‘Okay sir, will do.’
‘Where are you now, Johnson?’
‘Coming past the Swindon exit, sir.’
‘Oh, right. We are in front of you, so we will turn into the next services and let you pass us and tag along behind.’
Which is what Palmer’s car did, and the convoy carried on west along the M4 as darkness began to fall.
‘I’m getting hungry. Peas pud, and gammon…’
Palmer thought of the meal Mrs P. had told him was on the menu for that evening.
‘You ever had peas, pud, and gammon, Sergeant?’
‘Can’t say I have, guv.’
‘One of life’s little luxuries.’
‘You’re easily satisfied aren’t you, guv? Most people would want a big house, Ferrari, holiday home in Barbados and a million quid in the bank as their luxury, but all you want is peas, pud, and gammon.’
She laughed.
‘With a sprinkling of vinegar.’
‘Oh, now you are pushing it.’
‘I don’t ask for a lot, do I Sergeant?’ he said, mocking himself. ’Where are we now, driver?’
‘Coming up to the M32 turn off for Bristol, sir.’
The convoy sped past the Bristol exit and took the right-hand lane for the Severn Bridge. Palmer called the other cars.
‘Looks like we are going over the bridge into Wales. No flashing warrant cards at the pay booths, takes too long to fill in the forms; pay in cash and stay undercover lads, please.’
‘I bet we have to fill in forms to get the money back later,’ Johnson said.
Palmer laughed.
‘And in triplicate, Johnson.’
They all negotiated the toll booths, each car taking a different booth, and carried on behind the van and BMW.
‘It’s got to be a heavy job, hasn’t it guv? I mean, as far as we know they aren’t carrying weapons, so it would look like the bodies are wanted for moving stuff?’
Palmer nodded.
‘So how does Kershaw fit in then? He’s slightly built, not a bloke you’d use for physical stuff. He must be the key to the operation, that’s the only answer that works.’
‘Plenty of docks along the Welsh coast, guv. Could be something coming off a boat?’
‘Yes, that’s a probability. East was involved in a drugs gang in Manchester some time ago, and I have no doubt he and Alexander would be in that trade now somehow; that’s where the money is these days. Maybe the men in the van are going to be used to unload something. Tiger Bay in Cardiff used to be a real smugglers’ delight until they developed it, so I don’t think it will be there; but there are many other little harbours and docks on this coastline.’
It wasn’t Cardiff. The convoy sped past on the M4.
Johnson came on the radio.
‘They are turning off, sir. Taking the B4264 signposted for a place called Pontyclun.’
‘Pontyclun, that rings a bell.’
Palmer thought hard, until Claire provided the answer over the comms.
‘It’s the Royal Mint sir, it’s just outside Pontyclun.’
‘Jesus Christ! They’re going to have a go at the Mint, the cheeky bastards!’
‘Shouldn’t we alert the Welsh police, sir?’ asked Gheeta. ‘It’s not our manor,’
Palmer had a little inside smile at the way Gheeta Singh had picked up bits of Cockney slang into her vocabulary since joining his team.
‘Yes, you’re right Sergeant, not our manor. Best get a Welsh Armed Tactical Support team to meet us at the Mint. Claire, can you hear me?’
‘Yes sir, loud and clear.’
‘Good. Get hold of Bateman and explain what we think is happening, and ask him to contact the Wales force to assist us with an armed TS team. When they are on the way, patch them into our comms. Can you do that?’
‘Yes sir, on it now.’
Assistant Commissioner Bateman was none too pleased to have his evening interrupted by the urgent tone of his pager screaming from his breast pocket; nor were his wife, the audience and members of the cast at the Haymarket Theatre where he and his wife were celebrating their fifteenth anniversary with an evening at the theatre. He scurried apologetically out into the foyer and saw it was from Claire, and called her back on his mobile where she brought him up to date.
The thought of a raid on the Royal Mint with Palmer involved did not sit well with him; the press backlash if things went wrong would put an end to any ideas he might have of career advancement. But, if nothing else, Bateman was a policeman, and a few phone calls later things were in place, with the Welsh force in the picture and a Firearms Team on the way to liaise with Palmer.
He conveyed as much to Claire, insisting he be kept up to date on what was happening in Wales, and settled down at the back of the theatre to wait for the interval, and Mrs Bateman’s reaction to his disruption of the first half; a reaction he was not looking forward to. Bloody Palmer!
‘He’s turning off the B road sir.’
Johnson’s voice came through loud and clear in Palmer’s car.
‘East’s car is turning off, the van’s going straight on.’
‘Okay, you stay with him. We will stay with the van.’
Palmer took a deep breath.
‘Where’s he off to then?
‘Llantrisant,’ said Gheeta, who had been working feverishly on her laptop. ‘Kershaw has a sister, Julie, who lives there.
‘Explain?’
‘I knew there was something familiar with Pontyclun, and then I remembered that when I did the family trace on Kershaw at the office on the BMD database, it listed a sister who lived in Llantrisant, near Pontyclun. I didn’t pay much attention to that, as it didn’t seem relevant to the case; I checked her out and she is clean: no convictions, married with a fourteen year-old daughter.’
‘So what’s Kershaw doing then – paying a visit? Popping in for a cup of tea?’
‘No, Julie’s husband Fred works at the Mint. I’ve been checking his surname Knoble against the Mint’s HMR list and Fred Knoble is on it.’
‘Right, so that’s the plan; they’ve an inside man, Fred Knoble. Maybe he’s a key holder and they are picking him up.’
He clicked on the radio.
‘Johnson are you receiving?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right, we think Kershaw has a brother-in-law in Llantrisant who may be in on this, so sit back and just watch. Keep us up to date.’
‘Will do, sir.’
Claire came on the radio.
‘Sir, AC Bateman has alerted the Welsh Force and they are sending a SWAT van who will liaise with you as soon as they are on the way.’
‘Well done, Claire.’
The driver looked at Palmer.
‘Getting near the Mint now, sir. Want me to hold further back?’
‘Yes, but keep that van in sight, don’t lose it.’
The Royal Mint’s building came into view; a very large, very modern glass building lit up like a beacon in the night sky. It reminded Palmer of the Emirates Stadium, the Arsenal FC home, imposing and giving off an air of power. The road to the great front entrance was security barred, with steel risers in a line across it. The van carried on past and took a right turn into a narrow two-lane road, with high hedges along each side marked ‘Deliveries’. Palmer’s car followed with the lights out at a good distance. The rear delivery entrance was a large steel bar gate a good fifteen-feet high and twenty-feet wide, set on runners embedded in the concrete road. Behind the gate was a secure compound, and just inside it to the right was the gatehouse, a modern brick and glass affair; a security guard could be seen sitting inside.
The van pulled to a halt before it came within his view, and Palmer indicated his driver to stop as well. They were a hundred yards behind and pulled in behind a row of workers’ parked cars.
The radio came to life with a Welsh accent.
‘DCS Palmer sir, this is DS Rees-Jones of South Wales Police Tactical Support Group. We are on our way to
the Mint, sir; twelve officers in riot gear and we have firearms if needed. We are in a plain van.’
‘Nice to have you with us, Sergeant. I hope we won’t be needing the guns, but you never know. The scenario is that we have a van of eight suspects parked up near the back delivery gate of the Mint, and we are parked about a hundred yards behind them. If you come up slowly with your lights out and stop behind us, we can monitor the situation from here.
‘Will do, sir.’
The radio was busy.
‘Johnson here, sir. East has pulled up outside a house on a council estate in Llantrisant, 28 Valley Road. He, Kershaw, and the driver are going up to the front door.’
‘Okay Johnson, we have intel that Kershaw’s sister lives there and her husband works at the Mint, so they might be picking him up. Stay watching and let me know what happens,’ replied Palmer. ‘Remember, we think East has a gun and we are up to four bodies so far, so no contact. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
CHAPTER 13
‘Mum, Uncle Bob is coming up the path with two men.’
Sharon Knoble turned from looking out of the front room window with a questioning look at her mum.
‘What? Are you sure?’
Julie Knoble was greatly surprised. She hadn’t seen or talked to her brother Robert for three years; after his last criminal episode with a shotgun and a security guard delivering wages to a factory, she had sat down with him on his release from prison and told him to his face that she no longer wished to have anything to do with him, and to stay away from her family. So what the hell was he doing at her house at this time of the night?
The front door bell rang.
‘You stay in the front room Sharon, and don’t come out.’
She shut the front room door and walked down the hall to the front door, opening it and standing silently looking at her brother.
‘Hello, Julie. Surprise surprise.’
‘What do you want, Robert? I thought I made it very clear to you the last time I saw you that you are not welcome here.’
‘We’ve come to see Fred, not you.’
‘He’s at work.’
‘I know he is,’ Kershaw said with a false smile. ‘We are on our way to see him.’
‘What for? He doesn’t want to see you, and neither do I.’
She tried to shut the door, but Kershaw stopped her and pushed her back into the hall as he and the other two entered, closing it behind them. She flailed at them in a desperate attempt to keep them out, but a heavy push from East sent her backwards onto the floor. She screamed, and before she could scream again East knelt beside her and had a gloved hand over her mouth and pressed his face close to hers.
‘No need for that. Just behave yourself and nobody will get hurt; carry on yelling and I’ll knock you out. Understand?’
Julie nodded. East removed his hand and pulled her up on to her feet.
‘What is this about? What do you want?’
‘Good, that’s better.’
East smiled as Sharon came out of the front room, looking terrified at the scene, and Julie pulled her into her arms. Kershaw smiled at her.
‘Remember me, Sharon? Uncle Bob. We have a little job for you; you’re coming with us to see Dad. Won’t take half an hour, and then we will bring you safely back and go away.’
‘You’re not taking her anywhere, you bastard.’
Julie made a lunge at Kershaw, but East had been expecting it and brought the pistol from his pocket and cracked her on the back of the head. She hit the floor unconscious. Sharon was visibly shaking with fear.
‘For fuck’s sake George, that wasn’t in order,’ said Kershaw.
‘She’ll be okay. Get her trussed, or you’ll get the same.’
The driver took a length of cord and some tape from the bag he was carrying. He and Kershaw tied Julie’s hands and legs together before taping her mouth and securing her to a chair in the front room, while East held onto a sobbing and shaking Sharon.
‘We’d better call 999 and get a medic round when we leave here.’
Kershaw was beginning to realise what he’d gotten himself into.
‘This is way out of order. Frank never said anything about doing it this way. We was supposed to quietly take the pair of them in the car, not smack her about!’
‘Then she shouldn’t have got stupid and started screaming, should she?’ said East, giving him a cold glare. ‘I ain’t going to let that stupid bitch ruin this job. You can check her out when we’ve done the job and brought the kid back; she’ll be all right, I didn’t whack her hard. Come on, we gotta get going.’
‘They are leaving the house, sir,’ Johnson reported in on the radio. ‘Looks like they have a girl with them.’
‘That will be the daughter, Sharon,’ said Gheeta. ‘What do they want her for?’
‘No idea,’ said Palmer. ‘I thought they’d pick up Fred if he was part of the plan, not his daughter.’
‘Fred Knoble is at work, sir,’ Claire butted in on the radio. ‘I’ve got the Mint’s work schedules online, and Fred Knoble, 28 Valley Road, Lllantrisant is on shift tonight, six until two.’
‘So what’s with the girl then? Some kind of decoy?’
‘Do you want us to follow them, sir?’
‘No, we’ve got enough officers here to handle this end. Check the house; if Mrs Knoble is there, arrest her as an accessory and see what you can get out of her. But keep her away from any mobile phone; we don’t want her warning anybody that we are about..’
‘Will do.’
‘The Support group is here, sir.’
The driver pointed to the rear-view mirror showing the large black TSG van pulling up slowly behind them. DS Rees-Jones, all in black, left it on the dark hedgerow side and joined them in the rear of the squad car. Palmer did the introductions.
‘So, we really just have to wait and see what happens before we make a move. If we nab the lot of them now, we can only get them for going out with the intention to commit a robbery; if we wait until they actually do something, we can get them for attempting to commit one.’
Rees-Jones smiled broadly.
‘Twelve months’ probation for intention, or fifteen years inside for attempting. I’ll go for the fifteen-year stretch, sir; after all, they have buggered up all our evenings at home, haven’t they? Cardiff versus Swansea on telly tonight, my lads aren’t happy to miss that. Somebody’s got to pay.’
Palmer laughed. He liked Rees-Jones.
‘How many of you are there?’
‘Ten, sir.’
‘Johnson to Palmer,’ the radio announced.
‘Go ahead, Johnson.’
‘We are in the house, sir. Couldn’t get an answer but the neighbour came out and said she’d heard a commotion and screaming, so we forced entry. Just as well we did. Mrs Knoble was tied up to a chair and unconscious, with a nasty bruise and cut to her head. She’s come round now and we have an ambulance on the way. Apparently, Kershaw arriving was a surprise; they don’t get on and she hadn’t seen him for a few years. Anyway, the main thing is they’ve taken the daughter Sharon to the Mint where her husband works; he’s not involved in anything with Kershaw and hates him, so looks like a hostage event is happening.’
‘Right,’ said Palmer. ‘You hang on there until I can get the local force to take over from you, and then come to the Mint. But park up near the entrance. There’s a delivery lane where the van from London has parked up near the main delivery gate at the back, and we are a hundred yards back out of sight watching it with the local TSG; so if and when anything happens you block off the lane. Understood?’
‘Yes, will do, sir. Mrs Knoble wants to call her husband at the Mint, can she?’.
‘No, definitely not. I want everything to appear normal here when East and his gang start their caper, so no phone calls. Understood?’
‘Understood, sir.’
Palmer turned to Rees-Jones.
‘Can you get a WPC and uniformed back up to
relieve my chaps and secure the house? Be quicker than me going through the procedures, and I’ll need them to get a statement from Mrs Knoble. Get her to hospital if necessary but stay with her. No phones.’
‘28 Valley Road, Llantrisant,’ Gheeta added.
‘Got it,’ said Rees-Jones. ‘I’ll do it on our radio, won’t take long. Then I’ll send a man up the road for an ‘eyes on’ what’s happening at the delivery gate.’
Rees-Jones made to leave the car.
‘Good man,’ said Palmer. ‘If East, Kershaw and the girl are heading this way, we all need to keep an eye out for them and get well out of view when they go past us.’
Rees-Jones smiled.
‘They won’t see my chaps, sir. I can assure you of that.’
Palmer gave a knowing smile to Rees-Jones; he had worked with TSGs before and knew how good they were. Rees-Jones left the car as Palmer picked up the radio.
‘Claire, have you still got a signal from East’s phone?’
‘I have, sir. They are about half a mile from you.’
A minute or so later, East’s car passed them and slowed to a stop behind the London van. East could be seen getting out, followed by Kershaw who had a tight grip on the girl. East opened the rear door of the van and said something to those inside, before he took hold of the girl and walked slowly behind Kershaw towards the gatehouse. Palmer noticed the TSG men pass along the path between the line of workers’ parked cars and the hedge, barely distinguishable in the dark. Rees-Jones quietly opened the back door of the squad car.
‘I think we know what they are after now, sir.’
‘Go on.’
‘There’s a consignment of gold and silver ingots on the way from the Bank of England vaults. My AC contacted a Director of the Mint, and apparently it’s the yearly delivery prior to pressing the annual commemorative coins for world-wide collectors, sovereigns and Krugerrands and all that stuff. About fourteen million pounds’ worth of ingots in an armoured vehicle, with a Special Branch car following with armed officers. The Director has been told not to alert the Mint staff.’
‘Right, so that’s what East is after; it all falls into place now. No way could he rob that van with its armed escort, so he’s going to get inside the secure compound and wait until the van’s inside and the escort leaves, and then probably grab the stuff when the van is opened to be unloaded. That’s got to be the plan; the blokes in his van are there to do the transfer to their van’
Burning Ambition (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad Book 7) Page 6
