“But you told me Miles had informed Christie’s that if they came up for auction, he would be bidding for them.”
“Only because he was well aware that he’d never have to. Like the deposit on the house, it was all part of an elaborate ploy. And I fell for it.”
“Then we’ve got to find the pictures and make sure he doesn’t get away with it.”
“It’s far too late for that. They’ll be halfway around the world by now.”
“Forgive me for asking,” said Beth, “but does that mean the gallery will have to return the Vermeer?”
“I don’t have any choice,” said Christina. “Otherwise I’ll lose my deposit on the house in Florida and be completely wiped out.” She paused. “Which is clearly what Miles had always planned.”
Beth didn’t speak for some time, until she eventually said, “Unless of course William was able to prove that Miles had removed the pictures before he burned the house down.”
* * *
“Do you by any chance have any contacts in the SAS, sir?”
“Thinking of joining up, William?” asked Hawksby, looking up from behind his desk.
“Not at the moment, sir.”
“Then why do you need to know?”
“I think I may have come up with a way to get into Rashidi’s slaughter without having to take the stairs or the lift.”
“When I did my national service,” said the Hawk, “my commanding officer was a Major Jock Stewart, who’d played scrum half for the army and boxed for the regiment. But his exploits as a young lieutenant with the SAS during the Second World War are the stuff of fiction. A cross between Biggles and Richard Hannay.”
“Sounds like the ideal man,” said William. “How do I get in touch with him?”
“You don’t get in touch with the SAS. They get in touch with you, and then only when they plan to kill you.”
“Very droll, sir. And if I don’t want to be killed?”
“Stewart ended up as a colonel in the Coldstream Guards, so their regimental adjutant will probably know how to contact him. But be warned. If he growls, start looking for some undergrowth.”
24
They had chosen the hour carefully.
He walked along the south wall of the cathedral until he reached the sacristy door. The choir had just sung Matins, and wouldn’t be back until the next service, a christening at two o’clock.
He turned the handle, pushed the heavy door open, and entered the cathedral. He knew exactly where he was going, but then he’d carried out this exercise several times before, and for several different supplicants.
“Good morning, my child,” he said, as he passed a cleaner in the corridor on his way to the vestry.
“Good morning, Father,” she replied, giving him a slight bow. He had learned over the years that if you look and sound as if you’re in your natural habitat, no one questions your presence.
He disappeared into the vestry, relieved to find the last chorister had left. He went straight to a cubicle that bore the name FATHER MICHAEL SEED, his confessor, and an old friend he had little in common with except that they were roughly the same size.
He removed his jacket and tie and replaced them with a long black cassock, a surplice, holy bands, and a dog collar that would transform him from a layman to a priest for the next hour. He felt a bit of a fraud, but he hoped the Almighty would forgive his transgression, and accept that it was for the greater good.
Glancing in the long mirror on the wall only made him feel even more guilty. He slipped back into the corridor, and made his way through the outer sacristy and into the nave. He kept a steady pace as he passed the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, having no desire to stop and talk to any of the parishioners, although he was well practiced at playing the part of a priest going about his pastoral duties should any of them question him.
When he reached a secluded corner below a bronze relief of St. Benedict, he stepped into the dark, cramped space, and settled down to wait to hear the confession of the only sinner he had an appointment with.
After a few moments the door to the confessional opened, and someone entered and sat down. He drew the red curtain.
“Good morning, Father,” said a voice he immediately recognized.
“Good morning, my son.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last confession, but my life has been in turmoil.”
“Is there any way I can help?” asked the commander, replying to the coded message.
“As you know, when I last attended confession, Father, Tulip was in hospital after swallowing a wrap of cocaine in an attempt to avoid arrest. I confess that I hoped he would die.”
“That is indeed a mortal sin, my son, but one with which, given the circumstances, I feel our Lord might have some sympathy.”
“In his absence I became a runner for several dealers, whose names I feel I must share with you, to atone for my transgressions.”
“May the Lord bless you and keep you.”
A slip of paper was pushed through the latticed screen. The commander took a quick look, and was delighted to find the names of several new sinners he hadn’t come across before.
“May the Lord have mercy on their souls,” he said, as he put the slip of paper into an inside pocket. “But have you located the Viper’s nest?”
“Tulip’s arrest for the murder of Adrian Heath created a vacancy in the hierarchy, Father, and I was promoted, which happens fairly regularly when you’re on a battlefield.”
“And?”
“Block A, Mansfield Towers, Lavenham Road, Brixton,” came back the immediate reply.
“That confirms our own intel. Am I also right in thinking that Rashidi’s headquarters are at the top of the building?”
“The top three floors. The twenty-fifth floor is where they grow the cannabis. The twenty-fourth is where the drugs are prepared for the street dealers. Heroin, cocaine, Ecstasy tablets, and cannabis.”
“And the twenty-third?”
“The distribution center. Where the dealers pick up their supplies and hand over their takings.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“Rashidi has four deputies. All of them are on the list I just gave you: a disbarred lawyer, a disqualified accountant, a doctor who’s been struck off the medical register, and a former sales manager who was sacked by John Lewis for embezzlement. He makes so much money now he no longer needs to embezzle. Rashidi also has a second-in-command, but I haven’t managed to find out his name or where he lives, but I’m fairly sure it’s not in the building. The whole operation is as well run as any City institution.”
“And the security?”
“He has four lookouts watching the building at all times. There are two entrances to the slaughter on the twenty-third floor; the front door, which is made of reinforced steel, only opens from the inside, and has a grille so the gatekeeper can check on anyone who wants to come in. The doors are protected by a New York stop, a safety device invented by the Mafia to keep out any unwelcome visitors. However, that’s not your biggest problem. Rashidi doesn’t use that door. He has his own private entrance and exit.”
The commander didn’t interrupt the confession.
“Blocks A and B are joined by a walkway on the twenty-third floor. Rashidi has a large flat on the twenty-second floor of Block B, so at the slightest hint of trouble, he can be well out of harm’s way before anyone can reach the front door of the slaughter.”
“What about the lift?”
“Takes forty-two seconds to reach the twenty-third floor, and is permanently manned by a thug called Pete Donoghue, who’d be on his way up to the slaughter the moment any of the four lookouts spotted anything suspicious. Long before the firearms team had run up twenty-three flights of stairs, broken down the reinforced steel door, and forced their way into the slaughter in Block A, Rashidi would be watching television in his flat in Block B, and wouldn’t come out again until the coast was clear.”
“What about hi
s workers?”
“Most of them are illegal immigrants and petty criminals, who Rashidi accommodates in squalid little flats in Block A. If there was any trouble, they’d have to leave by the front door, so you might catch a few of his minions on the way down, but not Rashidi or his right hand.”
“How often does Rashidi visit the slaughter?”
“He goes there to collect the cash between eight and midnight every evening from Monday to Thursday. He’s always accompanied by two armed ex-cons, who make sure no one gets introduced to their boss unless they have an appointment.”
“I need to know who owns the two blocks,” said the commander.
“I have no way of finding that out, sir, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Rashidi himself. He’s resourceful and well organized enough, and like all sociopaths, wouldn’t care if you killed his best friend. Come to think of it, I’m not sure he has any friends.” He paused for a moment before saying, “I have nothing more to confess, Father.”
“Thank you, Ross,” said the commander. “You’ve given me and the team more than enough ammunition to move on to the next phase of our plan.”
“And there’ll be more where that came from, sir, because I’m determined to be there on the night of the raid. Let me know when you’ve settled on a date.”
“Will do. But don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’ve done more than enough. The moment you want out, just say the word. An inspector’s position has come vacant in Hackney, and I’d be happy to recommend you.”
“I’m not sure I could handle being back in uniform, after all this time.”
“That’s understandable. But if you change your mind, let me know via the usual channels.”
“Will do, sir,” said Ross. “But I’m hoping you’ll personally arrest me when the boys raid the slaughter.”
“Nice idea, but I’ll leave Choirboy to do that.”
“Will I recognize him?”
“You won’t be able to miss him,” said the Hawk, with a grin Ross couldn’t see from the other side of the screen. “You’d better leave now, and I’ll hang around for a couple of minutes. And Ross, I know it’s inadequate, but once again, thank you.”
The Hawk heard the door swing open and close. He was thinking about how he could get his men all the way up to the twenty-third floor before Rashidi had time to escape, when a voice said, “Father, I have sinned, and seek the Lord’s forgiveness.”
Help, the Hawk wanted to say, you’re not my type of sinner. But he satisfied himself with, “How have you transgressed, my son?”
“I covet my neighbor’s wife.”
“And have you had carnal relations with her?”
“No, Father, but the Bible tells us the thought is as wicked as the deed.”
Then I’m guilty of several murders, thought the Hawk, including Faulkner and Rashidi among my hypothetical victims. “Indeed, my son. You have committed a grievous sin, and you must reject the temptations of the devil and dismiss these unworthy thoughts from your mind.”
“And if I can’t, Father? Will I be cast into eternal darkness and everlasting damnation?”
“No, my son. Not if you repent your sins and return to the path of righteousness. Hail Mary, Mother of God…”
“Thank you, Father,” said a relieved voice, before the door opened and closed again.
The Hawk didn’t waste another moment, as he had no desire to deal with any more unscheduled sinners. He scurried out of the confessional box and almost ran through the outer sacristy on his way back to the vestry, but he had to slow down when he saw the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster heading toward him. He fell to one knee and kissed his ring. The cardinal made the sign of the cross and said, “Tell me, commander, have you been about God’s work?”
“I believe I’ve saved one sinner today, Your Grace,” he replied.
“Then let us hope your reward will be on earth, my child, as well as in heaven.”
* * *
“In view of MM’s latest revelations,” said the Hawk when he chaired the next team meeting, “the commissioner has given us the green light. We can call on any resources within the Met’s remit, and we’ve even got a realistic budget. However, there’s one proviso.”
“There always is,” said Lamont.
“The commissioner insists that our priority is to catch Rashidi and his inner circle, while at the same time securing enough evidence to put them away until they’re old men. Simply closing down his drug factory and catching a few runners, even dealers, won’t be enough. Rashidi’s well capable of just walking away and opening up in another part of town within weeks, possibly days. He’s probably got a second factory already set up for just that purpose. Bring me up to date, DS Warwick, on where we are with the investigation.”
“DC Adaja and I have been working on the ground in Brixton for the past few weeks,” said William.
“That would explain why you’re both unshaven and look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward.”
“Got to blend in with the locals,” said Paul.
“Not only have we confirmed the block where the slaughter is situated,” said William, “but thanks to MM’s detailed intel—and by the way, I apologize forever doubting him, sir, because if Jackie and I had arrested him and Tulip in Felixstowe, we’d still be picking up the pieces and—”
The commander waved a hand. “Let’s get on with the here and now, DS Warwick, and forget the past.” He winked at Jackie, before William continued. “I’ve visited a couple of local estate agents to find out if I can rent a flat in Block A, so I could come and go without raising suspicion. But it’s not possible, because it turns out that the building is registered in the name of a shell company, probably owned by Rashidi.”
“However, there are two unoccupied flats in Block B,” said Paul, “that are rented by Lambeth council. One of which would be ideal for what we have in mind.”
William got up from the table and walked over to a large whiteboard covered in diagrams, arrows, and photographs, one of which showed two tower blocks with a walkway running between them.
“The flat I have in mind is on the twenty-third floor, not far from the walkway.”
“Good work,” said the commander. “However, it should be DC Adaja, not you, DS Warwick, who rents the flat, because if he can sneak some of our men in unobserved, when Rashidi attempts to escape across the walkway, he’ll find a welcoming party waiting for him.”
“Unobserved could be a problem, sir,” said William. “We’d need at least half a dozen men to arrest Rashidi and take out his bodyguards, and it won’t be easy to get a full firearms division up to the twenty-third floor of Block B before Rashidi has time to escape. But I’ll come to that later.”
“What about the roof?” asked Jackie. “Is that another way he could escape?”
“Unlikely,” said Paul. “The only way he could get out would be via the fire escape and he’d meet us on the way up while he was coming down.”
“No,” said William, “the walkway will be his preferred escape route, because once he’s in his flat in Block B, there’ll be no way of linking him with anything that’s going on in the next-door building.”
“What about the thug who mans the lift in Block A?” said Hawksby, taking a closer look at the detailed diagram pinned to the wall. “Can we disarm him and take over the lift?”
“Pete Donoghue,” said William, pointing to a photograph of a man who could have played an extra in The Sweeney without bothering to use makeup.
“He’s served time for GBH and armed robbery,” said Lamont. “Last time he was arrested it took three officers to hold him down while I handcuffed him.”
“You can’t get anywhere near the lift without him checking you out,” said Paul. “Several of Rashidi’s workers would prefer to take the stairs rather than share a lift with that thug.”
“Even if you could make it to the lift, there are always lookouts posted here, here, here, and here,” said William, pointing t
o four crosses on the street plan. “If one of them has any doubts about you, the lift disappears to the twenty-third floor, and doesn’t return to the ground floor until the all-clear’s been given.”
“Like an air-raid siren during the last war,” said the Hawk, showing his age.
“I’ll take your word for that, sir,” said Paul.
“How did you manage to pick up so much information without being spotted by one of the lookouts?” asked the Hawk, ignoring the comment.
“Regular journeys on the top decks of buses, sir,” said William. “Numbers 3, 59, and 118 pass by the two blocks several times an hour.”
“In fact,” said Paul, “the number 118 stops right outside Block A, which is how we’ve been able to pinpoint where the lookouts are posted. I’ve also identified several dealers, because they are the only ones allowed to head for the lift without being questioned. But I still can’t risk getting off the bus in the close vicinity of what is virtually a fortress.”
“How long would it take for a unit of armed officers to reach the twenty-third floor if they couldn’t make it to the lift in time?” asked Lamont.
“MM did it in seven and a half minutes,” said Jackie, “but remember, the lift can get there in forty-two seconds, giving Rashidi more than enough time to escape across the walkway and be back in his flat long before the first officer would reach the front door.”
“So how do we get to the twenty-third floor in under forty-two seconds?” demanded Lamont.
“I think William may have come up with the answer to that question,” said the Hawk.
25
“My sincere condolences, Miles, on the loss of your unique collection. I know how much those pictures meant to you, and for them to be destroyed in such a cruel way must be devastating.”
“Thank you, BW. I appreciate your concern,” said Faulkner, trying to sound devastated.
“I know of course that you had planned to buy back Limpton Hall, and in time—”
Hidden in Plain Sight Page 21