Undercover 04


By Katzmarek



Part 4


Gray Treadwell and Jerry Hanlon sat in the office of Roger Swinbourne, Lawyer, campaigner against 
Police procedural abuse and champion of the little guy. He was explaining Police powers of search and 
seizure and electronic surveillance.


“Ordinarily, the Police have to come up with a pretty good case to get the court to grant them an order to 
tap a private citizen. However, the Drugs Act gives them pretty wide powers of search without a court 
order, providing they can prove reasonable grounds afterwards. The public doesn’t much care if a few 
liberties are taken providing drugs are kept out of the schoolyard. 


Now,”


The young firebrand went on,


“Guys like Ted Sperle take all that a step forward and claim they can do what they like and bug someone 
providing at the end of the day they’ve got a bag of cocaine to prove they were right in the first place. The 
Courts have been rubber stamping him because he DOES get results. In your case,” 


He turned to Gray, 


“They don’t really have anything at all… just some gossip… and the cops wouldn’t have been granted a 
Court order to bug your place under ordinary legislation. You guys are innocent, right?”


“Absolutely!” Gray said.


“Then they’ve got to justify their actions. Especially wiring your house, Gray, That sucks.”


Both men nodded in agreement.


“Then I’ll send their legal section a solicitor’s letter telling them we are seeking our own court order 
requiring them to put up or shut up. Should be fun…”


Everyone was grinning, maliciously. ‘Time for a little payback.’


“What about the newspapers?” Jerry asked.


“Too ‘right wing’ at the moment. They’ll print the story on page nine below a piece about some kid caught 
smoking dope in the school toilets. 


Good, upright, solid citizens going about their lawful business, having their rights abused by corrupt police 
officialdom, they’d love that. But you guys are neither, that’s why you’re targets. 


Hanlon, known criminal with connections to the drug underworld, and Treadwell, man of mystery who 
won’t get his hair cut and doesn’t attend church. Gray?”


He asked, looking into his eyes,


“If only you’d tell the world where your sudden wealth came from, this would blow over.”


“Then you wouldn’t have a Cause, Roger.”


“Well as your lawyer and friend, I have to tell you, you’re going to have to come clean about it, sometime.”


Gray sighed and leaned back in his chair.


At noon, Jess made her way down to the Rainbow for her lunch with Gray. Ted Hastings had given her dire 
warnings about Treadwell’s possible state of mind.


“Be careful, Jess,” he told her,  “ he probably suspects his Dentist of putting microphones in his molars. He 
could get nasty, so tread carefully and don’t push him. Just listen to what he has to say.”


Gray looked haggard when Jess met him in the café. He was sitting in his usual table but this time there 
was no crossword puzzle in front of him. Instead he was puffing on a cigarette.


“I didn’t think you smoked?” Jess said.


“I don’t, or didn’t… not for a few years… just started again.”


Jess sat down and ordered a coffee. She was pleased to see the waitress recognised her, it made her more 
relaxed.


“So how are you?” Jess asked him.


“Really angry, Diane. I don’t know whether to move or stay and tough it out.”


Jess was put off, at first, by his use of her ‘cover name.’ Somehow she expected them to be on more 
familiar terms, illogically.


“I saw my lawyer this morning. I’m going to complain… me and Jerry.”


“That’s the story…good on you” Jess told him, breezily.


“Don’t patronise me!” Gray bristled.


“Sorry… I’m… just trying to help…  don’t know what to say,” Jess stumbled.


“Nah, I’m sorry… I don’t trust anyone at the moment…I see cops everywhere… bugs in my soup,” 


Jess grinned at the pun.


“I was talking to my dad yesterday,” Gray said, “ asked him about you…”


Jess’s whole body went into panic. Her face froze, her stomach formed a knot.


“… Didn’t remember you. His memory’s going I think. He should get out and raise his roses. He’s too old 
to be still working. Silly bugger!”


Jess relaxed a little. She decided to say nothing, just listen.


“Dad knows your boss, Veronica, really well. He told me he trained her when she got out of the police 
force. Did you know she used to be a cop?”


Jess swallowed, her mouth went dry.


“Dad said she was bloody brilliant… lots of confidence… one of those ‘can do’ people. 


Shit I hate that term. So fucking eighties… I hated the eighties. The country lost its soul and went on a 
Lolly scramble. No one gave a stuff about anyone, anymore. All they cared about was each other’s bank 
balance, and which BMW they could afford.”


“No,” Jess nodded in agreement.


“You liked the eighties, Diane?”


“Um… I was born in 1981…”


“Of course, you’re just a puppy,” Gray said, smiling.


The waitress brought Jess her coffee.


“Are you a cop?” Gray said.


Jess looked up, panicking, but Gray was looking at Lois, the waitress.


“Sure… vice squad,” Lois said, chuckling.



When she left, Gray looked Jess in the face. He glanced down at the table and reached for another Lucky 
Strike.


“What’s scaring you, Diane? You look like you want to run for your burrow.”


“Burrow? Oh, in ‘scared rabbit,’ I get it. Um, don’t know… you… seem so down… I.”


“Hmm, do I make you nervous, why?”


Jess shrugged.


“I don’t know what you expect of me… I barely know you…” she said.


“What do you want to know?”


“Well… I…” Jess fished around searching for a question. “What did you use to do… before you retired?”


“A writer!”


“Really, what did you write?” Jess relaxed at the new line of conversation.


“Pornography.”


“Oh?” 


Jess wondered if he was trying to shock her. The answer took the wind out of her sails.


“And other stuff… whatever. You understand why I don’t tell everyone?”


“Yes,” Jess was blushing.


“People always want to know where I get my ideas.”


Jess emitted a little half-laugh.


“So! Did Conan Doyle fight for Napoleon then invent Etienne Gerard?”


“What?”


“Napoleonic Stories, I used to read them when I was at school.”


“Oh. So, is that where you made your money, writing… porno?”


“You heard of Jordane Gray?”


“The romance novelist?” 


Gray nodded.


“No… you can’t be… she’s a woman… her novels are everywhere… No! She’s American, isn’t she?  
Gray, are you lying to me?  I don’t believe it.”


“And Betty Whitehouse, Davina Smith, Anna Grayson and I think there’s Annette somebody… I forget.”


‘Annette Chatsworth?”


“Yeah, that’s it… they brought her out last year.”


“But I’ve read her!  I mean, you, shit! Are you serious?”


Gray shrugged.


“You are all those people? Gray… if you’re lying… my god! She was on the best seller list for ages.”


“Sunrise Surprise? I wrote in two weeks, flat out, day and night, 600 and 40 something pages, I think. Then 
I had a holiday in the islands for a month… then I wrote ‘Hong Kong Incident’ as Anna Grayson. That was 
a hell of a year. Three best sellers under three different noms.”


Jess was shocked. She didn’t know whether to believe Gray or not, it seemed such an incredible story.


“So now it’s your turn, Diane,” Gray said, fixing her with a stare. “What’s your story? 


My dad never forgets a face, or a name, Miss Sawyer. Why did you name yourself after a famous American 
TV personality? That was your first big mistake.”


“Oh… um.”


Jess was struck dumb. Her mouth worked but nothing came out. Her face must be a bright shade of red by 
now, she thought.


“The second was picking Real Estate as a profession. You should have researched your subject more 
carefully.”


“Yes,” Jess said, miserably.


“Your third was your ‘cousin.’ You need to keep your minders under control. Tell me ‘you’re just going to 
have a word with him,’ when you go to give him his orders. That ‘bathroom’ gag was just unnecessary.”


“You knew all the time?”


“Jerry did. He’s a very sharp guy. He notices things that I miss. I guess my ego wanted to believe you were 
chasing me for my wit and good looks. But, in hindsight, why would a beautiful, 22 year old, smart, sexy 
woman want with me? 


My money? You could have money AND youth and brains. Looking back, it was far too obvious. 


Tell me,” Gray leaned closer,


“Would you have slept with me, if I’d asked?”


“Um… no… probably not,” Jess told him.


“Nah, you were far too wary… I thought not. I’ve sure blown my chances now,” he said, ruefully.


“I guess so,” Jess said, blushing.


“Pity. Are you going to make a report. Tell your boss everything I told you?”


“Have to, it’s my job,” Jess said.


“Yes, your job! Y’know, I guess that’s what really hurts. You were just, ‘doing your job.’ Snooping into 
other people’s lives and fucking them around.” Gray screwed up his eyes and looked away.


“For a while there I hoped… Fuck it!  I really thought for a moment like a Prince who’d met his 
Princess…. 


I’ve written too many books… I’m beginning to believe my own bullshit.”


“I’m sorry…” Jess said, sadly. 


Tears were beginning to fill her eyes.


“You’ll meet someone… you’re a nice guy… I didn’t mean to do this to you.”


“Yes you did, Diane, that’s the whole point. Get out of the habit of patronising people… we’re all grown-
ups and can deal with our feelings. 


You’re suppose to say, ‘ get out of your self-pity.’ That’s what my character in ‘Hong Kong Incident’ 
would say.” 


“I’m not a character in one of your novels, Gray,” Jess said.


Gray bristled with anger.


“No! You’re not, are you?”


“Is that how see life? As a cheap romance novel?”


“You’d better fuck off now, I think,” Gray spat, “ you disgust me. You all disgust me.”


Jess got up to go. As she walked towards the door, she turned back and said,


“Well things wouldn’t have got to this stage if you weren’t such a prick.”


“Well, at least I don’t fuck criminals for a living, bitch!” Gray yelled after her.


“Arsehole,” Jess yelled back as she slammed the door.


You could have heard a pin drop in the Rainbow. Everyone was staring at Gray. Lois, the waitress, broke 
the silence,


“That’s was deep!”


“Shut up, Lois.”


“Scotch?”


“Please!”



Jess got into Warren Hastings car and slammed the door. She stared straight ahead as the detective pulled 
away from the kerb.


“Everything go alright?” Hastings asked.


“He’s a fucking romance writer, Warren.”


“Eh? Are you sure?”


“Yes I’m fucking sure,” Jess replied angrily. “He writes under all these alias’s and, he didn’t say, but he’s 
written for Television because I used to watch, ‘Jordane Gray presents’ when I was a teenager. Mum used 
to let me stay up on Friday nights when the school week was over and I’d sit and watch the stupid shit.”


“I see,” Warren said, helplessly.


“There was this beautiful lady wearing the neatest clothes who used to front each episode and I always 
thought it was Jordane herself. She was just a stand in for that sorry, miserable loser of a guy who buries 
himself for weeks churning out that stuff and making millions of bucks. He can’t even get himself a 
fucking girlfriend and he writes all this stuff about desire and … fucking passion. He’s nothing but a 
fucking fraud.”


“Hey, slow down! Start from the top.”


“I’m sorry… It… got a bit rough.”


“So I gather… just organise your thoughts and tell me when you’re ready.”


“You should have been a psychologist, Warren,” Jess told him.


“A good cop has to be a bit of everything, Jess.”


Back at the station, the presence of Ted Sperle renewed Jess’s anger. ‘He’s the guy who put me into all 
this,’ her little voice was telling her.


“So he told you he was a novelist, right? Romance stuff, ‘penny dreadfuls’ my dad used to call them,” 
Sperle was saying. 


“And porn, under different nom de plumes,” Jess cut in.


“We should have seized his computer, the dirty bastard!”


“He told her that Hanlon and he had busted her cover from the get go,” Warren intervened.


“They all say that, Warren, ego shit. Well… I suppose we can check his story… get on to the publisher. 
Sounds like a load of crap, though.”


“Creative crap, sir,” Hastings said.


“Very creative,” Sperle agreed, “I haven’t heard a story like that… well, ever, actually. Dayshe, you’ll have 
to go back on general duties now. There’s nothing more for you here. Warren, sort out the paperwork will 
you?”


“Do you think Constable Dayshe should have some time off? To readjust?”


“What are we running around here, a holiday camp? I suppose we can give her a few days, get her shit in 
order. Um… well done Constable… I’m sorry we didn’t get a result, but that’s the way it goes, sometimes. 
He’ll screw up, they all do eventually… I’ll get you to read him his rights when the day comes… They call 
that ‘closure’ don’t they Hastings?”


“Yes sir.”


“Good, you tidy up Warren. I’ve got to explain all this to the Commissioner.”


“Yes sir.”


After going over the paperwork with Jess, Hastings pulled her aside,


“How are you coping?” he asked her.


“Pissed off.”


“That’s normal.”


“I don’t know who to blame, Sperle for putting me on this job, Gray for giving everyone the run-around, or 
myself, for not doing things right and getting my cover blown,” Jess told him, dejectedly.


“Maybe all, or none… just one of those things… sometimes operations go bad.”


“Tell me? Do you think Gray Treadwell is a banker for a drug syndicate? And he made all that stuff up?”


“My instinct?”


Jess nodded.


“Sperle gets his information from the street. He’s been out there a long time and I trust him to know what’s 
reliable and what’s not. But… lately… I think he’s burning out. I don’t think he’s being objective about 
this one… Many things… well, they don’t add up.


A hotshot Lawyer called Swinbourne rang the commissioner, apparently, and is starting to rattle a few 
cages. Politically, the Drug Squad will have to change the way it does things. I tell you this, Jess, we have 
exploited a grey area in the law for a long time and it’s coming back to bite us. 


I think Treadwell will win this round, not because he’s innocent, but because we’ve let ourselves become 
exposed, legally, and that’s not a good situation. I think Gray is a shrewd customer and, if I was put on the 
spot, I’d say he’s guilty as sin.”


“Why?”


“Treadwell and Hanlon have being playing us like a fiddle, why? If they’ve got nothing to hide why didn’t 
they front up and tell their stories.”


“Perhaps they thought they wouldn’t be believed? Gray didn’t know we’d bugged his house until Hanlon 
told him. Up till then he thought it was a funny game.”


“A game? Shit Jess… Do you know why we talk to a suspect’s neighbours?


Jess shrugged.


“Because we know it will get back to them. We then observe their behaviour.”


Hastings leant against the wall. He continued,


“Mr. Innocent pounds down to the station, first thing, with his lawyer. He wants to make a statement and 
clear his name. 


Your top-shelf criminal says to himself, ‘yeah? Come and get me, I’m too smart for you.’ He thinks he can 
stay ahead of the game.


The game, Jess, the adrenaline buzz, your Treadwell is a player. That’s how he incriminates himself, to my 
way of thinking.”


“Well he’s got a lawyer now, Warren.”


“A ploy, Jess. Swinbourne’s not interested in clearing Treadwell. He wants to expose our dastardly 
behaviour for his own ends. 


I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s running for Parliament in a few years. Treadwell knows this, he’s just trying 
to rub our noses in it. 


We really walked into that ourselves. That’s why I’m pissed off with Sperle.


He’s not himself, Jess. He never did the proper groundwork and he left to many cracks for Treadwell to 
wriggle through.”


Gray was drunk. Jerry Hanlon and him were stretched out on Gray’s big easy chairs in the lounge. Pink 
Floyd’s Ummagumma was playing softly in the background.


“Haven’t heard this in fucking ages, man…” Jerry told him.


“Takes ya back, eh?” Gray replied.


“Ya shoulda fucked her, Gray… ffucked her and told her shit, man. I woulda.”


“Yeah… but it’s not your face I have ta look at in th’ mirror.”


“See man… you’ra fuckin’ gen’leman… you’re too fuckin’ decent… shi’ man… That’s why they hate ya, 
man… y’didn’t play their game, see?”


“Y’never know ‘bout people… on the surface… really nice… underneath issall shit, man,” Gray slurred.


“See… they work their arse s’off, true. Twelve bucks anhour… thasshit, man.”


“Yeah, sh’shit.”


“An’ you come ‘long… with TALENT, man an’ makea million bucks… an they fuckin’ HATE it.”


Jerry tried to roll another joint on an album sleeve, but he couldn’t co-ordinate his fingers anymore. After 
half an ounce fluttered to the carpet, he gave up.


“Fuckit,” Jerry spat, “I’m shit-faced.”


“I coulda loved her…Y’know… I’m sucha silly cunt… “ Gray told his friend.


Jerry, however, had passed out.



Across town, Jess was equally drunk. Not wanting to be alone, she’d gone back to her old flat, where she 
shared a couple of bottles of wine with her friend, Chris.


“I jus’ don’t like beein’ hated, y’know? Never could deal with that,” Jess told Chris.


“You’re in th’ cops, Jess. Get used to it.”


“Y’know, Chris… I keep dreamin’ about him, fuckin’ Gray.”


“I know,” Chris replied, knowingly.


“Whyzzat… I don’ even like him.”


“Y’sure?”


Yes,” Jess said, firmly, “ he’s a jerk.”


“Ok… let’s go clubbin’ and grab a coupla guys,” Chris suggested.


“Nah, I might meet, HIM.”


“Shit, Jess… itsa big town…”


“Think I’ll go t’bed.”


“Kay hon’… ‘Night… hey, don’ worry… men are not worth th’ trouble…”


Part 5 follows.


Katzmarek © (Copyright)











 






