The Undercover Detective part 14 the final part
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The Undercover Detective Part 12 free porn video
The Undercover Detective Part 12
July 11th
It was about ten o'clock when I phoned Fran
"It is a good job you called. I was just about to call you."
"What did you want me for?"
"We picked someone up this morning, who had retrieved the package. We
have him in a cell in the station."
"Who was it?"
"Not someone we would have expected. It was someone very well known to
us. He only got released from jail a year ago. He is a well known house
breaker, he's been at it for decades. He goes by the name of Davey
Duggan. He has clammed up. We are going to interview him shortly. He is
very uncomfortable with women, so the inspector wants me to do the
interview. We have no other women who know the case, so would you be
prepared to come into the station and sit in with me."
"Goodness, I haven't been in the station for weeks and weeks. What will I
wear?"
"If there was any doubt that you are female, you have just dispelled it.
Just wear something conservative and not too much make up."
I wore a straight skirt, a modest top and flat shoes. When I got to the
station I was not recognised and had to show my warrant card. The desk
sergeant still argued until I got him to call Fran. When she vouched for
me he let me in. I could hear him muttering about bloody weirdoes being
allowed in the police and why couldn't they keep the freaks out.
I got down to the interview room with Fran and she brought me up to speed
with Davey Duggan's history. He was in his fifties and had spent over
twenty years of his life in jail. He knew all there was to know about
entering premises, but unfortunately, he was not always very bright about
the premises he selected.
Whilst we were waiting for the prisoner, I was aware of a succession of
people coming to look in through the window. The desk sergeant must have
spread the word about my presence.
At first Davey did not want to give us any answers to our questions. When
we told him that the blackmail had already resulted in the death of at
least one person and that he was now firmly in the frame, he started to
fidget. His Solicitor advised him to keep quiet and that all he could be
accused of was entering a building unlawfully and picking up a package.
He was clearly very nervous and was very deferential to women. We worked
at him for a couple of hours with only one short comfort break. We
offered that, if he told us who had hired him, we may not find a case
against him. If he was found guilty of blackmail, it could be as much as
a fourteen year sentence.
In the end, he weakened. He did not know the name of the person who had
hired him. He just received phone calls telling him to pick up the
package and that he would get ?500 a time. He then had instructions where
and when to meet. The phone number that called him was always different.
The meeting place was also always different.
He gave us a description of the man, about 5'9", slim with long blond
hair, about 30 or 35 years old, smart and trendily dressed. He said that
he thought the guy was probably queer. When we asked him why, he said
that he acted a bit girly. We managed to extract just about every pick up
that he had done since the end of March.
We let him have a break while we talked to the inspector. As we went up
to his office, I was aware of uniformed and CID officers gathering and
looking at me. I heard a couple of comments that had been said loud
enough for me to hear. The first was "there's the weirdo freak from CID",
the second was "I bet he takes it up the arse, the nancy boy". There was
also some pointing followed by guffaws. The inspector was obviously
embarrassed, not knowing whether to reprimand or ignore.
We discussed a plan and decided to see if we could convince Duggan to
meet with the blackmailer for the handover. We would keep Duggan in a
safe address, accompanied by a police officer, until he was contacted and
then stake out the meeting point.
After more threats and persuasion, Duggan agreed to go with our plan. The
inspector went off to set things up, leaving me with Fran. We went to the
canteen to talk and I was aware of more crude comments from officers. The
clear exception was Dickie Dixon, the large DC who I had worked with at
the start. He came over and gave me a warm greeting and wanted to know
all about what had been taking place since I went under cover. He
complemented me on my looks and said that, if he didn't know me better,
he would ask me for a date. It was refreshing to get some positive
feedback.
When Dickie had left us, I told Fran about Max Ryan and Chunk. I gave her
the registration of Chunk's car, in the hope that we could identify him.
When we got back to Fran's desk we were able to track Chunk's name and
address. He lived with Max at a house in Hackney. It was in one of the
nice parts just off the park.
Chunk's real name was Dima Chernov, he was Russian, but had been living
in the UK for twenty years. He had been arrested and charged for GBH nine
years ago, but the victim and the witnesses changed their evidence before
the case went to trial. The notes on the file made it clear that
intimidation was suspected. There had been other arrests for violence
since, but he was never charged.
Max Ryan had a record for possession of drugs and had served a twelve
month sentence, in his youth for theft. Fran was going to investigate
their backgrounds further and I was going to find out as much as I could
from my end. I would try and get on another gig with her, if possible.
By the time I left the station Duggan had been set up to collect some
clothes and go to the house with a police escort and wait for the
blackmailer to contact.
When I left the station, I felt pleased with the progress that had been
made on two cases. On the other hand I felt extremely depressed by the
behaviour of some of my colleagues. I was so upset that I went and sat on
a park bench and wept. Once I started, I couldn't stop. It had been
horrible. I had expected some comments, but that was worse than my worst
fears.
I must have been there for about twenty minutes when I heard someone
asking if I was OK and did I need help. When I looked up, there was a
tall, good looking guy, who I took to be of Indian extraction, standing
there, with a concerned look on his face.
"Are you OK, you look very upset? Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Thank you, no, I have just been through an upsetting experience. I will
be OK in a minute. I am sorry I must look a fright."
"If you will forgive me for saying so, you look very pretty, but very
sad. My name is David Devi, can I do anything to help?"
The straight forward care and concern of this man lifted me out of my
funk. When had I started to get so emotional about things? I would never
have let things get to me, like this, before. It must be the hormones.
David was kind and attentive and sat on the bench with me. We talked for
quite a while. He was a newly qualified doctor, working at The Royal Free
Hospital.
We must have chatted for at least half an hour before he had to go back
to work. He gave me his phone number before he left, interesting, he was
very nice and I actually found him attractive. This was an awful lot for
me to process, the behaviour of some colleagues at the station and my
reaction to David.
When I got back to Mary's, I phoned Anne and brought her up to date. She
was off work and spending her time as Anne. It was sad that, at her late
time of life, it would be difficult to transition convincingly. Her
reaction to the stress, that she was feeling, was to dress in the clothes
that soothed her. Her wife had made it clear that she was not welcome
back home.
I helped Daisy make the evening meal and then we just slobbed about and
watched TV. I was intrigued by my reaction to David. I had felt attracted
to him. I wondered whether I might give him a ring sometime.
July 13th
Monday morning I spent in the shop. I did some more hair removal on Carol
and let her have a go on what little I had left to clear. In the
afternoon I had my first outing as a maid, since I had broken my
shoulder. It was fun to be back in the outfit and I no longer looked a
fright. My wounds had healed and all the bruising had gone.
I was serving afternoon tea to a Judge and his barrister friend. They
were two lovely kind gentlemen in their early sixties. They spent quite a
time asking me questions about myself and at no stage was I asked for any
sexual favours. The judge did get me to sit on his knee while we talked,
but he did not try to grope me. It was rather sweet in a way.
The barrister was a QC and a head of chambers. They asked me about my
plans for the future. As we talked, it became clear that they knew I was
in the police. How they knew, I could only speculate. They asked me about
my background and were impressed when I told them about my first class
honours in criminology and law.
They asked me whether I was enjoying my career in the police. I told
them, honestly, that I was loving it, but I was worried about prejudice,
if I decided to carry on with my transition. I told them about my recent
experience. They asked me if I had ever thought of going into a different
part of the law and become a barrister. It was something that I had
thought about, fleetingly, but I had quickly ruled it out as being too
difficult a profession to enter.
It was a lovely afternoon with two twinkly and very interesting
gentlemen. I thought that I would find out more about the possibility of
a change to become a lawyer.
Still nothing from the blackmailer, it was an agonising wait. Anne was at
Sparkles that evening, but she looked a wreck. She had met with her boss,
the CEO, and explained what was going on. She said that her boss had been
surprised and shocked, but had not told her that she was sacked. He had
actually been concerned about her health. When she saw him, it had been
the first time in a while that she had worn men's clothes. Anne was
disappointed that the blackmailer had not been caught yet.
Quite a number of the girls were concerned about Anne and kept coming
over to see what was wrong and whether they could do anything to help.
I was exhausted trying to keep things under wraps, by the time I got back
to Mary's. It was a little lonely sleeping on my own.
When I had breakfasted on Tuesday, I phoned Fran, there was still no
contact from the blackmailer. Fran's boss had given her a message for me.
He was very interested in Max and Chunk. He wanted me to trawl as much
information as I could. I was going to have a rehearsal session with
Dolores and Maggie that afternoon.
It was a quiet day at the shop. I had the chance to spend some time with
Carol. She is a really sweet person. She is caring and funny. She was a
bit nervous because she had seen the doctor, as arranged by Mary, and he
had given her a right lecture about self medicating. He had taken lots of
samples and she was to see him again on Wednesday. He had given her a
prescription for hormones, but had told her that she was almost certainly
sterile and it was very likely that she would have to have an
orchiectomy. She was scared, she had never had an operation.
Sue was very concerned for some of the customers. Carol, Sue and I were
very lucky. We could pass easily as female. Carol was quite pretty and
Sue was a little sex bomb. Many of our customers would never be able to
pass convincingly as female. For some, that was no problem, they just
liked to dress, on occasions, and were not too bothered about passing in
public. For others, it was agony, however much they tried, it would be
obvious that they were born male.
I was due to have another rehearsal with Dolores and Maggie, later that
afternoon, so I would have a chance to ask questions about Max and Chunk.
I was desperate to hear news about our blackmailer.
When I met up with Dolores and Maggie, I was given fulsome praise for my
first stage performance. Dolores said that she had another booking for
next Saturday and wanted to put up the same team. The booking was in
Brighton, so the journey would not be as long. After our rehearsal, I
went for a coffee with Maggie.
Maggie quizzed me about my background and I quizzed her about hers. She
was very sympathetic about my concocted background. Hers was interesting.
She had cross dressed as a youngster but had tried to resist doing it.
She had gone to university and studied accountancy. She had married a
woman she had met at university but they had divorced, three years later,
when she decided that she wanted to live full time as a woman.
She had been a singer all her days and loved performing. She was
surprised to discover that she had a gift for stand up comedy. Dolores
had acted as her agent for the last six years and she had done one or two
gigs a week. The only exception was from Christmas to the end of January.
She was a qualified tax accountant and had a good number of clients. Most
of the year, she worked about twenty hours a week. For the five weeks
before the online submission cut off, at the end of January, she worked
at least eighty hours a week. Most of her income came from those five
weeks.
Maggie had worked with Max about once a month. Max did every gig that he
could and was visiting clubs on the nights that he was not performing.
Chunk was always with him. They lived in the nice part of Hackney, in a
house that must be worth well over a million pounds. They seemed very
comfortably off. Maggie did not find either of them pleasant company and
did not enjoy gigging with Max.
When I asked about the drug use, Maggie said that she had her suspicions.
There always seemed to be drugs about when they were around. I decided
that I would observe for the next gig and if I thought that they were the
dealers, then I would arrange for them to be stopped, at the next gig
after that. Before we parted, Maggie offered to look after all my
freelance earnings. My tax was going to be in a mess, with the money that
I earned performing, the maid money, my earnings in the shop and my
police pay. I had not thought about that before. I grabbed the offer.
I was preparing our dinner back at Mary's when Fran phoned. Davey Duggan
had been contacted. He was to meet up and hand over the money at eight
the following morning. The drop point was Paddington station. That was
going to be a massive problem. It was one of London's busiest stations
during rush hour.
They were going to have a team of six officers waiting for the pick up,
including Fran. They wanted me to be added to the team, because there was
a chance that I would recognise the blackmailer, if he was a regular at
Sparkles. I agreed without hesitation. That night it took me a while to
get to sleep. I was excited about the possibility of catching the
blackmailer.
14th July
I was up at 5.30 getting ready. I wore slacks, trainers and a long
sleeved T shirt. I had my cinch and my breast forms on. I wore a baseball
cap which would help hide my face. If the Blackmailer was someone who
knew me, I did not want to be recognised. I met up with Fran and three
other members of the team, in the coffee bar area. Fran introduced me to
the team as Mandy, a female officer working under cover.
Davey Duggan was being escorted, to the station, by two officers. Duggan
had been given no instructions, other than to be at Paddington station
concourse at 8.00 a.m. We left the coffee bar at twenty to eight and
spread around the concourse. We all had lapel mikes and ear pieces so
that we could communicate. Fran was the coordinator.
Just before eight o'clock Fran alerted us to Duggan's arrival. We all
tried to get close enough to see Duggan without getting too close. One of
the team was on the upper level, looking down on the masses of commuters.
He kept us up to date on Duggan's location. There was a panic when we
lost site of him but he was soon spotted again. I was getting buffeted by
the rush hour crowds and kept losing sight of him. As time went on, we
took turns in fading out of the picture, so that it wasn't obvious that
we were on surveillance.
Ten past the hour came and went. Twenty past came and still no contact.
It was my turn to fade out of the picture. It was then that I saw a face
the looked familiar. The person was on the upper floor looking down on
the concourse. I wasn't sure, but the face reminded me of someone I had
seen at a couple of occasions at Sparkles and Mac and Mable's.
I alerted Fran to what I had seen and she agreed that I should watch this
person. He continued to scan the concourse for another ten minutes and
then started to make his move. He took out a phone and looked as though
he was texting. As soon as he did so one of the watchers reported that
Duggan had taken out his phone and looked as though he was reading a
text.
The next moment Duggan started to move fast through the crowd. The man
that I was watching also started moving fast. My man was heading towards
the underground. The crush was fierce. I elbowed my way through,
receiving curses and complaints from all around. I nearly caught up with
my man, but then lost ground again.
More barging, pushing and elbowing got me closer, but I was getting
buffeted by people who were unhappy with my behaviour. I was getting
nervous about my broken shoulder. I'd had four weeks for it to heal, but
it was still a weak point. It needed another couple of weeks before it
was fully healed.
As we neared the barrier for the Circle line trains, I spotted Duggan,
sweating and struggling through the crowd. I was still about eight yards
away, when I saw the two meet and Duggan hand over the package. My man
then headed straight for the barrier with his oyster card in hand. He got
to the barrier just before me and went through.
I had no other option, but to climb over the barrier. The station staff
immediately shouted and started after me. I got to my man just before
they got to me. I shouted at my man to stop and grabbed him. In his
surprise he tried to turn, stumbled and fell. I jumped on him and tried
to put him in an arm lock. As I landed, I shouted in my loudest voice.
"Police you are under arrest."
I repeated it several times as commuters milled around us. We were in
danger of getting trampled. My prisoner struggled hard and I was in
danger of losing control. I kept saying police, in order to keep people
from helping my prisoner. I did not seem to have the strength that I used
to. I suppose that I had not been taking the same exercise as before. The
station staff reached me and were clearly unsure who to grab and who to
help.
By now the two of us were rolling on the floor. I was concerned about my
shoulder. We kept being trodden on and kicked, accidentally, by the
thronging commuters. Eventually the station staff started to clear a
space around us. My strength was starting to give out and my prisoner was
starting to get the upper hand. As I started to lose my grip of him, help
arrived. One of the police team grabbed him and cuffed him.
Others arrived and helped me to my feet. I had not long healed from my
last battle and now I was going to be covered in bruises again. I
remembered that our prisoner had used the name Jilly when dressed as a
female and attending Sparkles. Fran arrived, out of breath and arrested
our man. The package of money was in his jacket pocket.
The team took him back to the station and I made my way back to Mary's,
to have a shower, inspect my injuries and get changed. I was elated and
tired. I phoned Anne to let her know. She seemed to be a mixture of
pleased and scared as to what was going to happen next.
I gave my excuses to Mary and decided to take the morning off. It was
about mid day, when Fran phoned. Because of my knowledge of the case and
of the trans world, I was wanted to be part of the interrogation.
What they knew, so far, was that our suspect was called James Duncan and
that he worked part time, for the City of Westminster housing department.
He had previously worked for the London Mayor's office, in the housing
department. A search of his house had already resulted in them finding
tens of thousands of pounds in cash. They had also found a large stock of
burner phones. They had started checking his computers and had also found
some files. He was definitely our man.
They wanted me at the station for four o'clock, for a briefing, ready to
start interviewing him around five thirty. Part of me was nervous about
going into the station, but mostly I was excited by the prospect of
pinning our man down. There was an inspector nominally in charge, but
Fran was effectively leading the case. Fran emailed me with the
information that they had so far, included in that information was a
photo of our suspect.
After reading through the information I went to see Mary. Mary recognised
our man straight away. He had been a fairly regular visitor to trans
clubs and meeting places for at least six or seven years. At first he
seemed to integrate with the crowd well. He had several regular contacts,
but in the last couple of years he had become a loner. It seemed that he
only came to venues to pick up men for sex. Mary said that he seemed to
be a sad case.
I asked Daisy and Sally about our man. They could recall seeing him, but
had had no contact with him. He was a bit of an enigma.
I went back to Mary's to change. I decided to wear my smartest black
trousers, a white blouse with a short dark blue jacket. I wore muted make
up and simple ear studs. I wanted to look competent and serious. When I
got to the station, there was a different desk sergeant on duty. He made
a show of asking me to produce my warrant card. When I showed it to him
he announced in a voice that carried, "Ah, you must be the cross dressing
copper", not a good start.
I met up with Fran and a Detective Inspector Ince. They had found paper
files on the two victims, that we knew of and four others. Three of those
four had seemed to have had no action taken yet. When they had checked on
the fourth it was another suicide. Two out of the three victims had taken
that way out. Thank goodness that we had got Anne to talk to us in time.
Not only were there paper files, but there was a considerable amount of
information on the computer. It appeared that he had not originally
foreseen the difficulty in dealing with large amounts of cash. Money
laundering legislation makes it difficult. It appeared that he had
recently set up a limited company and opened a business account. They had
not yet found out if any money had been paid into that account.
We discussed the evidence that had been gleaned so far. It was already
overwhelming. Even if we did not manage to get a confession, there was
already enough to get a conviction.
Fran and I prepared our lines of questioning. We were ready to go.
Anastasia
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