Cold Killers (23 page)

Carter stared into his coffee cup. ‘It can’t be entrapment,’ he said.

‘Then we’ll need to make sure it all goes smoothly. But, the idea obviously interests you?’

Carter tapped his fingers on the desk as his brain ran through the things they would need to achieve to get Tony. ‘What’s in it for you, Della? Is it just to avenge Eddie? It’s
a hell of a risk.’

‘Tony will have me killed anyway. Maybe Harold or Marco will do it or maybe they’ll hire a mercenary; but he will do it. He’s taken everything from me, Dan. I have to get it
back. I can’t bring Eddie back, but I can bring him his own style of justice. Tony will tolerate me while he thinks I can find the diamonds. The minute he thinks I’ve found them,
he’ll have me killed. But there’ll have to be some face-to-face deal that only he can do. He’ll come if he has to. What are you thinking, Dan?’

‘I’m thinking that this is more for the National Crime Agency teams than us. They will have all the contacts.’

‘My plan won’t work if I get handed over to an NCA team. I work with you or I don’t go ahead with it. You’re the only one I trust, Dan. I can’t afford for anyone
else to be involved and it get back to Tony. I don’t want to end up like Eddie. There are people in Tony’s pay in the Met, we know that for certain.’

‘Give me a minute.’ Carter put on his coat and stepped outside and made a quick call to Bowie. He kept his coat on when he came back in.

He nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

After waiting to pick up Ross’s bag from the luggage carousel Willis and Ross went to the car-hire desk and filled out the forms for their hire car. An hour of hanging
around in the underground car park, and they were on their way in a black Audi convertible, which filled Ross with glee, as he couldn’t wait to get the top down as soon as they were leaving
the airport.

They drove along the coastal road to Marbella. Willis got a text from an unknown number: ‘This is Detective Garcia from the Spanish police. We are starting our meeting in the Marbella
police headquarters at one. Please attend.’

‘We’re supposed to be at a meeting at the police station in Marbella in forty minutes,’ said Willis. She was already looking up the map reference on her phone. She leaned over
and put the instructions into the satnav.

‘They could have given us a bit more notice,’ complained Ross.

‘I suppose they know we came on the morning flight.’

‘The hotel we’re staying at has a pool. We should try and wrap this up in the next couple of hours and then we can book in and have a dip. Did you bring a cozzie?’

‘No. I didn’t think about it.’

‘You’re kidding! Jesus, Willis. So, when you knew we were coming to Spain for work, did you think that meant constant work?’

‘Yes, I suppose I did.’

‘This is Spain. They work differently here. I’ve been here many times. There’s more socialising and working, more sunbathing and swimming and working, more eating, drinking . . .’

‘Any actual working?’

‘Not if I can help it. The hotel will sell swimming costumes. You can buy one there.’

Willis realised she probably should have brought more than fifty euros spending money with her. She didn’t own a credit card. She had a mortal fear of getting into debt. She saved her
money: she was hoping to buy a flat for her and Tina to share but, every time she thought she might be getting near to it, the prices went up again. She never seemed to have enough.

‘Any news about tomorrow, or an update from the Spanish detectives we’re meeting? Do we know their names?’

Willis read the email. ‘Garcia just sent the text; Ramirez is the more senior.’

‘Great names. You know they call them the Marbella Vice? Their life is spent searching luxury yachts and on speedboat chases.’

She looked at him with a roll of the eyes.

‘You wait, you’ll see. You’ll never see more money than in Marbella. It’s the playground of the rich and more rich.’

They arrived and parked on the street nearby, then they walked up the steps into the police station and were met by a good-looking policeman who introduced himself as Detective
Garcia. He had on a blue-striped shirt, dark blue trousers. He had a gold strap to his Rolex. He smiled with perfect white teeth and a hint of George Clooney in the brown eyes. His accent was thick
Spanish but his choice of vocabulary was more American than UK English.

‘Do you speak Spanish?’ He looked at both of them. They shook their heads.

‘No problem. I hope my English is good enough. Welcome. Good you made it,’ he said. ‘Let me take you to meet my colleague and we’ll run through what’s going down
tomorrow,’ Garcia said as he escorted them through a door and past security. They stopped briefly at an office along the way and were joined by Ramirez. He was a less smooth-looking detective
with a moody look about him and a hint of stubble. He had thick eyebrows and dark green eyes. He had the look of a man who had been stunning in his youth but had got old too quickly and now
didn’t care what he looked like.

Ramirez spoke to Garcia, and then they picked up their laptops and file boxes and led the way further into the building.

‘Come with us, please. We’re going somewhere private.’

‘Is it just going to be us?’ asked Ross as they walked along the stifling hot corridor. The sun was blazing in. Ross kept his aviator sunglasses on. Willis had lost her sunglasses on
a day out with Tina in Hyde Park, and she hadn’t replaced them.

‘Just us, yes. We try and keep knowledge about raids on suspected high-profile criminals to a need-to-know basis,’ said Ramirez, who spoke near-perfect English. ‘We have a
problem here in Marbella, with corruption, with bribery.’

‘Unfortunately, it’s the same the world over,’ answered Ross.

‘Is this your first time in Marbella?’

Ross shook his head. ‘It’s an interesting place – a bit like the Essex dream.’ Neither policeman understood Ross but they nodded and grinned. He qualified: ‘I mean,
it’s full of people showing how much money they have. Super cars, Saudi princes, billion-pound yachts. Marbella is famous for the Saudi royals, the wealthiest people in the world, isn’t
it?’

‘Yes, and the wealth keeps growing. The recession hits the medium wealthy and the poor but it doesn’t hit the super-rich.’

‘Many people live here in Marbella but have Gibraltar citizenship for tax reasons, don’t they?’ Willis said.

‘Yes, definitely,’ Garcia answered. ‘
 
“Showing off” is a national pastime here, making sure everyone sees that you are somebody.’ He smiled at Willis as he led
them through two more security doors and into an air-conditioned meeting room.

‘Is it your first time in Spain?’ he asked her.

‘Yes,’ said Willis. ‘It’s very dramatic scenery. The coast looked beautiful, all the white buildings with terracotta roofs. The sea was so blue. It’s
idyllic.’

‘Yes, lots of Brits agree. We have over three hundred thousand in Marbella alone. They love it.’

‘Oh dear, sounds like a huge amount. Is it a problem for you?’

‘Sometimes. But it isn’t only the Brits who have brought problems with them: all over Europe people come to Marbella because it is full of the super-rich who like to party. With
money comes criminals: drugs, guns, feuds.’

‘It’s got quite a reputation,’ said Willis. ‘Must be quite a challenge to be a police officer here.’

‘Yes, the streets hide so many warring drugs gangs now. We are not sure where it will all end. It’s got so bad. We get murders all the time, shoot-outs.’

Willis sat down at one of the desks and took out her laptop and notepad. Ross was hovering. He went to perch on a desk a few feet away from her. He had his arms crossed. He still hadn’t
taken off his sunglasses. He was checking out the Spanish detectives as they talked in Spanish and prepared a laptop. Willis raised an eyebrow. He smiled, took off his glasses, folded them neatly
and put them back into their case in his bag.

Ramirez opened the files he’d brought with him and handed them out a section each.

‘We’re going to run a few photos on the laptop for you to show you what the operation will involve tomorrow and what we’re looking for. We have a plan here of Tony
Butcher’s property. There are four buildings in all. We will concentrate on the main house.’ He brought up a blueprint of the estate.

‘We know that at present there are three family members,’ said Garcia. ‘Tony, his wife Debbie and Tony’s mother Sandra. Besides them are six servants. They have their own
house on the grounds. We will come in via the gate here; there is a twenty-four-hour guard on duty. As soon as this happens we will move quickly to stop any evidence being destroyed.’

‘What about Della Butcher?’

‘Her villa is here on the plan. The two villas share adjoining almond groves at the back. Della and Marco Zapata left for the UK this morning.’

‘Can you tell us about the missing man, Francisco?’ asked Willis.

‘He owns one of Marbella’s leading legal and accountancy firms. He’s responsible for moving billions of dollars of virtual money around the world for the super-rich here in
Marbella. He is a shy man, quite unassuming. He doesn’t enjoy the same lifestyle as his clients. He is a family man with one daughter. What he does is mostly legal. His offices handle most
kinds of financial work. But, naturally, because he deals with the super-rich, he also looks after the cartel’s money. He will pretend he doesn’t know it, but he must have an
idea,’ said Garcia.

Ramirez agreed: ‘Francisco is a genius in his field of hiding his clients’ assets. But, because of the type of people who live here, he has also taken on some clients that have
direct links to organised crime. These are mainly the British and the South American connections. The Russian mafia look after their own finances.’

‘Thanks for inviting us to come tomorrow,’ said Ross. ‘Willis and I will be fascinated to take a look at the big man himself. He can’t refuse to answer questions about
the murder of his brother.’

They looked at one another and Ramirez shrugged.

‘Sometimes Tony Butcher is screaming at us like a toddler having a tantrum; sometimes he wants us to stay for dinner. We never know which Tony we will find.’

‘So, what do you hope to achieve in the raid tomorrow?’ asked Willis.

Ramirez answered, ‘Best scenario? We hope to find some evidence that Francisco is still alive.’

‘This is a respected local man, with a small daughter, who is also missing,’ said Garcia. ‘It will bring huge problems down on us if he has been murdered. Tony will not be
safe, anywhere. The death squad will find him, and God knows how many others will die with him.’

‘You have the photos of him arriving and a double leaving with Marco Zapata?’ Ross said. ‘Chances are Francisco is dead.’

‘Yes, correct, but we don’t have a body.’

‘What reason do you think Tony would have for killing Francisco?’ asked Ross.

‘We both know why, otherwise a member of the Organised Crime Command wouldn’t be here, would he?’ Ramirez smiled at Ross. ‘Tony has cheated on his supplier, the Mendez
cartel. We know it. You know it. He has kept the money he’s supposed to pay for the cocaine. Francisco is the man whose firm launders the money back to the cartel. There will be gangs
fighting on the streets here to settle the score and, at the same time, to use this opportunity to force their way to the front.’

‘We will be looking for evidence of the murder tomorrow, but hoping to find none,’ said Ramirez.

‘Have you raided Tony Butcher’s place before?’ asked Willis.

‘Many times over the years.’

‘What about his brother Eddie?’ asked Ross. ‘Did you ever raid his premises?’

‘Eddie Butcher? No,’ answered Garcia, ‘we had no need to go in there. He was a respected man here in Marbella. He donated a lot of money to local charities. He was a man with a
bad past but a good future.’

‘Who ended up tortured to death,’ added Willis.

‘The Mendez cartel did not want to kill Tony, not at this moment, so they kill his brother instead. They wanted to warn him,’ said Ramirez.

‘Someone kills someone from the family of a rival dealer, and then we have the start of a war that can end up being continued for years,’ answered Garcia. ‘We have had
enough.’

Ramirez nodded his agreement. ‘Now that the violence is spilling onto the streets we have to be more active and stop it at the source.’

‘What’s Tony’s main way of getting the drugs to the UK?’ Willis asked. She knew that Ross had answered the question, but she also realised he was choosing to take a bit
of a back seat.

‘Tony has many ways,’ answered Garcia. ‘The way of getting the biggest amount across is by getting it shipped straight across the Atlantic in container ships to the UK from
South America, sometimes changing ship in Antwerp or Amsterdam. We see it smuggled inside bananas, yams, baskets, crockery, flowers, breast implants.’

‘Once,’ said Ramirez, ‘we had a shipment of bananas sent here to Valencia and the smuggler failed to collect his cocaine from the banana shipment at the dock, and the bananas
ended up being delivered for sale in Lidl with kilos of cocaine in the boxes.’ He laughed.

‘We see it made to look like wooden pallets, bags of charcoal, woven into baskets; they even use carrier pigeons and jet skis,’ said Ramirez. ‘If only the cocaine cooks who
come up with all these ideas would turn their hand to something legal! They are geniuses.’

‘So, it seems like they’re always coming up with new ways,’ said Willis.

‘That’s correct,’ answered Ramirez, who had begun to stare at Ross, a little uneasy with his silence. ‘It’s a case of getting it distributed in as many ways as
possible. But you are very well aware of the problems, Detective Ross? I see by the information we received you have close links with us.’

Ross nodded. He smiled and shrugged. ‘I’ve been involved in a few arrests but Tony’s always been the one.’

‘We have had him under surveillance for the whole of my career in this town,’ answered Ramirez.

‘Is it right that Tony never leaves his villa?’ asked Willis. ‘He must be able to get out if he wanted.’