by Ted Tayler
“Sorry,” said Reuben, “force of habit.”
Two minutes later the armed officers received clearance to rush the Judge inside the building. Reuben found himself in his changing rooms in no time. It was a few minutes after nine. They called for him before ten o’clock. O’Riordan was the first order of the day. Reuben Finkelman was ready and waiting.
With the van parked in a nearby multi-storey, Phoenix and Rusty were yards away from the main entrance in Newgate Street.
“Court Two in this old part of the building has history, doesn’t it,” said Rusty.
“It’s a high-security case,” said Phoenix, “even more so after the events of the weekend.”
The two agents kept their eyes on the street. There were plainclothes officers everywhere, trying to look nonchalant, and all their efforts ended in miserable failure. Any sudden noise, such as the slamming rear door of a van up the street, they jumped out of their skin and put a hand to their earpiece.
“Bless them,” said Rusty, “this has been a tough ask for them. It has stretched the Met to the limit since it kicked off on Friday evening.”
“Time has run out for Hanigan,” said Phoenix. “His thugs failed twice yesterday and having many of his senior henchmen in custody will have hampered his efforts. Making a frontal assault on the Old Bailey is unlikely, but we’ll stay on watch until we hear the sentence has been delivered.”
“Tommy’s going to prison, no matter what,” said Phoenix. “The Met will escort him at high speed to Belmarsh. Do you think they’ll try to intercept the van?”
“Who knows, with Hanigan?” said Phoenix, “a madman is capable of anything. We’ll wait and see, and then play the cards we’re dealt.”
The minutes ticked away towards ten. More armed police arrived from the Territorial Support Group in two vans. They prevented any vehicles from getting near the building. The clock at St Sepulchre’s church chimed the hour. The only sound to be heard as the ringing faded was the flapping of the wings of pigeons it disturbed. It was as if the capital held its breath.
Inside Court Two, proceedings had begun. Tommy O’Riordan stood suited and booted in the dock. The public gallery was half-empty. Only Colleen, the two children, and the gangsters’ closest relatives granted entry.
Judge Reuben Finkelman addressed the court, never taking his eyes off those of Thomas O’Riordan. As he had thought, the Irishman refused to offer any mitigating circumstances when his final chance to speak arrived. At last, he could deliver the sentence. When the words ‘whole life order’ escaped his lips, he watched with satisfaction as the colour drained from O’Riordan’s face, and his head dropped to his chest. It was rare days such as this thought Reuben, that made his job worth doing.
The public gallery’s reaction was as expected. The only person to remain silent was Colleen O’Riordan. Her face set, as if in stone, she watched as Tommy was taken away. She stood up, turned, and walked away. Her family followed her.
The news of the verdict filtered through to those stood outside on the pavement. Reporters were gathering and trying to break the police cordon. The prison van sped out of the side road and the TSG vans set off to ride shotgun.
Phoenix and Rusty watched them go.
“Does the Judge have other cases today?” asked Rusty.
“I believe his cases has been rescheduled,” said Phoenix. “Either way, the Met will get him home safe. He’ll be guarded until the threat level is reduced.”
“Looks as if we can get off home then?” asked Rusty.
“I want to hang around for a few minutes yet,” said Phoenix. “We haven’t heard from the family yet. No doubt, they’ll be on the steps with their brief talking of an appeal, this was a disproportionate sentence and the usual garbage.”
A sudden throng of people appeared at the entrance. Cameras and phones were flashing, there was shouting, as the O’Riordan family spoke to anyone with a news camera and a microphone. Phoenix had called it right.
As the defence solicitor painted his own picture of the justice delivered in Court Two this morning, Phoenix watched the faces of the family members. Only one woman appeared at odds with the bile pouring from the mouths of the others. Colleen O’Riordan never spoke.
Questions were fired at her, but she stood, as if in shock, her face impassive.
Phoenix sensed this was a woman who felt wronged.
Life as a gangster’s wife had its financial benefits. However, Phoenix imagined Tommy had treated Colleen as more of a trophy, and a skivvy, than as a revered partner.
Her life could go in two ways. She could crumble, as the rich trappings she had enjoyed fell away, and the protection offered by the gang removed. Or she could take Tommy’s place.
She was a Walsh by birth, and her brother, Sean was her husband’s lieutenant. With her husband in prison, in all likelihood, until he died, Colleen might have the taste for the good life, and fight tooth and nail, not to have it torn from her. Her family history suggested she was tough enough.
As the family’s cars drove away back to Kilburn, Phoenix wondered whether their paths might ever cross again.
“Time to make tracks,” Phoenix said to Rusty, “our job here is done.”
They walked back to the car park, retrieved their van, and drove home to Larcombe.
The morning meeting was just ending as they parked up by the transport section garage. Phoenix wanted to catch up with what was discussed. Rusty reminded him that a quick visit to the armoury was necessary first, to return the equipment they had withdrawn.
Once they had travelled underground, Bazza and Thommo were eager to find out what had happened at the Old Bailey.
“We’re mushrooms in here, mate,” said Bazza. “We get fed shite every now and then, but nobody tells us a thing.”
“That will change soon, Bazza,” Rusty said, “when you join the training team.”
“We’ve been below ground so long,” said Bazza. “Thommo reckons we’ll need sunglasses for the first few weeks until we get accustomed to the bright light.”
“O’Riordan got a whole life order,” said Rusty. “The Judge was pissed at being shot at last night. Someone had to pay.”
“Life feels right for the way he dealt with Devlin,” said Thommo, “he can’t have any complaints.”
After checking in the guns and ammunition, and telling the armourers more details of their mission, Phoenix and Rusty left the ice-house and walked back to the main building.
They met Artemis, Giles, and Henry heading in the opposite direction.
“Welcome home,” said Artemis. “I hope you had a successful mission?”
“It had its moments,” said Rusty, giving his partner a squeeze.
“What did we miss this morning?” asked Phoenix.
“Athena took us through the arrangements for tomorrow,” said Giles, “she’s glad you will be free to go with her to London. The news from Newcastle was excellent. Maurice Kelly and his wife transferred from the safe house early this morning. They will spend their retirement in a remote cottage in the centre of the Irish Republic. I can’t say more because even we weren’t told. Zeus alone has received an email with the details. There’s no way Hanigan will ever find them.”
“That will make him madder than ever,” said Phoenix, “troubles often come in threes, don’t they? Two attempted attacks failed yesterday, O’Riordan’s sentence was number three. Now there’s the fourth failure. Maurice Kelly has disappeared again. This time for good.
“Nothing else?” asked Phoenix.
Giles shuffled his feet.
“Sorry, no joy yet finding an address for Hanigan,” he said. “Artemis suggested we find an old picture of Hannon from somewhere, and put an agent outside the bank. If we can spot him leaving, we could follow him home.”
“We know from experience that Hannon is cute,” said Phoenix. “Look how long it took us to find his new identity. You can bet he’s used the ‘right to be forgotten’ loophole to cover his tracks. I doubt we
’ll find much more than a grainy, unrecognisable face on a photograph from his schooldays in Dublin.”
“We’ve had the General Data Protection Regulation to contend with since last month,” said Henry. “Another mealy-mouthed piece of legislation from the European Courts.”
“Look, Giles, I’m not saying don’t bother,” said Phoenix, “but don’t build up your hopes. When we meet with Zeus and the others tomorrow, we’ll see if we can think of a way to draw Hanigan out into the open.”
“OK, Phoenix,” said Giles, “we’ll keep searching for clues. If a usable photograph surfaces, we’ll put a tail on him later.”
Phoenix and Rusty left the others to return to the ice-house and passed the stable-block on their way to the main house.
“While I’m here, I’ll drop in on Kelly and Hayden,” said Rusty. “I’ll fill them in on this morning, and thank them for last night.”
“Good thinking,” said Phoenix “thank them from me too, and assure them that unless something drastic occurs, that was their final mission. We need to protect our senior trainers regardless of the costs.”
Phoenix made his way upstairs and found Athena playing with Hope.
“Good morning, my two lovely girls,” he said.
The reward for Phoenix was two beaming smiles.
“It’s great to have you home, darling,” said Athena.
“We saw the others on our way over from the armoury. They brought us up to speed.”
“I’ve heard from Zeus since the morning meeting ended,” said Athena, handing Hope over to her father, “he told me Apollo won’t be joining us until later tomorrow. He’s visiting Davy’s family, and that of the second agent, Clyde, killed in Bromley.”
“What do you have planned for this afternoon?” asked Phoenix.
“Maria Elena will get here in forty-five minutes, and I have admin work to catch up on for the charity. We can’t afford to get caught out by a Charity Commission spot inspection. Then I want an early night. We’ll be leaving for London at eight in the morning.”
“I’ll hold you to that early night,” Phoenix said. “I think I’ll go for a swim, clear my head, and then prepare notes to present to the other Olympians in the morning.”
When he returned from the pool, Phoenix closeted himself in the orangery and set to work. It was time for Hugo Hanigan to suffer another series of setbacks.
*****
Meanwhile, in London, Sean Walsh and the other gang members were released from custody at six o’clock in the evening. The interviews had revealed nothing. DCI Geoff Titmus and DI Jonathan Barclay had expected as much. They went through the motions because their superiors ordered it.
Television reports and daily newspapers continued to wring every drop of emotion out the public over the deaths of the jurors. News teams attended every candle-lit vigil. As each terror incident, natural disaster, and tragic loss of life occurred these days, the familiar pattern developed.
Each one was more elaborate than the last. Each one masked the truth. That nothing was being done to tackle the root causes.
The Irish, Jamaican, Eastern European and Asian gangsters made their way back to their respective homes.
In his penthouse, Hugo counted the cost of the past twenty-four hours. Maurice Kelly had gone to ground. Hugo had threatened the local gang leaders on Tyneside there would be a price to pay if they didn’t find him. He had doubled the price on Kelly’s head.
The Judge was off-limits now. A drive-by had shown his home being guarded twenty-four-seven by armed police, and the chance of that headline-busting strike had gone.
Despite his efforts to prevent Tommy getting sent to prison, he had failed. The life sentence had stunned Hugo, but he knew he had to go forward without Tommy’s strong presence at his side. At least, Sean was free, and they needed to talk soon. Tommy was only one man from The Grid, all said and done. Any sign of weakness encouraged another gang leader to threaten the hierarchy they had introduced over the past year,
Hugo tried to think who might have authorised the clash at Denham Aerodrome, which thwarted his crew’s attack on the Judge. He needed Sean to consider that first thing in the morning.
Hugo rang Sean, but his son told him his parents weren’t at home. They had gone to be with Colleen O’Riordan. She had received bad news today, and the family had gathered around her in a show of solidarity.
Hugo ended the call. He knew well enough that she had received ‘bad news’, so had he. Colleen was a lush. She had been drunk when she talked on the phone with him last night, it didn’t take a genius to fathom that. Hugo thought of ringing the O’Riordan home but decided it could wait until the morning.
Hugo picked up the TV remote and remembered he had been so tied up with bank business, and the sentencing hearing, he hadn’t sorted out a new set. The remote joined the ceramic bowl in the screen.
Tuesday, 29th April 2014
The car waited at the front door at eight am. Phoenix and Athena left Maria Elena with Hope and hurried downstairs to head for London. Traffic was heavy, and it was ten fifty when they were dropped outside the venue. Once inside the conference room, they met with Zeus and Hera.
“Congratulations on a well-executed mission yesterday, Phoenix,” said Zeus.
“Teamwork, as always,” said Phoenix, “but it was not flawless. The pilot Keith Stott died. I wish that could have been avoided.”
“So, do we all,” said Hera, after giving Athena a welcoming hug.
How things had changed since the first meeting he had attended, Phoenix thought. The atmosphere had shown a dramatic improvement. Duncan and Celia Eliot were old friends now. Dionysus joined them a minute later, then James and Elizabeth came bustling through the door together, looking very pleased with themselves.
Sir James Grant-Nicholls and the Duchess did the rounds of the other Olympians, shaking hands with, and air-kissing the appropriate colleague. Heracles and Aphrodite were excited over something, that was evident.
“Are we ready to begin,” said Zeus, with a knowing wink in Athena’s direction.
“Well,” said Elizabeth McLaren, “Sir James and I want to share our news with you all.”
“So, three or four trips in his private plane with your knees touching has done the trick. Is that what you’re telling us?”
Several pairs of eyes turned on Phoenix.
“We prefer to think it was more elegant than that, Phoenix,” said Heracles.
“We have spent more time in each other’s company on the ground than in the air,” the Duchess of Lochalsh continued. “Last Friday James asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
“Congratulations to you both,” said Athena. “This calls for a celebration, don’t you agree Zeus?
“We only have soft drinks,” said Phoenix, who had wandered to the side table.
“I’ll rectify that,” said Dionysus, and left the room to order champagne and glasses.
Zeus looked at his watch.
“We need to get on with our busy programme,” he said. “Can we agree to a start time of half-past eleven, and we won’t take a break then until after one o’clock.”
There were no objections. The champagne arrived and the Olympians toasted the happy couple.
“I wish Apollo was here,” said Dionysus, joining Athena and Phoenix. “Until we add to our number, we are soon to be the only two here without our wives. I must say, there has been a significant change in the past year.”
“For the better, I hope?” asked Athena.
“Without a doubt,” replied Dionysus, “but new blood would be most welcome.”
“We’ll discuss that later,” said Athena.
It was eleven-thirty, and Zeus called the meeting to order.
“As we had to call this emergency meeting, I won’t run through the financials today, nor the updates on our overseas direct actions. Important though those items are, today we must concentrate on the current crises. We have seen the events in London since Friday evening, and our
direct actions have prevented several deaths. However, we lost two agents in Bromley on Saturday afternoon. Apollo is with the families now. I expect him to join us after lunch. Phoenix and his team averted a disaster at Denham Aerodrome last evening. We retrieved Mr Kelly from witness protection. Right from under the noses of his guards and the likely attack from The Grid.”
“The grid,” asked Heracles, “what do you mean?”
“Capital G,” replied Zeus. “I have no idea what they call themselves. It sums up the resultant framework of inter-connected gangs that has been growing in strength for a while. From now on, The Grid is how we shall refer to them.”
“Hugo Hanigan is the figurehead,” said Athena, passing folders around the table for each Olympian to study. “This report details everything we have learned about him. To date, we haven’t found his home address. That’s frustrating. We will continue the hunt.”
“I have a few ideas on how we might flush Hanigan out into the open,” said Phoenix. “He’s the madman who organised the murders before Easter, and those this weekend. He’s dangerous in the extreme, and I believe these attacks were intended to make the people of this country sit up and take notice. He wants the world to fear the name, Hugo Hanigan.”
“How do you intend to flush him out, Phoenix?” asked Aphrodite.
“I propose a series of direct actions against regional elements of this Grid. We might be poking a sleeping lion with a short stick. In order to eliminate him, first, we must find where he lives.”
Zeus stood up and paced the far end of the room.
“I’m considered to be conservative in my approach on most occasions, Phoenix, but the time has come for action. Athena tells me the training programme for new agents is ready to start. In addition, she has asked for extra personnel at Larcombe, so you can have two agents released to serve as senior trainers. This will double the number of successful candidates we can produce. You have the green light on that one, Athena, effective at once.”
“Thank you, Zeus,” said Athena, “that’s most welcome.”
