Backlash

by Lynda La Plante

  The surveillance car continued to follow, but held back as the taxi turned left and parked. A plain clothes officer got out to tail Bradford as he left the cab.

  Mike was now parked on a double yellow line a few yards from the traffic lights. There was a pause, then the surveillance officer following Bradford made contact, reporting that Bradford had gone to the hair-styling section and selected a box of red L’Oréal hair dye and was now at the checkout counter.

  Langton, listening in, glanced at Anna, wondering if it was for his mother. She smiled.

  ‘I doubt it, dyeing it my shade? Quite clever: Oates’s blond hair will take the colour easily,’ she said.

  Bradford paid for his hair dye and then came out from Boots to cross to a shoe shop on the opposite corner. Again he was tailed and back came the information that he was buying a pair of boots, which he hadn’t even tried on! They also got the nod that he was very agitated, had dropped his wallet and was very impatient with the assistant, swearing at her to hurry up.

  Bradford came out and tossed the purchases into the taxi. Mike turned towards him.

  ‘Where to now?’

  Bradford had his hand on the open door.

  ‘Go to the bank now.’

  ‘It’s a no right turn,’ Mike said.

  ‘Then do a fucking u-ey, pal . . . Wait, leave it . . . I’ll walk up to the bank, meet me outside on the corner.’

  Mike let him slam the door shut and a different surveillance officer now took over as Bradford hurried along New Malden High Street towards the bank.

  Mike did an illegal right turn, followed by the surveillance car, to the great annoyance of one irate driver who yelled out abuse as they came alongside the hurrying figure of Bradford.

  ‘Silver now into bank.’

  Waiting in the bank was the surveillance officer monitoring the CCTV. It was a small local branch, with just four cashiers behind the plate glass and a cordoned area for the customers to queue. There were two Japanese women, and an elderly man with a wheelie cart. Bradford took out papers from his jacket and was visibly sweating as he waited.

  A cashier became available and he stepped forwards in front of the old man, who pushed his cart in front of Bradford.

  ‘Get the fuck out of my way,’ Bradford snarled.

  A second cashier spoke into her microphone to say position number three was now available and Bradford elbowed past the old man.

  The bank manager had already been primed to let the transaction take place without too many questions, as they didn’t want Bradford to become at all suspicious.

  ‘I’m here on behalf of my mother. She called you and I’ve got all the signed forms and my passport here,’ Bradford explained.

  In fact it would usually have taken considerably more time, with all the security questions and identification checks that were legally required, but Langton had preempted this. However, as with all carefully plotted and planned arrangements, there could always be a blip and this time it came from the cashier.

  ‘I will have to speak to the manager to clear this, one moment.’

  If Bradford was nervous so was everyone else. He was breathing very heavily, constantly looking over his shoulder and back to the empty teller’s chair.

  Langton threw up his hands in despair, asking what the hell was going on. But the wait wasn’t over even when the cashier returned, as she asked Bradford to go into the small office as they didn’t want to pass over such a large payment in the view of other customers.

  It seemed an interminable length of time, but it was actually only five minutes before Bradford emerged from the office and hurriedly left the bank with ten thousand pounds cash. He almost ran around the corner to where the taxi was parked, and had a good look round before getting in.

  ‘Get me back to the estate.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  As they drove off Mike noticed Bradford continually glancing in the passenger wing mirror and becoming increasingly agitated, so he decided to drive back via the Kingston Road and then up the London Road and back to the estate via Kingston Hill. Bradford didn’t seem to notice the different route as he was so busy looking in the wing mirror.

  The surveillance car behind radioed back to base the route they were taking. Langton wondered what on earth Mike was up to and worried he could blow the whole operation until he heard Bradford’s voice over Mike’s concealed radio.

  ‘That car behind – do you know him?’

  ‘What ya mean, do I know him?’

  ‘It was behind us when we went to the bank and now it’s back again.’

  ‘Fuck off, you’re paranoid, mate . . . unless you just robbed the bank,’ Mike said, trying to ease the situation.

  ‘The passenger in it, he was in Boots.’

  ‘Look, they don’t pay me enough to drive nutters, so I tell you what, I’ll drop you off at the Kingston Lodge up there.’

  Mike put his foot down hard on the pedal and swung into the hotel car park.

  ‘What you bloody doing? Stop the car, STOP!’

  Mike hit the brakes and, opening the driver’s door, ran out of the vehicle and dived to the ground, knowing from experience exactly what would happen next and the last place he wanted to be was in the possible line of fire.

  The surveillance car behind drew up almost bumper to bumper as two plain clothes armed officers rushed out and moved to the front and passenger side of the taxi, their guns drawn and aimed at Bradford.

  It was over in seconds. Bradford was hauled from the taxi, dropping his shoebox and Boots carrier bag and forced to the ground at gunpoint. He was quickly handcuffed and roughly manhandled towards the rear entrance of the hotel screeching, ‘What you think you’re fucking doing? LET GO! LET GO OF ME!’

  Bradford, with his arms held behind him, was forced to bend from the waist as he was pushed into a small side room where Langton and Anna were waiting.

  He had a look of terror on his sweating face, and he was almost sobbing as he kept on repeating, ‘What? What? What?’

  Bradford was pushed into a chair as Langton confronted him.

  ‘Who’ve you been shopping for, Mr Bradford?’

  ‘Oh Christ, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ve got to let me go.’

  Mike swiftly went to the washroom and brushed himself down, before joining the others in the side room. Bradford was sitting by a table crying, the cuffs had been removed and Langton was holding out his mobile.

  ‘Come on, son, just calm down, call him, say there’s been a bit of a hold-up at the bank with the money.’

  Anna updated Mike.

  ‘Oates is in the flat. He’s put Timmy’s mother in the bathroom with a noose around her neck that’s attached to a pulley ring above the bath.’

  Bradford heard Anna and became even more agitated.

  ‘Henry told me that he’s left her standing on the kitchen stepping stool. He said he’d be watching out for me and if I come back with anyone or was late he’d go and pull the stool away and hang her.’ Bradford wailed and put his head on his hands.

  ‘Come on, straighten out, we’ll make sure she’s okay.’

  ‘She’s eighty-two years old. She can’t stand up for long,’ Bradford groaned, and blurted out that Oates had said he had to be back in an hour or he’d kill his mother.

  ‘What were you doing in the chemist’s?’

  ‘He wanted red hair dye, said he’s gonna dye his hair.’

  ‘Were the boots for him as well?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t understand what you’re doin’ holding me here, he’ll kill her.’

  Langton drew up a chair so close their knees were almost touching.

  ‘Now you listen to me, Tim, you’ve got to calm yourself right down because we need time to make sure we get your mother out of there alive.’

  ‘BUT WE’RE WASTIN’ TIME!’

  ‘Shush now, look at me. Tim, look at me. You were a fighter, am I right, yes? Good one, from what I’ve been told. Now I want you to look at thi
s like you were about to go into the ring, deep breaths, that’s it, get yourself ready, keep looking at me, Tim, good lad, now this is what you do, because we need some time.’

  Bradford nodded and Langton caught a full whiff of his disgusting halitosis.

  ‘You make a call and you tell him there’s been a hitch with the money withdrawal, person who deals with it is still in with someone else. Say it’s going to take another fifteen minutes before they can hand it over to you, then you still get another ten to drive back to the estate, okay? You ready to do this, Tim?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, but I’m scared for my mum. He’s got her on that stool.’

  ‘Well, you are going to save her by doing this; here’s your mobile, now let’s call the bastard, shall we? If you get into a problem say the manager or the cashier will talk to him to confirm you’re telling the truth, okay? Understand?’

  Bradford nodded, his hand shaking as he pressed dial on the mobile. Timmy’s landline had already been tapped so they knew the call could be recorded and Anna was on her phone, which had been linked in to listen to the conversation.

  It rang and Oates picked up.

  ‘It’s me, Timmy.’

  ‘You got the money yet?’

  ‘I’m still here at the bank, there’s a hitch. Cos it’s so much money a cashier can’t deal with it, the manager has to and I’m still waiting to see him.’

  ‘You better not be fucking me about?’

  ‘I’m tellin’ you the truth.’

  ‘How long do I have to wait, for Chrissake?’

  ‘Said no more than fifteen then I’ll come straight home. I got the taxi waitin’.’

  ‘You better get a move on cos I’m starting to get edgy, man, and you know what happens when I get edgy—’

  Bradford’s voice trembled as he interrupted Oates.

  ‘Yeah, you kill someone.’

  ‘That’s right, and the clock’s ticking.’

  As Oates replaced the phone, Bradford, sweating and shaking, cried out for him not to kill his mother. Langton gripped Bradford’s shoulder.

  ‘That was brilliant, and it gives us the time we need.’

  The team were now galvanized into action, planning the best way to arrest Oates and get Mrs Douglas out alive. The neighbours, Mr and Mrs Pearson, were now at the hotel and had given permission for the police to use their premises for the operation. With the key Barbara had got from the Pearsons, tech support and firearms officers had gone into the flat on the other side while Oates was on the phone speaking to Timmy. Another group had gone into the Pearsons’ at the same time. Being on the first floor, there was no rear entrance – the only way in was through the front door. They considered using a double for Bradford with his baseball cap pulled down, who would knock at the door; as soon as Oates opened it the armed officers would crash in and overpower him.

  This plan became a no-goer when Bradford told them that he had the key to the front door and Oates knew it, so to ring the bell or knock on the door would be a clear signal that something was wrong. Langton, against his better judgement, decided that an all-out assault on the flat was too dangerous and Timmy Bradford should return to the premises and give Oates the money. There was still the danger that Oates might harm Bradford or his mother, but it was unlikely that he would leave the premises until late at night and this would give them breathing space to reassess the situation. Timmy was told to try and keep Oates in conversation about what he was going to do.

  The tech support officers were now ready to drill from the Pearsons’ bathroom into Mrs Douglas’s. It would be a very difficult process going through at floor level to come out in the corner wall beside the toilet and would take at least half an hour, maybe longer. By using a fish-eye camera lens on the end of a thin optical cable they would be able to check on her condition and most importantly see if she was still alive. It was considered too risky to drill into the living room to see what Oates was doing. Bradford had described how his deceased stepfather had suffered from arthritis and so a pulley on a ring with a hand bar had been installed for him to grip onto to heave himself in and out of the bath. The ring was secured to the ceiling and Oates had tied a dressing-gown cord to the pulley, looping it round his mother’s neck. She was balanced on a kitchen stool.

  Keeping him calm, Anna and Mike sat with Timmy as he was given some very sweet coffee. He explained how Oates had found his mother’s bank statements and forced him to make the arrangement to withdraw the money and then collect it or he’d kill her. He cried, and then wept even harder when he said that he’d never forgive himself for not being there the night Oates had got into the flat. He’d been out betting on the dogs at Wimbledon race track until late, not returning home until after midnight. He’d lost all his cash and had had to walk from the track, which was the reason he’d been so late. Oates had rung the bell and his mother, presuming her son must have forgotten his key, had opened the front door without a second thought.

  ‘She’s in her nightie,’ he said pitifully.

  ‘She’s going to be okay, we’ll get her out. Has he got any weapons?’

  ‘He’s got a kitchen knife he carries around all the time. Ten grand – that’s all her savings, and you know if anything happened to her it’s not how I wanted to get my inheritance.’

  Anna nodded. The over-anxious son was worried about his mother but also about losing her money.

  Langton gestured for Anna to come over.

  ‘Hard to believe that in the middle of all this I get the hotel manager come up and give me the bill for the champagne and sandwiches the Pearsons ordered – bloody people. . .’

  Langton held up the holdall containing the money.

  ‘Too dangerous to wire up Bradford so we’ve got a pin-sized microphone fixed to one of the studs on the base of the holdall. The tracker’s been taken out—’

  ‘There’s been some complications, sir,’ the technical support officer said as he rushed into the room. ‘The concrete is thicker and harder to drill through than we originally imagined so the team at the Pearsons’ flat will need another thirty to forty minutes before they can get a camera lens into the bathroom.’

  ‘We don’t have that long,’ Langton snapped.

  The clock was ticking, and to keep Bradford in a calm state was far from easy. They simply didn’t have the option of waiting, and Bradford was told to be ready to return to the flat.

  Mike whispered to Anna that he wasn’t sure Bradford was going to be able to keep himself together. She watched Langton yet again sit close to him and this time he really pumped him up.

  ‘This is a fight, Tim, you up for it? Can you go in there and come out on top? We need you and we’re doing it this way to protect your mum. You can save her, right? Look at me, Tim, you set to do this?’

  Bradford nodded and he did seem to be up for it, licking his lips and nodding.

  ‘Okay, here’s the holdall with the money, the shoebox and the bag with the hair dye, you just act normal. Make sure you put the holdall down in the living room so we can hear everything. The sooner you hand this gear over to him, the sooner he’s gonna walk out and we’ll have him, okay?’

  Bradford was driven up to the edge of the Kingsnympton estate, from where he then walked up to the flat with the moneybag, the boots and the hair dye. They watched him head towards the block, still with his baseball cap pulled down low, and he came into view once more as he headed along the corridor towards the blue front door.

  ‘Silver at the door, letting himself in now.’

  On camera they could see Bradford putting the key into the lock and stepping inside.

  Meanwhile the drilling continued. They were almost through the wall, the specialist silent drills working carefully and, inch by inch, following the pipeline, getting closer so they could finally see inside the bathroom.

  Langton signalled that they had a pick-up from the microphone hidden in the holdall.

  ‘These my size?’

  ‘Yeah, you said ten and a half,
right? Try them on.’

  ‘Very nice, they look like Doc Martens, don’t they?’

  ‘I need to see my mum.’

  ‘You’ll fucking see her when I’m ready. Now gimme the bag. I want to count the cash.’

  ‘It’s all there, ten grand. I done what you asked me to.’

  There was then a long period where all they could hear was Oates counting the money. Langton had told Bradford to keep Oates talking but assumed that he was just sitting there paralysed with fear. There was no sound of a scuffle and it was nearly ten minutes before they heard Timmy’s voice again.

  ‘You got my leather jacket on.’

  ‘Yeah, and your trousers. Here, there’s a few quid for you.’

  Oates laughed. In the hotel conference room everyone grew very tense as it appeared that Oates was preparing to move out.

  ‘I’m sorry to tie you up, Timmy, it’s just to give me time, right?’

  ‘You said I could see my mum, she’s fucking eighty-two years old.’

  ‘Once you get out of these ropes you can. I guess you’re hoping she’s still alive?’

  They could hear Bradford start to cry. Oates told him to shut up and then asked where the hair dye was. Bradford told him it was in the kitchen in the Boots bag.

  Langton got the signal that the drills were through the wall and the camera was being threaded through into the bathroom. On the small screen they could see Mrs Douglas hanging motionless from the pulley ring. The kitchen stool lay on its side and her feet were dangling inches above the bath. Oates, it seemed, had already murdered Timmy Bradford’s mother.

  With Mrs Douglas obviously dead and Bradford’s own life clearly under threat Langton turned to Mike.

  ‘DCI Lewis, do we go in? Just give the signal.’

  Mike nodded, and Anna knew yet again Langton was placing Mike in the driving seat.

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  After such a tense long waiting game, the actual arrest was over very quickly. An SO19 officer used a hand-held metal battering ram on the front door and then threw in two thunder flashes, which went off with a massive boom, disorientating not only Oates but Bradford as well. Three more armed officers, one carrying a Taser stun gun, crashed into the flat, screaming out a warning that they were armed.