Chasing Aquila

by James Hume

  ‘Mr Rhys. I’m Commander Porritt, Head of the British Delegation here. We would really appreciate it if you kept this very quiet. If you agree to do so, I promise, at some point in the future, when it’s all done and dusted, I’ll give you an exclusive insight into some aspects of the story that you can publish. Do you agree?’

  Rhys pursed his lips and nodded. ‘I agree.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Porritt said, and shook his hand. ‘I’ll let you get back to work.’

  Rhys left the room.

  The phone rang. Gisela picked it up, listened, and passed the phone to Wolff.

  Wolff listened, asked a few questions, and then hung up. He turned to Porritt. ‘Well, now we know why our car phones went down. The cable to the aerial up on the hilltop was cut with an axe. Someone planned this very carefully.’

  Porritt shook his head. Shit, these people sure were serious. He just hoped Jane would be safe. He glanced at his watch. Quarter to seven. It would be a long night.

  The phone rang again. Gisela passed it to Wolff. He listened, asked a few questions again, then hung up. He looked grim. ‘The car on Jane’s tail has just called in from a town called Würzburg, about a hundred kilometres away. They lost them. They had to stop for fuel before they got stranded. They say the crooks could have continued on the A3 westward to Frankfurt, or taken the A7 north to Hanover. We’ve asked the relevant police to set up road blocks on both these roads, but there’s a hundred side roads they could take. To be honest, Jonathan, I think we’re stuck until we hear from them.’

  Chapter 12. Friday 18 January

  Jane woke in a strange room. A comfortable bed, though. She still wore her outdoor clothes under a thick warm blanket. She let her eyes roam round the room. A mirror and dressing table at the foot of the bed; a wardrobe beside it; a table with two chairs at the window; a small chest of drawers beside the bed, with her handbag on it; an open door beyond that; a bookcase on the back wall; all in the same beige colour. Kind of like a hospital, she thought.

  She swung her legs off the bed and sat up, but still felt woozy. Her shoes lay neatly beside the bed, adjacent to some fluffy slippers. She struggled to her feet. The open door led to a bathroom. She staggered in and had a pee. She closed her eyes and tried to think what had happened. She’d drank some delicious orange juice in the car. ‘Straight from Florida,’ the driver said. Laced with sleeping draught, she now realised.

  Jesus, it had happened again. The last time she’d been kidnapped, she’d been fully aware of it. This time, she couldn’t remember a thing. She tried to think back to her discussion with Porritt. He didn’t think she’d be in danger. They’d merely want to ask her what happened to the spy, Brenner, he’d said.

  But why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Why couldn’t they just come and ask? Her head cleared a bit. Because, Porritt had said, they wanted to use her to flush out the top decision maker who’d wrecked their precious Aquila organisation. And that was him. She was the bait to get him to break cover.

  Now she’d gone through the logic again, she felt more confident she could handle whatever would come. But oh, how she wished she had Andreas at her side right now. She kissed her ring, and wondered about her family. What information would they have, and would Porritt have organised a search?

  She flushed the toilet, slunged cold water on her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Come on, girl. You can do this,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve done it before, and you can do it again.’ She brushed her hair, washed her hands, and got ready to face Aquila. She’d make her approach interested, rather than frightened, though frankly, she felt closer to the latter.

  She glanced at her watch – ten fifteen – and went back through to the bedroom to draw the curtains. Just some roofs and some trees beyond, a church in the distance. Could be anywhere. There was a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ she shouted.

  The door unlocked and a young girl came in dressed in a maid’s uniform. A big man in a white jacket and black trousers loomed in the doorway.

  ‘Can I get you a light breakfast, ma’am?’ the maid asked, in German. ‘Maybe some tea and a croissant? Doctor G has invited you to lunch with him at twelve thirty, ma’am.’

  ‘Who’s Doctor G?’

  ‘He’s our boss, ma’am.’

  ‘Boss of what?’

  ‘Just the boss, ma’am.’

  She wouldn’t get anything further. ‘Tea and a croissant will be fine, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll just be a few minutes, ma’am.’ The girl left the room and the door locked behind her. Oh well, at least she’d meet the boss soon.

  ***

  Dave Burnett got into the office early. Today, his Aquila plans would all come together, hopefully. Three years ago, Porritt had pulled off a real coup with his Aquila raids. Now, this was his first big nationwide job since he’d taken over Special Branch last June. He thought of it as Aquila Two, and needed it to go at least as well as Porritt’s.

  He’d read all of Porritt’s notes, talked to him a couple of times on the phone to clarify details, and now planned to follow a similar approach. He had the advantage of having led the raid on the spymaster’s house in Yorkshire last time, and could clearly remember the three keys to success then – immobilise the targets within five seconds to prevent them using a panic button – beware of booby traps that could destroy key data, so have a good safecracker on the raid team – and have a good codebreaker available, to decode the data.

  When Porritt had taken over Special Branch in the early years of the war, he had reorganised it into eighteen regions. When he had taken over six months ago, he’d integrated some of the more remote areas that had been strategic in wartime, but were now not so important, and had reduced the number of regions to eleven. He still kept the big four – London; the North West; the North East; and the West Midlands – which together covered about two-thirds of the UK population. He then had seven other regions that covered the rest. It was now much more manageable, and during the handover, Porritt had given him excellent advice on his top people, so he now had the best eleven of his team as regional heads.

  He’d talked to each of them during the week, and explained the plan in detail. From the phone taps and films at the two Aquila bases, in Amsterdam and West Hampstead, they had gradually compiled details of each of the twenty-seven drug distributors in the UK, with names and addresses, and photographs. He’d passed on the details to each regional head. Some had only one distributor to deal with, but others had several. London had eight.

  He planned to raid all known suppliers at two o’clock in the morning on Sunday, and immobilise them within the five-second target. At the same time, Malcolm Craig would raid the main distributor in West Hampstead, and capture the names and addresses of each target. These would then be checked against the current master list at Scotland Yard, and any anomalies advised to the relevant regional head, who would then take appropriate action. As far as he knew, they had identified and resolved any false IDs, but could only confirm that once the lists were compared.

  At the same time as the raids on the ‘legs’ in the UK, raids would also be made on the ‘head’ of the organisation in Germany, and on the ‘body’ in Amsterdam, under the leadership of Sandra Maxwell.

  All the raids, with the exception of Amsterdam, would be made under the amendment to the Emergency Powers (Defence) (No 2) Act 1940, which had come into force on 9th of January, and published by the Government as normal. It effectively brought drugs such as methamphetamine under the same category as cocaine and heroin, and hence illegal to possess or supply in the UK.

  He’d prepared well, and awaited the arrival of his team, Malcolm Craig and Sandra Maxwell, with Bill Franklin, who had done such great work lubricating the Home Office machine. They were shown into his office at half past nine.

  Burnett welcomed them and shook hands. ‘Morning, everyone. Well, I trust? Looking forward to an interesting weekend? Right, let’s get started. Malcolm, you first.’

  ‘Right,
sir. West Hampstead. We’re pretty much ready now. We’ll approach the property from the trees at the rear, and we’ve figured out a way we can deal with the dog and the alarm, immobilise Lyall, and get in fast. We’ve used something similar before, and we’ve tested it at the police driving centre.’ He went on to give them details of the plan.

  ‘We’ll go in with a team of sixteen. Each one knows exactly what they’ve got to do. We have female officers for the children, and a handler for the dog.

  ‘We don’t know if they’ll have a booby trap to protect their data, but we now have a good safecracker on the team – the same one I used before. And we also have a codebreaker lined up from Bletchley Park to help us decode. So we’re all set there.

  ‘In terms of the London region, we have eight suppliers that we’ll raid at the same time. Brian Walker’s in charge of that lot, and each raid will be led by a CI or above. Each team leader has done a recce on their target, and has a plan to meet our five-second objective. We reviewed each plan on Wednesday. We think, based on what Sandra found in Glasgow, the suppliers will use the writing bureau and / or the special suitcase to hide drugs and money. We’ve given each team leader Sandra’s note on how to get into them. We did another review with each team leader yesterday, and everyone seemed happy.

  ‘On the wider front, our phone taps show the suppliers moved a total of over six thousand tablets last week. That’s a fifty percent increase in a month, a hell of a rate of growth. Oh, and there was a call from a GB29. So, that means we need to find two more. Hopefully, we’ll get that information on Sunday. Alison will still match the lists, sir?’

  ‘Yeah. She did a great job last time. Couldn’t go past her for this.’

  ‘Good, so that’s it from me, sir.’

  ‘Right, Sandra, what about you?’

  ‘Okay. First, let me give you some info on the Glasgow supplier. By chance, I saw a well-known Glasgow criminal carrying a GT Pharma suitcase off a train, just before Christmas. That means organised crime has muscled their way into this business. And they’ve poured resources into it. We’ve got photos of them doing business in several Glasgow pubs and nightclubs. Malcolm’s also got pictures of them at West Hampstead, picking up more supplies. So, I just hope it’s the crime family boss who’s on the new Glasgow contract. I’d love to put him away. But they’re well organised, and keep IDs well hidden, so let’s not underestimate the problems once organised crime gets involved.’

  Burnett nodded. ‘Yeah, well said, Sandra. Sounds like we’re not a moment too soon.’

  ‘Right. Now Amsterdam, sir. I talked to Guus Mulder yesterday, and he’s all set to raid the GT Pharma premises at three a.m. local time on Sunday. He’s got clearance from the Dutch equivalent of the Home Secretary. So, that’s good.’

  ‘It’s great. Well done, to you both.’

  ‘Now, to Germany, sir. I talk to Major Conway pretty much every day. He has several covert teams trying to find out more about this GT Pharma company. We can’t tap their phones without alerting the German telephone company, which would just alert the GT company, so Conway’s tailed their vans. They have a weekly delivery run to Amsterdam, and we’ve got the evidence to prove it in court. They also have twice weekly runs to the major cities of North, West and South Germany. That’s a lot of tablets on the move.

  ‘However, just after New Year, they followed a car south to a town called Marburg in the American Zone. It offloaded at a factory identical to the one at base. It also had a plate on the wall, GT Pharma GmbH, so it looks like a duplicate factory for making these pills. Vans from there deliver to the cities of East Germany and to Prague, which seems to be the equivalent of Amsterdam for servicing eastern bloc countries.

  ‘Without giving anything away, Conway got one of Monty’s senior people to contact his American equivalent, and ask him if they’d ever close the Marburg factory, as it made illegal products. The word came back they wouldn’t, because Marburg needs every job it can get. They aim to get the American Zone up to self sufficiency as soon as possible. That means, sadly, if we close our factory, it won’t be the end of these tablets in Europe.’

  Burnett had listened patiently to Sandra. He pursed his lips. ‘Shit. That’s a bit of a blow, huh? But it doesn’t stop us doing the job the HS wants done. To stop these drugs in this country. That’s our objective. Once we’ve killed the business here, it’ll be a lot more difficult to start up again, particularly when it’s illegal. What else have you got, Sandra?’

  ‘Right, we still have to decide if we try the head of the GT Pharma group here?’

  Bill cut in. ‘I’ve now got the answer to that, Sandra. All the trials in the UK will take place in special courts, almost like court martials, with no public present. The HS has talked to Monty about it, and they feel, if we put the head man on trial in Germany, it would become a distraction. They want him tried here out of the limelight.’

  ‘Fine. We’ll bring him back here, then. That’s it from me, sir. We’re off to Germany now. The plans look good, and all being well, we should see you here on Monday.’

  ‘Brilliant. Thanks, Sandra. Anything from you, Bill?’

  ‘No, I’m clear, sir. But I’d just like to add something a colleague told me last week. Ignorance of the law doesn’t excuse the crime.’

  Burnett laughed. ‘Well said, Bill. I wish you two a safe trip to Germany, and look forward to a successful outcome over the weekend. Let’s make it happen.’

  ***

  Sam came round from behind his desk and sat against the front edge. Johnny placed a single chair about six feet in front of him, and stood behind it. Eddie sat over at the conference table. Sam buzzed his secretary. ‘Ask Cammy to come in.’

  The office door opened, and a thin-faced man in his thirties peeped round it.

  Sam waved him in. ‘Come in, Cammy. Take a seat.’ He indicated the single chair.

  Cammy looked around nervously, and shambled across to the chair.

  Sam looked down at him. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, Cammy, and so I was disappointed when Eddie told me you were twenty quid short at the Ashton last night, with no reason. Do you want to tell me about it?’

  Cammy sat with his hands clutched in front of him, and looked at the floor.

  After a few minutes silence, Sam lifted his index fingers a fraction, and nodded. Johnny hauled the man to his feet. Sam took a couple of paces forward and punched the man hard in the stomach. The man collapsed on the floor, moaning. Johnny hauled him back onto the chair. He sat with his head bowed, holding his stomach.

  ‘Now, Cammy. Can you hear me?’ The man nodded. ‘Don’t annoy me. We don’t need this. But you stole twenty quid from me last night, and I want to know why.’

  Sam waited. Still no response. He looked at Johnny and briefly nodded. Johnny hauled the man up again, and Sam punched him even harder in the stomach. The man cried out, and collapsed again on the floor. Johnny hauled him back onto the seat again, and he sat doubled over, moaning, and holding his stomach.

  Sam sat back on the edge of his desk. ‘Cammy, we’ve already spoken to Barry and Fraser this morning. Barry says you went out to the toilet at one point, and asked him to take over the table for a minute. But you were away for over ten minutes. What happened?’

  Cammy muttered something.

  ‘Come again, Cammy? I didn’t catch it.’

  ‘I got robbed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sam exchanged glances with Eddie. ‘Really? At the urinals or the sinks?’

  ‘In the cubicle.’

  Sam’s mouth fell open. This guy, Cammy, must be a bloody shirtlifter. Why didn’t he know that? Yet he’s married with a family. Jesus Christ, no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘So, he robbed you with your trousers round your ankles? Is that it?’

  Cammy nodded.

  Sam sighed. ‘You know, Cammy? I don’t give a shit what you do in your own time. You can play with as many willies as you want. But when you work for me, I want your mind on the job. I’ve got
to have people I can rely on. And you’re not one of them.’

  Cammy looked up. ‘It’s a one off, Sam. I’ll pay it back.’

  ‘Oh, that you definitely will. By tomorrow night. Leave an envelope with my secretary. And if you don’t, we’ll come after you. You’re fired. Get him out of here.’

  Johnny hauled him to his feet again and ushered him out the door.

  Sam looked over at Eddie and shook his head. ‘Can you believe it? Do these guys play with every willy they see? Jesus Christ, I don’t get it.’ He sighed. ‘Can you get someone else to handle the Ashton?’

  Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah, leave it with me. I’d better get our blokes out for the lunchtime meets. He pulled his case up onto the table, opened it and pulled out his notebook. The teams came into the room, one by one, and signed for the number of tablets they asked for.

  Sam just sat and watched the procession. Eddie sure had this business well organised

  ***

  Jane tried to keep calm. After all, she had nothing to hide. Just be frank and honest.

  She leafed through a book about Paris. Maybe some day she’d go there with Andreas. She kissed her ring. She felt him beside her, strong, sensible, with that great smile. With his help, she’d get through this okay. There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  The same maid appeared. ‘Doctor G’s ready for you now, ma’am.’

  Jane took a big sigh. Keep it simple. Nothing to hide. She lifted her handbag, followed the girl along a thickly carpeted corridor, downstairs to the floor below, and entered a dining room. It had a long table set with two places at the far end, and a sideboard along the end wall. Behind the chair at the head of the table stood an elderly man, of medium height, with grey hair, rimless glasses, and a pleasant smile.

  ‘Come in, my dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said, in German. ‘First, let me apologise for the means of bringing you here, but you were well protected in Nuremberg, so we didn’t have much choice. I’m Doctor G. Just call me G. May I call you Jane?’