Meltdown (12 page)

The trip was no longer going quite so smoothly, but
it was nothing to do with bad organization or
planning; it was simply down to the weather.

The wind was howling, rain was lashing down
and the North Sea had turned nasty. The ferry was
an impressive modern vessel, designed to stay
stable in rough seas. But even the latest technology
couldn't control the full force of the pitching and
rolling as one mountainous wave after another
pounded against the superstructure.

The furious sea had meant the clients' gourmet
dinner had gone untouched by many of them,
and the visit to the onboard casino was cut short
when the spinning roulette wheel only increased
everyone's feelings of nausea. Teddy, Will and
Storm flitted around doing their best to raise everyone's
spirits, but they all knew they were fighting a
losing battle.

Fergus stayed close to the twins until most of
their clients were either asleep or settled in somewhere
for the duration of the voyage. Then, before
Will and Teddy could retire to the cabin they were
sharing, he took them to a quiet corner of the lounge
at the back of the ferry.

'If I'm going to do a proper job for you, I need
to know more about the situation we're going
into.'

Will started to shake his head even before Fergus
had finished.

Fergus made it clear that he was irritated. 'Don't
be a bloody amateur! You're paying me to do a job,
so this is how it goes from here. I'm going to tell you
what I need to know then you tell me. You decide
what to leave out – it's your choice. You can keep
your precious secrets. But when your guts are
spilling out on the floor' – he looked at Teddy – 'and
I'm not there to save your skin because you're too
fuck-witted to tell me something important, just
remember that it was your choice.' He got up and
started to leave.

'No, Watts!' said Teddy. He glared at Will. 'We'll
tell you what you need to know.'

Will glared back but said nothing. Teddy was still
in charge.

Fergus took another quick look around the
lounge. It was virtually empty now; no one was
close by. He sat down again and lowered his voice.

'OK. Let's do this right. First, this man you deal
with – who is he?'

Teddy's face was shuttered for a moment. Then
he sighed and leaned forward.

His voice fell even quieter, little more than a
whisper now. 'We can't tell you his name. But you
don't need that.'

'OK. How well do you know him?'

'Hardly at all. We've only ever met him once. He
stays in the background, we just deal with his people.'

'So how did you find him?'

'We didn't – he found us, soon after we started.
Less than a year ago. We never discovered exactly
how he found us, but he was impressed with our
set-up, he had a European market ready and waiting
and he was prepared to invest some of his own
cash from the outset. He got that back long ago. He
helped us with some security matters too – and
gave us some tips on staying clear of the law.'

Fergus raised his eyebrows, knowing that he had
to tread carefully. 'And you've never worried that
you know nothing about him, when somehow he
just found you?'

Teddy shrugged. 'We do know that he's a Bosnian
Muslim and he fought in the war against the Serbs.
He's a self-made millionaire with business interests
all over Europe. Not really our sort' – Teddy looked
at Will and smiled – 'but he knows his stuff.'

Fergus could hear the note of admiration in
Teddy's voice. 'And how do you know all this?' he
asked.

'He told us, of course, when we met him.'

I bet he did, Fergus thought to himself. The twins'
naivety was astounding. Clever enough to conceive
an almost fool-proof way of concealing a DMP
from the expert security services but dumb enough
to fall like ripe plums into the hands of someone
who was probably a major player on the international
drugs scene. They were way, way out of
their league.

'And you think you can trust him?' Fergus asked.

Will appeared to have decided that now that his
brother had given away some of their secrets, there
was no harm in emphasizing exactly how clever
they were. 'We've been making a fortune, for us and
for him,' he said confidently. 'He needs us more
than we need him. We control the manufacture and
supply. Why should we worry?'

Fergus decided not to push the questioning any
further, and soon after, the twins went below to
sleep. Fergus settled down on stag in a lounge chair
close to the gangway leading down to the twins'
cabin. He hated boats of any shape or size. To take
his mind off the pitching and rolling, he used the
time to plan what he and Danny were going to need
to cover in Barcelona. He'd got some info out of the
twins but it wasn't enough. He was going to have to
get closer to the European operation of the twins'
mysterious millionaire.

Danny was looking for Storm. He knew she wouldn't
have gone to her cabin while some of the customers
were still up and about, so she had to be around
somewhere.

If the sea hadn't been so rough, he would have
guessed she'd gone out to get some air or even to be
sick. But passengers had been warned that it was
too dangerous, and there were crew members
watching all the external doors to prevent lunatics
from taking the risk.

Danny had been hanging around for hours,
hoping to have a word with her, but they hadn't
been alone together for more than a few minutes as
they swapped coaches. He wanted to talk to her
again after their high-speed departure from the
club, check that she was OK. He didn't even know
if she'd been told that Albie was dead.

As Danny wandered around the ferry, he realized
that most of the twins' customers had retreated to
the safety of their cabins to ride out the storm. Only
three men remained in the bar, clinging to their
brandy glasses and their chairs as they tried to
prove to each other that they were real sailors. But
none of them was saying much, and as the minutes
passed, they were all turning a more vivid shade of
green.

Throughout the ship, passengers unfortunate
enough not to have cabins sprawled on seats, many
vowing that they'd never travel by boat again.

But not everyone was trying to sleep.

As he rounded a corner by the ferry's shuttered
café, Danny spotted Storm by the port window,
staring out into the storm-lashed night. She had her
back to him, but as he moved eagerly towards
her, he realized that she was talking earnestly on her
mobile phone. She hadn't seen him and he got close
enough to hear her say something fast and
emphatic in a foreign language before she turned
slightly and caught sight of him approaching. Her
eyes widened, but a moment later the sweet smile
he was beginning to know so well returned. She
quickly finished the call in Spanish and flipped the
phone shut.

'Danny,' she said, coming close to him. 'I've been
looking for you. I've got most of them sorted out
and sleeping. It's just those last three in the bar –
then we can sit and chat, if you like.'

'You'll be lucky! I think they've settled in for the
night,' Danny said. 'Who were you talking to?'

Storm looked puzzled by the question.

'On the phone,' Danny explained.

Her frown cleared. 'Oh, that?' she said, laughing.
'Just some arrangements with the hotel in
Barcelona. One of the clients with a special request
he'd forgotten to mention before we set off. Normal
stuff.' She smiled. 'Now let's go and see if we can
get the Brothers Grimm to go to bed.'

Danny laughed as they walked back to the bar,
but inside his thoughts were racing. Danny was no
linguist, but he and Fergus had lived long enough
in Spain for him to recognize the language when he
heard it. Storm had certainly finished the call in
Spanish, but before that she'd been talking in a completely
different language.

They reached the bar and saw that the three men
were still clinging onto their chairs. Storm turned
to Danny, sighed and then raised her eyebrows.
Danny smiled back at her, thinking that maybe
she'd been talking in Swedish to a member of her
family. Maybe, but that would mean she'd lied to
him and that worried Danny. A lot.

Fergus and Danny were sitting on a circular
wooden bench that dominated the centre of the
reception area in the luxury Hotel Casa Fuster,
where the twins and their clients were staying
during their visit to Barcelona. They watched Storm
glide like a catwalk model across the highly
polished, dark marble floor. Only when she had
stepped into the lift and the doors had closed did
Fergus turn to Danny. 'You have to hand it to her,
she looks the part.'

Danny agreed. 'But what part is she playing?' He
didn't feel good about the way he somehow mistrusted
Storm despite liking her a lot. But there was
a job to do and he had keep his personal feelings out
of it. He had to prove to Fergus that he could stay
professional and focused.

They watched Teddy push open one of the huge
glass doors into the empty hotel bar. He made his
way to a table in a corner of the room and sat down
to await the expected phone call, waving away the
barman when he approached.

Will was still in the reception area. He strolled
over to Fergus and Danny and took a seat.

'Our friend doesn't usually keep us waiting for
long,' he told them. 'He seems to know exactly
when we arrive.'

Almost immediately Fergus saw Teddy put his
mobile to his ear and answer a call, making notes
on a pad. He spoke for no more than a couple of
minutes, then he got up and left the bar.

He looked anxious as he came across to talk to
Will. He drew him and Fergus to one side and
started on an urgent explanation. Danny pretended
to be absorbed in a magazine, but listened carefully.

'He's
here!'
said Teddy, his eyes darting from Will
to Fergus and back again. 'In Barcelona. And he
wants to meet me and Will tonight.'

'Did he tell you why?' asked Will.

'No,' Teddy replied. 'I don't like it. He sounded
just as jovial as usual, but there was something I
can't quite put my finger on . . . He's never done
anything like this before.'

'There's no need to over-react,' said Will reassuringly.
'Maybe he wants to increase production,
or extend the network. Have you thought of
that?'

Teddy clearly wasn't convinced. He turned to
Fergus. 'I want you to be there.'

'Oh, I'll be there. Out of sight, but I'll be there. If
you like, I can put a wire on you so I can hear
everything he says.'

Will and Teddy exchanged glances. Danny caught
the tiny shake of Will's head and Teddy's nod.

'I think you're making too much of this, Teddy,'
Will said. 'I really do. Our problems were back
home, not here.'

Teddy thought about it, then agreed. 'Just be
there, Watts. No wire,' he said.

He was clutching two small pieces of paper from
the note pad. He gave one of them to Fergus. 'That's
the address of the restaurant. I have to make
another call, to our drivers. They need to know
where the transfer is taking place.'

Danny knew that Fergus had to be itching to get a
closer look at the second piece of paper. But he
couldn't. Tracking the Meltdown transfer and seeing
what new information it brought would be
down to Danny now, while Fergus got to check out
the twins' European contact.

The Olympic Games of 1992 had transformed the
city of Barcelona, especially the waterfront. Whole
new sections of beach had been opened up, giving a
new lease of life to a district that had been run down
and neglected.

Now it was a vibrant and popular area. The
beaches were packed by day and by night; on long
floodlit stretches of sand, young people gathered to
play beach volleyball. Many more would stand and
watch before strolling on to one of the expensive
restaurants lining the walkways.

The twins' contact had chosen a restaurant set
slightly back from the waterfront for the meeting.
There was a subtly lit, wide terrace, where tables
were set with pristine white tablecloths and gleaming
cutlery.

The road was lined with restaurants and bars,
and Fergus was sitting on the terrace of the bar
immediately next to the restaurant where the twins
were dining with their mystery man.

It was a mild evening, so the twins and the target
were eating at a table on the restaurant terrace,
which was warmed by outdoor heaters.

The moment he set eyes on the twins' contact,
Fergus recognized the type. The clothes – black polo
neck, black trousers, black leather jacket; Fergus
had seen Bosnian thugs many times before.

The man was built like the proverbial brick shit-house
– five feet ten and solid, with hands like
shovels and legs so thick that his thighs rubbed
together as he walked.

He was carrying a bit of weight now – Fergus
guessed he was in his late forties – no doubt
accustomed to dining on fine food, but he was
still in good nick; he didn't wobble. His black hair
had just a few flecks of grey but remained thick
and wavy and his fingernails were perfectly manicured.

The guy was obviously a big-time player: confidence
oozed from every pore. When he arrived at
the restaurant, he embraced both Teddy and Will
like they were long-lost sons and seemed genuinely
concerned at the state of Teddy's face – he made
him take off his sunglasses so that he could inspect
the damage.

As they sat down at the table, Fergus was thinking
hard. Will and Teddy clearly had no idea what
they were dealing with. Fergus had guessed as
much from the conversation on the ferry; now he'd
seen the contact, he knew they were in deep shit –
way, way over their heads. He also knew that there
was no way this guy would have come alone.
Keeping third party aware, his face and body
relaxed, he allowed his eyes to travel round
the crowded terrace, looking for the big guy's
backup.

Danny was definitely not feeling relaxed. He was
crawling through the rocky hills way above the city.
Thorns dug into his flesh as he moved towards his
target.

He'd done well with the Corsa hire car, particularly
as he'd had to quickly adapt to a steering
wheel on the other side of the vehicle. But following
the coaches out of the city and up into the winding
hillside roads had been fairly trouble-free. He didn't
know exactly where he was but that didn't matter.
Being on target did.

Eventually the coaches had pulled into one of the
many huge landscaped parking and picnicking
areas which gave a panoramic view over the city.
They were designed for tourists and sightseers. But
at that time of night, there were no tourists, just
international drug dealers.

The main part of Operation Meltdown was seeking
out and destroying the DMP and everyone
involved, but finding out how the drug was distributed
in Europe was also part of the mission.
Dudley needed to know who picked up the drugs
and where they headed after that. He would pass
on that information to his European counterparts so
that they could identify and take out the rest of the
Meltdown network in their own countries.

As he drove past, Danny watched the coaches
pull well away from the road towards the cover of
tall trees. He continued for about 400 metres and
found a side track where he could hide the Corsa.
He grabbed the handycam and headed back cross
country towards the car park.

As he got closer to the dead ground that was the
target, he dropped to a crawl, stopping every few
minutes to listen for any signs of activity ahead
of him.

Fergus watched as the big guy ate as though it was
his last ever meal. Plate after plate of food was delivered
to the table; Fergus guessed that he'd often
gone hungry in the old days, during the Bosnian
war. There had been so little to eat in that ravaged
country. He was certainly making up for it now.

Teddy and Will soon gave up trying to keep up
with the big man's appetite and just picked at their
food. From what Fergus could see, it looked as
through their contact was doing most of the talking,
with big, expansive hand-gestures and an occasional
deep belly laugh which rang around the
terrace, causing a number of diners to glance over at
their table.

Finally, as the Bosnian paused to savour something
delicious, Fergus saw Teddy get in with a
question.

The big man finished his mouthful, chewing
slowly.

He swallowed and then smiled broadly before
replying.

The twins exchanged a look before Teddy
continued, and the conversation proceeded more
quietly, with all three heads close together across
the table. Then the waiter came up to clear the
plates and the Bosnian leaned back in his chair,
laughed out loud, reached for the menu and started
talking to the waiter again.

Fergus could tell from the twins' body language
that they weren't finished with the conversation,
but it was also clear that they weren't going to get
any more from their contact until he'd finished
ordering yet another course. Teddy was looking
anxious; Will had a restraining hand on his arm.

Fergus just hoped that the twins would hold it
together enough not to look in his direction and
give his position away.

Danny could hear engines coming up the hill. He
had just a few metres to go before the dead ground
came into view and he pushed himself forward
more quickly, the sweat on his face now covered
with dust.

Four sets of headlights entered the car park and
illuminated the coaches. It was difficult for Danny
to see if the twins' crew were outside the coaches as
the headlights swept through the darkness.

Powering up the handycam and the little PC,
Danny pushed the nightspot button on the camera
forward. He avoided using the LCD screen, as the
light it generated could give away his position, and
looked through the viewfinder. The light from the
infra-red torch on the handycam was invisible to
the human eye but illuminated the area enough
for the darkened coaches and the men to be clearly
visible through the nightspot lens. The images fed
straight to the PC and via the Bluetooth connection
to the G3 mobile.

Danny punched a speed-dial number on the
mobile. He pressed record on the handycam and
the minidisc gently whirred.

More than seven hundred miles away, in the darkened
Operation Meltdown control room deep
inside GCHQ, Dudley watched over the operator's
shoulder as the surveillance video images streamed
from Danny's G3 phone direct to the main screen in
front of him. The frame rate was not good and the
images were low res but they came through clearly
enough for him to see the action as it happened.

GCHQ is the electronic ears of British Intelligence;
it looks a bit like a modern football stadium, ringed
with massive satellite dishes. It sits on the edge
of Cheltenham. Racegoers get a good view of the
place from the ring road on their way to Cheltenham
racecourse.

As Dudley watched, the four vans reversed up to
the coaches one by one. The drivers turned off the
van lights, got out, opened the rear doors and
lowered the tailgates, and the transfer began immediately.
A human chain was formed from the
coaches to the first van. Once that had its quota of
Melt, they moved on to the next van.

'It's like an EU summit down there,' said the
operator as Danny's images zoomed in on
the Spanish, German, Italian and French plates
on the four box vans. The registrations were noted
and immediately fed through to Dudley's European
network so that the vans could be tracked to their
final destination. No moves would be made against
the shipments until Dudley gave the word.

The operator was focused on the images on the
screen. 'He's done well getting that close without
being pinged. And the camera-work's as steady as
a rock.'

Dudley nodded. 'Well done, young Watts,' he
breathed.

No sound of voices drifted up into the hills. The
operation was quick and efficient and Danny
realized that George and the rest of the twins' crew
must have started removing the drugs from their
hiding places on the way up to the meet. Ignoring
the trickle of sweat running down into his eyes, the
thorns pricking through his jacket and the tension
in his arms from the strain of holding the handy cam
steady, Danny silently filmed the whole twentyminute
operation, making sure that he zoomed in as
close as he could on the faces of the men so that they
could be identified later.

It was only when the engine of the first van fired
up that Danny allowed himself to relax a little. He
felt as though he'd been holding his breath throughout
the whole operation. The vans departed one by
one, two in one direction, two the other, and soon
after the coaches followed, taking the road back
down into Barcelona.

Danny lay still in the dust for a few minutes,
listening hard, not wanting to move until he was
sure that everyone had left the area. Then he cut the
connection to the phone, slipped the minidisc into
an inside pocket – just in case the phone hadn't
done its job – stuffed the phone and the rest of the
kit into his jacket pocket and tracked stealthily back
to the Corsa.

He packed the little handycam back into its bag in
the boot of the car, then paused for a moment to
look up at the stars in the velvety dark of the
Spanish night. He felt pretty pleased with himself.
After everything that had happened over the past
few days, at last something had gone exactly to
plan. Danny smiled, knowing his grandfather
would be pleased.

As the big Bosnian paused to savour something
delicious, he took a call on his mobile. Fergus
summoned his waiter and paid the bill. He
needed to be ready to move as soon as the twins
left the restaurant. Not for the first time, he
wished he still had Lee available to follow the
Bosnian, but he knew he was more likely to get
int from the twins if he stuck with them.

The big guy didn't stop chewing as he nodded in
response to whatever was being said for the few
seconds the phone was at his ear.

He smiled at the twins as he put away his mobile.
His plate was empty – it seemed he had finally
eaten enough. He pulled a wad of euros from a
trouser pocket and paid the bill in cash, adding a
huge tip for the grateful waiter.

Then he looked over his shoulder, along the road,
and lifted an arm. Immediately the headlights on a
vehicle parked fifty metres away lit up and the car
moved out into the road and cruised up to the
restaurant.

Fergus glanced over at the vehicle; it was a huge
black Mercedes with tinted windows at the rear. In
the front seats sat two heavy-looking characters.
The backup.

The big man stood up, delved into the inside
pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out
what appeared to be a couple of tickets, which he
handed to the twins.

Will and Teddy stood up to shake hands with him
before he left, weaving his way steadily through the
packed tables towards the car.

From the back window of a VW van parked down
the road from the restaurant a camera began to click
furiously. It wasn't the first time it had been put to
use that evening.

It continued clicking as the Bosnian got into his
car and was driven away.

And then Teddy made a mistake. He was a bag of
nerves. He slumped down in his chair, turned and
looked directly at Fergus.

In the parked van, the camera began clicking
again.