by Ian Andrew
Zoe sounded so happy and plausible that Kara had difficulty squaring the sound of her voice with the furious look in the woman’s eyes. She listened intently to Illy Sultanov in the headphone to her ear and heard an increase in his respiratory rate. When he spoke again his accent had thickened, his voice sounded a little tighter, more forced. He wasn’t a patch on faking it compared to his quasi-niece.
“Um, Zoe, listen this is great news. It really is. Terrific. I could not be more pleased. Thank you for phoning me, but I am sorry, I am just trying to finish a meeting with some clients. Let me get rid of them straightaway and then I will come see you. You are at home, yes?”
“Yes. At home and yes, that would be super. Michael’s not due back for hours so it’ll be great to have you and Aunt Yanina here. We can all be together when they find Mum and bring her here. Thank you Uncle Illy, that’s so kind.”
“Please, Zoe, it is nothing. You wait at home. I shall see you soon.”
The line disconnected and Kara gave Zoe a broad smile, “Excellent, well done.”
“And now we wait,” Sexton said.
The background hum of the centre seemed to fade as Kara concentrated on the slow moving second hand of an analogue clock mounted on the wall. The longer the delay the more certain she was that Illy was trying to initiate everything by phone. She could almost feel the frustration he would be experiencing as each time he tried to call any of his people at the ‘New Start Resort’ he would have got a ‘Network Unavailable’ pre-recorded message. She watched and waited as the seconds dragged on.
After what had seemed like an hour but had only been four and a half minutes, Matt Sexton said, “He might just decide to cut his losses you know.”
“You mean he knows something weird is going on with the phones and he’s going to keep his distance?” asked David.
Sexton nodded. Kara knew the Ulsterman could be right. If Illy thought he was being lured into a trap then he might just stay away. If he didn’t turn up at either location then the police wouldn’t be able to pin much on him. They’d still rescue Brenda and maybe she and Chris would testify but given Illy’s likely approach to dealing with witnesses, and their families, the case could fall apart before it began. Kara checked the clock on the wall. It showed 18:36.
At 18:40, Kara was realising that the one thing they hadn’t decided on was how long they would wait before moving. She was about to ask the question when one of the mobiles that sat in the middle of the table began to ring.
“That belongs to the older of the two guards that was with Chris Sterling,” Tien said. “I’d guess Illy’s tried everyone at the camp and now he’s going to try everyone else.”
They all waited for the phone to stop vibrating against the laminate top of the briefing table. As soon as it ceased, the one next to it lit up and began to play an unidentifiable rock track.
“And that’s the younger one’s phone,” Tien said. It vibrated so violently that Zoe reached out and steadied it from bouncing its way off the table.
“Shall we take bets?” asked David gazing at the other phones on the table.
But there was no next call to either of the last two mobiles. Kara knew there might be eventually but if Illy was ringing in an order then there would be a delay, for she’d had Eugene take Anatoly’s phone to prevent awkward questions about five confiscated mobiles and only four security personnel.
As it was, Tien’s mobile started ringing before anything else happened. She slid it over to Kara.
“Hi Dinger,” Kara said and put him on speaker.
“I have all sorts of people hustling out the door. Reggie, Ronnie, Smirnoff and Penny now standing at the foot of the front door steps. Wait,” Dinger reported from his secluded observation point in the grounds of Illy and Yanina’s house. Cold, uncomfortable and hungry he’d had little else to do up to that point as neither Yanina nor Illy had left the house all day.
Tien pointed up to the series of A4 photos that she had downloaded and printed out. The names they had christened Illy’s security personnel were written in black marker under them. All except Anatoly. He didn’t appear on the wall. The set of photos in the command centre was one of eight Tien had produced. The rest were in the possession of the various SCO19 teams now waiting in four separate locations.
The atmosphere in the command vehicle was almost unbearable. Kara cast her eyes around and could see that even Tien, the calmest and most centred person she knew, or had ever known, was sitting forward in her seat. Her body leaning over the table, a small tremor of movement seemingly pulsing through her. The fingers of her right hand flexing in and out, forming a loose fist. David had risen and was actually pacing up and down, like some weird expectant father, Harrison remained standing behind his operator, but was rocking back and forward on the balls of his feet. Reynolds was still sitting down, but his brow was creased like a worried Shar Pei and he was twitching a pen through his fingers. Next to him Moya Little, who Kara had really only exchanged pleasantries with, had her head bowed, her hands interlaced and other than her thumbs tapping out a very fast rhythm could have been mistaken for praying. Sexton, his big frame sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his barrel chest, his ruddy complexion showing traces of sweat on his top lip, had his eyes closed but the tension in his jaw was the giveaway that he was not asleep nor near it.
Kara wondered how she appeared to them. She knew her heart rate was up, her breathing rapid. She desperately wanted this prick of a thug to make a move but there was nothing more she could do to influence his actions. It was the lack of control that she knew was eating into her. She looked to her immediate right and realised that Zoe, out of all, sat the stillest, calmest, breathing deeply, face like a mask, poised like a porcelain statue of the finest cast and finish.
But even she jumped a little when the next of the mobiles on the table began to ring. It was Emilia’s phone and Tien reached out quickly and silenced it.
Dinger’s voice sounded calm and quiet in the midst of the jarring tension, “Thor’s out with Illy. Illy has a mobile up to his ear. He’s looking agitated, in fact he’s looking very, very pissed off. Standby… Okay, so Illy’s pocketed his phone but is doing a lot of shouting and arm waving. Not too sure what he’s saying ‘cos I’m no linguist but I’m guessing he’s not happy. He’s got into the back of the Merc. Thor’s behind the wheel. I have Smirnoff driving the Range Rover, Penny in the passenger seat, the Twins are getting into the Red Golf GTI. That’s Ronnie’s personal car. Wait.”
The seconds seemed to crawl again in the command centre.
“Okay, the Merc’s gone right, right, right out of the gate. Seems Illy’s on his way to the Cross,” Dinger said but was cut off from saying anything else as a collective cry of “YES!!” sounded around the whole command vehicle.
Kara felt the tension drain from her, even though she knew there was still a way to go, “Sorry Dinger, but that’s the news we wanted. What else have you got?”
“No worries, I’m sure my ear drum will recover,” he said jokingly. “By the way that pony-tailed Viking might be freaky looking but he can drive, he’s just pulled a sweet reverse handbrake in that Merc. The Range Rover’s gone left, left, left and the Twins in the Golf have turned right, right, right, following Illy.”
“Makes sense,” said Kara to both Dinger and those assembled in the room with her. “Assume he’s sent the two in the Range Rover off to Fulham to pick up Zoe. He thinks there’s no Michael to deal with so two of them will be more than adequate. The bigger vehicle would allow them to hide her on the return journey.”
Tien gave Kara the subtlest of signals, unobserved by anyone else. Kara understood her friend was telling her not to say anything more. She looked round and saw Zoe was already looking slightly shaken at the prospect that thugs had been sent after her. The fact that Michael was in New Scotland Yard, having been intercepted after his rugby match and furnished with a protective detail that took him to the central London location didn’t seem to b
e much of a consolation.
Kara changed tack, “Okay Dinger. Who’s left?”
“Well the front door is shut and the only occupants I can account for are Yanina, Cinders and Mrs Beeton. I’ve seen nobody else.”
“Cheers, you stay in place until it’s busted then come find us?”
“Roger that Kara. Be safe.”
The phone line went dead and Kara watched as Tony Reynolds stood and crossed to one of the operator consoles. She appraised the man that she had taken such an instant dislike to on the phone and yet now found herself watching with a different appreciation. He wore no uniform, no visible rank, was of average height, quite trim for a man she guessed to be near fifty, but he possessed that rare quality; a command presence. Her initial dislike of him hadn’t mollified, it would take much more than a few good decisions and an obvious ability to get things done quickly, but she was a little impressed.
Reynolds bent and keyed a desktop mic, “Trojan call signs, this is Papa Mike Two One One. Time is 18:44. Tactical authority is now passed to Trojan Control. Acknowledge.”
The seven team leaders called in and confirmed the information that their boss, Craig Harrison, was now in charge.
The console operator in front of Reynolds pressed a button on the touch screen in front of her, “Delta Team from Trojan Control. Potential incursion your location. ETA fifteen to twenty minutes. Recce screens will advise.” The woman, who Kara reckoned had a soft trace of Scottish in her accent, had just warned off the SCO19 squad assigned to the plumbing office location.
Harrison turned to look at Kara, “Get your teams moving.”
She slid Tien’s mobile back to her and waited a few seconds until Tien had initiated the multi-way call. Tien slid the phone back across, switched to speaker.
“Jacob, advise when you have him,” Kara said.
“Roger.”
Jacob Harrop had driven the Impreza with the smashed passenger side windows down to Waltham Cross as soon as the Bedfordshire Police had taken custody of Uzy and Emilia. Given the July evening and a weather forecast of light breezes, scudding clouds and no rain he felt confident that the vehicle wouldn’t draw any undue attention. It just looked like he had the windows down to enjoy the evening. He’d made his way south of the town to a layby on the main A112 road that concealed him but gave a view of the junction with Avey Lane. After a few minutes he reported in.
“Jesus wept. That Merc’s shifting. It’s just hit the A112 heading north. There’s no way I’m getting after it from here. It’ll be at the roundabout before I get a hundred yards. Dan, you’ll have to pick it up. But the Golf is appearing now. I’m in trail of it. Copy?”
“Copy,” said Dan. He was in the red Audi A4 and currently positioned in the McDonald’s car park that Dinger had been in back on Thursday when they had followed Yanina home. It was the obvious pick up for Illy if he decided to head north to Waltham Cross which was seemingly what he was doing. Dan would be able to drop in on his tail and see if he headed to the industrial estate or proceeded further west to the New Start Resort. Either one would be a result, but they all knew it would be easier and cleaner if he went to the industrial estate’s office. They had to hope fate would be kind.
Kara felt that familiar operational thrill. She even felt like time, that had dragged and scrapped past as she waited to see if Illy would bite, had sped up. All her senses were intensified and she could ‘see’ the map of vehicles and tail cars unfolding in her mind’s eye. She realised she had a half-smile on her face and as she looked around the room she noticed that only two other people seemed to share her expression. One was Tien. The two friend’s eyes met and they shared a broader smile. The other was Craig Harrison. Kara was surprised that the rest, including her brother, had faces that showed concentration, even concern for what was happening, but there was no hint of the joy or the thrill that she felt.
Kara allowed her mind to consider this slight revelation. It wasn’t that she hadn’t, long ago, realised how much she enjoyed the operational tension; it was more that she hadn’t realised not everyone felt the same way. Tien, Sammi and her team, the O’Neill brothers, Jacob and Toby and all the other operators she had worked with knew the thrill, the buzz. They all loved it. All of them would be half-smiling. But for the first time she was working alongside people who weren’t all ex-military. This room, this operation was made up of different types. She looked back at Harrison and thought, ‘Mostly different types.’
Dan’s voice refocussed her, “I’m in.” As the Mercedes powered past the fast food outlet Dan shifted the Audi into its wake. Jacob followed the Golf until it turned left onto the main road into Waltham Cross.
“Toby, the Twins are all yours,” he called to his brother, “I’m out of here.”
“Roger, all mine,” Toby answered from the Corsa he had driven back down from Arlesey and as the Red Golf GTI pulled past him he slotted in neatly behind it.
“All callsigns,” Dan said reverting to standard radio procedure. Kara could hear the tension and concentration in his voice. “This Merc driver’s a maniac, but I’m still in contact. Just about. He’s blown through the turn to the industrial estate. Repeat Illy is not going to the estate. He’s heading north through the town.”
The female operator with the Scottish accent keyed her mic, “Sierra One from Trojan Control. Be advised potential incursion your location. ETA twelve minutes. Recce screens will advise.” Kara was impressed with the woman’s understated yet engaging manner as she warned the SCO19 teams out at the warehouse location that they might be having company soon.
“Chaz?” Dan called.
“Go ahead,” Chaz answered.
“Be aware this boy can drive. He’s all yours in two. Copy?”
Chaz, pre-positioned in the BMW that Tien had driven that morning when they had mounted the ambush on Uzy, acknowledged, “Roger that Dan. Back off, I’ll take him from here.”
“Heads up all, the Golf is slowing to take the estate turn,” called Toby from the little Corsa that was now three cars behind the red Golf that the Twins were driving. “Confirm the Golf is left, left, left into the estate. I’m out.”
Kara, Tien and the rest of the command centre team had so far been following the communications via Tien’s phone, set up for a multi-way call. But as Toby disengaged his tail on the Golf the speaker high up in the corner of the command centre, and hooked up to the SCO19 net, clicked into operation.
“Trojan Control from Trojan One. I have eyes on red Golf, two males on board. Confirm targets identified as the Twins. South on main thoroughfare. ETA plumbing office location one minute.”
The male SCO19 officer at the console next to where Craig Harrison was, keyed his mic, “Trojan One, roger. Delta Team Leader, from Trojan Control, be advised. Targets now one minute, repeat one minute, from your location.”
“Trojan Control, Delta Team Leader. One minute. Roger.”
The central screen in the command vehicle flicked across to an external CCTV feed from a temporary camera that had been mounted with oversight of the office where Chris Sterling had been held hostage. From a vantage point on a roof opposite it showed the parking apron and the lone red Toyota parked on it. The curtains remained drawn over the main windows and it looked as normal as it had when Kara and her team had pulled up to it that afternoon.
The red Golf with the Twins in it pulled into the parking space next to the Toyota. The CCTV showed a faint flick of the curtains at the window.
Reggie and Ronnie stepped from their car cautiously and drew weapons from their shoulder holsters.
Craig Harrison leant across the console operator and keyed the console’s desk mounted mic. His voice was clipped, but clear, “Delta call signs, targets have weapons drawn. I repeat, targets have weapons drawn. This is Trojan Control authorising Command Protocol Three. Go live. Go live.”
“Roger, Trojan Control, this is Delta Team Leader, acknowledged, Protocol Three. We are weapons live.”
Kara was int
ensely focussed on the screen to her front. Reggie and Ronnie were approaching the door with weapons up. She instantly recognised the reason the Twins worked as a team. Reggie was left handed, Ronnie right. Between them they had full situational awareness for a gunfight. Kara got up and moved over to be beside Harrison. Without waiting she reached forward and pressed the transmit button on the console mic.
“Delta Teams, be aware, both assailants using mirror weaver stance. Assess ex-military, high-end operators.”
Kara had no idea who the Delta team leader was but from his answer of, “Roger that. All Delta call signs, warn once,” she knew they had the message.
The speaker and CCTV feed gave a disjointed and rather out of synch picture and sound show to the command centre. But it was effective.
The distinctive wail of an old fashioned, handheld megaphone exploded through the speaker, “ARMED POLICE, ARMED POLICE! YOU ARE SURROUNDED! PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND RAISE YOUR HANDS IMMEDIATELY.”
The CCTV showed that the effect on the Twins was as instant as desired. They halted in their approach to the door. Reggie, his tattoo showing on his lead hand, looked across to his partner. Even on the CCTV’s rather grainy image the red laser dots of Police snipers were evident on Ronnie’s back and head. Reggie crouched and placed his weapon on the ground, then stood up again and raised his hands high. Although the sound wasn’t audible they could see his mouth moving. After a momentary delay Ronnie followed suit.
One blue overall-clad SCO19 operator came from the left of the office building, another from the right and two out of the front door. They held machine pistols in the high ready and ordered the two targets onto the ground. The Twins were cuffed and taken into custody with no further trouble.
Just as Kara breathed a deep sigh, Chaz came through on the phone.
“The Merc’s taking the approach road to the Resort. Activate your teams.”
Harrison leant forward and once more keyed his mic, “Sierra One, this is Trojan Control. Standby, standby.”