YOU’RE SWEET. STAY IN TOUCH.
As Harper watched, one by one the messages were deleted.
CHAPTER 40
Hansfree was alone in the ops room late that night when Harper turned up with a couple of coffees. ‘Did you get the extra manpower?’ he asked, as he flopped down on a folding camping chair.
‘Half a dozen. Three are working with Maggie and three with Barry Whisper. I’ve got two more coming in later.’
Harper took an envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the table where Hansfree was working. ‘There’s thirty thousand euros to be going on with,’ he said. It was part of the money he’d found in the villa in Marbella. ‘I’ll get more as and when you need it.’ He sensed that Hansfree was unhappy about something. Just a feeling, but they’d known each other for so long that he could read the signs. ‘Something happen while I was away?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.’
‘And maybe something. Come on, spill the beans.’
‘It was about midday. Maggie’s team were following Tango One along a street just off the Edgware Road. One of the new guys, Reggie, was in the A position closest to the subject, with a woman called Nancy behind him. Maggie was working as C on the opposite side of the street, while Barry Big was mobile in a vehicle not far away, cruising, ready to take up the follow if the subject hailed a taxi or got into a car. There had been nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary, with Tango One strolling along, apparently without a care in the world. There were enough other people in the street for the team to remain inconspicuous as they followed him. Anyway, everyone is as happy as Larry when Reggie calls it off. Break, break, break.’
‘What had happened?’
‘Well, Reggie says he’d seen a guy, a dark-haired man in a blue suit, olive skin scarred with pock-marks, old smallpox scars maybe. He says the man’s expression didn’t change as he approached, but he says that when the guy got closer to Tango One he winked.’
‘Winked? He called it off because of a fucking wink?’
‘Reggie’s a pro, Lex. He’s not a kid. He’s in his seventies and spent thirty years as a follower with Five. He does a bit now and again to keep his eye in but, trust me, he’s not the sort to panic.’
‘He’s sure it was a wink? Not just a dodgy eye or an insect or something?’
‘Reggie says he saw a wink so he was doing the right thing by breaking it off. They came back here for a debrief. No one else spotted anything but Reggie was closest. He did the right thing.’
‘So what’s your assessment?’
‘If Reggie was right, and I’ve no reason to doubt him, then maybe Tango One was laying a trail. The big question is how many watchers he had stationed along his route and whether any of them had been observing us long enough to be able to identify that we were following him.’
‘That’s guesswork,’ said Harper. ‘And if Reggie’s as good as you say he is, surely he’d have spotted any other watchers beforehand.’
‘I think you’re right,’ said Hansfree.
‘So, well done, Reggie, and full steam ahead,’ said Harper. ‘Everyone needs to be on full alert, obviously. I don’t have to stress how vital it is that we all bring our A-game to work tomorrow. But the good news is that if he was laying a trail to see if there was any surveillance on him, it suggests that he may be making last-minute checks before going operational.’ He raised his coffee cup in salute. ‘We’re entering the end-game, mate, and that’s always my favourite part.’
CHAPTER 41
Patsy Ellis unlocked the front door, placed her briefcase next to the hall table and went through to the kitchen. Her husband, Roger, was bending down to peer through the glass panel in the oven door. ‘Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour,’ he said, without looking around.
‘Where are the boys?’
He stood up and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘In with Charlie. Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? I mean, there’s enough to go round but some notice might have been nice.’
Ellis had to fight not to show surprise. She smiled as her mind raced. ‘I’m sorry, honey, it completely slipped my mind,’ she said. ‘Where are they?’
‘Sitting room. She volunteered to help them with their homework.’
Ellis went along the corridor to the sitting room. Charlotte Button was sitting on the sofa with the two boys, nine-year-old Jamie and eleven-year-old Harry. They both had exercise books on their laps. Button was wearing a blue Chanel suit and what looked like Chanel heels, very similar to how Ellis was dressed. ‘Charlie, what a lovely surprise,’ she said.
Button looked up and smiled. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m not as good at algebra as I thought,’ she said.
Harry sighed theatrically. ‘I keep telling you, Auntie Charlie, it’s calculus, not algebra.’
‘Potato, tomato,’ said Button, ruffling his hair. ‘I can’t believe how they’ve grown.’ There was a bottle of wine in an ice bucket on the side table next to her and a flush to her cheeks that suggested she’d already drunk a fair bit of it.
‘Well, it’s been a while since you’ve seen them,’ said Ellis. ‘Boys, can you take your books upstairs while I talk to Auntie Charlie? Supper will be ready soon.’
The boys grabbed their books and clattered out of the room. Ellis narrowed her eyes. ‘Seriously, Charlie. My home?’
‘I’m under a bit of pressure at the moment,’ said Button, quietly. ‘I needed somewhere safe.’
‘And you figured nothing bad could happen with my husband and sons under the roof?’
‘Is that so bad? Can’t an old friend pop around for a surprise visit?’
‘I’d rather you’d called first.’
Button smiled brightly. ‘But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it?’ She took the bottle out of the ice bucket and held it up. ‘I brought a gift. Roger said I should open it.’
Ellis smiled at the bottle. It was a Chardonnay, and a good one. It was her favourite brand, and she was sure that was no coincidence. It was also half empty.
Button poured some into a glass and held it out to Ellis. ‘Cheers, then.’
Ellis took the glass and they toasted each other. ‘What am I going to do with you, Charlie?’ She sighed.
‘Sit down, drink some wine and relive old times,’ said Button. ‘That’s what friends do.’ She sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs.
Ellis sank into an armchair and sipped her wine. ‘How can I help you, darling?’ she asked. ‘I’m assuming you do want my help.’ Ellis worked for the Joint Intelligence Organisation, the agency responsible for intelligence assessment and forward planning. It offered advice and support to the Joint Intelligence Committee, which oversaw the work of MI5, MI6 and GCHQ. No one knew more about the workings of the British intelligence agencies than Patsy Ellis. Prior to joining the JIO she had worked for MI5 and had been something of a mentor to Button.
Button took a long drink of wine. ‘When we talked last, you suggested I loaded a file onto a website, which could be revealed in the event of my death.’
‘Your insurance policy? I was talking hypothetically.’
‘And I agreed. But to be honest, Patsy, that thought hadn’t occurred to me. I put my faith in good old-fashioned hardware. Thumbdrives, three of them.’
‘As I said at the time, it’s the obvious thing to do.’
‘Right. And two of those thumbdrives have been stolen.’
Ellis raised her eyebrows. ‘Ah, that’s unfortunate.’
‘Please tell me it’s nothing to do with you, Patsy.’
‘Of course it’s not. Perish the thought. Where were they? Not under the mattress, obviously.’
Button smiled. ‘Safe-deposit boxes. Hatton Garden and Manchester. Both broken into by professionals.’
‘Professionals who were arrested fairly promptly in the case of Hatton Garden. Charlie, I can assure you, this is none of my doing.’
‘You can see why I’d be
worried, though. Two of my three insurance policies have now gone. And I really shouldn’t be telling you that.’
‘I don’t know what else I can say to convince you that I’m not your enemy, Charlie. What happened happened. You got caught, you resigned and that’s the end of it. I was just brought in so that you’d be dealing with a friendly face.’
‘What about Willoughby-Brown?’
‘Jeremy got what he wanted. Your job. I doubt he’d be still pursuing you.’
‘Well, someone is. And they’re good. Both the Hatton Garden robbery and the Manchester one were planned like military operations. And when they thought I was heading for the third, I was followed. By pros.’
‘That’s … interesting.’
‘Isn’t it? Whoever is on my tail they’re good. Government standard. And they’re able to go airside.’
‘I won’t ask you how you know that.’
‘How sweet. I need you to check with Five and Six that they’re not behind this.’
‘I’m sure they aren’t, but I’ll check.’
Button leaned towards Ellis. ‘And I need more. I need to know who it is, Patsy. Otherwise I might start to think that attack is the best form of defence. I have now put another copy out there and it’s not in a box. If I continue to feel under pressure I might reach the conclusion that the best option for my safety is to go and have a chat with the editor of the Guardian.’
‘Oh, I do hope not, Charlie. And, please, if ever you do decide to talk to a journalist, please make it the Telegraph. The Guardian’s an awful rag, these days.’ She held up her hand. ‘I’m joking. I don’t want you to go to any newspaper. And I know you don’t either. We have the same views on journalists. Most of them, anyway.’
‘There are still some serious journalists around who care about something other than how fat the latest pop star is getting,’ said Button. ‘The point I’m making is that, once the information is in the public domain, there’s no point in anyone trying to keep me quiet.’
‘That’s certainly true. But once the cat is out of the bag, heads would have to roll. And you’d be first in line. You killed people, Charlie.’
‘Terrorists.’
‘For personal reasons. That’s good old-fashioned murder, whichever way you look at it.’
‘I’d happily take my chances with a jury of my peers,’ said Button. She sipped her wine. ‘A grieving widow pushed over the edge when she witnessed her husband killed in front of her? With the right jury I’d get probation, but even with the wrong jury I’d get ten years, out in five. You think I’m scared of five years in a British prison? I’d appreciate the rest, frankly. And it’d give me a chance to catch up on my reading.’
‘Well, yes. You could see it that way. But you’re forgetting that you’d be up against the whole weight of the Establishment, looking for a scapegoat to hang out to dry, if you’ll forgive the mixed metaphors. With the right judge, the right prosecuting counsel, and a carefully vetted jury you might well find yourself facing a life sentence. And is there anything involving the Americans in that file, Charlie? That’s the question you need to be asking yourself. Because if the Americans take an interest and they press for extradition, well, you could be spending eternity in a metal box under the ground in some Midwestern state where same-sex marriage is illegal but wedding your cousin is okay.’
Button shrugged. ‘So the best thing all round is for the file to stay out of the public domain. And for that to happen, you have to make sure I stay safe and well.’
‘I’ve already told you, darling, this is nothing to do with Five. Or Six.’
‘Not officially, no. But there could be someone within the organisation who is pursuing their own agenda.’ She smiled at the look that flashed across Ellis’s face. ‘Please, no snappy comment about pots and kettles.’
‘You do see the irony, though?’
‘Yes, I do.’ She reached for her bag, opened it and took out a padded envelope. She passed it to Ellis, who peered inside.
‘Why, thank you, Charlie, but really I have all the phones I need.’
Button smiled thinly. ‘Two of the men involved in the Manchester safe-deposit heist were killed in Marbella. Executed. Gabriel Wawrzyniak and Tomasz Twardsowski. These are their phones.’
Ellis frowned. ‘That’s news to me.’
‘Their bodies haven’t been found yet. Not officially, anyway.’
‘And they were involved in the robbery?’
‘They have form for similar breakins in Poland and Germany. It’s the first time they’ve worked in the UK.’ She smiled. ‘And the last, obviously.’
‘And the Spanish police aren’t aware of this because?’
‘Because they’re the Spanish police,’ said Button. ‘They generally have trouble finding their backsides with both hands.’
‘And who executed them, do you know?’
‘Presumably whoever hired them. I’m guessing it’s the same person who hired the guys who did the Hatton Garden job. He didn’t want the Poles being picked up so … You can see why I’m a little nervous.’
Ellis patted the padded envelope. ‘So you want me to find out who they spoke to, where they went?’
‘All the information will be on their phones and Sim cards. I could probably get it done myself but it’ll be quicker and easier through you. Plus you’ll get to see for yourself.’
‘And then what?’
‘Well, I suppose that depends on who’s behind this. You can either deal with it, or you can bounce it back to me. Either way it’ll be taken care of.’
There were half a dozen surveillance photographs in the envelope. Ellis slid them out and looked at them. There was writing on the back: the names of the subjects and details of where the photographs had been taken. ‘Those are four of the watchers who have been on my case in the UK,’ said Button. ‘They pick me up at the airport and stick to me like glue.’ She saw the unease that flashed across Ellis’s face. ‘Don’t worry, they didn’t follow me here. They’re good but they’re not perfect. Two work for a British security company, two are former Mossad.’
‘Are they now? That’s interesting.’
‘I don’t think it’s the Israeli government. I think whoever wants me tailed hired an Israeli company, that’s all. I’m guessing they then took on extra manpower in the UK. I think whoever is having me followed also ordered the robberies and the murder of the Polish crew.’
Ellis nodded thoughtfully. ‘Okay, let me see what I can do. Are you okay, darling?’
Button flashed her a tight smile. ‘I’ve been better.’
‘Stay for dinner. Roger’s cooking.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘That Roger’s cooking? Absolutely. He’s doing his hachis parmentier. Just don’t call it shepherd’s pie – he’ll never forgive you.’
Button chuckled. ‘About me staying, I mean. Are you sure you want me here?’
Ellis raised her glass. ‘Charlie, we’re friends. No matter what’s happened, that’s never going to change.’
CHAPTER 42
Harper was standing in his usual spot close to the military club when he heard Hansfree’s voice in his earpiece. ‘Lex, I’ve just heard Tango One on his mobile, via the in-room camera,’ he said. ‘He was contacting a vehicle retail site in Staffordshire and asking about the availability of second-hand Land Rovers. I’ve just done a quick internet search and found out that the company specialises in the sale of ex-military vehicles.’
‘So it sounds like they’re going for a military target, then.’
‘Could be,’ Hansfree said. ‘Though, of course, there are plenty of civilian targets that would be easier to access using military vehicles.’
Harper thought for a few moments, then took a calculated gamble. ‘Give us the details of the site, Hansfree,’ he said, into the mic at his shoulder. ‘Barry Big, take one of the leased vehicles to the site, I’ll follow you on the bike. Maggie and Barry Whisper, remain in position, keep staking out Tango One and
track him if and when he leaves. We could be on the move, everyone on full alert.’
‘Roger that,’ said Maggie, in his ear. ‘About bloody time.’
Later that afternoon McGovan came out of the club wearing a long coat and a woolen beanie hat. Maggie May and Barry Whisper trailed him along Euston Road to Euston station, where they saw him meet the man they had named Yankee Four. He was mixed race, clean shaven, other than a small, neat moustache, and, like McGovan, was wearing a long coat. The two men went into the station and bought tickets. Maggie was behind them and overheard their destination: Lichfield in Staffordshire. She bought tickets for herself and Barry Whisper and they boarded the same train, managing to get seats at the far end of the same carriage. Throughout the two-hour journey they remained in radio contact with Harper and by the time the train arrived at Lichfield, he and Barry Big were already in position outside the station, Harper on his bike and Barry Big in one of their rental cars.
The two targets left the train and jumped into a cab, Harper on his bike in close pursuit, and the rest of the team three-up in Barry Big’s car.
The taxi drove out of town for a few miles and eventually pulled up at a long-disused and abandoned airfield, now an expanse of cracked, weed-strewn concrete, dotted with heaps of fly-tipped rubble and other rubbish. A large area, surrounded by a much newer-looking steel-mesh and barbed-wire fence, enclosed the disused control tower and crew room, and the assorted old hangars, administrative buildings and bunkers, which were now housing the offices, repair shops and stores of a company specialising in the sale of ex-military vehicles. Hundreds of ex-army Land Rovers and Bedford trucks, still in their original military camouflage, were parked in rows on the concrete hard-standing around the buildings.
The two men were soon deep in conversation with a salesman, who was showing them two ex-army Snatch Land Rovers. Harper, meanwhile, was wandering around the site, pretending to be interested in buying a vehicle, but often close enough to the group to catch snatches of their conversation and overhear what was being discussed. Eventually the two men came to an agreement with the salesman and they retired to the office to fill in the paperwork.
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