Shades of Loyalty

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Shades of Loyalty Page 18

by Paul Stretton-Stephens


  Dom needed to get inside the building and had little time in which to figure it out. He maintained his observation and noticed that some of the security staff took their breaks at the nearby café, which was a few minutes’ walk away. One of the men leaving the site wore a coat with ‘Atlas Security Dog Handler’ written on his back.

  Dom left his van and took up watch at the alleyway situated halfway between the café and the Grimshaw’s. He was hoping that as the dog handler went to the café on his own, he would return on his own. Sure enough, about half an hour later, the handler started out alone to return to the site. As he neared the alleyway, the dog handler heard groans of pain coming from Dom who was curled up on the floor.

  The dog handler ran to help. “What’s up, mate? What happened?”

  Dom conjured up a response. “They attacked me. Two of them, they took my wallet and as I tried to resist they laid into me.”

  The dog handler bent down to Dom’s level. “Okay, take it easy, where does it hurt?”

  As he uttered his last word, Dom struck the man in the throat, eliminating his chances of calling out, and then proceeded to knock him out by applying a sleeper chokehold. Dom then dragged the man behind the big container bin in the alleyway and stripped him of his jacket, hat, radio and keys. Prior to leaving, Dom put the man in a safe position so that he could breathe, and quickly put on the jacket and radio. Fortunately, he was already wearing black trousers just like the dog handler. As he walked towards the gatehouse, he lifted his collar and fastened the slightly large jacket up to the top. He was barely visible. The guard in the hut didn’t bother coming out, he just waved, and Dom waved back and walked past the gate, striding out towards the parked van. He hoped that the dog inside would be understanding. He examined the paperwork and found the handler’s roster complete with his name and the name of his manager. He also found some much-needed treats for the dog who was getting pretty excited in the back. He grabbed the dog’s leash which laid on the dashboard. Dom prided himself on his ability to adapt to a situation, but this was a first for him and he had no idea how the dog would react. He tentatively opened the rear door and was thankful to find a cage door beyond that. He passed a couple of treats through the bars, and the dog stopped barking and responded positively. He gave a couple more treats before drumming up the courage to open the cage. He slowly unbolted the cage and opened the door. The dog sat staring at him, and ever so slightly moved forward, down on all fours. It seemed to know what it was doing, and Dom played along, reaching inside while talking. “There you go, fella, you and I are going to take a little walk.”

  Dom clipped the leash to the dog’s collar and caught sight of his nametag. His name was Biscuit.

  “Come on, Biscuit, let’s go and play.”

  Biscuit was a powerful German Shepherd and, not knowing any dog commands, Dom needed all his strength to hold him in check.

  Dom and Biscuit entered the building and were immediately spotted by one of the receptionists.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t bring the dog in here.”

  “It’s okay. Mr Mason, Head of Security, has arranged for young Biscuit here to do some more training. He’s … well, that’s not entirely accurate. We’re on a course and he needs to get some practice in buildings. It’s okay, Mason has approved it.”

  I don’t know,” replied the receptionist. “It’s highly unusual.”

  At that point, one of the security guards stepped over, eyes peeled on the dog. “What seems to be the problem?”

  Dom replied, “Oh, no problem. Young Biscuit here needs to do a bit of building training while it’s quiet that’s all. It’s all approved by Mason.”

  “We don’t know anything about dog training inside. I’m afraid that you’ll have to reschedule.”

  As the guard was speaking, Dom was releasing Biscuit from his leash. Dom circled the guard.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t bite, and if he does it’s only a nip. Normally no more than a couple of stitches are required.”

  The guard leapt over the desk for safety and Biscuit ran to the barriers where the other guard was standing. The guard looked up to see the dog bounding over to him.

  Dom called out, “Whatever you do, don’t move! Don’t move a muscle and he’ll be fine. You haven’t got any drugs on you, have you? Because he’ll sniff them right out and then chew you up.”

  The guard’s skin turned an ashen grey as he felt the dog’s presence close to him.

  Dom saw that the first guard had retreated to the back-office reception along with the receptionist. He made his way to the lifts and called out, “I’m just going to plant some stuff for him to find upstairs. Keep an eye on him for a few minutes please?”

  Dom entered the lift and pressed the button for the fourth floor. He removed the bulky jacket but retained the radio. As the lift door opened, Dom was confronted by a burly man dressed in a dark suit.

  “Who are you? Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m here to see Ms Grimshaw.”

  “Do you have an appointment? I don’t recall that she has any appointments this afternoon. Let me just check the diary. Wait there.”

  The man stomped down the passageway towards the unmanned desk. He then proceeded to flick through the pages of the diary before turning and asking, “What did you say your name was?”

  Dom had disappeared, and the disgruntled man started to hunt for him. Meanwhile, Dom had found his way into Irene Grimshaw’s office where she sat with a bespectacled, grey-haired man dressed in a drab grey suit. No sooner had he entered the room than a third person presented himself to his right.

  “Excuse me, this is a private meeting. I think you’re in the wrong place.”

  Dom stood his ground and turned to the man, weighing up the situation. The man was in his late forties and about six foot two with a somewhat athletic stature but slight paunch. His dark suit fitted him well although a little tight across the chest.

  “Well, this is the office of Irene Grimshaw, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but you’re not invited,” came the reply.

  Mason moved forward to grab Dom’s arm. Dom used the momentum of the forward movement to pull the man close, then sharply change direction, resulting in the man slumping to the floor in a heap. Dom remained standing, waiting for the man to retaliate. The man started to rise to his feet, glaring at Dom, no doubt for the humiliation he had received in front of his boss.

  “Now you can just stay there,” said Dom, showing the palm of his right hand to the man as if to warn him.

  Irene Grimshaw spoke. “Now, now you two. That will be enough of that in my office.” She fixed her gaze on Dom, “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Well Ma’am, I’m here to talk about your, shall we say, alternative business activities. Are you sure you want these two in the room?”

  Irene Grimshaw was a slim, weathered-faced individual. She must’ve been in her late forties to early fifties and had a good figure for her age. She was impeccably dressed and wore a simple, elegant navy-coloured dress and expensive jewellery. Dom watched her as she paused. He thought that she would be weighing up her, somewhat, limited options. His directness sent her a clear message that he wasn’t going away until he got what he came for.

  “Very well. You two may leave. It looks as though we have things to discuss.”

  The grey-suited man hurriedly gathered his paperwork and stuffed it into a well-worn leather briefcase before shuffling out of the office. The other man rose to his feet and spoke. “But Ms Grimshaw …”

  “It’s all right, Mason, you can wait outside. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  He scowled at Dom and reluctantly left the room. Dom made himself at home and sat in a luxurious leather chair in the corner of the room.

  “Would you care for coffee?” asked Irene.

  “Why, yes. That would be very nice. It’s good of you to offer. I like mine black with no sugar.”

  She walked confidently across
the office towards the coffee machine. She knew he wasn’t going to harm her. If he had wanted to do that, he would have done what he wanted and left by now. She was intrigued and impressed by his sudden appearance and even more so by his confidence. She made coffee for them both and placed the cups down on the glass table in front of Dom.

  “And how can I help you?”

  Dom was peering at her legs and feet through the tabletop as he replied.

  “Well, apart from the obvious commercial shipping that you run from here, a little bird tells me that you’re involved in some other activities. Activities that you would probably not advertise to the authorities. Am I right?”

  Apart from slightly raising her eyebrows, she was noticeably undisturbed by his comment.

  “In this day and age, and in the current climate, one must diversify. Is that such a bad thing?”

  “I suppose that depends upon the type of diversification. You see, in my line of work, I’ve seen many people die and in the main those conflicts have been fuelled by governments and business interests. Whether agents have stirred things up and turned one group against another, or someone has been placed in power before their time, they have been supported financially and militarily. Then, of course, there are the arms dealers who win every time.”

  “All sounds very interesting, but what has it got to do with me?”

  “Oh, I see. You want to play that way. You want to see what I know about you just in case you tell me something that I don’t already know that will incriminate you further.”

  “You can’t blame a girl for being cautious, can you?” smiled Irene as she sipped on a coffee.

  “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Why have you purchased three kilograms of Semtex and a dozen detonators from Sir Arthur Green?”

  Irene stopped sipping her coffee. She placed the cup on the saucer and then set both of them on the table before rising to her feet. Silently, she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. She folded one arm across her chest to support her other arm, the hand of which was on her chin. She was thinking about her next move.

  Dom let the silence linger. He had learned a long time ago that silence had power, which most humans under pressure would want to fill. He waited patiently, finishing off his coffee.

  “I suppose you want to know who the customer was?”

  “That would do for starters. I’d also like to know how the payment was made, where the delivery was delivered to, and how you were contacted throughout the transaction?”

  “You don’t want much, do you? I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “But Ms Grimshaw, you won’t have a reputation to maintain if you’re dead, will you?”

  “Well, that was eloquently put. And whom, may I ask, would my killer be? You?”

  “No, that’s not my thing. But if it turns out that your client is who I think they are, you may be in a great deal of danger. I’d ramp up my security if I were you. Those monkeys you have out there at the moment are useless, certainly against this particular person.”

  She was pondering his words as she ambled over to her desk and took her seat.

  “Come and sit down over here while I go through my diary and some papers.”

  Dom complied and took the seat previously occupied by the man in the grey suit. He observed her as she meticulously pored over some files, documents and the pages of her diary. Finally, she turned her attention towards him.

  “Right, here is the information you wanted. I was initially contacted via an encrypted email. After my reply, I was contacted via telephone. The caller used some speech synthesiser to mask their voice. His instructions were explicit. They were very organised.”

  “And the payment and delivery?”

  “They were to pay in cash, a mixture of unmarked notes, pounds sterling. And the delivery was slightly unusual in that he wanted our man to go to the Westfield shopping centre over at White City. He wanted him to wear a fluorescent jacket and take a coffee at Café Nero on the south-east side of the centre. The goods were to be carried in a white holdall.”

  “I take it that this location provided some exits and options for transport?”

  “Yes. It was near the car park, bus station, two metro stations and, of course, he chose midday on Saturday when it was heaving with people.”

  “And how did the transaction take place? Did you see the buyer?”

  “No, some kid turned up on a skateboard with a white holdall full of cash. He zoomed off while my man discreetly counted the cash. My man got a WhatsApp message telling him to look out for a kid in a red T-shirt and shorts. And ten minutes later, the kid turns up and takes the bag. That was it, that’s how it was played out.”

  “I see. I assume you have no idea who kid is, and you had no one tailing him?”

  “Of course not. That would be a very mistrusting thing to do with my clients, wouldn’t it?”

  “And I don’t suppose you put a tracker in the bag either did you?”

  “No, he made it very clear that, should anything like that transpire, he would take it very personally.”

  “So, you understand what I mean about ramping up your security then?”

  “Yes, I understand. Even more so now you’re here. No offence intended of course.”

  “None taken. I don’t suppose you’d care to divulge how much the transaction was worth?”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t care to divulge how much the transaction was worth. I’m mean, a girls got to have some secrets, surely?”

  She smiled and rose to her feet, outstretching her hand. “I think that concludes our business, don’t you?”

  “I think it does, Ms Grimshaw. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  He shook her hand and turned to leave her office.

  “Oh, by the way …” she started to say.

  “Yes?”

  “After the transaction, he said that it went well and that he would contact me shortly.”

  “And has he?”

  She looked down. Her demeanour had changed. He thought that perhaps it had dawned on her how dangerous this man really could be.

  “Yes, a week ago. He wants some more items.”

  “What items?”

  “More Semtex, more detonators, and twelve grenades. He wants them in a hurry, and I said it would take some time. Judging by his tone during the phone call, he doesn’t want to wait. He sounded …” She stopped speaking, thinking how to express her thoughts. “He sounded almost desperate. Yes, that’s it. Desperate.”

  “When does he need an answer?”

  “Tomorrow. My god it’s tomorrow, and I haven’t been able to source anything.”

  “Not to worry. How does he communicate with you? Via mobile?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me your number.”

  She hesitated.

  “You do want me to help you, don’t you? I mean, this guy is one to turn on anyone, and you’re not prepared for someone like him. You’ve been playing a dangerous game for a while, but you’re on a whole new level now.”

  He let the information sink in.

  She gave him the number.

  “Okay, now I’ll do what I can to trace the call. But he’s clever, and it will probably not amount to anything. So, if I were you, I would tell him that you have all the goods minus the grenades. They would be the most difficult to obtain, wouldn’t they?”

  “Normally, yes, but as it happens, I do have a supply more than his requirements.”

  “But he doesn’t know that, does he?”

  “No, of course not. If he were to know, it would affect the price considerably. One has to claim scarcity to get the price one wants. You know how it is — make them think that you’ve gone to great lengths to obtain their goods. It’s the same in any business, supply and demand.”

  “I’m sure it is … I’m sure it is. Now, I have to make some calls, but I have to stick around for tomorrow. Are you all right with that?”

  Irene looked him up and down. “Yes
, I’m fine with that.”

  “Then while I’m making my calls, may I suggest that you sort this out with Mason and try to make arrangements for some better protection for you and your staff, albeit on a temporary basis until we have a solution.”

  “I will, and … thank you. I don’t even know your name?”

  Dom paused. “Nick, call me Nick.”

  He left the office and ignored Mason as he brushed past him.

  Chapter 23 – A Culture Clash

  Jed was sitting on his haunches in a doorway of a café on Exeter Road with the main entrance to the Savoy Hotel across the Strand in full view. The morning air was damp after the teeming rain which had persisted since Jed’s arrival in the early hours. Although the rain had stopped, puddles remained to create bright stepping stones in the gutters and divots in the tarmac. It was 10:45 hours, and Jed patiently anticipated the arrival of his target. It was 10:57 hours, and the target was due any minute. Cristóbal Pérez Díaz was known for his fixation with punctuality, but as Jed knew all too well, one couldn’t rely on the London traffic. Jed, with sleeping bag in hand and dragging behind him, crossed the road towards the entrance to Savoy Court and the principal entrance to the hotel. As he reached the corner, a sleek black Mercedes saloon swung into the driveway at speed. A car in front of the hotel was moving off, leaving space for the Mercedes.

  Jed observed as Cristóbal moved swiftly into the hotel with one bodyguard beside him and the other bringing up the rear. The Mercedes sped off into the traffic. Jed knew there was little opportunity at this location and was resigned to waiting until later in the day.

  ***

  It was 17:00 hours. Jed had smartened himself up, wearing a pair of light-coloured slacks, a polo shirt and a navy jacket. He also wore casual shoes, aviator sunglasses and an NY baseball cap. Carrying a small haversack, he now looked like an American tourist.

 

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