51
Jack sat with his head in his hands. Frank Vine had been one of his closest colleagues for as long as he could remember. The man had been flirting with the idea of retirement for a couple of years now, and had given Jack the best part of two decades’ service. Although he was lazy and largely just seeing out the days until he could pick up his pension, there was no way in a million years he would have ever suspected him of being a mole.
He was gutted. Torn apart. When he thought about it, he realised the betrayal must have gone back years. How long had Frank been feeding McCann information, making sure he always stayed at arm’s length from their investigations. Was that why he’d always managed to get off? Was that why the evidence was always just slightly too weak? Jack had clearly und
