by Ted Tayler
“Difficult to say. The post-mortem will be key. We need to get hold of those results as soon as possible, to understand the nature of the misdirection we must spread to achieve the outcome we prefer.”
“You had better get ready for Portsmouth, darling,” Athena said, “Rusty will have finished shopping. I’ll keep on top of things here and follow up on how Simon got on. You must meet up with our Southampton crew, avenge our agents, and come home safe.”
Phoenix left the main building and walked across the lawns. He had passed the stable-block when he spotted Rusty by the entrance to the ice-house. His pal was struggling. There were no supermarket trolleys in the armoury. He had to manhandle the items into the lift, then transfer them to the boot of the car. Phoenix slowed his walk. No rush, Rusty was almost done.
“Are we good to go?” he asked when he reached the car.
“Would you drive, while I get my breath back?” asked Rusty.
“Old age doesn’t come alone, does it?” laughed Phoenix. He caught the keys that Rusty threw, and they were on their way.
Two hours later they were in Cosham. They waited in the same place as before. In minutes, Frank Bolano had joined them. He had three other agents waiting in his van.
“Run me through the background we have on our targets again, Frank,” said Phoenix.
“These three played a major role in the murder of our undercover agents. Konstandin Elizi is forty-seven years old. He is the head of the gang. He arrived in the UK eighteen months ago. His criminal record should have excluded him, but he appealed on the basis his life was in danger if he was returned to Kosovo. The authorities swallowed that, and he repaid them with violence and intimidation. Dalmat Januzaj is his second-in-command, he is thirty-nine years old. He was one of the gunmen who murdered our boys. The third man and the second shooter is thirty-six years old Egzon Lumani. He works as the gang’s fixer. When any of the women they’ve smuggled in step out of line, Lumani roughs them up or rapes them. He’s a nasty piece of work.”
“No great loss then?” said Rusty.
“That goes for all three, Rusty,” replied Frank. “The Albanians control prostitution in the Portsmouth area now, no matter how hard the home-bred criminals believe they are. Some of the individuals concerned, such as Lumani, are capable of extreme violence. It’s the trademark of Albanian gangsters. The crime families first arrived in the UK in the aftermath of the Kosovo war at the end of the last century. The families are relatively small but strongly bonded by a code of honour and blood feuds. As they have made their way across Europe over the last fifteen years they’ve fought for control with groups as tough as the Italian Mafia and always come out on top. These are serious guys to mess with.”
“Guess what?” said Phoenix. “From this month Albania become fully integrated into the European Union. Does it really make sense to let these criminals have free movement across the whole of Western Europe?”
“Too late to moan now,” said Rusty, “the beggars are here. It’s up to us to thin out the worst of them.”
“I intend to,” said Phoenix.
CHAPTER 8
Frank Bolano returned to his van and led Phoenix onto, and along the M275. The two vehicles eased their way through early evening traffic as they drew closer to the city centre.
“This paints a similar picture to the one we see in London, doesn’t it?” said Rusty.
“I know what you mean,” said Phoenix, “look at the streets we visited last night. Decent houses, selling for eye-watering prices, bordering on streets with national monuments, museums and beautiful parks. Half a mile away lie the council estates, full to bursting with thousands of families on the breadline. Half the boroughs in London have that contrast on their doormat, and yet they crow about the fact they’re part of a culturally diverse multi-national community. Talk about rose-coloured glasses.”
“Every major city in the UK suffers from the same issues,” said Rusty.
“They don’t have to worry about the house prices as much up north,” said Phoenix. “The gap between the rich and poor might be less, but it’s still as real.”
The two agents looked out onto the streets they passed. Portsmouth was a city in decline. Money may have been spent on things such as the Spinnaker Tower and Gunwharf, but many parts of the city were little better than a toilet. The drive from North End through Fratton was one of total misery. On either side of the street, they saw boarded-up shops and graffiti. There were money-lenders, charity shops, and ethnic supermarkets dotted liberally every few hundred yards. Idle teenagers wandered pavements and gathered on every street corner. Phoenix and Rusty noted that each corner was defined by its nationality. The idle poor were males, either Eastern Europeans, Kosovans or Iraqi Kurds. The Kurds were most likely refugees or convinced someone on the Council they qualified.
“Remember that job we did in Chiswick in March?” asked Phoenix.
“What, McTierney and his mob?” asked Rusty.
“The people he had working for him, they used teenagers. Some of them as young as fourteen. It was part of the expansion programme they were operating, spreading the misery from London to the provinces. Portsmouth was one city they targeted. These kids brought the drugs here on the train. It brings a whole new meaning to an away day, doesn’t it?”.
“When you look around you, it’s easy to see why they thought they had a marketing opportunity,” said Rusty.
Frank Bolano’s van was indicating left. They followed him into the car park for Tamworth Park. Once they parked alongside one another, Frank and Phoenix got out and sorted out their next moves.
“What brings us out to this side of the island?” asked Phoenix.
“Don’t laugh,” said Frank, “it’s Elizi. He’s due here for his health. He’s got a penthouse suite on Gunwharf Quays which cost him six hundred grand. That’s a thirty-minute drive away from here. Over the road, is the NHS Treatment Centre where he’s booked in for a heart scan at nine in the morning. He’ll have a driver bring him across and wait for him to run him home afterwards. I reckon this will be a better place to collect Elizi.”
“I agree,” said Phoenix, “the hospital car park will be busy, but it has plenty of cover. We’ll let him go inside, neutralise the driver, and then accompany him on his onward journey. How many people are you using?”
“Two agents,” said Frank.
“You and another experienced hand?” asked Phoenix.
Frank nodded. Phoenix was happy.
“Where do we find the other two?” he asked.
“It’s possible that Januzaj will be the driver. Elizi has more than one lieutenant, but dropping in for a heart scan might be seen as a sign of weakness. He wouldn’t want to give his senior people any ideas. If someone else is designated driver, then we’ll find Januzaj in the club by the Guildhall. He’ll have gang members surrounding him inside, so we need to wait until he’s outside and on the move. We know where Lumani lives on Milton Road, but if there’s a problem to fix, he could drive anywhere from one end of the south coast to the other.”
“So, we’ll wake him up early, before he has a chance to choose what he’s doing tomorrow,” said Phoenix. “Leave that to us.”
“My other two agents will be at one of our safe houses on the outskirts of Southampton,” said Frank. “I’ll text you the details later tonight. Let’s get you a place to sleep tonight. The two houses we used for our undercover boys are still on our books. You can use the nearest one if that’s okay?”
“I’m not superstitious,” said Phoenix.
“Follow me then,” said Frank. “It’s a mile from here.”
An hour later the Southampton crew left for home. Phoenix and Rusty settled in for the night.
“Here’s the folder with everything you need to know about the gaff where Lumani lives. Get an early night because we’ll be knocking on his door at dawn.”
Rusty studied the pictures, read through the detailed notes, and cleaned his guns, checked his ammunition.
He was ready; as he headed for his bed, he looked across at Phoenix. He was staring into space. Rusty knew he was going through every step of tomorrow’s action.
“Goodnight,” he called, but his friend didn’t hear him.
Wednesday, 4th June 2014
The first strike of the big red key was at five o’clock; the streets were deserted. The noise sounded loud enough to wake the dead. Egzon Lumani was roused from a heavy sleep by his back door crashing against the kitchen wall when it burst open. He was out of bed in seconds. The gun he kept on his bedside table was in his hand. He stood near the top of the stairs, waiting and listening. Anyone coming upstairs would be dead before they reached halfway. He was a veteran, not a wet behind the ears kid to be caught napping.
The hallway sounded eerily quiet. He could hear someone creeping around downstairs. They were in the lounge. Was it only a break-in? A local druggie who didn’t know who lived at this address? Lumani edged closer to the half-wall of the landing. He risked a quick peek over the top to see if his intruder was on his way up, or pissing off home.
He raised his gun and looked downstairs. There was nobody there.
He could hear a voice from the lounge. The guy was talking to someone on his bloody mobile phone. Cheeky bastard. Lumani stood exposed at the top of the stairs, poised ready to fire. He shouted: -
“What game do you think you’re playing? Get out while you can. Don’t you know who you’re messing with?”
Phoenix had climbed up onto the next-door neighbour’s roof and edged his way into position. While Rusty distracted their target and messed with his head downstairs, he was lowering himself to start work on the extractor fan in the bathroom window.
With his feet braced against the brickwork, he had secured a neat square hole. Egzon Lumani heard the sound of the unit as it struck the pathway. As he turned around, he saw a dark shape and the barrel of a gun.
The bullets that ripped into his chest from the Sig Sauer P226 ended the fixer’s life before he got the answers to his questions.
Phoenix was already on his way to the ground. Rusty met him by the back door.
“A quick tidy-up, and we can be off,” said Phoenix.
Within a minute they had Lumani’s body in the boot and were driving towards Tamworth Park.
“We’ve got time to wait until Elizi turns up for his appointment,” said Rusty.
“It’s a quiet spot, you can get your head down for an hour or two if you wish,” said Phoenix.
“You’re pretty cool,” said Rusty. “There were several things that might have gone wrong back there.”
“Such as?”
Rusty counted off the problems on his fingers.
“The neighbour could have heard you on the roof, the extractor fan might have been impossible to remove. The bathroom door could have been closed. Lumani might have fancied his chances against one man and charged downstairs to confront me. Where was my back-up? Hanging around outside.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” chuckled Phoenix. “I must remember to include all the details in the notes I give you to read. Preparation is everything, Rusty. Frank’s people checked up on the old girl who lives next door; she’s stone deaf. Statistics on bathroom doors suggest they’re closed ninety-nine per cent of the time someone is inside using the facilities. In domestic households, the same percentage applies in reverse; it’s open so everyone knows it’s vacant. As for the extractor fan, it’s amazing what a boon YouTube videos can be. I sat up late last night watching one a dozen times after you went to bed. Most people remove them from inside the house because it’s easier, I grant you, but lateral thinking and the odd adjustment can achieve the same end. If Lumani had gone downstairs, you would have done what you always do, you would have coped. I can’t keep doing this on my own, as you keep telling everyone.”
Rusty caught the inference of the last comment.
“What, you knew?” he asked.
“I’ve been aware of my tendency to overdo things, and not to delegate for a while, Rusty. The fact people care is much appreciated.”
Rusty decided he’d lost yet another argument with Phoenix. Nothing changed. They were soon parked close to Tamworth Park. With the dawn chorus in full swing and a peaceful countryside around them, Rusty settled into his seat and nodded off to sleep.
Phoenix called Giles in the ice-house. He hoped to catch him before he got stuck into his daily tasks. The morning shift began at six am, Artemis and the others would be there, working alongside him. Their responsibility was the never-ending gathering of data for Olympus. The knowledge that enabled agents to complete missions such as this morning with apparent ease.
“Giles? Good morning. Do we have any news on the autopsy report for Dawn Prentice yet?”
“I expect to get hold of a copy by noon today, Phoenix,” replied Giles.
“Good,” said Phoenix. “I’ll get back to you after we’ve completed this morning’s work. One down, two to collect.”
Phoenix ended the call and after seeing his friend fast asleep beside him, closed his eyes and attempted to relax. A tap on the window of the car awoke him with a start.
“Rise and shine, Phoenix,” said Frank Bolano.
“What time is it,” asked Phoenix, stretching his stiff limbs. Clambering around on rooftops in your mid-forties was not recommended. Beside him, Rusty too stirred from his slumber.
“Twenty-five to nine,” replied Frank, “Elizi is on his way. Januzaj is his driver today, so we’re in luck. Everything went to plan this morning in Milton Road I gather?”
“No worries,” said Rusty. Phoenix smiled to himself.
“Any changes to how you want to play this, Frank?” asked Phoenix.
“Can you two be on hand when I need back-up? If so, my other two lads can head off towards Southampton and get things ready to receive visitors to the safe-house.”
“Send them to us first. They can take Lumani. We’ll stay here until you give us the call. No sense taking up valuable parking space at the hospital. Try not to shoot anyone and put extra pressure on an already stressed A&E Department.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Frank Bolano.
A second Olympus van arrived and reversed up behind Phoenix’s car. Lumani’s body was transferred. Phoenix and Rusty watched the agents leave. They wouldn’t have long to wait.
At ten to nine, a Lexus glided into the car park. Frank and his agent Curwen watched from their van. Curwen got out and opened the rear doors. He lowered a ramp from the interior, climbed into the back and moved a wheelchair into position. Curwen and the chair were on the tarmac inside a minute.
Konstandin Elizi got out of the Lexus by the entrance door. The gang boss wasn’t one to walk too far. His lieutenant could waste ten minutes hunting for a vacant bay. Januzaj moved off to begin his circuit of the car park. He stopped at a pedestrian crossing to allow a guy pushing a wheelchair to cross.
Januzaj spotted a space and reversed into it. He had a good view of the entrance. All he had to do was spot his boss, and drive round to collect him. It wouldn’t take long. The hard bit to estimate was how long after his appointment time Konstandin would actually get seen.
Curwen noted the number of the space occupied by the Lexus and passed the details on to Frank Bolano. He continued pushing the wheelchair through the entrance door and followed the signs to reception and waiting areas.
Elizi had registered that he was here, and on time. The staff asked him to wait to be called. Curwen parked his wheelchair on the end of the row of chairs where Elizi sat and joined the queue for the desk. He informed the girl he was directed to that he was waiting to return Mr Elizi to his car. Problems associated with the pre-existing condition that necessitated his heart scan meant he had difficulty walking long distances. The girl seemed happy that she didn’t have another problem to handle, and Curwen moved away from the counter and took a seat directly behind the gang boss.
Frank Bolano still sat in the driver’s seat of the Olympus van.
“We’ll drive around the car park as if we’re hunting for a place to park,” said Phoenix, “then stop right in front of the Lexus. Point us in the right direction when you see us arrive. We’ll be with you in two minutes.”
“I know this goes against your nature, but could you two have a domestic? Perhaps get out of the car and push and shove one another. While Januzaj is distracted I’ll move in.”
“That will work, Frank,” said Phoenix. “Rusty, can you get in touch with your feminine side?”
Rusty gave Phoenix a glare.
“Are you having a go at my Scottish ancestry?” he snapped.
Phoenix stood on the brakes. He leapt out of the front seat. Rusty got out of the passenger door, slamming it behind him. Dalmat Januzaj stared through his windscreen at the two middle-aged fools, squaring up to one another.
“Well, you guys have been known to wear skirts,” said Phoenix.
“A kilt,” said Rusty, “aye, I’ve worn the kilt on ceremonial occasions. Never a skirt.”
“They say people with red hair have a short fuse,” said Phoenix, pushing Rusty back towards the Lexus.
Frank Bolano had silently slipped behind the Lexus and was poised just behind the driver’s door. Phoenix grabbed Rusty and with his arm across his throat shoved him onto the bonnet of the Lexus and pinned him down.
Januzaj sounded the horn. Then he shouted at the two men. He threw his door open and got out, his face as black as thunder. Frank Bolano had him in a chokehold in seconds. Januzaj slid to the floor unconscious. Rusty and Phoenix helped secure him with ties and bundled him into the boot of their car. Frank injected him with a dose of morphine.
“You two can certainly put on a show,” said Frank.
“Who says he was acting?” said Phoenix.
“We’ll meet you back at the safe-house,” said Frank. “Elizi will be in there for a while yet. Curwen told me the hospital is running late.”