Chasing Aquila

by James Hume

‘The first was Brenner. He took a shine to Jane, and then took her with him when he escaped. Big mistake. He couldn’t have had an easy life as a spy, of course, and maybe he took pills or something to make him feel better, that also made him more reckless. But, if he hadn’t done that, we would never have caught him. Yet, even with Jane dragged along, he could still have got away with it, if the second person hadn’t made a tiny error.

  ‘Your agent in Glasgow. She had a rock-solid cover. Totally credible. Went from house to house with a flyer and a free offer, without suspicion. Yet, after the key house, where she took her photos in secret, she rushed away. That alerted our team. If she hadn’t done that, we’d never have caught her. We carefully followed her, and picked up the address to which she sent the photos. So, for us, the odds had improved, but were still not guaranteed, until the third error.

  ‘I understand from Jane that Brown took a bribe to allow Brenner to be alone with her, and you know what happened then. It allowed us to identify them, even though they were disguised, and as a result, we arrested Brown and Henry.

  ‘We’d got the link between your key men from phone taps. When we raided their houses, we decoded the names and addresses of all your agents around the country, and arrested them four hours later. We also caught Dunsmore by dogged detective work.

  ‘So, now you know. That’s how we closed down Aquila in a single night. Our teams were good, but they could never have done it without these errors by your people.’

  G smiled wanly, and dropped his eyes to the table. He sat for several minutes, then looked up at Porritt. ‘Thank you, Commander. You’ve put my mind at rest now. Please, excuse me, I have to get to bed. Feel free to remain here and finish your meal. We have an excellent tiramisu for dessert. Relax and finish your wine, or if you want a nightcap, just ask Otto. He’ll look after you, and see you back to your rooms.’ He stood up to shake hands. ‘Good night, Commander. It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Direktor Wolff, good to see you again. And Jane,’ he lifted her hand and kissed it, ‘I’m sorry for all the problems you’ve had. I hope it will not have a lasting effect on you or your family. I won’t see you in the morning. The car will be available at nine o’clock to take you back to Nuremberg. Have a safe journey.’ He lifted the envelope and left the room.

  Porritt topped up their glasses with the remains of the bottle of Sancerre. It sure had been a memorable evening.

  Wolff leaned forward. ‘Quite a story from both of you. It’s funny how success or failure sometimes hinges on tiny actions or errors. I’ve learned a few lessons tonight. What about you, Jane?’

  She looked at them in turn. ‘I’m amazed at his insight into the Nazi high command. I wonder if his hero Hitler,’ she pointed to the photograph on the sideboard, ‘also failed because of a few minor errors. Otherwise, we’d be in a very different place tonight.’

  Porritt lifted his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ He leaned forward and clinked glasses with the others. ‘Here’s to peace for all of us.’

  ***

  G hobbled into his bedroom and laid the envelope on the table. His wife, already in bed, put her book down and took her glasses off.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, as well as could be expected, I think. Porritt’s a remarkable man. A worthy adversary. We didn’t miss by much, you know. But we still missed. Just because of a lack of discipline in our people at crucial moments.

  ‘He gave me some interesting insights, though. Maybe our magic pills weren’t as magical as we thought. I know Brendan swore by them. Wouldn’t it be ironic if they were the root cause of Aquila’s demise? But, that’s life, I guess. Unpredictable.

  ‘I did get closure for Kathleen Connolly. The instructions to retrieve Brendan’s body are in the envelope. Could you give them to Cian in the morning, please?’

  He changed into his pyjamas, went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and have a pee, then sat on the side of the bed.

  ‘It’s time now, my love,’ he said, quietly.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Really? Must you?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, I must. The pain’s now unbearable, even with the morphine. And it’ll get worse in the next few days. I don’t want you to see me like that.’

  ‘What about the boys?’

  ‘I said goodbye to them last weekend.’

  He went to his safe, and lifted out a vacuum flask. He poured some of the contents into a glass, then got into bed and drank it down. He snuggled under the bedclothes.

  ‘Good night, my darling. Goodbye, my love.’

  She leaned over, cuddled him, and wept. ‘I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to stay like this. Thank you for a wonderful life, my darling. Thank you so much. I love you.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  Chapter 14. Sunday 20 January

  Eddie glanced at his watch. Almost ten to two. Late tonight, he thought. Business had been good, though. At that last club, the lads usually stopped around midnight, but they still had a demand. And then he’d to reconcile the cash and tablets. It all took time. He peered through the gloom of Glasgow Green, as Gordy drove slowly past the People’s Palace. Up ahead, two large black cars moved even slower.

  ‘Just ease back a bit, Gordy. Let’s see where these guys go.’

  At the junction with James Street, the two cars turned left and then right into Greenhead Street. That’s the way he should go too. To his home.

  ‘Just go straight across, Gordy. Take it easy.’

  ‘Okay, boss.’

  Eddie watched the two cars, separated now from the Green carriageway by a strip of grass and a row of trees. One stopped just before his house, the other stopped just beyond it. Too much of a coincidence, he thought.

  ‘Go down Main Street, and back round again, Gordy.’

  Next time round, Eddie saw dim silhouettes of tall, dark figures opposite his house.

  ‘Go back round again, Gordy.’

  Next time, the figures had gone, but his front door lay open. Shit. A police raid? But why? The tablets were legal. Maybe it had to do with that big bastard, Jack Bruce. Had that come back to haunt him?

  ‘Go round past Shawfield, Gordy, and stop at the first phone box you see.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  If he’d to run, how much money did he have? He quickly estimated – six bars and three nightclubs – he had over two thousand pounds in cash in the secret compartments of his case, plus packs of tablets as well. Nearly ten years salary for some people. So he could get by for a while. And he also carried a passport and ID card in the name of Alex Jardine. Would the police know that? Probably not. He’d never used them. Gordy pulled up at a phone box.

  Eddie asked for Sam’s number. It rang out. Very odd. Had it to do with the tablets after all? He checked his notebook and asked for Andrew’s number in Hampstead. No reply. Shit. This looked bad. He asked for Ron Baxter’s number in Edinburgh. Again, no reply. Time to run. He asked for a number in Belfast. She’d said to call anytime, day or night.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Anne-Marie?’

  ‘Yeah, who’s this?’

  ‘It’s Eddie Frame. I work with Dan McFadden. Remember, we met a few months ago?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Eddie. I remember. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I need to get out the country fast. Can you help me?’

  ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘What are the options again?’

  ‘Basic, we get you over the border. Fifty quid. Second level, we get you over the border to Dublin with a new passport and ID card. A hundred quid. Third level, we get you all of that plus book your flights from Dublin, open a bank account that you can access in Spain, and give you a contact number in Belfast for friends and family. A hundred and fifty quid. Cash up front. Which do you want?’

  ‘I’ll take the third option, Anne-Marie.’

  ‘Okay, where are you?’

  ‘I’m still in Glasgow.’

  ‘Right, get yourself down to Stranr
aer. Call me from there and let ne know what ferry you’re on. There’s an Ulster Information kiosk at Stranraer. Buy a bus ticket from Larne to Belfast. If anybody asks about your onward journey, show them the ticket. It makes you look like a regular. I’ll have a car meet you at Larne. The driver will carry a board with the name Jon Kelly, the first name spelt J-O-N. Give him the money. We’ll fly you out Monday. In the meantime, don’t call family or friends. Just disappear. All right?’

  ‘Fine. Sounds like a well-oiled machine.’

  ‘Yeah, we do it two or three times a week. No problem. I won’t see you, Eddie, but you’ll be in a safe house, and the team will look after you. Okay?’

  ‘Thanks, Anne-Marie.’

  Eddie got into the back of the car. ‘Gordy, could you do me a favour, please? Could you take me down to Stranraer? In your own car?’

  ‘No problem, boss.’ He started the engine and drove off.

  ‘I don’t want you to tell anybody you’ve done this, though. Not even Mary. If anybody asks, just say you dropped me at my house at quarter to two. You saw me walk towards the door, but didn’t see me go in. You went off to join your mates for a few hours. Okay?’

  ‘Sure, boss. I often play cards on a Saturday night. They’ll back me up.’

  ‘That’s great, Gordy. How about fifty quid for this?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus, boss. That’s too much.’

  ‘Well, it’s worth it to me.’

  Eddie sat back and thought about Anne-Marie. She’d taken over the family business when her father, Charlie Flynn, had been killed in prison three years ago. Charlie and Dan had been old mates. Charlie had four sons and a daughter. Each boy thought he’d take over the business, but the fiery, red-haired Anne-Marie had more brains than the boys put together, and they soon had to work for her. Quite a girl. Who now held his future in her hands as he headed for Spain.

  ***

  Malcolm Craig crouched under the trees at the back of Lyall’s garden, his team alongside, all dressed in black. They’d devised a strategy that hopefully would get round the problem of the dog and the burglar alarm. He glanced at his watch. One minute to two.

  He heard the car come down the street and then the loud bang as it smashed into the lamp-post outside Lyall’s house. The dog barked, and the group ran across the garden, half going down each side of the house.

  Craig peeped round the corner and saw his two amateur dramatists, John and Sally, emerge from the car, John dressed in a dinner suit with bow tie and silk scarf; Sally in a pale yellow ball gown. They’d worn harnesses to protect them from the impact.

  The front bedroom window opened above them. ‘Are you okay?’ a voice called.

  John looked up, and in a very pukka accent, said, ‘Sorry to disturb you, old boy. The bally steering’s just gone, dammit. Any chance I could use your phone?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. I’ll be right down.’

  The two groups skunked along the front of the house. Craig had a judo expert as the lead man on the other side. He’d immobilise Lyall as they entered. Craig held his breath as John and Sally walked towards the door.

  John said, ‘I really appreciate this, old boy. I’ll get my brother to come and collect us. Shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘That’s okay. As long as you’re all right. In you come.’

  ‘Thanks, old boy.’ They entered the house.

  The two teams crashed into the house behind them. The lead man shouted, ‘Armed Police,’ tossed Lyall to the floor, cuffed his wrists and ankles, and gagged him. The others spread through the house to follow their instructions.

  Craig knelt on Lyall’s back. ‘Mr Andrew Lyall, you’re under arrest for breaches of amendments to the Emergency Powers (Defence) (No 2) Act 1940, for the possession and distribution of methamphetamine tablets in the UK. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?’

  Lyall grunted. Craig searched Lyall’s dressing gown pockets and found a bunch of keys. These could come in handy, he thought. The dog had stopped barking. He asked John and Sally to turn Lyall over and lean him against the wall, then went upstairs.

  Two female officers stood in front of the doors to the back bedrooms. They wore tabards with ‘POLICE’ on them. All quiet in the children’s rooms.

  Craig entered the front bedroom. Two female officers had Mrs Lyall cuffed and gagged on the floor. One said, ‘This room’s clear, sir. No sign of a panic button.’

  Craig knelt beside her. ‘Mrs Lyall, I’m Chief Superintendent Craig of the Special Branch. We’ve arrested your husband for possessing and distributing methamphetamine tablets, which is against the law. We’ll release you as soon as we can. Your children don’t seem disturbed so far. If they wake, we have specially trained officers to deal with them.’

  He went next door to the office. His team had already emptied drawers and cupboards, and checked the contents. The team leader said, ‘We’ve got a problem with this filing cabinet, sir. It’s locked, and we haven’t found the keys.’

  ‘I’ve got keys here,’ Craig said. Then the phone rang. Craig turned to the desk. ‘Don’t answer it.’ He didn’t want to alert anyone to their presence. He found the right key and unlocked the cabinet, but the drawers didn’t pull out. Then he noticed a metal frame around the back of the cabinet, attached to the wall. He called the safecracker over. ‘How the hell do we get into these drawers? Do you think there’s a booby trap here?’

  The safecracker examined the filing cabinet. ‘Well, it’s not like the last time, sir. No sign of any cables or switches. What are these discs down each side of the frame?’

  That rang a bell for Craig. ‘Hold on a second. I might have the answer in my car.’

  He dashed downstairs, got his briefcase from the car, now at the front door, and pulled out the instructions Sandra had written on the secret compartments in the special suitcase.

  He and the safecracker pored over them. ‘As I remember it, these discs cover magnetic switches. So, can we get these off?’

  The safecracker gently pulled the discs off. Each revealed a circle a couple of inches in diameter with a slot in it.

  ‘Right,’ Craig said, ‘these instructions say if you turn the slot 180 degrees, it switches the magnetic lock off. Let’s try with the top drawer.’

  The safecracker turned the slots on either side of the drawer. ‘Try that.’

  Craig pulled the drawer open. He smiled at the safecracker. ‘Clever, eh?’

  The safecracker scratched his head. ‘How the hell does that work?’

  ‘Well, you can look up the details later. Let’s get the other drawers freed first.’

  In the top drawer, Craig found a series of files marked GB01 to GB29. Each had a copy of the GT Pharma Distributor agreement with the name and address of the distributor. Exactly what he wanted, and even better, not in code. He lifted the phone, called Alison, and gave her the names and addresses of all twenty-nine distributors. He gave the team the thumbs up. ‘Great job, team. Let’s box all this up and get back to HQ.’

  He went to the front bedroom, and got the cuffs and gag removed from Mrs Lyall. She rubbed her wrists and ankles. ‘You’re a monster. You know that?’

  Craig shrugged. ‘Well, I’ve a job to do, ma’am, to uphold the law. Lots of people don’t like me for it, usually the ones that break the law. We’ll take your husband to Hampstead Police Station, where he’ll be charged and detained until his court appearance, probably tomorrow. He can use the duty solicitor, or appoint his own. If it’s the latter, ask him to contact the duty officer at Hampstead for access.

  ‘In the meantime, this house is a crime scene. That means you and the children must leave until we complete our enquiries. Do you have somewhere you can go?’

  She nodded. ‘My mother’s.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll leave you in the hands of these officers. Thank you, team.’

  Craig went downstairs, and found his team leader. ‘Rob, take two officers and
get Lyall dressed.’ Lyall still lay in the hall. ‘Okay, take the gag off.’

  Lyall snarled at him. ‘I’ll have you for wrongful arrest.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘Because we’re not doing anything illegal.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mr Lyall. The possession, selling and distribution of methamphetamine tablets were made illegal in this country ten days ago.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Too bad. Ignorance of the law’s not a defence, I’m afraid. Take him away.’

  ***

  Tom Hamilton sat in the passenger seat of the lead car as it passed through the grim grimy Glasgow landscape towards the east end. No police officer had ever bagged a McFadden, or any senior member of the Glasgow crime family. The targets had always wriggled off the hook from advanced inside knowledge, unbreakable alibis, or the use of very sharp lawyers. Now, he had his chance to make history.

  He’d examined the McFadden compound from every angle under the guise of the ‘Electricity Board’ checking underground cables in Reid Street and Colvend Street. Inside its gates to the right stood the remains of the original print works, which contained offices and meeting rooms, and where the night watchman sat. Behind that, a large storage unit occupied the far right corner, and backed onto the alleyways along the rear and along the river bank.

  To the left of the gates stood Dan’s bungalow, which backed onto Colvend Street, with Kenny’s bungalow beyond. Sam’s bungalow stood almost opposite the gates, and backed on to the rear alleyway. The bungalows each had separate addresses in Reid Street. A seven-foot-high wire fence surrounded the property. Three-storey tenement buildings overlooked the compound in Reid Street and Colvend Street.

  Tom checked his pocket, yet again, for the search warrant, signed by a Sheriff at the last minute to avoid leaks. He’d filmed activity in the compound on previous nights from a tenement flat in Reid Street, occupied by two of his young detectives, who played the part of newlyweds Ian and Jessie McIvor.

  He’d also taken over an empty factory unit at Shieldhall, and recreated parts of the compound inside it, to rehearse and perfect his raid strategy. He hand picked his team with no one from the Eastern Division. Most of them still didn’t know the target. He’d done all he could think of, but knew he couldn’t afford any cracks in the evidence, otherwise the lawyers would widen them to unbridgeable crevasses. Fingers crossed.