by Tom Marcus
‘From Charlie Three Three, that’s both targets now across the park to the south-west exit, still sprinting. Two hundred metres away now.’
‘Zero Six roger.’
They were getting closer. I had to get out of this park to get control of them both as they left. Fucking hell, I needed cover. As I left the park I couldn’t see any shops, cafes or pubs I could go into.
‘From Charlie Three Three, that’s one hundred from you, Zero Six.’
‘Roger, let them run to me.’
I was committed now. The team was depending on me and I could tell by the lack of transmissions from any of the vehicle call signs there was no one else covering this exit. There was nothing close by to let me live my cover without the cousins seeing me. A motorbike was parked up thirty metres up the street. This was so fucking risky I couldn’t believe I was even considering it, but I had no choice, the gamble needed to be taken.
‘Three zero metres to you Zero Six, still running fast.’
‘Zero Six has direct on the exit, wait out.’
Walking up to the motorbike, a brand new Yamaha R1, I knew I could soon be facing the unhappy owner, who presumably lived in the house it was parked outside. I sat on the bike and angled the offside mirror to point at the park exit behind my right shoulder.
‘Zero Six has control. Both OUT OUT of the park and now WALKING directly south over the road. Anyone else close in?’
‘You have Charlie Two Seven in the area, give us thirty seconds, mate.’
Very aware I had just climbed onto an expensive bike I didn’t own, but still needing to live my cover in case anyone was watching me, I pretended to inspect the condition, as if I was a potential buyer. I gave one last look in the mirror: no sign of the cousins at this angle. Jumping off, I moved to the front of the bike to enable me to look back towards the cousins’ likely position.
‘Still continuing to walk south now on the opposite side of the road. Now stood static looking directly back at the park exit.’
‘Team Leader, roger that. Base acknowledge still very aware.’
‘Base roger.’
‘Oi! That’s my fucking bike!’
Shit. The owner of the bike came barrelling out of his house. He wasn’t massive but I knew he wanted to kick my head over the other side of the street. My cover needed to stay intact.
‘Hi, mate,’ I said, holding out my hand. ‘I’m John. I rang about the R1 an hour ago. You’re Bryan, right? Looks good, different colour though . . .?’
‘What?’ I’d stopped him in his tracks but he was still glaring at me. I might have defused the situation but having momentarily seized the advantage I had to keep this story going.
‘Sorry about jumping on before knocking on the door for you, but I’ve been to see a few now and you wouldn’t believe the amount of dodgy adverts trying to rip people off. Any problems with it? Looks clean and straight, not been dropped, has it?’
‘I’m not selling it . . . my name’s Andy. What are you talking about?’
‘I’m sure this is the place, look, I found you on Autotrader . . .’
I took my iPhone out of my pocket, still playing dumb but working in an exit strategy.
‘Look mate, it’s here . . . wait a minute, I don’t have a great signal here . . . this is Ringwood Way, isn’t it?’
‘No mate, that’s not round here.’
‘How the fuck did I end up here then? Listen, sorry, was it Andrew?’
‘Andy.’
‘Sorry, Andy, mate, I’m really sorry, I’m in the wrong place. Don’t suppose you’re selling this one are you?’
When a proud smile spread across his face I knew I’d won him over. ‘Sorry, no, I’d never sell it.’
‘Don’t blame you, she’s stunning.’
Running my hand over the tank and down the seat, I made my getaway cleanly.
‘Sorry again, mate. I’ve got to try and find this bike now before I have to get back to work!’
‘No worries, good luck.’
I heard Andy close his house door behind me as one of the vehicle call signs offered help controlling the cousins.
‘Zero Six, Charlie Nine Seven can?’
‘All yours,’ I said. ‘I’m local if you need foot support.’
‘Base permission?’
‘Go ahead,’ Charlie Nine Seven said. ‘No change, both targets still static on Copeland Gardens at the junction of Warren Road looking north-east.’
‘Stations, latest intelligence suggests they are waiting to be let into an address on Copeland Gardens to stay the night. Once housed we’re happy for you to withdraw.’
‘Team Leader, roger. Zero Six close in to help ID the house, assisting Charlie Nine Seven.’
‘Zero Six, roger.’
Moving closer to the junction, using the cars parked along the street for cover, I could see the cousins clearly waiting for someone. Obviously they had run out of the park to try and get into the house without being seen, which made this address a key part of the operation now. But if the operations officer at base was telling us to pull off then they had good reason to.
‘From Charlie Nine Seven, that’s both DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN IN IN to an address on Copeland Gardens. Zero Six, for your information it’s the one with the dark brown door with the black guttering.’
‘Yeah, have seen, wait one while I confirm house number.’
There was absolutely no point in blowing my cover getting close up to the door. I’d be able to see the house if I stayed on this junction and walked towards Copeland Gardens then past it and away from the address. I wouldn’t even need to be on the same side of the road as the house.
Getting to the end of the road, I could see the house the cousins went into directly opposite the T-junction.
‘SEVEN EIGHT, number SEVEN EIGHT Copeland Gardens.’
‘Charlie Nine Seven, yeah, that’s the right one, Zero Six.’
‘Team Leader, everyone cease and withdraw back to base. Good work guys, acknowledge down the list.’
We weren’t handing over control to another team, so these two cousins would be on their own for the next few hours. I didn’t like that. In reality, operators like me had no fucking choice – we are given targets to hunt down and we do it. But it didn’t stop us feeling like our pack of hyenas had left too much meat on the bone for one day.
Walking away from the house the cousins had entered only a minute ago, I saw Fatima in Charlie Nine Seven drive past me and take the next turning. There was no need to sort logistics like this out on the net; everyone knew I needed transport back to north London to pick my car up before getting into Thames House for debriefing.
Rounding the corner, I saw Charlie Nine Seven, nice and discreet.
‘Thanks mate,’ I said, getting into the passenger side.
‘No dramas, near Edgware Station, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, mate. I hate leaving jobs like this, they probably won’t come out again but if they do we’ll miss it all.’
‘I know, me too, just hope we get a decent update from the ops officers.’
Fatima shared my frustration but she was right, we’d have to wait until the debrief to find out why we’d been pulled off now. Once we made it back to my car I let Fatima go on ahead, so we didn’t end up travelling to Thames House in convoy. I was about twenty minutes behind the rest of the team, who were sitting in the briefing room ready to start picking the operation apart when I arrived.
‘Great,’ the briefing officer said, seeing me walk in. ‘Listen in then Green Team, I’ll start the debrief.’
Bollocks. Because I was the last one in I couldn’t sit at the back of the room – the rest of the team had already had that idea. Now I’d have to sit near the front with the team leader. Smiles instantly filled the faces of my fellow operators as they all knew I’d feel like I was back at school, sitting next to the teacher. Plus, having people sitting behind you is something we always try to avoid. Even in a safe environment it feels uncomfortable.
Looking towards the back seats, I let my feelings be known.
‘Fucking pricks.’
My little muttered comment made the team laugh but caused the briefing officer to raise his voice in order to keep control.
‘Come here, Tom, let’s hold hands!’ the team leader said, patting the seat next to him. He knew we needed to decompress. The team had been working hard today and although we didn’t want any thanks or medals for what we did, it was nice to know we were appreciated.
The briefing officer raised a smile at my new intimate relationship with the team leader before quickly going on to explain why we’d pulled off from the cousins once they entered the address on Copeland Gardens.
‘The house they entered is a known drugs den. It seems the cousins are relapsing. The paranoia you witnessed today may well have been caused by their addiction. However, treat it as you always would, don’t take chances.’
I’d seen a lot of addicts over the years, grew up with it all around me, and their behaviour didn’t seem like they were desperate for a fix.
‘At this stage of the operation we don’t want them to ping you when it appears they are just sleeping in a drugs den. We’re monitoring chatter about potential military attacks based on them taking photographs outside the barracks.’
The team leader let go of my hand. He needed to voice his opinion, no more jokes.
‘It’s clear to the team these two are in attack-planning mode. Maybe the electronic intelligence isn’t supporting that, but what we are seeing on the ground is that these two need to be watched constantly.’
The briefing officer was not persuaded, he’d already made his mind up.
‘No one is doubting what you have all seen and we are factoring that into the operational planning. It’s likely you’ll be deploying on them again in the morning, but let’s get you home and I’ll see you back here at zero five thirty hours.’
As soon as the team heard the words ‘get you home’ we all bolted out of the briefing room, desperate to see our wives, husbands, children, dogs, cats or catch the latest episode of Game of Thrones.
Anything that would help us switch our focus to something relatively normal. The team leader stayed behind to have it out with the briefing officer, to make sure he knew how our team felt about these two. They weren’t normal drug addicts who just happened to have converted to Islam; we needed to take them seriously. The electronic intelligence we had on them wasn’t matching the high degree of operational reconnaissance and anti-surveillance being employed.
On my long drive home, despite being knackered from a full day of surveillance, I couldn’t stop thinking about the cousins and what they were doing at this exact moment. Had they left that drugs den and gone to recce more places to attack? Drugs dens are normally easy places to find guns too – was that the real reason they had gone there?
As much as I wanted to be with Lucy and our son, a part of me didn’t want to go home and relax, watching X Factor or some other reality TV shit, because that wasn’t my reality. My world was right now, and all it had ever been was tracking down those who want to kill people and making sure they were punished.
5
OPERATION STARLING
Walking into the briefing room, I could see some of my team already downloading the fresh intelligence gained overnight on the two cousins. I was hoping we’d get a grip of them quickly once we were out on the ground. As the briefing officer walked in, I saw that he looked tired, like he’d been up all night. His eyes were bloodshot and his shirt wasn’t tucked in as it normally was. The fact he’d asked the team leader to assemble us ready for an immediate briefing confirmed the operation was moving fast.
‘Green Team, apologies for the slightly early briefing on Operation STARLING, but you need to get on the ground quickly. Please take a moment to sync your watches. G Branch have been feeding in intelligence on DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN, the cousins you followed yesterday.’
The team leader’s conversation with the briefing officer last night had obviously had the desired effect, but the agent handlers of G Branch wouldn’t have been able to recruit the cousins yet. Maybe they had someone close to them. Looking around at my team, I saw some of them lean in as the briefing officer continued.
‘I have been dealing with G Branch throughout the night, who have said the cousins have become close to a local businessman they met at their current mosque. A completely clean skin. However, his daughter was killed in a British airstrike in Iraq, while she was visiting her new husband’s family.’
Fucking hell, it was the perfect motivation to hate Britain. Those members of my team who were leaning in, listening intently, now hung their heads. Sometimes it feels as if we are fighting on a merry-go-round. We try and prevent extremism, but when we do stupid shit like killing civilians, how the hell does anyone expect terrorism to stop?
‘We have no actionable electronic intelligence on this man at the moment. However, G Branch believe it’s worth having a look at him, so today you’ll be deploying out to the address on the screen and your PDAs. The target has been given the codename MAROON OTTER. Today’s objectives are: up-to-date photographs and house any contacts made. His office address is also on your PDAs and he’s expected to be there today.’
Switching on my PDA, I entered the encryption key to unlock all the target information, addresses, known contacts, photographs, vehicles – absolutely everything that could help us operators on the ground do our job better is loaded onto these little devices. The problem was, we had a passport image and a few addresses, that was it. MAROON OTTER really was a clean skin, a complete unknown.
Just before we started to discuss tactics with the team leader, the briefing officer left us with one final point.
‘Team, after various briefings and updates with different departments and your team leader over the past eight hours or so, be mindful how the cousins were acting yesterday. It’s highly likely they are going to do something serious soon. If MAROON OTTER is involved in any way, we need to stop him, and quick.’
We’d done hundreds of operations like this before, but something about this one had got the senior intelligence officers worried. We accepted it was need to know, and we might never find out what was going on behind the scenes. People panicking over this particular job didn’t affect our team anyway. Every target was the same; we hunted them down and controlled their lives. It was always that simple. It had to be.
The team leader made sure we were going to be on top of our game straight away this morning.
‘Right, grab your kit, channel six. We’ll organize positions out on the ground, we need to get out there.’
As the whole team rushed down to the garage, you could feel the sense of urgency everyone had, no chat or banter between any of us. We all drove out the barriers and headed across Lambeth Bridge ready to go and get MAROON OTTER. Every team car was being driven with total purpose to get up to High Wycombe quickly. We wanted this guy.
‘All stations, shout up for test calls.’
Waiting for my turn to respond, I followed Mike in the car in front, who was making good use of the bus lanes to get around all the traffic.
‘Charlie Eight is on,’ I said.
‘Roger, thank you, close in to the office address. See if you can identify any vehicles.’
‘Roger that.’
‘Bravo Two is on channel six.’
‘Great, thanks Bravo Two. Can you hold out of the area to react on a stand by for a vehicle move?’
‘Yes yes.’
‘Stations, that’s everyone on channel six now. Once Charlie Eight gets close in can we plot up on all the routes around him to react to a vehicle or foot move please.’
This was how we would normally surround a target: by ‘plotting up’ around an address or a location where we know the target is, covering all the routes in and out to make sure we see everything and, more importantly, can react quickly if we need to.
It didn’t take me long to make it to MAROON OTTE
R’s home town. ‘Charlie Eight, in the area now. Checking for vehicles.’
‘Thanks Charlie Eight, stations listen for positions please.’
‘Bravo Two, can you go to the north, there is a Tesco which will give you fast access to the North Circular.’
‘Bravo Two, yeah, in position here already.’
‘Thanks. Can I have Charlie Six Six close in to support Charlie Eight.’
‘Charlie Six Six, roger that. Charlie Eight, I’m just south-east of you on Princess Way.’
‘Roger that mate, cheers.’
‘Anyone give Bravo Five a test call?’
‘Loud and clear, Bravo Five, thanks for joining last minute. Can you wait north near the North Circular too please, to react with Bravo Two. There is an Ikea slightly north.’
‘Roger that.’
The North Circular could prove a problem if the target decided to leave quickly, so having two bikers on this job was awesome. They had the ability to keep up with fast-moving cars without standing out too much.
Parking up in the office car park, I made sure the front of my car faced directly into a wall, making me harder to spot for anyone walking past. Using my mirrors, I tried to identify the registration plates of the other cars, but it was mega busy and in order to maintain my cover I had to compromise on how much I could actually see. I figured I had a bit of time though.
‘Charlie Nine Zero, are you in the area yet?’ Graeme asked.
‘Yes yes, where do you want me?’
‘Great, can you wait north in McDonalds please, ready to react on a stand by or a drive past if we need something checking?’
‘Roger that.’
I’d checked seven cars so far and nothing was coming up as a known vehicle. I angled the electric mirror on my right further out and up to get the last registration number. I could only make out the last letter, T, the rest being blocked by the vehicle next to me. Getting out of the car to check would look shit and immediately draw attention. Giving myself a minute, I rechecked the PDA to see if this dark blue Honda Civic was on the list of hundreds of cars potentially associated. It was a long shot but there was a blue Honda Civic listed, with the last letter of the VRN being a T. I needed help.