Short Range (The Spider Shepherd Thrillers Book 16)

by Stephen Leather

  Harry looked like he wanted to protest but he saw the warning look flash across Kriezis’s face and got in. The remaining heavy sat down next to Harry and slammed the door shut. The boy was sandwiched between the two men with barely enough room to breathe.

  The driver put the car in gear and edged around the Openreach van.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Shepherd as they watched the Range Rover drive away on the monitor. ‘How did we miss that?’

  ‘It was parked there already when we pulled up,’ said Clayton. ‘I ran a DVLA check but it wasn’t Kriezis.’ He looked at a notepad. ‘Marko Dushku. Nothing on the PNC.’

  ‘It’s an Albanian name,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘We’re in Kilburn, half the people here are from that part of the world,’ said Clayton.

  ‘Run him through Europol,’ said Shepherd. ‘What about their faces? Anything we can use from the cameras?’

  Clayton shrugged. ‘Plenty of Kriezis, he was looking around. The driver, too. The others had their heads down.’

  The red dot that marked the location of Harry’s iPhone was blinking on the map monitor as the Range Rover headed west.

  Shepherd pressed the intercom to talk to the driver. ‘Paul, can you head towards Reading? We’re after the black Range Rover that just pulled away but we don’t need to get close, we’ve got them on GPS.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Drinkwater.

  A few seconds later the van pulled away from the kerb and drove along the road.

  They had been driving for almost thirty minutes when Clayton announced that Europol had a file on Marko Dushku. ‘Major villain in the Albanian capital, Tirana. Extortion, assault, but nothing after he reached twenty-five years old. A couple of years after that he became a Belgian citizen. I’ve got a picture.’

  Shepherd leaned over and looked at Clayton’s screen. Dushku was a big man with a heavy jaw and deep-set eyes and his head was shaved. He was definitely the driver.

  ‘Kriezis also has a Belgian passport,’ said Shepherd. ‘Presumably they have a guy in the passport office there. How old is he, Dushku?’

  ‘Thirty-three,’ said Clayton.

  ‘So for the last eight years he’s been as good as gold, as he?’ His voice was loaded with sarcasm.

  ‘You’re thinking he’s got police protection in Albania?’

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ said Shepherd. ‘Probably from about the time they moved from extortion to drugs. Most likely they used the cash flow to pay off the cops. Happens the world over.’

  Jimmy Sharpe phoned Shepherd when the Openreach van was outside London, heading west to Reading. ‘Cave is on the case,’ said Sharpe. ‘She’s pulled in two ARVs from Thames Valley and they’ll be parked less than a minute away from the house.’

  ‘She understands the danger here, right? I doubt that Kriezis is going to be paying them a social call.’

  ‘She says it’s a risk worth taking,’ said Sharpe. ‘And she’s spoken to Ron McKee who’s getting really excited.’

  ‘This isn’t about testosterone, Razor. A kid’s life is on the line. Cave understands that Kriezis is in a car with three heavies and Harry and a backpack full of drugs, does she?’

  ‘To be fair, we don’t know for sure that there are drugs in the bag. It could be a dummy run in which case we’d look bloody silly pulling them over en route.’

  Shepherd rubbed the back of his neck. That’s exactly what he had been thinking. But Sharpe was right. There was no proof that there were drugs in the backpack and if there weren’t all they would achieve by stopping the car would be to tip off Kriezis that he was in their sights. But if Kriezis was taking out his competition there was a chance that he meant to harm Warwick and Bradley. And if Harry was a witness then his life would also be on the line. If Harry had been an adult then maybe it would be a risk worth taking but he was a child and that made it a whole different ball game.

  ‘He’s in a black Range Rover.’ Shepherd gave Sharpe the registration number. ‘The iPhone GPS is working just fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you know when he’s outside Reading.’

  ‘I’ll be close by, Spider,’ said Sharpe. ‘With as many of my guys as I can get.’

  ‘Are you armed?’

  ‘No,’ said Sharpe.

  ‘Well they almost certainly are. My advice would be to send in the armed cops as soon as we know that there are drugs in the building.’

  ‘I already suggested that to Cave and she passed it on to McKee. But McKee says he wants to prepare a full case against Kriezis and his gang.’

  ‘Razor, if we catch them red-handed with drugs and guns they’ll go down for decades.’

  ‘Don’t shoot the messenger, Spider. I’m just telling you what McKee says and he’s running the show. Where are you?’

  ‘About ten minutes away from the house. Kriezis’s car is about half a mile ahead of us. The two SFOs are with us.’

  ‘I’m not sure about the legality of them firing their guns in anger outside the Met’s jurisdiction,’ said Sharpe.

  ‘Let me worry about that,’ said Shepherd. In fact it had already been playing on his mind. It was one thing to have the two armed officers with him, quite another for them to actually fire their weapons.

  He stared at the red dot that was marking the progress of the Range Rover as it made its way along the M4. He wondered how Harry was bearing up. Several times in his career Shepherd had found himself wedged in the back seat of a car with heavies either side, not knowing whether he was in trouble or not. But he had been SAS-trained and usually had back up close by, so while those moments had been tense he had at least known that he had a measure of control over the situation. Harry was just a kid who had been threatened with a gun. Shepherd could only imagine how scared he must be.

  Harry kept his head down, staring at the backpack on his lap. He didn’t know who the men were or what they intended to do when they got to Reading. The fact that the police were following him didn’t make him feel any better. He could tell the men in the Range Rover weren’t scared of the police. He doubted they were scared of anything.

  He sat in silence. The men talked to each other but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. He really wanted to go to the toilet but he was too frightened to say anything. He had a very bad feeling about what was happening. He had never been worried when he was with Swifty. Swifty was a Yardie gangster but he was usually laughing and joking. The men in the Range Rover didn’t smile, not once. And Harry was sure they would kill him without a second thought.

  They reached Reading and the Range Rover headed towards the house where Harry usually dropped off the drugs. As Dushku slowed the Range Rover, Kriezis twisted around in his seat. ‘Number eighty-seven you said?’

  ‘That one,’ said Harry, pointing down the road at a semi-detached house with peeling paintwork and an overgrown front garden.

  ‘Park there,’ Kriezis said to Dushku, who pulled up at the side of the road.

  Kriezis climbed out of the Range Rover. Prifti got out of the back and motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry sat where he was. ‘Do I have to come?’ he asked fearfully.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kriezis. ‘Now get out of the fucking car before we pull you out by your hair.’

  Shkodra got out of the other side of the car as Harry joined Kriezis and Dushku on the pavement. Kriezis gripped Harry by the shoulder and the boy looked at him fearfully. ‘You never use the front door?’ Kriezis asked.

  ‘They said I always have to go around the back,’ said Harry.

  ‘And you deliver the drugs how?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Are they in a box? A bag? What?’

  ‘A backpack, like my school bag. A grey one.’

  ‘And what happens? Talk me through it.’

  ‘I walk around the back to the kitchen door. I’ve got a special knock. They open the door and I give them the bag.’

  ‘What do they give you?’

  Harry sniffed. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Show me
,’ said Kriezis.

  Harry began to shake. ‘Please, I want to go home,’ he said.

  ‘Do you, Harry?’ said Kriezis. ‘Do you really? Do you want me and my friends to take you home and talk to your mother and father? Maybe knock your father around a bit? Maybe fondle your mother’s tits? Maybe take her upstairs and fuck her while your father watches? Is that what you want, Harry?’

  Tears trickled down Harry’s face. ‘No,’ he said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

  ‘Then do as you’re fucking told.’

  Shepherd looked over at Clayton. The audio quality from the phone in Harry’s pocket wasn’t great but they had heard enough to follow what was going on. Clayton was as clearly affected by what was happening as Shepherd was. Shepherd called up Sharpe. ‘Razor, have you got eyeball?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re all out of the Range Rover, standing on the pavement.’

  ‘Is there any way you can get photos of them, especially the two who were in the rear of the car?’

  ‘Not really, no,’ said Sharpe. ‘They haven’t paid us any mind but they might well spot a camera. What’s going on there?’

  ‘We don’t have eyeball,’ said Shepherd. ‘We’ve had to park the van down the road from the house.’

  Kriezis and his gang weren’t stupid and there was a chance they’d notice two Openreach van sightings on one day.

  ‘How does Harry look?’

  ‘Scared shitless,’ said Sharpe.

  ‘What about the ARVs?’

  ‘They’re parked up two streets away, they can be on site within thirty seconds.’

  ‘How do you read what’s happening, Razor?’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like a hit,’ said Sharpe. ‘I’m guessing that Kriezis just wants to talk. Hopefully once they get access to the house they’ll let Harry go.’

  ‘We can’t let him go inside with them,’ said Shepherd. ‘If they do kill Warwick and Bradley they’re not going to leave Harry as a witness.’

  ‘If they go inside and start shooting, there won’t be time for the armed cops to get there.’

  ‘I know,’ said Shepherd. His mind was racing. He wasn’t happy about putting Harry at risk, but Sharpe was right. This didn’t feel like a hit. But when the Albanians had arrived at the flat above the kebab shop, they probably hadn’t been planning to kill everyone inside either. Situations changed – sometimes for the worse.

  Kriezis followed Harry as he walked around the side of the house. His men were behind him. They were all looking around but there was nothing out of the ordinary. They were in the sticks, that’s what the British called the towns outside London, and the sticks were generally less threatening than the city. That was what made the county lines so profitable – the market was growing but the risks were negligible.

  At the rear of the building was a small garden that hadn’t been cared for, the hedge was overgrown and the lawn was dotted with brown patches. The garden wasn’t overlooked which Kriezis assumed was why it had been chosen. Customers could come and go without being seen.

  Kriezis motioned for his men to move either side of the door. Shkodra and Dushku went to the left and Prifti moved to the right. The door was solid wood with a dog flap at the bottom. There was a security peephole at eye-level. The windows to the right were protected with bars and Kriezis was sure that the door would be reinforced on the inside.

  He stood to the side and gestured for Harry to knock on the door. Harry did as he was told. There was no response and he knocked again. This time the door opened a fraction. There was a security chain on. Harry looked up and tried to smile. ‘Hey,’ he said. The door closed, there was the click of the security chain being unfastened and then the door opened again.

  Prifti put his shoulder to the door and pushed hard. Whoever was holding the door was caught by surprise and staggered back. Prifti quickly stepped inside, pulling a gun from inside his jacket.

  Harry gasped in surprise. Kriezis put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Go now,’ he said.

  Shkodra and Dushku hurried inside after Prifti. There was the sound of punching and the dull thud of a body hitting the floor.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ said Harry, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Don’t you worry about it,’ said Kriezis. ‘Go home. You’ll be sent a text when there is a delivery to be made.’ Kriezis reached into his pocket and Harry flinched. Kriezis grinned and pulled out a roll of fifty pounds notes. He peeled off four and gave them to the boy. ‘You did well today.’

  Harry grabbed the notes as if he feared Kriezis was going to change his mind, then hurried back around the side of the house. Kriezis watched him go, then followed his men inside the house.

  ‘He’s coming back,’ said Shepherd. ‘Looks like he’s on his own.’ His commentary was unnecessary as everyone in the back of the van was watching the monitor that showed the view of the house. Once Kriezis and his men had gone around the back of the house, Shepherd had told the driver to move the Openreach van to a better vantage point. Now they had a near unobstructed view of the front of the building.

  Shepherd called Sharpe on his mobile. ‘Razor, Harry’s on his way. When he’s well away from the house pick him up and take him back to the safe house. I need to talk to him.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Sharpe. ‘What’s happening there?’

  ‘We don’t know, they went around to the back of the house so we can’t see anything. As soon as you pick Harry up, debrief him and call me. We’re going to wait here but a fat lot of good it’ll do as we can’t see anything and we lost all sound when Harry left with his phone.’

  ‘McKee says we’re not to go in, no matter what.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘His words exactly,’ said Sharpe. ‘Even if you hear shots, you’re to let it play out. He knows you’ve got Kriezis and his men on video, he doesn’t want a shoot out. If it does turn nasty, we let them go and pick them up afterwards.’

  ‘And if Warwick and Bradley are hurt?’

  ‘Collateral damage,’ said Sharpe. ‘Again, his words.’

  ‘That’s cold.’

  ‘He’s a career cop,’ said Sharpe. ‘He wants a high-profile bust. He doesn’t just want an assault case and a few kilos of drugs. Okay, I see Harry. I’ll see you at the safe house.’ Sharpe ended the call.

  ‘Craig, can you or Alan hang about outside without looking too conspicuous?’ Shepherd asked.

  Bird shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Be close enough to the house so that if you hear shots you can move in. If we do hear shots the ARVs will be here within a minute.’

  The two SFOs exchanged a worried look.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘No offence, but I’m not sure we can use our weapons in Thames Valley, not without written authorisation,’ said Bird.

  Liddle nodded in agreement. ‘Craig’s right. I think we’re okay to be here with you, but I wouldn’t be comfortable firing my weapon. And the shit would really hit the fan if there were casualties. This isn’t our area.’

  ‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘We can be outside, that’s not a problem,’ said Liddle. ‘If we hear shots we can investigate, same as any member of the public could. But I don’t see that we could fire our weapons.’

  ‘Even if you were under attack?’

  ‘That might be different,’ said Bird. ‘But Professional Standards would be all over us and we’d have a hell of a lot of questions to answer.’

  ‘Alan, how about you hang around outside until the bad guys are out of the house?’ asked Shepherd. ‘The high-vis jacket will give you some credibility.’ There was a clipboard hanging on a hook on the side of the van. Shepherd unhooked it and gave it to the SFO. ‘This should help too,’ he said.

  Alan nodded and Shepherd opened the door for him. Liddle climbed out and walked along the road, pretending to study the clipboard. Shepherd pulled the door shut. All they could do now was wait. Harry was now out of
danger, and Kriezis and his team were still inside the house. His two main concerns were to keep Harry out of harm’s way and to make sure that the MI5 investigation continued to move forward, but he also had to consider the danger that Gavin Warwick and Stuart Bradley were facing. Kriezis’s men had at least one gun, probably more, and they clearly weren’t paying a social call. They had already killed Morris and Taylor and two of their men, burned three members of the Ealing Hot Boyz gang and butchered the Mahmud brothers in Tower Hamlets and there were probably other murders that the authorities were still unaware of. But it wasn’t Shepherd’s problem. Kriezis was an NCA target and nothing to do with MI5.

  Frenk Kriezis smiled at the two men. ‘I’m sorry if our entrance was a little dramatic but in my experience men such as yourselves often have guns to hand and I’m not in the mood to get shot today.’

  The two men were naked and had been tied to wooden chairs with strips of duct tape. They hadn’t been gagged but fear alone kept them from crying out.

  Shkodra and Prifti pointed their guns at the men while Kriezis had ordered them to take off their clothes. They had resisted at first but Dushku had slashed Warwick across the face with a cut-throat razor and after that both men had done as they were told and allowed themselves to be tied to the chairs. Blood was dripping down Warwick’s cheek and onto his shoulder.

  Dushku went through the men’s trousers and took their wallets over to Kriezis. Kriezis took out the driving licences and tossed the wallets onto the floor. He studied the pictures on the licences, then looked at Warwick. ‘I’m sorry about the cut, but you needed to know that I am a serious person. You understand that now, right? That I am serious?’

  Warwick nodded.

  Kriezis looked at Bradley. ‘And you, Stuart Bradley. You understand now that I am serious?’

  Bradley nodded fearfully.

  ‘Good, so we are now, as you say, on the same page. My name is Frenk, and I am here to give you a choice. You can work for me, or you can …’ He grinned. ‘Well, let’s just say that’s the choice. You can work for me. Up until now you have been working for yourselves, selling drugs that you have been buying from Jason Morris. That is no longer an option.’