Cave picked up a menu. ‘Are we eating?’
Shepherd woke a few seconds before his alarm was due to go off. He rolled over, killed the alarm and padded to the bathroom to shave and shower. His plan was to head to Thames House and spend the morning going through MI5’s database to see what intel was available on Albanian drug gangs. As he climbed out of the shower and grabbed a towel, he noticed he had missed a call. His first thought was that it was Katra, but it was Jimmy Sharpe. He returned the call and went through to the kitchen where he had already made himself a coffee. Sharpe answered. ‘Spider, we’ve got a problem. Harry has received a text telling him to go to an address in Kilburn.’
‘A text from who?’
‘The text came on Swifty Taylor’s phone. It just has an address and a time.’
‘He can’t go, obviously.’
‘SIO says he should, but under surveillance.’
‘Razor, Taylor’s dead. This is a trap.’
‘How can it be a trap? There’s nothing to be gained in doing anything to Harry, he’s just a mule.’
‘They could just do what they’ve always done and tell him where to meet to pick up the bag. This is new, right?’
‘It’s new. Yes. But the way I read it is that they just want to talk to him. Maybe they’re going to explain the new regime to him. And if they do, and if we get that on tape, then we’re well on our way to making a case.’
‘And if that tape is put into evidence, they’ll know it was down to Harry. The plan was to get the case open and shut so that Morris and his crew would all plead guilty without a court case.’
‘We can do the same with whoever is taking over.’
‘Razor, I’m getting a bad feeling about this. The plan was to pull Harry out as soon as possible and now it’s looking open-ended.’
‘I get what you’re saying. And Cave is aware of your worries. But the Met’s prime concern is to nail Frenk Kriezis.’
‘So they’ll be happy to break a few eggs if it means making an omelette.’
‘Fuck me, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed today,’ laughed Sharpe. ‘Anyway, what’s done is done. Harry will be on the two o’clock train to Paddington.’
‘You’ll be following him?’
‘We’ll have people on the train and the Underground but I’ll be going ahead. I could meet you in Kilburn.’
‘We need at least one ARV on standby, Razor.’
‘Exactly what the SIO said. He’s arranging it.’
‘And I’d be happier if we had a couple of plainclothes SFOs in attendance.’ Specialist firearms officers were trained to a higher level than the Met’s regular authorised firearms officers and were used in siege situations and to respond to terrorism threats.
‘I’ll tell him.’
Shepherd sighed. It didn’t look as if there was any way that he could prevent Harry from attending the meeting. The most he could do was to protect him to the best of his ability. ‘What vehicle were you planning to use?’
‘The Jag.’
‘Bloody hell, Razor, a bright red Jag?’
‘I won’t be parking outside, will I? Give me a break.’
‘I’ll get an office vehicle,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’d like to be in close and it’ll have state-of-the-art comms and video.’
‘That’ll work.’
Shepherd sighed. ‘That’s what you wanted in the first place, isn’t it?’
Sharpe chuckled. ‘Aye, you know me so well.’
Jimmy Sharpe found a metered parking space for his Jaguar and walked the short distance to the building where Harry Dexter was due to turn up. The Openreach van was parked opposite the building. As he walked towards it, Sharpe shifted his glance between the building and the pavement ahead of him. There were blinds down at the window and nobody seemed to be looking out. Nor did there seem to be any heavies standing outside the building.
They were in a side street off the main Kilburn High Road. There were few pedestrians and no one was paying Sharpe any attention. He was wearing a black reefer jacket and a wool cap and as he walked he pulled on a fluorescent high-vis jacket. The high-vis jacket was the ultimate camouflage, no one ever paid any attention to a man wearing one.
He reached the rear of the van and the back door opened just as he was about to knock. He climbed in. Shepherd was sitting on a plastic stool in front of a bank of monitors, most of which were blank. There were two other men also sitting on stools. One was middle-aged, wearing overalls and a headset. The other was younger with close-cropped hair, wearing a black nylon bomber jacket that was unzipped to reveal the butt of a pistol in an underarm holster.
Shepherd pulled the door closed and nodded at a spare plastic stool. ‘This is Craig Bird, he’s an SFO,’ said Shepherd, nodding at the armed cop.
‘The gun gives it away,’ said Sharpe. He shook hands with the firearms officer. ‘Are you here alone?’
‘We’ve another SFO kitted out as a street-sweeper,’ said Bird.
‘And there’s an ARV parked up two minutes away,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’re too visible to have them any closer.’ He nodded at the man in the headset. ‘This is Matty Clayton. He’s handling the video feed. We have four cameras giving views all around the van, but the only one we’re interested in is the one of the building.’ He pointed at one of the monitors. It was showing the front door of the building and the window to its left.
Sharpe’s phone beeped to indicate that he had received a text message. He took it out and looked at the screen. ‘Harry has just arrived at Paddington station,’ he said. ‘He’ll get the Bakerloo Line up to Kilburn Park so he’s ten, maybe fifteen minutes away.’
‘We’ll see him on the GPS map,’ said Shepherd, pointing at one of the screens which showed a map of their area of London. ‘While he’s on the Underground we don’t have a signal but as soon as he’s above ground his phone will show up here.’
Sharpe put the phone away. ‘Do we have any idea who’s in the house?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘Matty’s been here since ten and no one has gone in or out.’
‘So no way of knowing how many are inside?’
Shepherd shook his head.
Sharpe sat back and looked around the van. ‘This is all very hi-tech, isn’t it?’
‘We’ve got video coverage on all four sides and state-of-the-art comms,’ said Shepherd. ‘And no one looks twice at an Openreach van. They’re always out and about.’
‘What do you do if you need to pee?’ asked Sharpe.
‘Do you?’ asked Shepherd.
‘It’s a hypothetical question.’
Shepherd grinned and held up an empty plastic water bottle.
‘I’ll try to hold it in,’ said Sharpe. He stretched out his legs and sighed. ‘This would do my head in,’ he said.
‘Yeah, it can be a bit claustrophobic,’ said Shepherd. ‘If we’re actively following a target then you don’t notice it so much, but sitting for hours on end …’ He shrugged. ‘There are more fun ways of spending the day. Or night.’
‘Someone’s heading to the front door,’ said Clayton.
Shepherd and Sharpe bent forward to look at the monitor showing the feed from the camera in the roof of the van. It was a man, wearing a dark brown leather jacket with the collar turned up, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. He had his head down so they couldn’t get a good look at his face.
‘Is that Kriezis?’ asked Sharpe.
‘Can’t tell,’ said Shepherd.
‘This is being recorded?’
‘All video feeds are recorded,’ said Clayton.
The man went up to the front door and knocked. The door opened and he slipped inside. As he went in, they were able to see his face. It wasn’t Kriezis.
Sharpe’s phone buzzed and he checked it. ‘Harry’s at Kilburn Park Tube station. He’ll be here in five minutes.’
Shepherd looked over at Clayton. ‘Make sure Foxtrot One is in position,’ he said.
‘Fox
trot One?’ repeated Sharpe.
‘The street-sweeping SFO,’ said Shepherd.
As Clayton relayed the instructions to the SFO, Shepherd and Sharpe kept a close eye on the map screen. A red dot appeared and began to move north towards Kilburn High Road.
‘How many do you have following him?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Just the one,’ said Sharpe. ‘Asian lady. Shaila. A real sweetheart. Don’t worry, she’ll give him plenty of room. Anyway, we know where he’s going.’
Shepherd forced a smile and nodded. He realised he was getting over-anxious. Sharpe was a professional, one of the best undercover agents in the business, and he knew what he was doing. It was pointless trying to second-guess him. ‘Sorry, Razor,’ he said.
Sharpe patted him on the leg. ‘You’re worried about him. I get it.’
The red dot reached Kilburn High Road and headed north-west.
Sharpe’s phone buzzed and he checked it then put it away.
The three men watched the small dot move along the road, then turn into the side street where they were parked.
Harry appeared on the screen. He was wearing his school uniform and had a black backpack over one shoulder. ‘What did he tell his school?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Julie rang in to say that he was sick.’
Shepherd looked across at him. ‘Are you serious? What, she pretended to be Harry’s mother?’
‘I think she chose her words carefully,’ said Sharpe.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘We didn’t have a whole lot of wriggle room,’ said Sharpe. ‘If the school had phoned his parents we’d be up shit creek in no time.’
On the screen, Harry walked up to the front door. Shepherd looked over at Clayton. ‘Do we have the audio feed from his phone?’
Clayton nodded. ‘It’s through the speakers at the moment but the phone is either in his backpack or his pocket so we’re not picking up much of anything.’
On the screen, Harry rang the doorbell. Shepherd’s heart began to pound. His adrenal glands were kicking into overdrive but there was nothing he could do other than to sit and watch.
The door opened. It wasn’t possible to see who had opened it.
‘I’m Harry,’ said Harry. The boy’s voice was muffled but Shepherd could hear him clearly. The phone was probably in the boy’s pocket.
‘Get inside.’
Harry disappeared into the house and the door closed behind him. Shepherd bit down on his lower lip.
Clayton had twisted around on his stool and was watching the monitor with them.
‘In there,’ growled the man.
There were a few seconds of rustling.
‘Sit down.’
Shepherd looked over at Sharpe. ‘Different voice?’ Sharpe nodded.
‘You’re Harry Dexter?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You used to work for Morris, right?’
There was no answer and Shepherd assumed that Harry had nodded.
‘Yeah, well now you work for me.’
‘Where’s Swifty?’ asked Harry.
‘Swifty’s left the business. I’m running it now.’
‘Why can’t I talk to Swifty?’
‘Because he’s not fucking here. The stuff you deliver for him, where do you take it to?’
‘Reading.’
‘I know that,’ snapped the man. ‘Where in Reading?’
Harry gave him the address.
‘So they don’t know who the customers are,’ said Sharpe. ‘They know about Harry but they don’t know who gets the drugs from him.’
‘Probably got Harry’s name and number off one of the phones,’ said Shepherd.
‘We need you to take us to where you normally take the drugs.’
‘What?’ said Harry.
‘Are you fucking stupid? You’re going to take me to the house where you deliver the drugs.’
‘Why?’
‘Listen you little bastard, you don’t ask questions, you do as you’re fucking told.’
There was a cracking sound, like a twig snapping.
Shepherd looked over at Sharpe. ‘Did he just hit Harry?’
‘I couldn’t tell,’ said Sharpe. ‘The guy might have just hit a chair or something.’
‘It sounded like a slap, Razor. I’m sending in the cops.’
Sharpe held up a hand. ‘Give it a second.’
‘Razor …’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Harry over the speaker. ‘I won’t ask questions.’ He sounded apprehensive but not fearful so he probably hadn’t been hit after all. Shepherd relaxed a fraction.
‘Good lad,’ said the man.
Sharpe smiled. ‘He’s okay. I don’t think he was hit.’
‘When you deliver the drugs, who do you give them to?’ asked the man.
‘Just a guy,’ said Harry. ‘I knock on the door and the door opens. I give them the bag. I never really see who it is.’
‘But it’s the same house, every time?’
‘Sure,’ said Harry.
‘Good boy,’ said the man. ‘Now, we need you to take us to the house, that’s all.’
‘On the train, you mean?’
‘No, we’ve got a car outside.’
‘Shit, they’re going to go mobile,’ said Shepherd. He looked at Clayton. ‘What are our options, Matty?’
‘Few and far between,’ said Clayton. ‘This van and the ARV, but the ARV is a non-starter for surveillance.’
‘There’s my car,’ said Sharpe.
‘Yeah, a bright red Jag,’ said Shepherd. ‘Best you drive back to Reading ahead of them.’
Sharpe nodded. ‘We know exactly where they’re going. It’ll take them ninety minutes minimum to get there. That’s enough time for me to get something sorted.’
‘We need to be bloody careful here, Razor. This is going to be a kick bollocks scramble but we can’t afford to put a foot wrong.’
‘We can follow in the van at a safe distance and monitor the audio,’ said Clayton. ‘We can track them all the way with the phone’s GPS so losing eyeball isn’t the end of the world.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘Okay, Jimmy, you get your car and head on back. We’ll need full surveillance on the house and a couple of ARVs close by. Can you arrange that with your SIO?’
‘No problem. I’ll pick up Shaila on the way. She’ll come in useful.’
‘We’ll go now,’ said a man over the speaker. The voice was different from the first man. Deeper, with more of an accent.
Shepherd looked over at the firearms officer. ‘Craig, the ARV can’t come with us because they’re not allowed to cross into Thames Valley territory, but are you okay to stick with us? I’d prefer to have armed support on board.’
‘My guvnor says I’m attached to your unit so long as you need me, so I guess I go where you go,’ said Bird.
‘What about Alan?’ Alan Liddle was the second SFO, the one outside pushing the street-sweeping trolley.
‘I’m sure he’d be up for it.’
Shepherd nodded at Clayton. ‘Matty, get Alan back here. And can you brief Paul on what we’ll be doing? You’re right, we can hang well back because the phone GPS will do the hard work.’
Clayton gave him a thumbs-up and began relaying Shepherd’s instructions over the radio.
The man was talking again, his voice now more conciliatory. ‘All you have to do is exactly what you always do. You deliver the drugs and you leave. We’ll take it from there.’
‘Don’t you know where I’m taking the drugs?’ asked Harry.
‘I’ll head off,’ said Sharpe, getting off his stool.
‘What we do or don’t know doesn’t concern you,’ said the man. ‘You just need to do as you’re told. Do you know what this is?’
‘It’s a gun,’ said Harry, quietly.
Shepherd stiffened and looked across at Sharpe. ‘They’ve got guns.’
‘He’s not being threatened, Spider.’
‘It sounds to me like he is.’
‘That’s right it’s a gun,’ said the man. ‘So I don’t want to hear any more questions from you, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Harry, and even though the sound was muffled Shepherd could hear the uncertainty in the boy’s voice.
‘Right then,’ said the man. ‘You just do as you’re told and you’ll be fine.’
‘Okay,’ said Harry again.
‘You just take us to the house. That’s all I’m asking you to do. Do you have a problem with that?’
‘No,’ said Harry.
‘Are you sure? Because if you do, we need to address that now. I don’t want you giving me a problem later.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll take you there.’
‘And you’ll do as you’re told?’
‘Sure,’ said Harry.
‘Good boy,’ said the man ‘Right, let’s go.’
Shepherd nodded at Sharpe. ‘You should go, Razor,’ he said, and opened the door for him. Sharpe stepped out and hurried along the road. Shepherd was just about to close the door when Alan Liddle appeared, holding a broom. Shepherd ushered him inside and closed the door.
Liddle put the broom on the floor and sat down, nodding at Bird. ‘All go, innit?’ he said and Bird grinned.
‘They’re coming out now,’ said Clayton and everyone looked at the monitor showing the view from the roof camera. A tall man in a knee-length leather coat opened the door and stepped out. He looked around and then made a ‘come on’ motion with his hand. A glum Harry appeared, his backpack on his shoulder. They were followed by a third man and Shepherd recognised him immediately from the picture Superintendent Sherwood had put on display in Peel House.
‘That’s him,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s Frenk Kriezis.’
Two more men followed Kriezis out of the house. Big men with wide shoulders and the hard eyes of those who had done a lot of bad things. Shepherd cursed under his breath. Whatever Kriezis had planned, he was going in mob-handed.
Kriezis turned up the collar of his coat against the chill wind as he walked across the road to a black Range Rover parked behind the Openreach van. One of the heavies pressed the fob to unlock the doors, then climbed into the driver’s seat. Kriezis stood by the front passenger door as one of the heavies opened the Range Rover’s rear door. The other heavy got in first and waved at Harry to follow him.
Short Range (The Spider Shepherd Thrillers Book 16) Page 12