STATUS DRIFT: A gripping undercover detective crime thriller, page 18
The only photo I agreed to have taken was for my warrant card and even then it was obsolete the moment I stepped out of New Scotland Yard. I’d decided against the man bun look and had a number one all over. It was unnecessary but I’m at a stage in the service where I will do anything to buck the system and stay one step ahead even when it’s as absurd as altering your warrant card’s appearance. I’ve never carried it since unless visiting New Scotland Yard. Most of the security guards know us at NSY, which helps. My mind feels lighter. A warrant card identifies who the bearer should be. How and when we use it is key.
I glance behind me and nod at Kat. She nods back and with that we both open up the throttle and enter the M1 straight to the third lane. She’s dispensed with leather trousers today and wears a pair of skinny jeans with calf-length boots. The other motorcycle I’d clocked doesn’t react. I’m left doubting whether they were following or not. My thoughts are left at the slip road as the needle hits the ton and any cars in front move into lane two. I have no time to see the drivers’ reactions as the needle increases and the ton becomes a hundred and twenty as I seek junction 6 and the exit slip road towards my digs and respite before the main event.
It isn’t an issue for me taking Kat. I won’t be there for long and the place has nothing that would give away any history about me. I see the junction’s countdown markers and, using a lorry in lane 1 as a block, I move across the three lanes and off onto the slip road. Kat has seen the move and does the same. We meet at the roundabout and stay in the nearside slip lane. She doesn’t acknowledge me and I do the same.
The route into Watford is without incident. With one final sweep around the block, I pull over in a private road that leads to a lock-up. I’m prepared to give this up now that Mike has requested my car. It had served its purpose and there are plenty more. I cut the engine and Kat does the same. The garage door is shut but unlocked. I’m glad my car is gone. It needed to move. It was becoming a burden. I turn the handle and the mechanism creaks. The door opens on an empty garage. We move the bikes in and leave the helmets.
The flat is a short walk away but for today we will use the rear fire escape to get in.
‘Glad you kept up. We’ll get a drink at mine and talk. I’ve lost the front door key so we’ll use the back.’
Kat is looking at her bike and checks herself in the mirror. ‘Whatever you say.’
I put on the kettle and watch Kat as she inspects the sparse living room. The curtains are drawn. She doesn’t attempt to look out over the street.
I liked Stoner for her simplicity, ease of conversation and company. Kat is like a bee sting, irritating and difficult to remove. I bring the cups into the living room and offer her the only seat as I grab a dining room chair. My days of sitting on the floor are done due to the length of time it would take me to get up. The one thing I’m conscious of in a fight is the need to stay on my feet.
I learnt the hard way in my probation. By the hard way I mean intervening in a public altercation between two brothers. One brother took exception and demonstrated this by throwing me over the roof of a stationary car. At that time my legs were in good fighting order but the ground arrived at speed along with the boots on either side of my body as they took their angst out on me.
In the end my shout for urgent assistance was answered and it took seven cops to extract the pair. It’s a lesson you have time to reflect on, especially when you’re under observation for two days in hospital. Since that day I trained in Wing Chun and now I know where to place my feet and move around an assailant with the minimum of fuss.
‘You haven’t lived here long, have you?’ Kat asks as she sits down and scans the room.
It has that appearance and for me is easier to explain away than have to lie through many fake photos of fake family, pets, and non-existent holidays. ‘I prefer a minimalist look.’
She doesn’t buy it. ‘There’s minimalist and non-existent. You’re at the extreme end. Must cost a bit in rent.’
I know the drill. Ask the personal questions and you get to know whom you’re dealing with or at least think you’re dealing with. I know our time is running out and this excursion will be nothing more than brief respite. Suits me fine as my time for company is on a meter and I’m out of cash.
‘It’s home to me and that’s what counts. Let’s cut the small talk and move on to the job in hand.’
Kat puts down her tea and crosses her legs. Her hands are both forward in an open gesture that suggests, I’m easy, get on with it then.
‘I don’t do joint work, so you’ll do as the last one and wait in the vicinity whilst I talk to the guy. I need eyes on the outside so I can get out if the heat’s turned up unexpectedly.’
She smiles. ‘By unexpectedly you mean a shot squad turns up and pebble dashes the masonry with 9mm shells? Yeah, I can be in the vicinity as you put it. When do we see Polish? We’re way out of London.’
‘We don’t. The less people know, the better. I’ll bring my own weapon to the party.’
She doesn’t like this and stands up. ‘Razor was fucking clear in his instructions to me! He expects them to be followed, as do I.’
‘Well, life’s full of little disappointments so try feeding that back to lover boy.’
She responds with a laugh that’s infectious in its tone. ‘You think the only reason he keeps me close is because I’m fucking him? Christ, you’re shallower than a desert puddle. I’m there because he has faith in my ability to look after him and protect him from tossers like you. Just remember how far you got across that dance floor with your unwilling charades partner. I had you and could have done more damage than a hurricane but he told me when he saw you on camera, up top, to make it look natural and get you into the VIP booth calmly. So shut the fuck up with the big I am. Let me know when we’re off and how you see it all going down. I’m back on tonight and need to change.’ She brings her speech to a close with a slug of tea.
Her hostile demeanour is growing on me. I go back into the kitchen and I can sense her eyes following me. This is confirmed as she follows me out.
‘Don’t panic I’m not getting a gun.’ I open the under-sink cupboard and take out a small lockable combination box. ‘Here’s a phone. This is the one we use from here on until the job’s done. You don’t call anyone else but me on this phone. Once the job’s complete I will call Razor. You put your phone in here and collect it once we’re back home and dry.’
I keep the box open and wait for her phone. She seems distracted by this move. I can tell there’s a part of her unwilling to cooperate. As quick as the thought arises, she takes out her phone and puts it in the box.
‘All of them.’
She reaches into her boot and withdraws another. Her mouth parts in a sarcastic smile as she throws it in. ‘I’ll need the combination, you know, in case you get blown away and I need to get my property?’
‘Sure, It’s zero, zero, zero. Should be easy enough for you to remember.’
With that I shut the lid. My phone vibrates with a WhatsApp message. It’s Mike.
Thanx for the motor. I’ve checked the oil and it’s good for the journey.
I now know the target is at the address and is going nowhere today.
‘That’s the confirmation I needed. Razor knows where the Turk’s laid up and he’s expecting a visit. The Turk believes an offer is being sent over to address his debt. Should make it easier to get in. We’re good to go.’
Kat shrugs and picks up the burner phone. ‘I best take a piss then. Where’s your toilet?’
I indicate along the corridor and she leaves. Whilst she’s gone I WhatsApp Mike.
Good. Look after it and I’ll be in touch.
It comes back delivered and then read. He’ll decipher the reply to mean I’ll let him know when the job’s done. He’ll know in a way befitting the situation he’s put me in. All’s fair in work and war.
I hear the toilet flush and Kat comes back out. There’s no hand towel and she emphasises this by drying her hands on her leathers.
‘Phone,’ I say.
She hands it over and I check the call and message lists. They’re empty.
‘Good. Let’s go.’
She takes the phone back and places it in her pocket. I visually check the back gardens before we exit via the fire escape. I can’t see any human surveillance from my side or Razor’s. I’m just hoping if my lot have people out, they have only covered the front thinking the back wasn’t easily accessed. My view was it was easily accessed as long as your neighbours worked during the day and wouldn’t see two people in motorcycle leathers worthy of police attention as they climbed garden fences.
We descend the stairs and traverse gardens until we’re back at the garages. Everything’s as we left it. A short space of time is all a team needs to lump a bike with a tracker. I reach into the roof eaves and bring out a scanner. Its appearance causes Kat’s eyebrows to rise.
‘We need to be sure we’re alone. I’ll run this over the bikes to be certain.’ I start the process.
‘I know what a scanner is. We’re the only ones who know what’s going on aside from Razor so why the wand? You’re making me nervous as to why someone like you would know this stuff and feel the need to have it about you.’
She’s taken a step towards her bike. I carry on with my sweep of the garage. I need to know Mike hasn’t arranged any surprises and that Little Chris hasn’t been told to conduct a covert modification without my knowledge. Late thought, I know.
‘You forget I have a bounty on my head, put there by a leading man in an Italian mob. I was also close to being carved in half by an automatic weapon so forgive me if you find this all a bit unnecessary, but I don’t give a shit as long as I get this job done, get paid, and leave in one piece.’
She says nothing and plays with the helmet chin strap. ‘What will you do once this is over? Razor has you on the firm’s payroll so freelance work seems to be out for you.’
Kat’s eyes catch a ray of sun through a hole in the brick. She squints and turns to face me. Her pupils calm and adjust. I struggle to maintain eye contact as I think of a reply. She has eyes that resonate compassion but change in response to a threat. Right now they are concerned with dispelling excess light.
‘One thing at a time. Let’s get this done then I can think about the next opportunity.’
‘Most blokes don’t see death as an opportunity for growth. You’re weird like that, but I like it.’
‘Most women don’t see protecting a self-opinionated, arrogant prick as a reasonable living. You’re weird like that and I’ve no opinion on it either way.’ I put the wand under my seat. Whilst I’m doing this I check what else I’m carrying and I’m satisfied I’m good to go. I shut the seat and ensure it’s locked on to the frame. It’s all clear. From here on in I have no idea how it will turn out.
She gets on her bike and wheels it back until she’s outside the garage door. I take one last look around, as I know I won’t need this place again. Before we start up the bikes I have one last word.
‘I’m going directly to the target. When I arrive, it will be straight up to the front door for me and in.’
She shrugs. ‘Let’s go then, shall we.’ She puts down her visor and we start the engines.
36
Swarms of pedestrians emerge from the underground, crowding the pavements and spilling out onto the road.
‘Operational Control to Winter.’
‘Go ahead,’ Winter says.
‘The Tactical Firearms Commander wants to know your ETA to the rendezvous point, over.’
‘Tell her I don’t know. We’re detouring due to a demonstration outside GCHQ. She must not, I repeat, must not, engage until I have confirmation of all subjects’ movements. This is to be a joint takedown of targets.’
‘All received by Control. I will contact her. At present all armed units are at a green alert state. Just so you know, it’s a demonstration against broader use of surveillance.’
‘Great. What’s happening with Hudson’s plot? My phone has no signal and I can’t contact him.’
‘I just got off the phone to him. The area is covertly sterile and awaiting Batford. He asked me to tell you he’s tried getting in contact with Alex Kennedy and the agreed answerphone message has been heard. He said you’d understand what that meant, over.’
‘Very well. In that case tell all units to remain vigilant and await further radio instruction. I have my laptop on and it’s secure. I want the helicopter feed sent to me now.’
‘Received, Control out.’
Winter sits back as the computer screen goes from a blinking cursor to an outside image. She looks closer. She can see a residential street and a top-down view of a terraced house. The street is devoid of foot traffic but vehicles pass by. Workmen lean against scaffolding. The helicopter is a mile away yet the image is as if it’s above the street and the target address. She sits back and waits for the next radio contact and gathers her thoughts as the unmarked Mercedes clears the protest and heads towards her destiny.
37
Mike wipes the sweat from his forehead and sits back in the passenger seat. He pulls the internal sun visor down, despite the day being overcast, and keeps his aviator shades on. He checks his watch and rubs his hands together. There’s five minutes to go before his contact arrives and his journey will continue. He throws the open sandwich box into the footwell, not caring it’s Batford’s car. Mike knows Batford’s fate. The last vehicle Batford will be in is a hearse. Mike stares out of the window and lets his mind churn over whether he’s done the right thing.
As he looks at the different tones of grey cloud that his shades create, he breathes rhythmically, trying to pacify himself that Batford’s death will be put down to another bad job by an overstretched police force. He knows he will come under scrutiny for sending an undercover officer into a potentially dangerous situation but he will deny all knowledge of where Batford was as he had never been informed.
There will be no phone records, as he will show the phone Batford gave him and there will be no data. Mike will claim he told him to use the phone they had always been using. The phone Mike was using will show contact between them both, therefore the assumption will be that Batford was acting as a rogue agent and was clearly corrupt. Razor was a genius in sending his enforcer along with Batford to finish off the job Batford wouldn’t see through. Her instructions are clear, take out Batford and the Turk.
A glance in the nearside mirror shows a motorcycle headlight. It grows in strength, across the glass before it disappears as the roar of the engine cuts out. A figure clothed in black leathers approaches, carrying a shoulder bag, the flap being brushed by the rider’s hand. Mike feels his back tense and he pushes back into the seat. The rear door opens and the bag gets thrown in. The helmet comes off and Razor stares across.
‘Bet you thought I’d never turn up.’
He smiles then belly laughs and strips away the leathers and throws them on the ground. His jeans and T-shirt are wet with sweat but he minds not. ‘Where’s the petrol?’ Razor asks.
‘In the boot.’
Razor pops the boot and takes out the green fuel can. He picks up his clothes and kicks them on the floor near the bike. He dashes the bike with petrol and once the can is empty, sets it by the bike. He gets in the driver’s seat and adjusts the seat’s position. ‘Nice touch, you blagging that fucker’s motor. You cops are all the same, no taste when it comes to cars.’
Mike smiles. ‘You’ve got the tickets?’
Razor leans over and opens up the bag. He hands Mike the tickets and a roll of notes.
‘All here, Mum. Once we’re in Greece we’ll have a couple of days at the rental then the meet is set up. Four days’ time we’ll be rolling in filthy lucre thanks to a dead Turk and taking over his line of business. This firm wanted a change anyway and I offer a better rate. Kat will call me once it’s done. She’ll make it look like a hit and Big G will get the first visit from your mob. It’ll be plain sailing. Good shout of yours to make that threat look real. Your dippy lot bought it good and proper. Shame my hired hands didn’t get Batford. Hey ho, we got the Turk’s son. Who’d have thought Batford wouldn’t take the bike to the job? Shame about the old dear though. Belt up. We’ve a plane to catch.’
Razor pulls on his belt and Mike does the same. Mike feels an emotion he hasn’t acknowledged since his mum died and does his best to kick it into touch. He coughs, spits out the open window, then bends down and throws the sandwich carton out for good measure. As they slowly pass the bike, Razor lights a cigarette, takes a draw then throws it out the window towards the engine. The embers spark and the fuel ignites. There are no plates and the engine number’s been ground off.
38
My visor steams up as we weave through Watford’s traffic and head towards Pinner. Pinner is my final destination before this work is retired and I can take a break. I lift the visor a centimetre and the view clears as I relax. It’s ground me down. I need to recharge. As I work the mirrors, keeping Kat in view while scanning for my lot and hostiles, I think of how I can spend some of the money. My accountant has been in touch and I’ve given instructions where to move my funds. He has access to my temporary banks and a good team to manage movement of money. After all, he supplied the units the cash sits in. I have everything in place and know I can make the time to get away. I know this because, as is tradition, I will disappear after this phase of the operation. Winter, Mike, and the Metropolitan Police can take a hike. I’m done and ready to cash in my investments.
The beauty of my work is that I travel light. I can ditch what I don’t need and replace it so easily. I manage on little. I’ve never been one for material goods – other than clothing. Even that’s on an “as required” basis. As the bike tyres connect with the uneven road surface, the scent of a petrol spill fills my nostrils. I move the bike to the right to avoid it. I look back and Kat has smelt it too and taken my route. I can’t say I’ll miss the city aroma other than the food.
