Pushing back her chair, she was just rising to grab her coat when her mobile started to ring, ‘strange’ she thought, the only people who had her number worked in that room, it sure as hell wouldn't be her boss, ‘that one’s strictly nine to five, who the hell is it?’
“Who’s this?” She pretty much demanded as she answered the phone.
“Detective Sergeant” a voice on the other end replied, “is that a good way of greeting someone with information?” there was a gentle rebuke in the voice.
“This isn’t the hotline number” she replied, “it's known only to a couple of people, and you're not one of them! so, who are you?”
“You’ve got a stiff in your mortuary right? no idea who he is, and no one’s saying anything, am I needing to be a rocket scientist to figure that!” there was a pause, “Let’s cut to the chase shall we?” the voice came back, “Now to the important stuff, you’ve no idea whom he is right?”
“I suppose that was in the news, so nothing new there” she was tired, and this, while the banter might be enjoyable when she wasn’t tired, right now she really couldn’t give a damn, “You better do better than that if you want this conversation to continue” by now a couple of the others in the room were looking over, she indicated for one of them to get onto the cyber division and trace the call. One of them jumped towards his phone and got things moving, he gave a thumbs up indicating the trace was in progress.
“Check out a name, you’ll find nothing on file after 2005, but the name is Mohammad Akbari, Egyptian born in 1978 in Cairo, came to Britain to study in 1995, studied Oriental languages and computer sciences, became a naturalised British citizen in 2004, then disappears off the radar” the line went dead as the phone was hung up, a very confused BJ was just looking at it, wondering whether it could be legit, when the phone pinged again, this time an email, from a ‘Hotmail’ account which meant it was practically impossible to trace, all is said was “in case you’re unsure” she opened the email, there was a crystal clear photo of the deceased, and it wasn’t the one they released to the press, this one was recent, but he was alive in it, and it had been ‘clipped’, all it said was “He worked in computers, for someone important!”
This was getting stranger by the minute, first, the body appears ‘within shouting distance’ of parliament, no ID or anything, the Police throw all their resources at solving the case, but someone starts pulling strings, and they’re re-assigned pretty quickly, then phone calls in the middle of the night?
She stopped, swung the bag she was holding back down by her desk and sat down again. Picking up the phone she pressed a number on the speed dial, a grumpy voice came on the line, “Guv, you do know it’s eleven pm right?”
“Yeah, sorry Jimmy, but I need you to look into the customs and immigration files for me”
“Ya got any paperwork we might need?” Jimmy didn’t like to poke around in government files without the correct signatures, “Doing it without the right signatures can bite us in the arse you know?” he knew that BJ knew that, but sometimes it’s good to remind them, ‘just in case’
“Not really” she was honest with the reply, “but I might have the ID of our victim. You’re looking around 1995 probably from Egypt, and the name’s Akbari, while you’re there check the DVLA records”
The ‘DVLA’ stands for the Driver and Vehicle Licencing Centre, all the driving licences and vehicle registrations are registered there, if Akbari’s name was on the lists it would tell them what kind of vehicle he owned, and more importantly where he lived.
“Guv, we ran the photo through the DVLA before, got sweet Fanny Adams from it remember” he began.
“Run it again” she cut him off, “and this time with the name!” the fact was the info she’d been given showed that someone didn’t want her to find out whom it was, this would flaming well show them she was better than they were, and she’d get the ID eventually, she was sending them a message, “Stop screwing with me or get ready to pay a steep price!”
“Okay boss” he replied meekly, “It’ll probably take me a couple of hours to get the info Guv, want me to come in?” he wondered if this was going to be ‘official’
“Nah, better do it from your end” BJ replied, “Your coffee’s much better, send the results to my mobile.” and clicked the phone off, as soon as it clicked a message came up.
“While you’re waiting for the reply, grab a coffee at Starbucks on the corner, table nearest the door” this was damn strange, but she had to follow through, she had to find out who was sending the cryptic messages.
Chapter 18
“Just what the hell do you think you're doing?” the acid in the comment was so caustic he could feel the phone beginning to melt, just who the hell was this punk on the other end, “you screwed the whole thing up.”
“We did what we were told!” he spat back down the phone, “we dumped the car, found another, clear out, no one follows” he was getting impatient, he wasn't even sure if it was a man or woman as they were using software to disguise their voice, it sounded more like a computer he was talking to, the only thing that gave it away was the anger in the voice.
“ And you screwed up the hit you moron!” the voice came back, “you were meant to take him down, as in killing him!”
“No one says he got protection, we were supposed to get there first, REMEMBER!”
“Never take anything for granted in this game” it was almost a shout as if the person saying it couldn't believe these people, supposedly trained assassins needed reminding of the ‘golden rule’ of their profession. “He’s still alive, and thanks to you morons, they’ve got him stashed in a ‘safe house’ somewhere” the phone went dead as the caller clicked off, the call had taken less than thirty seconds, not enough time to trace it if anyone was trying, which they doubted very much.
They’d done everything they were told, the brief had been ‘make it look like a gang thing’ so that’s what they’d done, a ‘gang drive-by’, but no one had warned them of the ‘protection’ the target had, that didn’t make a lot of sense as they’d been told he was just some ‘geeky’ computer nerd, and they don’t get armed protectors.
“I think we should have demanded more” the driver, a big bearded guy with an East European accent said, he was Russian, not that he’d told the Irishman, neither of them knew each other, and neither asked any questions, they just did the job they were paid for and went their own way, that was much safer, too many questions can get you killed.
“Nah” the passenger’s Irish lilt came through, “better stay alive than ask too much”
That was true, these people didn't take kindly to greed, they paid well, but don’t try asking for too much, the only addition you'd get from them was about nine millimeter diameter and travelling at about four hundred feet a second.
“We better get outta here,” the big Russian said, “before someone turns up” he was out of the vehicle and moving, he didn't even turn round, “come on, get moving!”
“We got ‘em” Smithy’s Geordie accent came through pretty strong as ever. “We got the bloody sods,”
“Have we tracked ‘em then?” Joey fired the question they were still mobile, driving to the rendezvous point, Sandy was at the wheel, Joey was ‘prepping’ for whatever came next, and that meant anything could happen.
“Nah, not tracked” he replied over the phone, they were using the ‘Bluetooth’ technology in the car, it was coming over the car’s speaker system, “I’ve got an idea where they are on that though.” the phone went silent for a few seconds. Just as Joey was about to ask Smithy to go on he came back on. “Got a mugshot of the shooter” he sounded excited, that was unusual, Smithy was only ever excited when he’d made a kill shot from over a mile, then again, taking a ‘usable’ mugshot of a shooter with an Ingrams took a special kind of skill, one that most professional photographers don’t have, even Police sharpshooters struggle with it, Smithy had it in spades.
“I got the shot” S
mithy went on, “put it into the Interpol database like Sandy showed me, and we got a hit, bloody Russian, sending you the details!”
“Thanks” Sandy was still driving, “Where do we need to go?”
“Sending you the details now, the car pulled in there ten minutes ago, so it’s likely they did a swap, and might not be there.”
“Roger that” Joey came back on, “We’ll check it out.’
“Wait until we confirm” a third voice, one instantly recognizable came on the line, Mildred had been following everything they said. The last thing they needed was the team going in half prepared and being in a firefight of any kind, at least not until they were ready to initiate it!.
Mildred may have been twelve thousand miles away, but the clarity on the phone made it sound like she was in the next room, even the delay was so small as to hardly be noticed that the signals had travelled at least 24,000 miles, if not further, “We lost the signal as soon as they went into the building, but we’re working on finding out, as fast as we can.”
“Any chance they’ll torch the vehicle?” Joey asked, knowing the answer beforehand, but still needing to hear confirmation.
“Only Amateurs and desperate people do that” Sandy cut in, “These people have the resources to make the vehicle totally disappear, my guess is it’s going to a ‘chop shop’ in a few days.”
Movies often portray the villains as getting rid of evidence in a fire, but the truth is, fire doesn’t always destroy all the evidence, sometimes it gets preserved, and the fire draws the wrong kind of attention, the fire service puts the blaze out, then the police or fire brigade go through it with a ‘fine tooth comb’ and any evidence you tried to destroy is going to send you for a long stretch in prison! Those with the resources make sure they get left in a place the cops aren’t going to look for them, then in a few days pick ‘em up and take them to be dismantled. Simple, easy, and you make money off it as well!
Twelve thousand miles away, things were frantic, “Where the hell did they go?” Mildred was shouting at her operators, none of them was paying too much attention, they’d been half expecting something like this, just hoping that the criminals weren’t as smart as they seemed to be, and that was bloody annoying, the thought of ‘criminal masterminds’ is a product of the fictional detectives, or so the wisdom of the world said, these guys were showing different.
“It's a bloody car park!” Joey let out a frustrated shout as they came into the street where signal disappeared, “multi-storey, paid and monitored by the looks, security cameras on the outside”
“Shit” was all Sandy replied, they could barge in, demand camera footage, and if the perps were still there it would be like arriving with the sirens blaring, “any chance they’re still there?” she demanded.
“Still working on that” the terse reply came back, “meanwhile stand down, repeat stand down, do not approach!”
“What?” Joey wasn’t sure he was hearing right, “What about a recipe?”
“You go in there and they’re still inside, you could blow the whole thing” Mildred cut him off, “We’re trying to confirm either way, but you stand down, even if they’ve left we’ll pass the info on to the cops, they can't take this side from here! GOT IT?” the last part was more a command than anything.
“What do you want us to do?” Sandy cut back in, they’d parked the car a couple of hundred yards from the entrance, they were both watching the entrance.
“Head for the RV point like we agreed” Sir Michael’s voice came through clearly, he’d been following everything, but not interfering, the agreement was that Mildred and her people would take them so far, but after that he’d take over, this was that time. “You have the mugshots, use them to identify the perpetrators, after that clear the mess your way” the less he knew about what the team did the better it would be, but he was positive it wouldn’t be pleasant.
“And the trackers?” Joey was concerned they were leaving evidence behind.
“Are standard MI5 equipment” Sir Michael replied, he knew Mildred was still listening, but it was important that he takes over now, if there were any issues from this he had to be the one to take the ‘crap’ as the politicians would be annoyed MI6 was running an op on British soil, but they’d be ‘baying for blood’ if they found foreign involvement, even if it was an ally! “We’ll try and retrieve them later, but for now leave them there. When, or rather if the cops see those they’ll get really nervous, and that’s going to work in our favour, also if our friends find them, they’ll realise it’s a multi-horse race, they’re going to be looking over their shoulder all the time now, watch your backs”
Chapter 19
“So” BJ spoke into the phone as soon as the voice answered, “you’ve got my attention, how come you know so much?” she was looking round to see anyone watching, trying to spot whoever had the phone, there were a couple of people there talking on their phones, but they’d been on them since she arrived three minutes before, there was another guy in a corner using his like a writing tablet, no one stood out.
“All in good time detective” the voice said, “all in good time, there's a package taped to the underside of the table, when we finish this call take it home, use your own desktop to access what's in the files, but DON’T connect to the web, you’ll see why when you open it” the voice preempted her next question.
This was weird! No other way to describe doesn't Yeah, as a copper she was used to informants not wanting to be seen talking to the cops but going this far? Weird was the only word she could think of.
Someone didn't want the cops to know who the victim was, you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to work that much out, but who? It would make sense if it was the killer, but they would have hidden the body better, ‘the killer doesn't give a crap’ she thought, in fact, it was almost as if the killer had sent a message with the body being by the river, so close to Parliament, no, someone else didn't want the identity known to the Police, and that really didn't make sense.
One thing was obvious, she was being watched, and they knew more about her than she was comfortable with, hell they'd got her private mobile number, only three people had that, two were family, and the other, well the boss never called, he texted, and my boss, not the idiot who’d given her the case, he was just a link in the chain, she meant the man who’d recruited her for the ‘Met’ Townsend’s boss.
Slowly moving forward, left elbow on the table, she made look as if she was fighting a losing battle with the dreaded sleep, meanwhile the right hand went under, searching for the package that was meant to be there, she found it, actually it felt like two, the first one felt to be just as thick as her finger, and about as long as going to her middle knuckle, but it was stuck on top of something larger, but a lot thinner, and flatter.
It was about the length of her hand, as wide as the width of her hand, but about as wide as a woman’s nail file, she had an idea what they were, but this was no place to stop and look.
As soon as the items were free, she guessed it was bluetacked to the table, she dropped them into her pocket, she had a handbag, but never trusted the really important stuff to it, too easy for a thief to make off with the thing while she wasn’t looking, or worse, while she was bowled over in the street as they came hurtling past on a skateboard or something, they went into a pocket.
The hand came back up as she reached for the drink, hot chocolate, downed the drink and got up to leave.
The couple were totally engrossed in talking to each other, they weren’t watching her; she was sure of that, but the guy in the corner, she wasn’t sure about him, he was still texting, and laughing when replies came, ‘could be a girlfriend’ Billie thought to herself, “Oh for a normal life” she said quietly to herself, sort of envious of the mediocrity that was around her, going about their daily lives without the stress of tracking down the worst scum London had to offer, just accepting safety and security with a few inconveniences, and very little thought of those who worked night
and day to make sure it stayed that way.
As soon as she left the coffee shop the guy in the corner stood up, he ambled to door, opened it and seemed to go the opposite way, as he left he hit the send button on the phone, his message read, “She’s on her way, taking an Uber”
The reply was a few seconds in coming, it simply said, “follow to make sure”.
She was being watched, that was true, but so was the watcher.
Chambers wasn’t in the coffee shop, he’d been in a car nearby, he saw the copper get into the cab, and the guy leave the shop, he saw him go the opposite way, but something told him things weren’t right, seconds later he saw the guy ride past him on a Vespa, not the fastest thing on the block, but there’s no way a Taxi can dodge a scooter, they’re perfect for following through the streets.
And he was in a bloody car, only one thing for it, forget tailing the scooter, go straight to her apartment and pray they don’t make a move before then.
Chambers hit the speed dial on his phone, a voice came on asking, “Number to call?” he spoke one word and the phone dialled the number.
“How are we with tracking those arseholes” Joey almost shouted as they entered Smithy’s lair.
“Nice to see you too!” Smith shot back, “Got sweet nothing from Mildred, they reckon the car went into some carpark and the clowns went to ground”
The ‘lair’ wasn’t much, just a small room, a table, couple of chairs, a couch for sleeping on and a laptop with a power lead, Sandy headed straight for the laptop, “Want me to run the facials?” she asked Smithy.
“Yer can” he replied, “If you want to, I already did Interpol, not much there, got a name though, Pietr Igor Gromatski” he went on, “Russian Mob turns out, not much on him though, just a couple of bloody arrest warrants out in Kiev of all places, evidently the Ukrainians would love a friendly chat with him for some bodies they found floating in the Dnieper river a couple of years ago, and I bet they won’t be too gentle either!”
Scorpion's Vengeance Page 9
