Shades of Loyalty

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  “And this is not the only one?”

  “No, Boss. The officer in charge of the investigation into the exploding tree on the train line, DS Tanner, is having unexpected marriage problems. Apparently, his wife has been running up debts on their credit cards but denies this. He’s also on compassionate leave. God knows who has his caseload because they’re experiencing a manpower shortage in his area.”

  “And the hospital in Hampshire?”

  “Hampshire is a little different in that the counterterrorism unit are … well, were, dealing with the case. But get this, the officer in charge, Brookes, has been seconded to a task force and forced to hand over the case to the local force. And that brings me to the Orenid investigation. Bizarrely, the investigating officer lives alone in an end of terrace property. Like us, he doesn’t get to see the inside of it too much. But on the one day he happened to be able to sleep in his bed, the house catches fire. That poor bastard nearly lost his life. He’s in the hospital with minor burns and the effect of smoke inhalation. He’s on sick leave, and his caseload has been reassigned.”

  Jago was pensive. “I see what you mean now. There’s certainly a concerted effort to throw the investigators off the scent. Send Bernie to interview each of them. I want to know everything that has happened to them since their investigation started. How were they identified? Were their names in the news or what? I mean, that can’t be the case with the CT unit; they never mention names. Someone must be watching them.”

  “Okay, Boss, will do.”

  “And send a countermeasures team to sweep the area of each incident for any transmitting devices, hidden cameras specifically. And tell them to do it covertly. I don’t want to let on what we suspect if they’re still active.”

  “Understood, Boss. Can I use a close protection sweep team?”

  “Yes, that would make sense. Do we have access to one?”

  “Yes, do you remember Mullins’ crew?”

  “Oh yes, they’ll be ideal. But negotiate with him, he’ll always try it on.”

  “Fair enough, Boss. Leave it with me.”

  “I’m going to get my head down for a few hours. Do you have anything else?”

  ***

  Jago refreshed himself after his short sleep before leaving the hotel to catch a taxi. The ride was rapid through the clear Valencian streets to the barracks of the Guardia Civil in Calle Calamocha. Upon arriving, he entered an office. Sat across the table from him was José Luis Rodriguez. He was a small, skinny man with olive skin and thick, dark hair as well as the constant companion of a cigarette in his mouth.

  “José Luis, it’s good to see you. How many years has it been?”

  José Luis leapt to his feet and grabbed Jago in a bear hug, and then shook his hand.

  “Jago, it’s great to see you, amigo. And, to answer your question, the last time I saw you was after the joint anti-trafficking job back in 1999. Do you remember? It was a long, hot summer that year and, after the operation, I took you to the Tomatina. Do you remember this?”

  The husky-voiced Spaniard laughed at the memory he had conjured up in his mind.

  “How are you? A little older but looking very fit.”

  “Yes, I’m good, and I see that you’re still on those,” said Jago, pointing to the cigarettes.”

  “Oh these, these keep me going.”

  “And how’s business? If you’re as busy as we are you’ll be rushed off of your feet.”

  “We’re all busy in this business. Crime never stops, does it? I’ve been preparing for your visit. Or I should say that I’ve been preparing for one of your men to visit. Is he okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine, just held up in Turkey.”

  “Oh, that’s good. However, I’m glad that you’ve managed to come in person, it’s been too long. Here are the files regarding the Russian but I suspect that you’ve already seen these, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I have, but it’s good to see them again.”

  Jago sifted through the papers and photographs. He’d remembered that the faxed document had twenty-seven pages and this file had twenty-eight.

  “Can I ask why this file has got an extra page compared to that faxed over to us previously?”

  “Really? Let me see.”

  José Luis checked the file.

  “Ah, now I see. The extra sheet is a, how do you say … a handover sheet. The investigating officer has changed.”

  “Is that usual?”

  “No, not so usual. But it says here that the officer lives with his mother who has been taken sick. He is on leave to care for her.”

  Jago noted the information.

  “Can we visit the crime scene? And can we see Diego Castella?”

  “Your first request is easy. I’ll take you there at ten in the morning. There’s a nice bar close by and we can have almorzar.”

  Jago missed the word. It may have been José Luis’ accent or that Jago was so out of practice with the language. So he asked, “Al … what?”

  “Breakfast, brunch, whatever you call it. We always eat mid-morning and take a beer or two.”

  “Oh, I remember. It seems so long since I’ve spoken Spanish. It’ll come back to me.”

  José Luis lit another cigarette and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully.

  “As for Diego Castella, let me speak to some of my men and see if we can locate him. I’ll have an answer in the morning. Where are you staying?”

  Jago looked at his mobile phone.

  “The Ayre Hotel Astoria.”

  “Oh, you have money! A good expenses account, eh? I’ll drop you off. I pass near there on the way home. Come. If you like, I’ll pick you up in the morning at nine forty-five. Is that okay?”

  “That’s great. Thanks.”

  ***

  They discussed the target, Diego Castella, whose name was given by Rafa. The Guardia Civil were interested in having Rafa returned to Spain, as they needed to question him about a few money laundering offences, as well as organised crime activity: murder, arson, gun running and a whole host of other lesser crimes. Jago explained that Rafa was in the hospital after receiving a couple of gunshot wounds.

  “He’s under guard at the moment, but I’m sure that we can get the wheels in motion for his extradition.”

  “That would make a lot of people happy,” responded José Luis. “That would make them very happy indeed. One particular mother would be very pleased to see him here. Mind you, we would have to prevent her from killing him after what he did to her son. He ran guns for Rafa in the early days, and Rafa had got under the skin of a notorious drugs cartel in Mexico. They were really pissed off with him. He has, how do you say, done the dirty on them in a deal. One day, they asked Rafa to join them on a cruise. Now, no one in the cartel had even seen Rafa in the flesh, so he sent Emilio, who was of similar age and stature, and asked him to pretend to be Rafa. He did this thing, and during their little cruise they hacked off his feet and hung him over the side in shark-infested waters.”

  “What a set of bastards.”

  “The thing is, they must have known who Rafa really was because they made a video of the whole thing and sent a copy to Rafa and the family of Emilio. So, they all saw that after every time a shark tore a piece off Emilio they lowered him to just above the water, and you could see that the sharks were leaping out of the water tearing him to pieces. He died a very horrible and painful death for Rafa. And this is only one thing that he has done among many, many others.”

  “I can see why he’s wanted so badly.”

  “Yet Rafa still has some loyal friends. Some of them look after his prostitution business while he is away, while others continue to extort money from the main bars and restaurants throughout the city. Nobody has really replaced or challenged him even though he is not here. It’s really quite strange.”

  “And our man, Diego Castella, is loyal to Rafa?”

  “Oh yes, he’s his right-hand man. He’s like his brother.”

  “That’s i
nteresting.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I say that the relationship is interesting, or possibly going a little sour, because it was Rafa who gave us his name.”

  “Oh, he did? Then that is interesting. They could have separated, argued, or they have planned to set us up. You know, lead us in and then kill us to keep us quiet. That’s Rafa’s style alright.”

  José Luis held up his pistol.

  “I don’t suppose you have been able to bring yours, have you?”

  “I would like to have, but I’m afraid not.”

  José Luis beckoned Jago over to a steel wall cabinet which he was unlocking. He opened the double doors to reveal a small armoury.

  “Take your pick. What are you comfortable with? HK? Sig? Beretta? You choose.”

  Jago closed in, perusing the weapons on display.

  “I think I’ll take the KK VP9 and the Sig MCX, if that’s okay with you? Oh, and a couple of these flash-bang grenades. And this combat knife. Do you have a knife shoulder harness?”

  “I’m sorry, a what?”

  “You know, a harness to hold the knife under here.”

  Jago demonstrated to José Luis what he wanted with his hands: a knife harness that he could wear with easy access under his left arm.

  “Ah, one of those. No, I’m afraid that our budgets don’t stretch that far.” He laughed. “You’ll have to tuck it into the top of your waistband and be careful how you move.”

  José Luis made a note of his weapon choices and handed him two magazines for each. Jago stowed them away in his small haversack and looked at José Luis expectantly. José Luis quickly read the disappointed look on Jago’s face and handed him two more magazines for each weapon.

  “And here’s two more for good luck. What are we going to do, start a war?” said José Luis dryly.

  “No, we’re going to prevent one. One thing that I’ve always been taught is that a lot of firepower is never enough to overwhelm an unknown enemy. And although we have this guy’s name, address, and a little history, we don’t know him well enough to plan accordingly.”

  “Very well. Do you think that I should call for a support team then?”

  “No, no, just the two of us is good. He’ll be underwhelmed by numbers yet overwhelmed with firepower. We’ll be fine. You might want to let them know that we’re the good guys in all of this should they need to come out at any point though.”

  As Jago spoke, José Luis added an HK MP5 to his personal armoury and filled his pockets with flash-bangs grenades. He then made a short telephone call while Jago scoured the office and found an old tourist magazine.

  “José Luis, have you got some scissors and Sellotape?”

  “Err, I think so, somewhere. Why do you need these things?”

  “I’m just going to improvise a little.”

  Jago entered the adjacent office where he spotted a pair of boots sitting in the corner. He proceeded to remove the long laces and set to work making an improvised harness from the shiny paper, Sellotape and shoelaces. Within minutes, he’d made a harness which he fixed in place under his lightweight jacket.

  Jago placed the knife in position and successfully extracted it a couple of times. “That’s it, I think that I’m ready.”

  “Oh, you think that you’re ready, do you? Well, it’s now three minus ten, let’s go and see if anyone is at home.”

  Chapter 14 - Nightlife

  Driving the short distance through the well-lit city streets, they passed small groups of people who were walking in the street after a night out. They were happy and loud, but not a problem. They passed two marked national police cars and a city police van en route to the old district of Carmen. They stopped and parked outside some of the bars and restaurants of the Plaza de la Reina, got out of their old, battered Peugeot and made their way on foot towards the cathedral. The streets highlighted the apparently derelict facades of the houses. The overhanging iron balconies contained washing lines, bicycles and the odd plant pot. Many of the houses had small wooden doors, whereas some featured large oak double doors, big enough for a horse and cart to pass through in a bygone age. Some aspects had not changed for centuries. As they advanced to the cacophony of distant barking and revellers echoing through the streets, Jago peered through the occasional open door, beyond which, in most cases, were beautiful courtyards. He was surprised. As he was peering into one such property, José Luis spoke softly.

  “Diego lives in a house like this. We are close now. Do you hear the bark of a dog getting louder?”

  “Yes, it’s bound to upset the neighbours.”

  “Nobody here is going to complain, I can assure you of that. Diego is ruthless, maybe more so than Rafa. As we turn the next corner to the right there is a street immediately off to the left. That´s Calle Puzol and his house is the second on the left.”

  “Is there a rear entry?”

  “We can go through the courtyard and over the roof of the house on the corner and then into his courtyard. But I think that it’s just as good to go in the front. If he decides to leave over the roof tops, we’ll follow. But there’s no need to get too adventurous when a front door will do. As we go in, I’ll deal with the dog. You take the stairs to the right and I’ll take the left.”

  “But what about the rooms on the ground floor?”

  “Nobody ever lives in those. They’re for the donkeys and the rubbish of the house — trastos. You understand?”

  Jago raised his eyebrows. “Okay, you know what you’re doing.”

  They reached the corner of the street, closing in on the dog’s continual barking. Jago figured that it couldn’t have been announcing their arrival because it had been barking all the time they had been on foot. José Luis walked casually, with Jago a step behind. As they levelled with the house, they could see that the double doors were open, and, beyond them, a closed metal gate. On the other side of the gate sat the barking dog. Jago scanned the area for more life as José Luis fed the dog something. He stood watching the dog devour what he had given it.

  “What are we waiting for?” asked Jago.

  There was no reply. They were now both watching the dog. It had finished chewing and was now staring to its front, not barking, just looking directly ahead.

  “Watch this,” said José Luis.

  He called to the dog and, as it turned to respond, it stumbled and fell in a crumpled heap. Turning to Jago, José Luis said, “That’s what we were waiting for.”

  They opened the gate and each headed for the merged stairways that were positioned right of the courtyard. They curved upwards and met on a first-floor balcony. As Jago went up the stairs, someone started shooting at him. He returned fire while advancing at pace. Reaching the top of the stairway, he looked across to see that José Luis was nearing the top of his stairs. Jago knelt, peering around the opening to a central passageway, off of which were two rooms to the left. Their doors were shut. Jago couldn’t see to his right side due to a huge plant pot blocking his view. José Luis indicated with his hands that there were two more rooms.

  “Well, the neighbours must be awake by now,” José Luis called to Jago. “So, we have nothing to lose. You watch and I’ll throw.”

  He took out a flash-bang grenade, pulled the pin and threw it into the centre of the passageway. The sound of the explosion was deafening and echoed throughout the area. Sure enough, two people emerged from one of the rooms on the left. One ran ahead while the other stopped to fire bursts left and right. Jago dropped to a prone position and fired a double tap. The shooter went down. The runner was now out of sight and José Luis and Jago took after him at speed. They stopped at the end of the passageway, scanning and listening.

  There was a noise high up on the right from a metal fire escape. Jago ran at the hanging rungs and launched himself up to pursue the shadowy figure. Once at the top of the building, he paused, waiting for a sign. For a second, there was a silhouette moving gingerly across the rooftops. Jago watched the intended directi
on of his prey. He looked down briefly to José Luis and, with a hand signal, indicated the direction. He then made off over the rooftops to intercept.

  Meanwhile, José Luis took the more sedentary path towards the intercept point. He’d climbed onto balcony after balcony while occasionally looking up to see either the runner or Jago. He thought Jago was very agile and moved like a goat on the side of a mountain. He apparently had no fear of heights nor narrow walkways as he avidly pursued his prey. José Luis watched with admiration. He himself had reached the final balcony in the row and the only thing to do was enter the building and exit the other side. He slowly opened the balcony door where a couple was sleeping. The door squeaked and the wife stirred and sat bolt upright.

  José Luis flashed his identity badge.

  “Policia, Señora, don’t bother getting up. I’ll let myself out.”

  She sat in shock as José Luis passed through the room and into the main apartment. She heard the door being unlocked and then shut as he left the apartment. He found himself on the first floor of an inner courtyard and picked up his pace as he had lost sight of the rooftop pursuit.

  Entering a passage and walking down the left side, he heard a noise of someone dropping heavily. He paused and sank low in a doorway with his Beretta trained on the darkness ahead. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of someone walking slowly. Then the sound of someone sliding down metal. José Luis realised that it must be Jago in pursuit. The slow footsteps gathered pace towards José Luis as the thud of Jago landing was evident.

  José Luis called out to the startled man in the shadows.

  “That’s far enough Diego! Stop where you are, or I’ll shoot you!”

  The man stopped and José Luis just caught the movement of Diego’s arm as he raised it to shoot at him. José Luis fired and Diego evaded the shot. He ducked into a doorway and returned an automatic burst in José Luis’ direction. Jago had crossed the passage and was now on the same side as José Luis, with Diego pinned in the middle. The only way out for Diego was to give himself up, die or enter the door he was pinned against. It was obvious that he was going to choose the latter and José Luis was ready for that option with flash-bang in hand. Shots rang out as Diego aimed at the locked door which he then kicked open. José Luis and Jago didn’t fire upon him, preferring to take him alive if possible. Diego entered the apartment and Jago and José Luis followed rapidly and at the ready.