The Phoenix Series Box Set 3

by Ted Tayler

  Phoenix smiled.

  “One advantage of having time to sit and think is they often allow ideas to creep into my head. I was watching you swimming, and considering the exact problem you described. I’ve got the building bricks of a plan, we’ll get together later to see whether we can make a solid structure out of them.”

  “Glad to help,” said Rusty, grabbing Phoenix’s shoulder to push himself up from the floor. “Thanks, I need to shower and get changed.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” said Phoenix, “we can walk back together and discuss the mission on the way.”

  Rusty headed for the showers. Phoenix wandered to the exit whistling ‘Lean On Me’ by Bill Withers.

  “Not on your life,” Rusty called after him, “there’s life in the old dog yet.”

  *****

  While the two Olympus agents were walking across the lawns towards the old Manor house, two yards apart, Sean Walsh was at home in Kilburn. He was thinking through the things he had achieved so far towards the escape bid for his brother-in-law.

  He had arranged for the hire of four transit vans. Each of them from different garages, and none within thirty miles of where he lived. The men he contacted were connections he and Tommy had developed over the past two decades. Hard men, who were familiar with guns, and fond of committing a variety of robberies, with violence. Tommy couldn’t have found a better crew if he’d selected the men himself.

  The team was ready. Sean knew exactly what each man had to do and when for their audacious plan to succeed. So far, everything at been done at arm’s length. No meetings had taken place. The police couldn’t suspect a thing, there was nothing to suspect. He had been ultra-careful. As he ran through each step once more, Sean Walsh started to believe Tommy had a realistic chance of being a free man in the next few days. This plan really could work.

  Sean poured himself a glass of Jameson’s. He didn’t often drink this early in the evening. He needed the confidence a drink brought him. Sean knew there were two people who would take convincing he could manage something on this scale on his own.

  His sister, Colleen would find fault, she always did of late. At least he didn’t need to face her until Wednesday afternoon. Hugo Hanigan too would sneer at the simplicity of the methods he planned to use. Tommy always favoured brute force over finesse, and he had taught Sean everything he knew.

  Sometimes, it was best to stick to what you knew. Sean thought Tommy would approve, and if that happened, Sean would be a happy man.

  CHAPTER 11

  Tuesday, 10th June 2014

  Giles Burke brought news of the prison transfers to the morning meeting. Phoenix had told Athena of the plans he and Rusty had been discussing yesterday. She recognised the importance of the item and placed it at the top of the agenda.

  “What have you got for us, Giles,” she asked.

  “We established the route the prison van will follow. It’s unlikely it will alter throughout the week. Our drones followed the prisoners throughout their journey yesterday. Agents on the ground shadowed the van, either in front or behind, in unmarked vehicles. There are plenty of junctions to allow for changeovers. None of our drivers reported any problems. The prison van was unaware they were being watched.”

  “Did they have an escort?” asked Henry Case.

  “There were no escorting vehicles, Henry,” said Artemis. “Belmarsh used a cellular vehicle, like the one used in 2012. I’ve been brought up to speed on the role Olympus played in what was known at my police station as ‘The Case of the Disappearing Terrorists’. It was a great piece of theatre, rather like a David Copperfield magic trick.”

  “As you will recall,” said Giles, “the vans are designed to hold prisoners securely in individual cells. They are restrained by handcuffs. The driver and his mate occupy the front compartment. Two escorting officers were sat in the rear compartment on this trip. Their role is to observe the prisoners, maintain security, and handle any emergency. If the need arises, they will assist with the evacuation of the vehicle.”

  “Which roads did they take?” asked Athena.

  “They leave Belmarsh at ten o’clock, and join the M25, then they take the M11 ramp towards Cambridge and Stansted Airport. Around Huntingdon, it’s the A14, which they follow until they merge with the A1(M). Yesterday they stopped at Blyth Services around three hours into their journey. They travelled north again at two in the afternoon, and it was a quarter to four when they left the A1 at the exit for Sunderland, and Durham. They arrived at the prison shortly after four o’clock.”

  “We have people tracking today’s transfer I take it?” asked Henry.

  “What if something happens on today’s journey?” asked Alastor.

  “Phoenix asked me to trace the transfer documentation between the two sites. We now know who travelled yesterday, and the names of the prisoners to moving today. I expect to uncover the details for the rest of the week after we return to the ice-house.”

  “Was our man on today’s list?” asked Rusty.

  “He was not,” replied Artemis, “but I noticed a difference between today’s document and yesterday’s. I think they made a substitution, for what reason I can only hazard a guess, but someone who took a seat today was possibly originally scheduled for later in the week.”

  “As soon as we confirm who is moving when we need to move in,” said Rusty.

  “We’re ready to move tonight if our target is on tomorrow’s list,” said Phoenix. “Who knows, maybe he won’t be among the chosen few, anyway?”

  “What’s the scale of these transfers? I’m not sure why they feel the need to shuttle prisoners around the country,”

  “You’d be surprised, Henry,” replied Artemis, “around fifteen hundred people are transferred every week. Sometimes, people are moved because of overcrowding. The moves can have a damaging impact on prisoners being transferred. Sometimes people are moved from a prison they know to a busy prison where they feel less safe. The most common reasons for transfer are because someone’s security category has changed. Prisoners must be held in the lowest possible security category. A further reason is sentence progression. They might be moved closer to home, or to a prison where they can take a course that will prepare them for life on the outside, and reduce the likelihood they will re-offend. Like most things in life, it’s complicated.”

  “It seems to me transfers are inherently risky,” said Minos. “To move that volume of people throughout the year increases the risk to the public. Especially when you move convicted murderers and terrorists.”

  Athena had heard enough. This was old ground. Olympus couldn’t influence the way the authorities dealt with such issues. Their role was to clean up the mess caused by the shambles their policies left behind and reduce the volume of criminals contributing to the overcrowded prisons in the first place. A thankless task, but someone had to do it.

  “Thank you, Giles. We’ll let you and Artemis get back to work. As soon as you have the identities of the prisoners in the vehicles for Wednesday onwards, let Phoenix know. If today’s journey throws up an incident, let me know. It may be too late to prevent it, but I can alert our local agents to help in the aftermath, if possible. Please make sure the cars shadowing the Belmarsh vehicle don’t get spotted if an incident occurs. They must break off the operation and leave matters to the official authorities. Our local teams can stand by to act if an escaped prisoner needs to be intercepted, or to ensure public safety.”

  Wednesday, 11th June 2014

  Sean Walsh had made an early start. His first visit to the drinks cabinet had been straight after breakfast. He told himself that as he wasn’t drinking on an empty stomach, it would be fine.

  Today was going to be a nightmare. He was meeting Hugo at eleven, then collecting Colleen for the trip across to Belmarsh and a visit with Tommy. That was a triple whammy.

  He had lain awake half the night thinking through his plans. Was he being overconfident? Were there flaws in them Colleen and Hugo would spot imme
diately and tear him to shreds over? As he swallowed a large mouthful of Jameson’s he went over things once again.

  On the other side of the estate, Colleen stood by her front door. At long last, Sean had remembered to ask ‘a man with a van’ to put in an appearance. Colleen watched as the young driver, and his mate shoved the last few sticks of furniture onto the low loader. Everything was done. She handed the driver an envelope.

  “You don’t mind cash, do you?” she asked.

  “I prefer it, madam,” said the driver. “I get to keep more of it this way. Give me a shout if you need anything else done. Have you got my number?”

  Colleen looked at his tanned body, shown off to good effect with a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts.

  “I believe I do,” she said, giving him a smile, “but I’m busy today.”

  She closed the door and gazed around the house. If things went to plan later in the week, Tommy would be out of her hair. Next week, she could pay a visit to an upmarket furniture shop and look for new stuff for her penthouse. She could set aside another week for clothes and shoes for her new wardrobe. That gave her something to occupy her time until the day she moved.

  Colleen was feeling in a celebratory mood. She poured herself a glass of white wine, and made a toast, “Out with the old, in with the new.”

  *****

  Sean slipped the hip flask back into his inside pocket. He was in the lift heading up to Hugo Hanigan’s apartment. It was a minute before eleven. Despite the liquid fortification he had armed himself with, he was still nervous. The doors opened, and he was inside the penthouse.

  Hugo faced the doors, with his arms crossed over his chest. Not a great start, thought Sean.

  “Good morning, boss,” said Sean.

  “Is it, Sean? Really? News received from Portsmouth and Amsterdam would tend to disagree with that view. Our operations are being significantly disrupted by the police, on both sides of the English Channel.”

  Sean decided not to pass comment. He would let Hugo make the running. His head was fuzzy with the drinks he had on board. It would be too easy to say something which antagonised the boss. He waited.

  “Nothing to say, Sean?”

  Sean looked towards the windows. They were splattered with raindrops.

  “A passing shower,” he said, “not a storm.”

  “I hope you’re right, Sean,” said Hugo, “and have you masterminded the release of your brother-in-law yet?”

  “We’re seeing him this afternoon,” said Sean, “me and Colleen. Tommy was beaten up on Monday morning, he’s in the hospital.”

  Hugo gave a bitter laugh. Sean bit his tongue.

  “How the mighty are fallen, eh Sean?”

  “It helped give us more time to prepare,”

  “Where will he be living next week, Sean? If your plans come to fruition.”

  “With a following wind, he’ll be near La Romana, in the Dominican Republic.”

  “My word, you’re ambitious, Sean. When will the delightful Colleen, be joining him in paradise, have you planned that far ahead?”

  Sean hesitated. The way things had been with his sister since Tommy had been inside he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to get off this subject.

  “As soon as it’s safe, I suppose,” said Sean.

  “From what you told me earlier, he’s not even safe inside Belmarsh. He’s a marked man, Sean. It’s often the way. A hardened criminal gets caught, he’s put away, and a young thug seizes an opportunity to make a name for himself. Have you vetted every single man on your crew, Sean? Can you trust them? What if one of them sees Tommy as a shortcut to the top? I might view that man in a favourable light. More favourable than a bloody numbskull like Seamus McConnell, for example. You had better watch your back during this escape bid, Sean.”

  Hugo enjoyed ribbing Sean. He knew the poor chap hadn’t the brains to see he was joking. In truth, he couldn’t care less about Tommy, nor Colleen.

  “Well, if you think our problems will fade away over the coming weeks, and you’ve got a busy afternoon, I had better let you get going. I’ll see you on Friday, Sean.”

  “I’ll have to send Seamus, boss,” said Sean. “Friday could be awkward if you get my drift.”

  “Ah, you might be helping someone move to a new home, you mean? I follow you. Let’s leave it until Monday. You can tell me everything then. I couldn’t face an hour with the other eejit, it would fair spoil my weekend.”

  Hugo shook with laughter. Sean was relieved to get away without Hugo questioning him on further details of his plan. As he travelled in the lift, he wondered whether Hugo had been behind Tommy’s beating. The boss had long arms. Was Tommy’s life in danger, as Hugo suggested? When he reached the ground floor he had already started through the names of the men he had hired. Was Hugo right, had he unwittingly hired a gunman capable of killing his brother-in-law?

  In his penthouse, Hugo Hanigan still pondered the news affecting the Grid. Despite Sean’s insights, he wasn’t prepared to allow these deaths, and disappearances to continue. He resolved to call a meeting of the heads of the gangs that formed the network. It was a bold move.

  Hugo had talked to each of them individually, but never together. He had always contacted those furthest afield by phone, or video-call. He wanted their agreement to create a nationwide crime syndicate. The gangs wanted the Glencairn Bank to launder their ill-gotten gains. Hugo wasn’t interested in forming friendships or spending his evenings socialising with these people. They were the scum of the earth. Their only saving grace was in time they could help him control every criminal transaction that occurred from Land’s End to John O’Groats.

  There were risks in choosing this course of action. How could he be sure these villains behaved themselves when they gathered in the same room, certainly for the first time? There would be rivalries, old scores to settle. It might end up like the ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral’.

  Hugo spent the rest of the morning searching for ways to keep them on a tight rein. The current situation could not be allowed to continue. He convinced himself they would see sense. Either the gangs combined to eliminate any outside threat, or they cut out cancer eating at them from the inside.

  As Hugo dealt with the major issues in his criminal world, in South Kilburn Sean Walsh had his own problems. As soon as he arrived home he had needed another drink. He knew he ought to get food inside him, otherwise, he’d never be in a condition to drive to Belmarsh later. His wife watched him walking from his chair to the drinks cabinet.

  “Are you pissed, Sean,” she shouted. “You must be stupid to risk your licence this afternoon. Think what a danger to other road users you are if you get behind the wheel drunk.”

  “Shut up, woman,” Sean said, “and get my lunch. I’m going for a shower, then I’m off to collect Colleen. We’re visiting Tommy this afternoon.”

  As the water hit his head and body, Sean shivered. Not from cold, but from fear. There were so many things that could go wrong over the next few days. He had faced problems in the past, but Tommy had been there to support him. These days the responsibility fell on his shoulders. He couldn’t get through the day without a drink. His head cleared a little. Just one drink from his hip flask when he was in his car on the way to collect Colleen. That would fix him. He could get through the day, then treat himself to a bottle tonight.

  Sean drove to Colleen’s to collect her. He had taken a swig from the hip flask earlier than he had promised himself, but his wife wouldn’t stop moaning. He had had to remind her who brought the money into the house so she could enjoy a taste of the good life. The bruises on her body couldn’t be seen by the kids or her neighbours. When this week was over, and things were sorted, he would treat her to a holiday. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper. He was stressed.

  Colleen was stood on her doorstep waiting for him.

  “You’re cutting it fine, Sean,” she said as she sat beside him. “Do you want a mint or something? It might take away the smell of booze on
your breath.”

  “I’m fit to drive, sis, don’t you start,” he snapped.

  Sean drove them to Belmarsh. Neither of them spoke.

  When they had been passed by the reception committee, they went through to where Tommy was sat up in bed. He looked like crap.

  “Tommy,” said Colleen. “What did they do to you?”

  Her concern was genuine, despite everything. Tommy nodded at Sean.

  “Good to see you could spare the time to come and see me, Sean. First time since I’ve been in here. I should get beaten up more often. Tyrone and Rosie might come over then.”

  “Maybe they can come and see you without any hassle soon, Tommy,” said Sean.

  “What does the doctor think, Tommy?” asked Colleen.

  Tommy shifted position in the cot and they could both tell he was in pain.

  “I’m on the happy pills,” he said, “another twenty-four hours, and he reckoned I’ll be good to go.”

  “Is that definite?” asked Sean. “Only we’re good to go too.”

  “The bloke who took my seat yesterday was due to go on Friday. They won’t muck around anyone else. Unless I have a relapse, I’ll be in that van on Friday morning. The chaplain dropped by this morning to say my kit is packed ready and will be taken to the van by the escorts. I won’t return to my cell. I’ll go straight from here to the transport.”

  “Keep your head down, and be ready,” muttered Sean.

  “How long?” asked Tommy.

  “Thirty-five minutes into the journey,” said Sean.

  “You’re a pal, Sean,” said Tommy.

  “I’ll talk to the doctor,” said Colleen, “to make sure he still thinks you’ll be okay.”

  “Give my love to the kids,” said Tommy, “and I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Colleen smiled, and walked out of the cubicle, looking for someone who resembles a doctor. Tommy was still in dreamland. It must be the happy pills. If Sean’s plan worked, Tommy would be miles away by the end of the weekend, with no chance of returning to the UK. The conversations she’d had with Tyrone and Rosie suggested Tommy had no chance of them popping over to see him anytime soon.