The Killing

by Robert Muchamore

  John reached out to shake their hands. ‘Greg Jackson and Ray McLad, I believe. Grab a seat. What are you drinking?’

  Ray and Greg worked for the Metropolitan Police Complaints Investigation Bureau. CIB officers specialise in dealing with corruption and allegations made against fellow officers.

  ‘We were intrigued by your e-mail,’ Greg said, as John returned, placing three pints of beer on the table and sliding back into his seat. ‘Not much in the way of specifics, but you’re talking about a big collar: bent cops, robbery and murder all in one go. So what’s the deal?’

  ‘In a nutshell, my plan is to take our two main suspects, make them fighting mad and set them at each other’s throats. If all goes well, they’ll end up in a confrontation, recounting past misdeeds while we’ve got a microphone aimed at them.’

  Ray nodded. ‘How come you wanted us involved? Intelligence usually likes to snaffle all the glory for itself.’

  ‘I’ve been working with a community policewoman called Millie Kentner, but the rest of my operatives are a bit on the unusual side,’ John explained. ‘They can’t show their faces in open court without undermining the security of an organisation that doesn’t officially exist. So, if we pull this off, we’ll package all the evidence up so it looks like everything was done by Millie and you two. I’d imagine a chief inspector’s badge will be within easy grasp.’

  Both cops tried to act like they weren’t impressed, but couldn’t help smiling into their pint glasses as they drank.

  ‘When you say your agents are unusual, are we talking about informants, or what?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Far more exotic that that,’ John grinned. ‘An old friend of mine recommended you guys because you’ve worked with MI5 before, but I’m still going to remind you where you stand: if you ever disclose any information about the agents you’ll be working with over the next couple of days, you’ll be undermining dozens of undercover missions throughout the world and putting lives at risk. If you leave us in a position where we have to choose between your lives and the safety of our agents, you might find yourselves in some very hot water.’

  Greg and Ray exchanged a look, as if to say: Is this joker full of his own importance, or what? John didn’t mind; he knew the cops would take the threat seriously enough when they learned the truth.

  ‘Finish your pints, then I’ll take you upstairs to meet the cherubs,’ John said.

  Ray scratched his nose. ‘What’s a cherub when he’s out to lunch?’

  21:11

  Millie had worked out of the same cramped office since she first came to Palm Hill in 1996. For nine years she’d been dedicated to her job. She’d pulled twelve-hour shifts, attended community meetings that dragged into the early hours of the morning and often came in on her days off to catch up with paperwork.

  Discovering Michael Patel’s criminal past had shattered Millie’s confidence. How good a cop could she really be if she hadn’t noticed that her right-hand man was a bully, a thief and probably a murderer to boot? However the sting operation went, Millie had decided to quit the force as soon as it was over.

  She had a mound of paperwork to deal with, but she’d spent the past half an hour brooding into the bottom of a coffee cup, with her black stockinged feet resting on her desktop. When the mobile in her top pocket started to vibrate it was Chloe back at the hotel.

  ‘Sorry we kept you waiting,’ Chloe said. ‘The weather looks good for tomorrow. I called John for confirmation and he’s cleared us to go.’

  ‘Got that,’ Millie said, breaking into what felt like her first smile in days. ‘I just hope this works out.’

  ‘Don’t sweat it,’ Chloe said. ‘John really knows his stuff. He was running operations like this when you and I were in nappies.’

  Millie ended the call. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a relief to be underway after nearly three weeks of preparations. She slipped her feet back into her shoes, rolled her chair forward and grabbed the receiver of the landline phone on her desk. Her finger tapped in memory seventy-three: Michael Patel’s home number.

  ‘Six-zero-three-one.’

  ‘Pat, is that you? Is he home?’

  ‘Oh, hi Millie,’ Patricia said. She yelled after her husband, before putting her mouth back to the receiver. ‘You must come round to dinner again some time, by the way.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Millie lied, as she overheard the Patels’ three-year-old daughter, Charlotte, screaming in the background. ‘It sounds like the young lady doesn’t want to go to bed,’ she added.

  ‘She’s been a pain all day. First she wouldn’t get in the bath. Now she’s refusing to get out.’ Patricia shouted out again, ‘Michael, are you going to take this call or not? I can’t leave Charlotte alone in the water.’

  Patricia put the receiver down and dashed off. Michael picked it up twenty seconds later. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, guv. What’s up?’

  Millie had practised the lie a hundred times over the previous week. ‘Afraid I’m the bearer of bad news, Mike. Remember you pulled in a kid called James Holmes over by the reservoir a few Saturdays back?’

  Michael nodded at the receiver. ‘Yeah, the tough little brat, turned over a couple of real hard cases. What about him?’

  ‘I’ve got heads up that Holmes’ solicitor has filed a complaint against you. James claims you knocked his head against the roof as you put him into the car. You’ll get the official two-eight-nine notification some time tomorrow. You’ll obviously have to go over to CIB for an interview about it at some stage, but I thought you’d want to know now, so you can check your notebook and get your details straight.’

  ‘Appreciated boss. Usual story I suppose: it’ll be my word against Holmes’, but it’s still a damned nuisance. It’ll be half a day wasted dealing with CIB, when I’ve got a million better things I could be doing.’

  Millie turned the screw a little tighter. ‘I did get one other detail: James’ solicitor reckons he’s got hold of some CCTV footage of the incident.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mike said, audibly shocked. He missed a couple of beats before covering himself. ‘He can have all the CCTV he likes, boss, because nothing happened.’

  ‘Of course,’ Millie said. ‘I know you’re whiter than white, Michael. You’ve got nothing to worry about and you know I’ll be supporting you all the way. I just thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.’

  21:17

  John snapped his mobile shut and tucked it into his jacket as he headed down the deserted seventeenth-floor corridor. Greg and Ray walked in step behind him.

  ‘Good news?’ Greg asked.

  John nodded. ‘That was Millie calling. She’s a good cop, but she’s tearing herself apart over all that’s been happening. She’s just spoken to Patel. She reckons he swallowed her line about the phoney complaint. He won’t be sleeping easy tonight with that hanging over his head.’

  ‘So how old are these cherubs?’ Ron asked.

  ‘Dave’s the oldest, he’s seventeen. James and Kerry are thirteen and Lauren is ten. You’ve got to remember though, they aren’t ordinary kids. They’re all intelligent, disciplined and highly trained. The things I’ve seen them accomplish in the year that I’ve worked for CHERUB have been astonishing.’

  John slid his key card into the lock and pushed the door open, revealing a scene of destruction. There were sofa cushions scattered about, dots of popcorn everywhere, streaks of water across the carpet and puddles on the furniture.

  James nearly crashed into John, as he sprinted out of the toilet holding an ice bucket filled with water.

  ‘Oh …’ James said, wilting under John’s scowl.

  John looked set to kill. ‘James, what in the name of god are you playing at?’

  ‘We’re just messing,’ James said, glancing around at the carnage. ‘I suppose we got carried away.’

  Kerry burst out of the bedroom, holding a plastic water bottle and using a pillow as a shield. ‘I’m gonna make you guys so wet …�
�� she said, tailing off abruptly when she spotted the three men standing in the doorway.

  ‘You two stand over there,’ John yelled, pointing at the wall. ‘Where’s the other one?’

  Lauren meekly emerged from beneath a pile of sofa cushions in the far corner. She had a gigantic Coke stain down her T-shirt and significantly more popcorn stuck to her clothes than James or Kerry.

  ‘This behaviour is ridiculous,’ John screamed. ‘Millie has set off the sting operation, there’s a room next door packed with tens of thousands of pounds’ worth of electronic equipment and you three are throwing water around and acting like a bunch of five-year-olds.’

  He pointed at Lauren. ‘You, get in the shower right now. The other two, I want you to straighten up, wipe up the puddles and pick every piece of popcorn off this carpet. And be quick about it, because if this place isn’t cleared up by the time Dave gets here, I’m gonna start dishing out punishment laps.’

  Ray and Greg were grinning at each other as they stepped into the lounge area and began brushing popcorn off a couple of the sofa cushions.

  ‘Highly disciplined,’ Greg laughed.

  John allowed himself to smile as everyone mucked in with the clearing up. ‘No matter how much we train ’em, they’re still kids.’

  21:32

  James returned the vacuum cleaner to the housekeeping cupboard at the end of the hotel corridor. Now they’d finished cleaning up, he realised he needed a shower to get all the bits of toffee off his skin, but Kerry was queuing outside the door and Lauren was still in there.

  He battered the door. ‘Get a move on, Lauren. Any normal person takes five minutes, not twenty.’

  ‘Use the shower in the other room,’ she yelled back.

  ‘We can’t,’ Kerry yelled. ‘Chloe’s got cables running from the shaving socket. You can’t close the door and the steam might blow everything up.’

  ‘OK,’ Lauren tutted. ‘I’ll be two more minutes.’

  James and Kerry leaned against the wall near the entrance of the room, facing each other. John and the two cops were drooling over the surveillance equipment in the next room. Kerry’s face was red from chasing around. She wore a giant T-shirt that almost went down to the bottom of her shorts and one lemon trainer sock. The other one had gone missing during the battle.

  James suspected Kerry’s feelings towards him were starting to mellow. They’d hurled abuse, popcorn and cushions at each other, but still hadn’t managed a normal conversation, except when they’d had to talk during mission preparations.

  James looked up when he noticed Kerry smiling to herself. He tested the water with a single word. ‘What?’

  Kerry’s look stiffened when James spoke, but after a second she grinned and looked up at him.

  ‘You look funny with all that popcorn stuck in your hair,’ she muttered, as if she didn’t really want to say it.

  James couldn’t read Kerry’s body language. Her expression seemed a lot like the way she used to look at him before they kissed. Or was it anger?

  With Kerry’s temper, James knew he’d wind up on the floor in an excruciating arm-lock if he got this wrong, but he fancied her so much it was making him loopy. He’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life and she was standing less than a metre away with nobody else around.

  James took half a step forward, so that Kerry was right in his face. Her dark brown eyes kept staring up, but refused to give any obvious signal. He kissed her on the cheek, then backed away, as if he’d jabbed a snake with a sharp stick.

  Kerry’s smile grew and James felt a massive rush as he realised his bravery had paid off. She grabbed James around his waist, pushed him back against the wall and they started snogging. It lasted for about twenty seconds, when the latch clicked inside the bathroom door. Kerry stepped backwards and acted innocent as Lauren emerged, wearing an adult-length robe that dragged along the floor.

  ‘Finished,’ she announced, as she cut across the carpet towards the bedroom.

  Once Lauren was out of sight, James moved in to start snogging again, but Kerry’s expression had changed completely. She shoved him away.

  ‘I’m still not talking to you,’ she said firmly, as she slid into the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

  30. CONFUSION

  23:07

  A grey VW van pulled up directly opposite the Patels’ house. Dave switched off the lights and engine, climbed out of the cab and walked around the outside to join James and Kerry in the back.

  ‘All OK?’ Dave asked.

  James had never felt so confused in his life, but Dave was asking about the mission, not his relationship with Kerry.

  ‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘Except it’s boiling in here.’

  Surveillance vans aren’t air-conditioned, because the noise it would make is a give-away. The rear compartment contained three office chairs, which were bolted to the floor in front of a bank of monitors and VCRs. These were linked to hidden cameras and microphones built into the exterior and roof. The lack of ventilation, combined with the heat coming off the electronic gear pushed the temperature into the forties on this warm August evening.

  ‘Kerry, have you got the laser microphone lined up yet?’ Dave asked.

  ‘It’s a bit cranky,’ Kerry said, as she leaned over a console adjusting a row of knobs beneath a small TV screen.

  As she fiddled, the picture changed from white to black, before settling into a steady bluish hue.

  ‘OK,’ Dave said, as he fed digital audio tapes into two recorders. ‘Now line it up on the house. You want to get a window dead in the centre so that it picks up the vibrations when people speak.’

  Kerry tutted. ‘I know what I’m doing, Dave.’ She used a joystick to line up the image on a window. ‘Ready when you are, James.’

  James hit a switch to activate the laser. The invisible beam detected vibrations in the glass and relayed a crude impression of any noises or speech going on inside the house. The output was set to max volume and James lunged at the control to turn it down before it fried their eardrums.

  ‘The Israeli government says that it’s trying to calm tension in the region following …’

  ‘TV news,’ James said.

  Dave nodded. ‘Kerry, line that microphone up on some of the other windows. Then save the positions in memory and keep flicking between them.’

  Dave pulled a two-way radio out of his pocket. Its signal was digitally encrypted, so nobody could listen in. ‘Base, this is Dave inside unit one. We’re in position and we have good sound, but Michael’s still up watching TV.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Chloe answered. ‘John is in position at the railway arch. Tell us when you’re ready to move in.’

  Wednesday, 00:57

  They’d been sweltering in the van for two hours. James had managed to nod off on the floor, while Kerry and Dave took turns monitoring the sounds inside the house.

  The TV went off at 00:22. They tracked the sound of Michael Patel walking upstairs, brushing his teeth and flushing the toilet. Patricia woke up as her husband climbed into bed. At 00:30 Michael told his wife that he loved her and that he’d checked on their daughter. The microphone began picking up a gentle snoring sound at 00:37.

  ‘They’ve been asleep for twenty minutes,’ Kerry said. ‘That’s long enough, isn’t it?’

  Dave nodded, as he pulled his radio out of his pocket. ‘Base, I think the Patels are asleep. We’re moving in.’

  ‘Copy that, Dave,’ Chloe answered.

  Dave pinched James’ nose to wake him up. He gasped through his mouth before opening his eyes and shooting up from the floor of the van.

  ‘Joanna,’ James gasped.

  ‘Who’s Joanna?’ Dave said with raised eyebrows, as James yawned and rubbed his hand over his face.

  ‘I was having this weird dream. I was in a tent with this girl I met on my first mission. But Clint Eastwood and my nan kept flying over in a hot air balloon and dropping rocks on us.’

  ‘A dream like
that probably means something really profound,’ Dave grinned.

  Kerry couldn’t resist chipping in. ‘It means he’s an idiot and we knew that already.’

  ‘Are they asleep now?’ James yawned.

  Dave nodded. ‘You’re going in.’

  James grabbed the backpack he’d been using as a pillow.He pulled out his radio and fitted the earpiece. ‘Testing, testing, James testing.’

  Chloe came back in his ear. ‘Hearing you loud and clear, James.’

  Kerry did a radio test, then she and James pulled on disposable gloves and baseball caps. Kerry fitted an attachment to the front of her lock gun and tucked it into the front pocket of her shorts. Dave checked all the monitors to make sure nobody was walking along the street outside, then switched out the lights, so that James and Kerry weren’t seen as they jumped out the back doors.

  ‘Good luck out there,’ Dave whispered. ‘I’ll radio right away if the mike picks up any movement inside the house.’

  Kerry led James across the road and up the Patels’ driveway, passing their BMW. She pushed the lock gun into the deadlock and made easy work of undoing it, before swapping to a different-shaped pick and attacking the regular lock.

  James whispered into his mouthpiece as they passed through the doorway. ‘We’re in.’

  After pushing shut the door, they each grabbed cylinders – like mini fire extinguishers – out of their backpacks and pulled rubber gas masks over their faces. Kerry checked James’ mask was fitted properly and James returned the favour. They were halfway up the stairs when Dave called through their earpieces.

  ‘Back up, we’ve got movement in the bedroom.’

  James and Kerry hurried stealthily down the staircase, as the light came on in the upstairs hallway. Patricia Patel stepped out of the bedroom. She checked on her sleeping daughter, before cutting into the bathroom.

  Kerry whispered into her mouthpiece. ‘Do we pull out?’

  ‘Negative,’ Dave answered. ‘She’ll probably go back to bed. Stay in the house unless she starts coming down the stairs.’