“They will be, and they’ll all be NCA, not Sussex. As far as the force is concerned, nothing has changed. That does mean, however, that you’ll still have to watch yourself because we can’t get PSD to cancel the warrant without the Russians catching on.”
“How will he let me know where Harrison is?”
“With this.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and slid it over to me. “Keep it on silent, because they might hear it even if it’s on vibrate.”
“Great,” I slipped it into my own pocket. “Because that’s not going to get confusing, is it?”
“What do you want, then?”
“A covert radio would have been nice.”
“And risk the Russians getting hold of it? Not likely.”
“Yeah, OK. The code for Jake’s phone is 2749. What do I do in the meantime?”
“Head back into Brighton and wait for a message. Patterson’s going to use the NCA systems, not ours, so it should be much faster.”
“Will do. Thanks, Jimmy.” I stood and shook his hand.
“Hey, no bother. Just make sure Sally comes back in one piece, OK?”
“Believe me, if there’s one thing I do right today, it’ll be getting her back.” I turned to collect the phone from the other table but Jimmy spoke again.
“What should we do about the reporter? If he prints even a whisper of this before Sally gets found …”
“Him?” I grinned savagely. “What would you normally do with someone who admitted to bribing police officers to get information? I doubt you’ll make anything stick, but it’ll keep him out of the way until this is over, one way or the other.”
“You devious bastard.” Jimmy grinned in return. “He’ll be ever so upset that you didn’t keep your word.”
“I can live with that,” I replied, the grin fading, “as long as it means Sally does too.”
Chapter 40
The bus ride back into Brighton seemed ponderously slow, but with my car still outside Sally’s house I didn’t have much choice. I considered going back to get it, but even with the ball-aching crawl the bus was travelling at it was still quicker than going all the way to Peacehaven.
I got off the bus on the border of Whitehawk and Kemptown, the heat hitting me like a smack in the face, then made a beeline for a little-known café that I knew no self-respecting copper would ever enter without a very good reason. Not only was it the perfect place to hide out while I waited for Patterson to tell me where Craig was, but I was also starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something, and despite what some people may tell you about stress being an appetite suppressant, I can assure you that with me it’s not.
With my battered appearance I fitted right in with the rest of the clientele, who between them had more sovereign rings and scars than teeth. As I entered I actually looked down to see if there was sawdust on the floor.
The owner, a fat, greasy man with lank dark hair and a constant sheen of sweat on his forehead, took my order with bad grace. He shuffled off into the kitchen to make it while I took a seat in the corner facing the door.
When it finally arrived, the congealed mess that should have been an English breakfast almost turned my stomach. Although it tasted a little better than it looked. I washed it down with a cracked mug of too-hot tea, then sat back and half-dozed as I watched the door, my guts churning as they processed the greasy food.
I felt guilty, sitting in a café while Sally bled for me, but I knew deep down that there was nothing else I could do. Roaming the streets looking for Harrison would get me nicked, and that would mean the Russians would cut their losses, kill Sally and take the risk of finding Harrison themselves.
No, all I could do was sit and wait, checking the phone every couple of minutes. When the message I was waiting for finally came through, I was up and out of the door before I’d finished reading it.
‘Shanklin Road,’ it read, ‘number 44. Team already in place.’
I flagged down a passing cab and gave him directions, wondering if the Russians would try and beat me there. It would arrive in about five minutes, so unless they were very close I would have time to get in, find Harrison and relieve him of the drive before they could.
Now that I was moving I could feel the excitement building, along with an unhealthy dose of mingled hope and fear. If I did locate Harrison and the drive, what then? I knew that the moment I gave it to the Russians they would kill me, so I needed to do something unexpected. I was still trying to work out what, exactly, when the cab pulled up at the bottom of Shanklin Road.
I paid him and got out, looking around to see if I could spot the surveillance team. They were good, I finally admitted, as I couldn’t see a single person that looked as if they didn’t belong.
The road itself was slightly off the beaten track, a side-road off another side road. The houses here were terraced, with small rear gardens that backed onto the local cemetery. There was little cover, and judging by the numbers I could see, 44 was smack in the middle of the street.
From the varying amounts of recycling outside, the houses seemed to be a mixture of family homes, student accommodation and social housing. An odd mix for one street but not unheard of, particularly in this part of Brighton where everyone was crammed together.
Knowing I was against the clock, I started up the hill towards the target address, walking on the far side of the road so that I could glance over as I passed. Number 44 seemed unremarkable, a small terraced house with curtains drawn and nothing to distinguish it from any of the others, but I kept going while I considered my options.
I thought about going in the back, over the wall and into the garden from the cemetery, but I’d never be able to identify the correct one. So it had to be the front, but with no local intelligence records to check I’d be going in blind.
Knowing it was my only option, I walked back to the house and climbed the concrete steps to the front door. I knocked twice and then stepped back, half-expecting whoever was inside to launch themselves at me the moment the door opened.
What I didn’t expect was a woman in her twenties, slim and tired-looking, holding a baby on her hip.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her accent pure Brighton.
“Hi, I’m here to see Craig?”
She glanced up and down the street nervously, then tried to cover the movement with a shrug.
“Don’t know a Craig, sorry.”
“I think you do, and I can’t tell you how important it is that I speak to him. There are a lot of nasty people looking for him, and believe me when I say that I’m the best option he has for walking away from the mess he’s in.”
“What do you mean?” She pulled the child up into a protective hug. Now that I looked, I could see a resemblance between child and father that you’d have to be blind to deny.
“He’s Craig’s, isn’t he?” It was more a statement than a question and she nodded reluctantly. “Well I’m sorry to tell you this, but he’s brought a shit-storm to your door. Craig has something belonging to those nasty people I told you about, and they won’t stop and chat on the doorstep. Do yourself and your boy a favour and get him out here.”
Just then I heard a door slam deep within the house. Cursing, I pushed past the woman and ran inside, almost tripping over the toys strewn everywhere as she shouted after me and the boy began to wail. I hit the door at the end of the hallway half running, half stumbling, and burst into a tiny kitchen in time to see Craig disappearing over the garden wall and into the cemetery.
I banged on the glass of the patio door and was rewarded with a flash of his fearful face as he turned towards me, but then he dropped out of sight.
Pulling the door open, I ran out into the small garden and launched myself at the top of the wall, then hauled myself up and over. By the time I landed, Craig was already halfway across the cemetery and picking up speed.
I set off after him, dodging gravestones and leaping bunches of half-wilted flowers.
“Craig,
stop!” I yelled, but he didn’t so much as glance back, instead tucking his head down and concentrating on his escape. Why he felt the need to run from me I had no idea, but as I was slowly closing the gap, I hoped I’d be able to ask him in a few minutes.
My lungs heaved as I sprinted, gasping for air, and my side burned as if scored with acid. Still I ran, knowing that if I lost him now then I would never see Sally again. That thought spurred me on, and by the time he reached the gates that led out onto Bear Road I was only a few feet behind him.
Hearing my feet crunch on the gravel drive, he finally turned to look back and that was when I had him.
Hurling myself forwards, I shoved him hard between the shoulder blades. He stumbled and fell, slamming a shoulder into the brick wall next to the gates as he went down.
He screamed with the pain and began to writhe on the ground, but instead of leaping on him I stopped, hands on knees as I fought not to throw up the breakfast I’d so recently eaten.
When I was sure I wasn’t going to vomit, I dropped down next to him and grabbed his jaw, twisting his head to face me.
“The Russians have my wife, and the only thing that’s going to save her is the USB stick that Jake gave you. Where is it?”
Instead of answering, Craig twisted and swung a punch at me, eyes wide with fear, anger and pain. I batted it aside and jabbed my knuckles into his injured shoulder, bringing forth a scream that almost shattered my eardrums.
“Cut the shit!” I demanded. “Where is it?”
He tried to scrabble away, but I stood and casually kicked him in the stomach. God knew what the surveillance team made of my actions, but I’d worry about that after Sally was safe.
“Last chance. Where the fuck is it?” I roared the last at him and raised a fist.
“OK, OK!” He curled into a ball with his hands over his head. “I sold the fucking thing. I sold it.”
“You did what? Who the hell would buy something like that? You don’t even know what’s on it!”
“Nor did they, but when they heard how much the Russians wanted it, they made a couple of phone calls and then paid me. Please, you can have the money if that helps? They gave me five hundred quid!”
“I don’t want your fucking money, I just want to know who you sold it to.”
“Who else would buy something just to spite the Russians? I sold it to the Albanians.”
Chapter 41
There’s only one Albanian crew in Brighton and they’re all double-hard bastards who would sell their mothers if they thought they could make a profit.
We’d never managed to put any of them away for more than a few months at a time, mainly because witnesses to anything serious had a nasty habit of disappearing.
I walked away from Harrison and pulled out the phone the Russians had given me, but it began to ring before I could call them.
“You heard?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you know these Albanians?” Svetlana sounded calm, but then she always did.
“A couple of them, but not well. I know the rest by reputation though, and they make you look like a Samaritan.”
“Then I should kill your woman?”
“No,” I growled, “I’ll get your drive for you, but it’s going to take longer than I thought. You need to get Sally some medical treatment, or she’ll die before I can do my job.”
“Perhaps, but I think you need the motivation.”
“Let me speak to her, I want to know she’s not dead already.” Just saying the words threatened to send me into a blind panic.
“Wait.”
I heard her walking across the floor, then Sally’s laboured breathing came on the line.
“Sally, are you OK?”
“No,” she rasped, “what’s taking you so bloody long?”
“I’m trying,” I promised, “just hang in there. I’ve asked her to get you patched up.”
“Fat chance. The bitch won’t even …” Her words faded out as the phone was pulled away and Svetlana came back on.
“She’s alive. Now do your job.” The line went dead.
I almost threw the phone, instead settling for taking out my anger on a rotting fence post, kicking it until it was little more than a pile of sodden splinters. When I’d finished, I looked up to see Tony Patterson standing on the pavement on the far side of Bear Road, about twenty metres away.
He motioned for me to follow, then turned and walked down the hill before disappearing out of sight. I headed after him into Bevendean Road.
I began to jog, ignoring the ache in my thighs from my recent sprint, and as I turned the corner I saw him climb into the back of a large, square-backed van that looked like one of the old BT vehicles. I approached it warily, glanced around to see if anyone was watching and climbed the step at the back to join him inside.
The interior of the van was cramped, mainly due to the rows of equipment that lined both sides from floor to roof. Patterson had to lean past me to secure the door, and once he had, he nodded to another man sitting at a console who flicked a switch. A red light just above his screen went green and Patterson visibly relaxed.
“We’ve got about five minutes, right?”
“Er …” I held up the phone.
“This is a surveillance van I had them run down from the Crawley depot. It works like a faraday cage, so no signals can get in or out unless we want them to. We’re safe to talk, but I know you’ve got a time limit on how long you can stay out of signal. Tell me about the Albanians.”
“They run a club on Western Road in Hove called Vivacio’s. It’s above board, but intel says they’re running all kinds of crap in the background, we’ve just never been able to catch them. More importantly, have you had any luck locating Sally?”
“No. We’ve run the vehicle index you gave Inspector Holdsworth and the car shows as no current keeper. We’ve put an alert on national ANPR and flagged it NCA only so it won’t show up on local systems. The phone they gave you, has it got any numbers in it?”
“Only one.”
“Give it to me, we’ll run it and see if we can get a trace.”
I unlocked the phone and reeled off the number. The second man typed it into his console.
“Phone located!” he said excitedly after a few moments, then visibly deflated. “Shows as currently in Istanbul, Turkey. It’s an IP phone and the bastards are running it through at least one satellite, maybe more. Dead end.”
“Who are these people?” I demanded, my face only inches away from Patterson’s in the tiny space. “And if you tell me they’re just a gang from London I’m going to put you on your arse.”
“We don’t have time to go into it, but they really are a gang from London. It just so happens that Svetlana and a couple of the others are ex-GRU, and I use the term ‘ex’ very loosely.”
“They’re Russian intelligence?” That explained a lot. “So what’s on this flash drive they’re so desperate to get back?”
“We’re out of time.” He tapped his watch. “Get out, I’ll do some digging on the Albanians and message you.”
He opened the door and all but shoved me onto the street, the van pulling away before the back door was fully closed.
“Arsehole!” I yelled, then remembered that I was being listened to and added, “learn to fucking drive.”
I realised then that I’d made a mistake trying to get the NCA involved. Much as Jake had been, Sally was simply a statistic to them, a casualty to be measured against the greater good.
They could afford to take their time as long as they got the drive. I couldn’t, not if I wanted Sally to live, and so I set off towards the city centre at a run.
Chapter 42
Vivacio’s was a stylish joint spread over three floors, with the club in the basement and first floors and a restaurant sandwiched in between.
The place was nominally run by a woman named Donieta Kreshnik, but the real owner was the same man that ran the gang with silent, ruthless efficiency. I’d only met Agon Hoti o
nce, when he’d been arrested for drink driving, but he’d left an impression and I hoped for Sally’s sake that I’d done the same.
I’d been called in as the duty intelligence officer to see if I could get anything out of him, but he’d come across as polite, urbane and annoyingly charming and had given absolutely nothing away.
I walked through the door of the restaurant some thirty minutes after leaving the cemetery, ignoring the waiter who tried to offer me a table and heading straight to the bar where Donieta sat, her dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail as she worked her way through a stack of receipts.
“Donieta,” I said, trailing the waiter behind me. “I need to see Agon, now.”
“And who the hell are you?” she demanded, raising her hand above her head and pointing down at me.
“I’m someone with a vested interest in an acquisition Agon just made. I mean no disrespect bursting in like this, but it’s quite literally a matter of life and death.”
She stared at me for a moment. Just long enough, in fact, for two large but discreet men in suits to make their way from wherever they’d come from and seize my arms from behind. I’d been expecting it since she’d pointed at me, and so didn’t struggle.
“Please.”
“I don’t know any Agon, sorry.” She jerked her head towards the door and the men began to drag me away.
“At least tell him Gareth Bell is here to see him,” I shouted, and I saw the recognition in her eyes. It was as well known to most of the major criminals in Brighton as theirs were to me, and I hoped it might be enough to get me a meeting at least.
The men stopped, seeing her hesitation.
“Wait here.” She slid off her stool and disappeared through a door behind the bar.
The men kept hold of me, but in a relaxed way that said they didn’t think I’d be much of a problem. After the day I’d had, I hoped I didn’t have to prove them wrong.
We stood like that for almost ten minutes before Donieta reappeared and motioned for us to come with her. The hands on my arms vanished, but the guards stayed close behind me as I walked through the door and into a narrow hallway that smelled of damp and spilled beer.
Closer Than Blood Page 17