THE LONDON DRUG WARS (21 page)

Just two minutes later, a small Fiat
saloon car pulled into the lay-by behind the parked van. The driver got out,
exchanged a few words with the Ukrainian, then both men went to the boot of the
car and transferred several packages to the van; the Ukrainian handed the other
man a briefcase which the latter opened and briefly examined the contents. He
then nodded and got into the Fiat and both drove off. The transfer had taken
less than half a minute.

The Ukrainian
drove off in the direction of Septèmes-les-Vallons. The other vehicle did a
U-turn and drove off south, the way it had come. Two of the surveillance cars
were directed to trail the car to its destination, the remaining cars followed
the Ukrainian back to his house in Septèmes-les-Vallons, where he drove his
vehicle into a garage at the side of his house. He did not re-emerge; clearly
there was an internal door from the garage to the house.

A dim light
showed from behind a curtain in a front room of the house; it had been on all
evening; the flickering lights of a TV screen was also discernible. It was
known that a woman lived with the Ukrainian; she had remained at home during
his excursion. Half an hour later the lights in the lounge went out and a light
came on briefly in the bedroom. After five minutes this light too was
extinguished and the house went quiet. The static surveillance team settled
down to maintain their all-night vigil.

Commissar Chesnaye debriefed his men
who then left for their homes, except those on the static observations. He
turned to Brookes and said, “Now we must wait to see what he does next. I have
teams watching his house and his business. We will see what tomorrow brings.”
Then, with a smile he added, “I will drop you at your hotel and have you picked
up in the morning.”

Brookes expressed his thanks. He was
thoroughly impressed by the smooth efficiency of the French team but said
nothing. The shrewd commissar would not welcome any hint of being patronised.

*

 That same day, back in London,
things were also happening. Her Majesty’s Inspector of Taxes has a very large
and efficient organisation; they have enormous powers that enable them to carry
out their duties effectively. The Metropolitan Police Serious Fraud Squad has a
close and fruitful relationship with London’s team of VAT Inspectors; evasion
of tax is a criminal offence and the two teams’ work often overlaps. Dick Mann
contacted a VAT Inspector with whom he had previously worked and arranged a
meet. He briefly outlined the police interest and asked for his friend’s
co-operation; the VAT man freely offered whatever help he could give.

Early that afternoon, A VAT Inspector
and his assistant arrived at the premises of PC Inc. in Battersea, South
London. He produced his identification and stated that he wanted to carry out a
routine inspection. His assistant’s identification was not asked for, which
saved anyone lying as she was Anne Drake, a young detective constable from Dick
Mann’s Fraud Squad. Whilst the Inspectorate of Taxes and the police had wide
powers, a police officer posing as a tax inspector might have been construed as
bending the rules just a little. Telling the truth was not an option as it
would have alerted the Russians to the police interest.

Whilst the two were going through the
company accounts it was a simple task to make a list of regular customers.
Seeking the help of members of staff in explaining details of the computed
accounts and visiting the ladies’ loo gave the young detective an opportunity
to look around the premises. She had been carefully briefed by Bill Moore and
knew what to look for. The fact that she was easy on the eye did not detract
from her effectiveness. Men’s eyes tended to follow her movements about the
offices but their thoughts had nothing at all to do with business.

Cocaine and heroin are transported by
illicit dealers in their purest form, the less bulky the packages, the easier
to conceal. But before they are sold on the street, neutral substances are
added to drugs both to bulk them out and to reduce their potency. The more
fixes that are sold, the higher the profits. In addition, drug addicts are by
definition, not the most careful of people and liable to overdose themselves by
accident. Dead addicts don’t buy drugs and the dealers lose their custom. She
was looking for a place where a chemist might carry out the task of breaking
down the drugs and adding to their bulk; the process sometimes called
‘cutting’.

She quickly established that there
was nowhere on the premises where such an operation could take place on the
scale necessary to supply half of London’s drug addicts. If the drugs came
through PC Inc., this was only a staging post. That information, together with
a list of the company’s customers, was what she had come for. She and the VAT
Inspector left the premises, apparently satisfied with the company’s accounts.

*

Back in Nimes, Brookes was up at 7am
the next morning. His love of French food did not extend to their idea of
breakfast; rusks and croissants accompanied by a huge cup of weak coffee. But
the hotel was used to the strange habits of foreigners and served an English
breakfast. Brigid, however, was satisfied with coffee and a croissant.

Le Roux arrived
as they were finishing and took them to police headquarters. Commissar Chesnaye
greeted them warmly and brought them up to date with the surveillance reports.
The driver of the car seen transferring packages to the Ukrainian had driven
directly to Marseilles and parked in a side street adjacent to the docks. He
had then entered a cheap hotel where he stayed for the remainder of the night.

 In France, people staying in hotels
are required to complete a form with their personal details; these forms are
deposited at the local police station. Examination of the forms from that small
hotel revealed that a Polish national, Hugo Twardowski, had been resident there
for three months. The port of Marseilles receives shipping from all parts of
the world. The Gendarmerie were all too aware that illicit drugs were frequently
smuggled in amongst the cargos unloaded there. A covert team were tasked with
watching Twardiowski’s movements and hopefully uncovering the next shipment
that might, with luck, reveal the shippers.

Back in Septèmes-les-Vallons the
Ukrainian had left home early that morning and had driven his van straight to
Com Dec. He had driven it into the yard and locked the gate behind him. A high
wall surrounded the yard and the observation team could not see into it from
their observation point.

At 7.30am, a woman had left the
Ukrainians house and taken her car from the garage and driven it into nearby
Nimes. There she had parked it in the street and opened up a boutique, which
she apparently ran. The French police took no chances; once she was out of
sight, the car was opened and its contents thoroughly examined. It was clean.
The detectives took great care to leave the car as they had found it.

A squad of police also entered the Ukrainian
’
s house from the back and carefully
searched it after photographing the position of everything. Nothing was found;
the drugs had not been left in the house. The detectives used their photographs
to ensure they replaced everything exactly where they had found it. By a
process of elimination the squad had established that the only place the drugs
could be was at the premises of Com Dec.

That morning, a conference was held
at Nimes Police Headquarters, Brookes and his DS were invited to attend. A
decision had to be made as to the next move. The COND now had two links in the
chain. The Narcotics squad would pursue the Marseilles connection and continue
the observations on Com Dec, Brookes was asked to contribute to the discussion
and he asked if it was possible to hold back until drugs were despatched to
London. The commissar supported this suggestion with some reservations.

The problem was that they could not
see into the Com Dec warehouse so there was no way of telling how the drugs
were moved onwards from there. This meant every vehicle leaving the yard would
have to be followed to its destination. Even Chesnaye’s resources were limited
and it would be a huge embarrassment if the drugs reached the streets somewhere
on sale to the general public. In the end it was decided to wait and watch,
hoping that they would establish the next link before having to make a move.

Brookes
was relieved and prepared himself to move quickly when the onward destination
of the drugs became clear. By now he was certain they were on the right track.
The co-incidence of the two computer firms added to the telephone numbers on
Hohner’s phone were all he needed to make up his mind.

Patience is a virtue sayeth the Lord.

So the waiting
began. Brookes’ frustration grew as the long day passed. Unable to see what was
going on in Com Dec, he could only speculate about what the smugglers were
waiting for. He couldn’t even be sure he and the French police were on the
right track. But the French detectives who’d witnessed the handover of the
packages were experienced and were sure they contained drugs. That, plus the
elaborate precautions the Ukrainian had taken to ensure he was not followed;
he’d hardly have taken such care if he was smuggling a few cartons of
cigarettes.

The fact that the man making the
handover came from the port of Marseilles also had to be significant. The
Mediterranean port had been the home of smugglers for many centuries, of
everything from exotic spices to spirits to gold and anything else from which a
profit may be extracted. The intelligence gathered about the Russian heroin
smuggling route suggested that it was brought overland from Afghanistan,
through Pakistan, Uzbekistan and Eastern Europe to the West; whereas the
cocaine from South America came by sea. He had no doubt the consignment they’d
seen changing hands was cocaine. The French detectives estimated the weight of
the drugs as being no more than twenty kilos, an amount that would hardly last
a week on the streets of London and Paris combined. This meant that there had
to be a regular delivery to meet the demand. The Ukrainian’s familiarity with
the changeover procedure
re-
enforced his conjecture.

Later from his hotel, he phoned DAC
Groves in London and gave him an update.

Groves said, “Well done John. I just
hope the bloody Frogs don’t rush in with sabres drawn and trumpets blaring
before we find out the final destination of the stuff. This is not a job for
the Three Musketeers or Inspector Clauseau.”

At the other end of the phone Brookes
smiled. “No sir; I think we may have underestimated the French, the guy in
charge here is a shrewdy. He’s promised to hold back as long as he can.
Naturally he’ll have to move in if it looks like the stuff is heading for the
streets of Paris.”

“I understand from DI Mann that the
Russian has his finger in a number of pies. Dick Mann says he owns a string of
race horses in training at a big Newmarket stables. The horses are worth a
small fortune.”

 “The sooner we bring him down the
better, sir. I hate to see these murdering bastards living the life of Riley
and leaving a trail of dead bodies behind them.”

“Well, let’s hope your end of the
operation pans out, John. Your DS Moore tells me he’s got your lads watching
the computer company whose number was on Hohner’s phone. If the drugs get this
far we should be able to wrap up the whole smuggling operation. Keep me
informed of your progress, won’t you, so I can fill in the Commissioner.”

“Yes sir, I’ll ring you when I have
something definite to report.”

*

The second day passed as quietly as
the first at the Com Dec offices. That evening Le Roux took Brookes and Brigid
to a local restaurant for a meal. The three detectives drank more wine than was
usual and conversation flowed freely. By ten o’clock they were each a little
drunk. Le Roux whispered something in Brigid’s ear. Her reaction was to move
her chair a little closer to Brookes. Le Roux looked somewhat affronted; soon
after he made his apologies and left. Brigid insisted she and Brookes finished
the half-full bottle of wine left on the table. Reluctantly Brookes agreed. The
inevitable happened and they ended up in Brookes’ bed. The sex was frantic,
though enjoyable, before both fell into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

Brooke awoke the next morning with a
hangover and an attack of conscience. Whilst it was not unheard of for
colleagues travelling together away from home to have a brief fling, it was
frowned upon in the force. It undermined discipline and complicated working
relationships. But that could be overcome; both he and Brigid were adult enough
to put it behind them.

But Brookes was worried for a
different reason; he had been unfaithful to Liza. Whilst nothing had been said
between them, they had become close, and if she learned of what had happened
between he and Brigid she would be hurt. But Brookes knew the dangers in lying
to your partner, it undermined the relationship. He could only hope that she
would not ask. Only then could he not mention it. Then it occurred to him that
she would have been expecting his phone call last night and would wonder what
had happened. When Brigid left to return to her room to shower, Brookes picked
up the phone and dialled Liza’s number. “John!” she answered. “I was wondering
what had happened when you didn’t phone last night.”

“Sorry love, I blame the Roman god
Bacchus and of course the French wine growers. I had a skinful and slept like a
log.”

“You silly man. I hope you have a
suitable hangover and are suffering.”

“Then you can be happy; I do and I
am.”

“When can we expect you home?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when
I can.”

When he put the phone down he felt
miserable. Whilst he hadn’t lied, he hadn’t told the whole truth.

*

It was on the third day that events
in Septèmes-les-Vallons began to unfold. Just before ten in the morning a huge
articulated lorry arrived outside the Con. Dec. gates. After much toing and
froing it was reversed into the yard. The watchers saw a number of large
cartons being unloaded from it and taken into the warehouse. The plate on the
vehicle showed that it was registered to a French haulage company.

After half an hour the truck left,
heading north towards Paris. A hundred miles up the autoroute a road block was
set up for what purported to be a construction and use check of all commercial
vehicles. When the truck’s manifest was examined a Customs stamp showed that a
consignment of five hundred desktop computers had been inspected and passed;
they had arrived at Marseilles from the Republic of China. One hundred and
fifty had been delivered to Com Dec, the remainder were consigned to another
distributor in Paris. Checks revealed that both the trucking company and the
importers were legitimate businesses with no known links to criminals.

Brookes was in Chesnaye’s office when
they got the news. The Frenchman said, “So our patience have been rewarded my friend.
I’ve no doubt the drugs will now be concealed in the cartons before they are
moved on.”

Brookes nodded. “Yes Henri; and if my
theory is right some or all will end up in London.”

Chesnaye smiled. “Or maybe the
streets of Paris; we will have to wait and see.”

Early that afternoon there was
another delivery to the computer distributors. A closed lorry bearing Polish
number plates arrived. It was obviously expected as the yard gates were opened
as it drew up, the driver reversed quickly into the yard; the rear doors of the
lorry opened and a forklift truck unloaded four large wooden crates. The lorry
drove away as soon as its cargo doors were closed. The whole operation took
less than five minutes. The Ukrainian came to the yard gate, looked both ways along
the street, then closed the gates and disappeared inside the premises.

Two detectives in an unmarked police
car picked up the lorry and followed it at a discreet distance. In the
meantime, checks through Interpol revealed that the lorry was registered to a
fruit processing company situated on the outskirts of Warsaw.

The French Traffic Police were
contacted; they despatched a patrol car to liaise with the detectives following
the lorry. The Polish vehicle travelled northwest out of Nimes to Lyon then picked
up the autoroute to Besancon and Mulhouse on the German border. The detectives
held back whilst the Traffic Patrol vehicle stopped the truck on the pretext
that it was giving out excessive smoke.

Having dealt with the traffic
violation, they examined the vehicle’s documentation; the driver produced it
without question. The vehicle’s manifest stated that it had delivered canned
plums to fruit distributors in Prague, in the Czech Republic, Stuttgart in
Germany and to a fruit distributors in Nimes. No mention, however, was made of
the delivery to Com Dec. The vehicle was empty when searched. The driver showed
the patrol officers further documentation indicating that it was due to pick up
a consignment of white wine in Strasbourg, destination Warsaw.

The officers
made no comment on the paperwork but simply advised the driver to have his
engine attended to and sent him on his way. When the lorry was out of sight,
the detectives pulled up behind the traffic police and conferred. The
information was passed by radio to Nimes HQ. After a moment’s thought, Chesnaye
told his detectives to let the Polish vehicle run and to return to base.

Turning to Brookes, he said, “Eureka!
J’ai trouvé
. What does a computer company want with four large
crates of canned fruit? I think we have the heroin.”

 Brookes smiled. “That’s a hell of a
lot of plums; you’d have the runs for sure if you tried to get through that
lot.”

As he spoke a secretary came in and
handed Chesnaye a note. Reading it, the Frenchman said, “Certainly something of
importance was delivered today; none of the Com Dec staff have gone home and
there is much activity. What a pity my watchers cannot see inside the
building.’

Brookes looked at his watch; it said
six-thirty. He said, “I think we can guess what’s happening; they don’t seem to
be aware that they are being watched. Perhaps tomorrow we’ll see some
movement.”

“Yes, my friend. But you know that I
must protect my people in Paris. If a delivery is made there before one to
London I will have to act.”

“I understand. Maybe we will be lucky
and the London consignment will move at the same time.”

The Frenchman nodded. “My Interpol
people have contacted the Polish police asking them to make discreet enquiries
regarding the Warsaw fruit processing plant. Their immediate reaction was to
say that they are a legitimate company.”

“How do you interpret that?”

“My people say that this information
cannot be totally relied upon. Many of the Eastern European police forces have
problems with corruption.’ With a wry smile he added, ‘They are not very well
paid.”

Brookes
nodded but said nothing; it seemed that whatever might be done about the
smugglers would only happen at this end of the chain. After a celebratory
dinner the two English detectives were taken to their hotel where they both
slept soundly but alone after being so well wined and dined yet again. Between
the two English detectives no mention was made of the previous night’s
coupling, nor would it sour their working relationship.