
people from Drug Intelligence and the Computer section. She never realised before just how many 
resources had been ploughed into catching Gray.


She took a seat with everyone else. Harewood and Sperle stood in front with their whiteboards, mug-shots 
and diagrams.


Sperle conducted proceedings.


“People, we need to have a full re-assessment of the investigation. I am of the opinion that Treadwell and 
Hanlon are preparing to go to ground. It’s all hit the fan and we need some ideas. Constable Dayshe, give 
us the nuts of your conversation with Treadwell last night.”


Jess rose from her seat and gave an outline of what Gray told her. A computer guy slapped his head and 
exclaimed,


“Lead! Damn, no wonder.”


“Doesn’t matter now,” said Sperle, “ we wont be getting anything useful, even if we tear down his bloody 
walls.”


Someone said,


“I wouldn’t like to try and get an order for that.”


And a few laughed.


“Hastings,” Sperle said, “ do you think he’s sending a message to us… through Dayshe?”


“Maybe,” Hastings said, “ or he’s feeling isolated and thinks Jess is a good listener.”


The detective glanced at Jess.


“What do you think?” he asked her.


“Um… he was angry… and scared… I don’t think he realised he had been bugged… at least that’s what I 
think. He was pissed off and needed someone to talk to… that’s my impression, sir,” Jess replied to the 
group.


“You might be our only hope of keeping the investigation alive,” Harewood told Jess, “ are you meeting 
again?”


“Lunch, sir,” 


Jess felt embarrassed.


“Go with it and see what you come up with. Just don’t go for a picnic in the mountains, ok?”


“No sir,” Jess replied to a polite murmur.


Part 4 follows.


Katzmarek ©






