THE LONDON DRUG WARS (28 page)

Hornsby laughed. “I expect that’s top
secret too. Now is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No Jeremy, you’ve been a great help.
I’ve just remembered; I left my sergeant sitting in the canteen at the Yard. If
you don’t mind dropping me back there, I’ll get back to the office.”

“Good, don’t forget to get that tape
to me. And don’t be fooled by James’ appearance, he’s good, very good. And take
his advice, take this threat seriously and take the necessary precautions.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur
for Brookes. That night, he went to see Liza. She spotted his preoccupation and
asked, “Can you talk about it John?”

He
smiled wanly. “Not really love. Let’s enjoy tonight, I might be busy for the
next few days.” It had occurred to him that his company might put those close
to him in danger. He would stay away from her and his children until this was
over. That night, he clung to Liza; she made no objection.

“
Some succeed
because they are destined to but most succeed because they are determined to.
”

–
Anonymous

When Brigid arrived to pick Brookes
up the next morning she glared at him as he got into the car. Seeing it, he
said, “Yes I know Brigid you must be wondering what’s going on. I’m sorry, I
did it for your benefit. But now the shit’s hit the fan so you might as well
know.” He then proceeded to tell her about the listening devices and the threat
on his life.

She heard him out then said, “And you
didn’t trust me with the secret?”

“No, you silly woman. Listen, Bill
and I could lose our jobs for this. I didn’t want to risk your career. But now
you have to know. It will probably be best if you don’t drive for me any more
or you might get hurt too.”

She gave him a glare. “You’re the
silly one sir. I know that everything you do is for the best. And putting this
animal behind bars is worth more than a career or two.”

He laughed. “That’s exactly what I
thought you’d say. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

She glanced at him again as she
drove. “So what are we doing about the threat?”

“That’s why I was at the Yard
yesterday, Jeremy Hornsby is arranging something I think.”

“You think! Sir. Are you mad?”

“Let’s see what happens this morning
shall we?”

“If we live that long, sir.”

Five minutes later they arrived
safely at Cundell House. Grabbing a coffee, Brookes pulled up a chair beside
Bill Moore’s desk.

“All quiet on the Eastern front boss.
Bronchi wined and dined his lady in a Chelsea restaurant last night, spent a
couple of hours at her flat then home to his own bed and didn’t stir again.”

“What about the Turk, Bill?”

“Guny? Didn’t leave his big house up
on Highgate Hill; had a couple of visitors though. One was his cousin who runs
his restaurant. The other was an interesting bloke. Name of Ahmed Khan; Fred
recognised him from his mug shot – he’s got form for GBH. We think he’s part of
Guny’s gang; one of his hard men. They both stayed an hour then left.”

“What does Fred say about the visit?”

“Haven’t seen him yet, just the
observation log, he didn’t get back till midnight.”

“What do
you
think the meeting
was about, Bill?”

“They could have been talking about
the meet with the Russians. I’ve spoken to the collator at Holloway; he’s
convinced Khan is Guny’s enforcer. He’d be the one to organise Guny’s
protection if a meet does take place. The fact that the cousin was there
suggests it could be in the restaurant.”

“Nothing about it on Bronchi’s tape?”

“No, not a thing boss. But from what
we heard the other night, it sounds as if Bronchi has left the arrangements to
Brusilov.”

Brookes nodded. “Your face isn’t known
in Holloway is it Bill?”

“No boss.”

“Good, why don’t you have a meal at
the restaurant this evening? On the Commissioner, of course; take Gill Freeman
with you for colour. It might be useful to know the layout inside the place.”

Moore smiled. “That doesn’t sound too
painful, I’m partial to a Shish Kebab; especially if the Commissioner’s paying
the tab.”

“Right, if Teresa’s info is any good,
the meet should be soon. Anything else?”

Moore was quiet for a moment. Then he
said, “What about these Chechens’ boss?”

Brookes smiled. “All in hand; I’m
told there’s a protection team on their way here. You concentrate on the job; I
won’t let this threat distract us from what we’re doing. Let me worry about
that.” The look on Moore’s face suggested he had more to say on the matter but
he let it go and Brookes went to his office.

*

It wasn’t long after that when
Brookes was still wrestling with a pile of paperwork, his office door was
thrown open to reveal DAC Groves standing on the threshold. The expression on
his face said this was not a social visit. He stormed up to Brookes’ desk and
stood towering over him. His jaw was clenched as if he was holding onto his
temper with difficulty.

Through gritted teeth he said, “Do
you want to tell me how it is only through the Commissioner I hear that there’s
a contract out on one of my officers?”

Brookes sighed. “Ah, that sir, yes.
Would you like a coffee? Please take a seat.”

Groves dropped into a chair. “The
coffee can wait. Now, what the hell’s going on?”

‘Well sir, we happened to overhear a
conversation between Bronchi and his lieutenants that he was bringing someone
across from Moscow. I went to see a mate in SB to find out how genuine the
threat was and it spiralled from there.”

“You happened to overhear a
conversation John? So Bronchi was discussing this in public was he?”

Brookes pulled his ear. “Not exactly
sir, no.”

“I see, so you planted some kind of
bug did you?”

“Something like that sir, yes.” He
was beginning to squirm in his seat.

Groves face suddenly softened. “You
devious son-of-a-bitch, so that’s why you didn’t tell me.”

“‘Yes sir but when we learned about
the threat, it all got a bit out of hand, my SB contact took me to see the
secret squirrels. We had to find out if the threat was serious.”

“So that’s why I’ve had MI5 and the
Commissioner on the phone saying they’re calling in the SAS.”

“Ah, they did say they would get me
some protection, sir. But I didn’t realise they’d go to those lengths.”

Groves burst out laughing. “It sounds
as if you’ve started World War Three, John. Now, forget the bullshit, tell me
the whole story and don’t leave anything out or I’ll have your guts for
garters.”

Twenty minutes later Brookes stopped
talking. Groves was still reading the translation of the conversation overheard
in Bronchi’s flat.

Finally he looked up. “What the hell
did you think you were doing man? You’ve broken just about every rule in the
book. And how in hell did you get the French to help?”

“Not quite sir, all I’ve done is to
be as devious as Bronchi is. And the French have been brilliant; they
volunteered.”

“But you couldn’t use anything from
the tape in court; what’s the point?”

“No, but if I find out in advance
where he’s going to buy drugs I can catch him in the act. Then I can put him
away where he belongs.”

“But if this gets out you’ll lose
your job and your pension. Who else knows about the bug?”

Brookes remained silent.

After a long moment Groves said,
“Listen you idiot I’m not looking to crucify anyone over this, just limit the
damage.”

Brookes sighed. “Just a few members
of my team. But they were just doing what I told them. They are not guilty of
anything.”

“OK, can you rely on their silence?”

“Of course, I’d trust them with my
life.”

Groves sighed. “You’re lucky. The
chap from MI5 didn’t say anything about how he got the information; he just
said ‘from a source’. I worked the rest out myself.” After a pause he asked,
“Is the bug still in place?”

“Yes sir.”

“And how soon do you think this meet
will take place?”

‘Pretty soon, we’ve heard there’s
heroin for sale in Europe and Bronchi must be desperate for supplies; his
street dealers are already looking elsewhere.”

“OK; this conversation never took
place. But no more funny business John: From now on play this strictly by the
book.”

“Yes sir,” Brookes replied with relief.

 Groves continued in a more friendly
tone, “And for goodness sake watch your back. We are dealing with a new breed
of criminal here, they are totally ruthless and the profits from their drug
sales mean they can buy almost anything, including assassins. I’m told there’s
an SAS team on their way here from Hereford; just do as they tell you and maybe
they’ll keep you alive.”  He stood up to leave. “You’re doing a good job. Keep
it up and keep me informed.”

There was another pause, his
expression softened further, in a soft voice, he said, “Between you and me, it
wasn’t a bad plan, John. There is no way you could have anticipated this and at
least we now know about the threat. Just be careful man.” His face broke into a
grin and he winked. He left as quickly as he had arrived.

Brookes
heaved a massive sigh of relief; that blink of the commander’s eye had set his
boat back on an even keel. The human rights lobby had a lot to answer for;
their insistence that police do not invade the privacy of individuals often
inadvertently gave criminals protection. It was sometimes tempting for zealous
detectives to circumvent such legislation in order to gather evidence. He
smiled as another thought crossed his mind. He’d forgotten to tell the DAC
about the tracking bugs planted on the Russian gang members’ vehicles. He
shrugged his shoulders; what he didn’t know about shouldn’t worry him.

“Child Roland to the dark tower came,

His word was still, Fie, foh and fum

I smell the blood of an Englishman.
”

–
William
Shakespeare

The insistent ringing of the
telephone woke Brookes from a deep sleep. Groping for the receiver on the
bedside table, he grabbed it at the third attempt.

“John? It’s Jeremy, are you awake?”

Brookes looked at the clock and groaned;
it showed 2.34am. “I am now. What is it?”

“I’ve just received word; two of the
Chechens are here.”

“Here? What do you mean here?”
Brookes sat up in bed, his mind racing.

“They came into Glasgow on a Helsinki
flight at seven yesterday evening.”

Brookes frowned. “It’s now two-thirty
a.m. Jeremy; why the hell has it taken you this long to call me?”

“I’m afraid there was a bit of a
cock-up. They weren’t spotted at the time; the Branch officers at the airport
missed them. Then I had word from James during the night that one of the known
assassins had been seen leaving Moscow on a Helsinki flight. I had our airport
people double-check the videotapes of arrivals from there.

“Glasgow phoned me at home just ten
minutes ago. They spotted one of the Chechens on a Finnair flight that arrived
at 7pm. We think he has a companion, the tape showed him chatting to another
man in the queue at immigration control.”

Brookes scratched his head, willing
himself to think.

Hornsby continued. “I’m afraid they
have a seven-hour start, they could be in London by now. We’re watching the
airports and railway stations in London but we’re probably too late. I’m on my
way to the office. We’ll have photos of them distributed to every police
officer in London by dawn. I thought I should let you know straight away.” He
paused, then added, “Are your protection people with you?”

“Yes, I’ll let them know. Thanks
Jeremy.”

Brookes put the phone down and got
out of bed. There was a light tap on the door. “Come in,” he called.

The door opened; it was his new
bodyguard, Staff Sergeant Angus Fraser, 22 Squadron SAS. “I heard the phone
boss, is everything alright?”

Brookes laughed loudly. “That’s a
good question; yes and no Angus. That was Special Branch telling me that two
Chechen assassins arrived in Glasgow at seven last night and were not
intercepted. They could well be in London by now.”

“It’s just as well we’re here then.
Give me a mo. I’ll let my lads outside know.” He turned to leave.

Brookes got to his feet and called
after him, “Is there any coffee on? I can’t see myself getting any more sleep
tonight. Why is it always the middle of the night that these things happen?”

Over his shoulder Fraser said, “Sod’s
law boss. I’ll make a fresh brew.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll do it. You look
after the security.”

Ten minutes later Brookes sat at his
kitchen table drinking black coffee with Fraser. “So the threat seems to be
real. You’re the expert Angus, if you were the assassin, how would you go about
it?”

Fraser nodded. “That depends. Do they
have any idea we’re expecting them?”

Brookes shook his head. “Probably
not, we found out by chance.”

Fraser gave him a sharp glance but
didn’t ask the obvious question. He pursed his lips. “Let’s take it one step at
a time. These are Chechens from the Caucasus Mountains; I bet they don’t speak
a word of English and they won’t have a clue how to move about here. They’ll
need a guide and they’ll need weapons. They came in on a scheduled flight so
they won’t have been able to bring anything with them. I reckon their first
stop will be the Russians who’re paying them.”

Brookes’ phone rang again,
interrupting Fraser’s flow. It was Hornsby. “It’s confirmed John; they’re here
in London. They arrived at eleven last night on the Glasgow shuttle.”

“And I suppose no-one spotted them
again did they Jeremy?”

“Be fair John, the branch only check
international flights unless they’ve been told to do otherwise. The Chechens’
names were on the passenger list, we’re checking the security tapes now.”

Fraser was waving a hand, trying to
catch Brookes’ attention.

Brookes said into the phone, “Hang on
a minute Jeremy, Sergeant Fraser here wants to say something.”

Fraser said, “Tell him to check the
tapes in the arrivals hall boss, see if anyone met them or travelled with them
from Glasgow.”

Hornsby said, “I heard that John.
Tell him we’re not completely stupid, we have that in hand.”

Brookes had held the phone out so
Fraser could hear what Hornsby was saying.

Fraser spoke into the phone, “Wasn’t
suggesting you were
completely
stupid sir, but there have been a few
oversights. Just wanted to make sure there weren’t any more.”

There was a long silence on the other
end of the phone. Then Hornsby said huffily, “Put Mr. Brookes back on the line
sergeant
.”

Brookes took the phone back; he had a
huge grin on his face. “Yes Jeremy?”

“Bloody cheeky squaddies. I’ll let
you know if we get any more info. John, let’s hope Sergeant Fraser and his men
can do their jobs.”

“Thanks Jeremy, keep me in touch with
what’s going on.”

As Brookes put the phone down Fraser mumbled,
“Bloody Ruperts; couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery.”

Brookes laughed out loud. Then he
said cheerfully, “I’ll let him know you said that Angus. Now, you were telling
me how the Chechens will go about killing me.”

“Yes boss. Give me a moment to bring
my lads up to date.”

He spent two minutes talking on the
radio then turned back to Brookes. “Well there’s nothing happening out there;
not even a stray cat on the street.”

After a pause he continued, “It’s
odds on they were met at the airport. I expect they’ll be taken to a safe
house; they’d stick out like a sore thumb in a hotel. They’ll need some kip and
probably a change of clothes; something that’ll make them blend in with the
locals. Once they’ve had a kip they’ll want to do a recce. They’ll start with
places the Russians will know you spend time; that’s Cundell House and here,
your home. How easy would it be for them to get hold of your home address?”

“Pretty easy, I’m in the phone book.
I never thought I might be the target of hitmen.”

“OK, we have to assume they know your
address. I think they’ll avoid the office if they can; too many coppers about
there. These are not a suicide squad; they’ll want to get away after they’ve
done their business. So that leaves here or somewhere between here and Cundell
House. The only other alternative is that they’ll choose a killing ground and
draw you there. But with us on the job that won’t work.” He paused a moment,
deep in thought. Then he added, “I’d say they’ll choose right here or somewhere
nearby. From what you say they’re in a hurry so they don’t have time to set an
ambush somewhere and wait for you to walk into it.”

“What about on the top of a building
with a high-powered rifle?”

Fraser grinned. “You’ve seen too many
Hollywood movies, boss. Yeah, I’ve seen that one too. But this isn’t Hollywood.
We’ve checked that one out. There’s nowhere round here. You’re not launching
any ships in the next few days are you, or pinning medals on anyone?”

Brookes returned Fraser’s grin. “Not
that I’m aware of.”

“So you won’t be making any scheduled
public appearances; forget snipers on the top of buildings. No, they’ll be at
ground level somewhere and have a vehicle handy for a quick getaway.”

Brookes remained silent.

Fraser continued, “Now, weapons;
they’ll have to get tooled up somewhere. Probably from the Russians already
here; they’ll have a contact. Have you got the gang under surveillance?”

“The gang leaders, yes.”

“OK, your guys might pick up
something. Give them the heads-up, they could lead us to the safe house and
save us a load of trouble.”

“And if they do get the weapons
without us catching them, what are their chances of pulling this off?”

“Slim to none. I’ll bet you a fiver
they’ll be nabbed within twenty-four hours and won’t get near you.”

“I like your confidence Angus, a
fiver it is.”

Neither thought to mention that
Brookes was unlikely to be around to collect his winnings if he won the bet.

*

At 7am that same morning, the ringing
of a phone disturbed someone else’s sleep. It was the mobile phone of Tomas
Dimitri, Bronchi’s enforcer.

A voice, heavily accented Russian,
said, “We have arrived. We are at the safe house.” It was a Chechen to whom
Russian was a second language

Dimitri replied in the same tongue,
“Stay there, I will bring the equipment you asked for and brief you.”

There was no tap on Dimitri’s phone
so the surveillance team were unaware of this conversation. But shortly after,
the Russian was seen leaving his West End apartment. He closed the street door
behind him and stood on the pavement looking around him. After a few moments he
walked to an underground garage and emerged driving his BMW.

He joined the morning rush hour
traffic and spent the next half-hour driving apparently aimlessly around
Kensington. Then he turned onto the Edgeware Road heading north towards
Cricklewood. Had he been looking for a tail he would not have seen one. The
tracking device on his BMW had been activated as soon as it had been seen on
the move and the followers kept back out of sight.

Twenty minutes later, Dimitri turned
into a side road and stopped. He sat in his car for a full five minutes before
getting out. Then, taking a large, heavy, black bag from the boot of the car,
he walked to the front door of No.24, an anonymous-looking semi. The door
opened as he approached and he walked straight in.

A man wearing a raincoat and flat cap
and carrying a folded newspaper strolled past just too late to see who had let
the Russian into the house. He didn’t pause or show any particular interest in
the house but strolled purposefully past.

When he reached the next corner, he
turned into a side street and spoke into his radio. “Control this is Bravo
Five. The subject entered No.24 carrying a big heavy bag. I couldn’t see who
let him in.”

A small Renault van bearing French
number plates was parked two streets away. Fred Middlemiss sat in the rear with
a French detective. Middlemiss acknowledged the message. He turned to another
radio on a different frequency and passed the information on to Bill Moore at
Cundell House.

Moore telephoned Brookes. “We’ve got
some movement boss. Dimitri left his flat early this morning; he spent some
time checking for a tail. The tracking device worked a treat; we never had to
show out. He’s now at a house in Cricklewood. He took in a large heavy bag.
That was ten minutes ago, he hasn’t come out yet.”

“Is the address one we know?”

“No boss. We’ve checked the voters’
register. The place is shown as being occupied by a Joyce Rivers, no previous.
I’ve got someone at the local nick checking with the collator.”

“I just hope it isn’t his girlfriend
he’s visiting Derek, and it’s his laundry in the bag.”

“Me too boss, but I doubt he would
have been that careful if it was. I think we might be in business. This is
totally out of sync with his routine and the bag could contain the equipment
for the assassins. I’ll keep you informed.”

“Thanks Bill.”

Fraser interrupted. “Hang on a minute
boss; let me have a word with him.”

Brookes passed him the phone. He
said, ‘This black bag; how big was it?’

Moore replied, “A good five feet
long, bulky and heavy.”

“Is that all he delivered?”

“That’s all our observer saw, yes.”

“OK thanks.” He handed the phone back
to Brookes who said goodbye to Moore and hung up.

Next Moore called Inspector John
Barnes of SO 19 and informed him of the Cricklewood address and Dimitri’s
visit. He added, “You’d better scramble your team John and get up there but
keep out of sight.” He gave Barnes the operational police radio channel
Middlemiss and his team were using.

At 9.30am Dimitri was seen to leave
the house in
Cricklewood
and drive back to the
West End. He was alone and minus the bag. There was no movement at the house
for the rest of the morning.

At 12.30pm a large Ford saloon drew
up in front of the house, a man got out and knocked he door. He looked up and
down the street as he waited for it to be opened. He disappeared inside. Again
the watchers were unable to see who let him in. A young woman walked past and
noted the registration number of the Ford. When out of sight of the house, she radioed
the number to Middlemiss in the Renault van. He consulted a short list of
vehicle registration numbers in his notebook. The Ford belonged to one of
Bronchi’s soldiers.