THE LONDON DRUG WARS (7 page)

Detective Chief Inspector Jeremy Hornsby rose to greet
Brookes
.
“How the devil are you John?” He was
in his early forties
,
of
medium height
,
and somewhat broad in the beam. A
comfortable paunch hung over his belt
,
only partly disguised by the expensive handmade suit he wore. His round
face was topped by a ring of greying hair around an otherwise bald scalp. This
and the horn-rimmed spectacles he wore gave him the appearance of a tired
academic. But this in turn concealed the fact that he had a sharp, incisive
mind.

He and Brookes had been in the same recruit class over
twenty years previously at the very beginning of their careers. Despite
following different career paths the two had remained friends, meeting
occasionally for drinks and a chat.

Brookes returned the greeting and introduced his DS.

Hornsby gave her a beaming smile
.
“Trust you John to choose a
beautiful companion. You are most welcome Brigid.”

She smiled politely in return, not sure whether to be
flattered at the compliment or annoyed at the implied suggestion that she was
some kind of ornament.

Brookes came to her rescue
.
“Brigid is also very bright and good at the job
,
which is more to the point
,
Jeremy. I see you’re still the same
old smoothie, how’s your lovely wife?”

Hornsby laughed, unabashed by the rebuke
.
“I see you haven’t changed either
John; all work and no play.”

Indicating some comfortable chairs arranged around a
low table
,
he invited them to sit.

Five minutes later they were settled, each with a
coffee in front of them
,
and
Hornsby opened a large file on the table. Its buff cover bore a thick red
diagonal stripe across it with the word ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stenci
l
led along it.

Waving a bunch of papers Hornsby said, “I’ve prepared
a briefing note for you John. Please remember it’s not for public consumption;
don’t leave it on a train somewhere will you?”

“I’ll try not to Jeremy. Now, can we get on with it?”

Hornsby nodded
.
“OK. Let me first give you the broad picture so you know
where Bronchi is coming from.”

He took a deep breath and began his briefing
.
“When the Berlin wall came down in
1989 people around the world heaved a sigh of relief; not only had the heavy
yolk been removed from the Russian people, but the dismantling of the USSR
signa
l
led the end of the
C
old
W
ar, the nuclear arms race
,
and the threat to world peace.

“
It brought about all of those things. But every silver lining
has a cloud. The fall of communism and the break
-
up of the USSR created an economic, moral and social vacuum
in Russia. Organised criminal gangs took full advantage of this. The Russian
Mafia; or Red Mafiya as the romantics would have it, created a criminal empire
that makes the Sicilian Mafia look like a pack of small
-
time pickpockets. These criminal
gangs had existed under the old regime but the strictures imposed by that
regime had at least kept them in check.

“When the old guard fell, so did the
restrictions on the gangs’ criminal activities. Without the need to impose its
will on its near neighbours, the military and intelligence services trimmed
their ranks. Hundreds of ex-KGB officers and Afghan war veterans joined the
unemployed and many gravitated towards the gangs and their activities increased
tenfold. Amongst them were some of the worst thugs this world has known;
psychopaths and sociopaths abound. The murder rate in Moscow went out of
control and legitimate businessmen feared for their lives and those of their
families.

“Six hundred bankers were murdered in
the next five years, simply because they would not co-operate with the
criminals. Even today there are ten thousand Mafiya murders per year in Russia
as a result of the various gangs’ internal feuds and punishment killings. Some
say that 80% of Russian banks and half of the privately owned and state
sponsored businesses are controlled by the Mafiya. Foreign businesses in the
country reputedly pay 20% of their profits to the criminals just to remain in
business.

“But worse was to come. When the wall
came down those gangs began to spread their tentacles across Europe and beyond.
Among the thousands of people who left Russia as soon as they were able were
hundreds of these criminals; the same ones who had wreaked havoc in their
mother country.

“Just to give you an example of the
success of their criminal enterprises, there is an estimated £25 billion worth
of dirty Russian money that has been laundered in banks in Switzerland,
Liechtenstein and Cyprus. Some of that money is passed through the Afghan
Veterans Association, the Russian equivalent of the British Legion, to give the
appearance of it having been earned legitimately.

“Now, over twenty years later, their
influence has spread across the globe. They run the prostitution and drug
dealing in places as diverse as Sri Lanka and Israel. A senior FBI officer in
the States says that the Red Mafiya pose an enormous threat to that country;
more so than the Italian gangs ever did.

“And, as you know only too well, they
are here in the UK. We know of gangs in most of our major cities: Manchester,
Birmingham, Bristol, and Glasgow to name but a few. Ivan Bronchi is the leader
of the London gang and he is as ruthless as any of them. We know for a fact
that he is responsible for the brutal murders of several rivals on his way to
the top.”

He looked up from his notes.

Brookes nodded grimly. “Go on
Jeremy.”

“A word or two more about the Russian
gangs: They enforce loyalty in the most brutal way; anyone suspected of
disloyalty is tortured and killed. Thousands of gang members have been murdered
simply for not
toeing
the line. They use
bribes to control people outside the organisation. Where that doesn’t work they
use threats; threats that they do not hesitate to carry out.”

He paused and took a sip of his
coffee.

Brookes sighed. “You don’t paint a
very rosy picture Jeremy.”

“No John, I don’t. They make the Kray
twins look like pussycats. Let me tell you what we know about your target. Ivan
Igorovitch Bronchi was born on the first of May 1964 in Stalingrad or St.
Petersburg as it’s now known. His father was a party apparatchik; he never
amounted to much but his being a loyal party member meant his offspring
received a good education.

“We don’t know much about the young
Ivan’s formative years but it’s rumoured that he got into bad company when he
came out of university. Although he was never convicted of anything, it seems
he was involved in the black market that thrived under the old regime. When the
wall came down he was in East Berlin; he somehow managed to acquire German
nationality. He obviously saw the advantage of becoming a citizen of the
European Union.”

Brookes showed his disgust. “How the
hell did he do that? He’s hardly what you’d call a desirable person.”

Hornsby nodded. “You have to remember
John, when the two Germanys reunited a lot of the East Germans kept their
government jobs, including some of those in the immigration department. The old
boy network operates there just as it does in this country. A word in the right
ear and a fat envelope works wonders.”

Brigid broke in, “Couldn’t we use
that against him, sir? Surely if he bought his citizenship, we could have it
revoked?”

Hornsby gave her an indulgent smile.
“That would mean the German government would have to admit that one of their
officials was corrupt. Can you imagine the diplomatic storm that would raise?”

Brookes scoffed, “Bugger that anyway.
I want this bastard put behind bars, not living a life of luxury on some
tropical island.”

Hornsby gave him a look and continued
his briefing. “Bronchi seems to have dropped below the radar for the next ten
years. The reorganisation of Germany must have presented all sorts of
opportunities to smart entrepreneurs both legitimate and illegitimate, and I
suspect your man took full advantage of that.

“He first came to notice in this country
in 2002. He was the chief suspect in a nasty murder case; a drug dealer who was
literally carved up in West London. But the only witness fell out of the eighth
floor window of a block of flats; there was insufficient evidence to charge
Bronchi of that one or the original murder so he escaped justice. In hindsight
we can see that he was busy building his drug empire. Over the next few years
his name came up in the investigations into a number of other brutal killings.
But by this time he’d risen up the gang’s hierarchy and had others do his dirty
work.” Hornsby looked up. “In fact John, he’s been very clever; he’s never been
convicted of anything either here or abroad.”

“So you are saying he’s immune from
prosecution?”

“No John, don’t be so impatient. I’m
telling you about his past. Can I continue?”

Brookes nodded, keeping his anger in
check with difficulty.

Hornsby continued, “OK, the drug
squad have been watching him for some years. They’ve learned a great deal about
his operation. He runs his drug empire from one of his nightclubs, ‘The Moscow
Nights’. He spends a great deal of his time there. The licence is held by one
of his associates, yet another example of how he distances himself from danger
of arrest. The gang are careful not to keep drugs on the premises.”

Brookes frowned. “How does he run the
distribution if he’s not where the action is?”

“Delegation, John. The people he
delegates to do the distribution are trusted members of his gang.”

Brookes nodded. “Have you got any
good news?”

Hornsby smiled.
“You are an impatient so-and-so aren’t you John. Yes, I think I do. I’ve given
some thought as to how you might go about bringing him down. The Russians are
very much hands-on. They don’t trust anyone who is not a member of their
organisation. And the gang members are easily recognisable as they’re all
Russians or from the old Soviet satellite states. Their names are Eastern
European and they flaunt their ancestry to all they meet.

“It’s this arrogance that you can use
against them. Many of the gang members have a tattoo on their shoulder; it
carries the inscription in Russian, ‘
Vory v Zakone’
; in English it
means, ‘Thieves in law’.” He paused to pass a photograph across the table.

Brookes nodded. “But this guy is a
drug dealer not a thief, Jeremy.”

“Let’s not split hairs John; this is
a criminal fraternity whose members swear to a code: ‘
Vorovskoy Zakon’
.
In English: ‘The Thieves Code’. The code requires them to give their loyalty to
the gang, above even that they give to their families. The penalty for
transgression is death. And it’s strictly enforced.”

Brookes frowned. “How exactly does
that work, do the gangs help each other out?”

“To a degree and always at a price.
Don’t think of them as being part of the same gang. There are hundreds of
different gangs. Many of them are at war with each other, especially where they
are in competition. But when they need something, they prefer to do business
with other Russians rather than with ‘foreigners’ wherever they can.

There’s something else that should
help. Whist not all Russian immigrants in this country are members of the
Mafiya, anyone with a Russian accent or name should immediately raise your
suspicions; you can sort out the wheat from the chaff as you go along.”

“Good, that gives me something to
think about.” He paused then added, “I’m going to dig deep into every aspect of
his operation. The first thing is the drugs; how are they smuggled into the
country? From what you say, he’s either doing it himself or maybe using other
Russian gangs on the continent. What do you think?”

Hornsby nodded thoughtfully. “You
could well be right. The Turks are also involved in a big way in drug smuggling
but I doubt the Russians get their supplies from them. The Turks and the
Russians don’t get on at all well.”

Brigid intervened, “Could Bronchi be
using his legitimate businesses to do the smuggling sir?”

Brookes shook his head. “I wouldn’t
think he’d take that chance but it’s possible I suppose.” Turning to Hornsby he
said, “What can you tell us about his legit businesses Jeremy?”

Hornsby consulted his file. “He’s got
a small chain of grocery stores in West London, a wine distributors and a
computer hardware company; those and of course his nightclubs. We are also
aware of an interest he has in a string of brothels in Soho. The Vice Squad
followed two thugs one morning. They visited each establishment then went
straight to the Moscow Nights where, it is strongly believed they deposited the
night’s takings.”