The man was dazed as Ryan hauled his bulk out of the car. He hit the pavement hard and Ryan whipped the wallet bulging out the back of his shorts. Back on the main road, an old woman with a shopping trolley looked on, while a fit-looking bloke in plaster-splattered jeans and steel toecaps yelled.
‘Oi.’
Ryan didn’t fancy his chances and broke into a run as soon as he’d made sure there was ID in the wallet. The plasterer was in decent shape and had closed the gap to a couple of metres when Ryan scrambled left into a tree-lined residential terrace.
Ryan’s fitness level paid off as he powered up a steep hill. He opened a twenty-metre gap and as Ryan reached the crest of the hill, the plasterer staggered to a halt a few hundred metres back, leaning against a lamppost to catch his breath.
Finsbury Park wasn’t Ryan’s neighbourhood. After a 360 glance, he randomly chose a footpath between two low-rise housing blocks and ended up back on the main road, about a kilometre from where he’d started. He slowed to a stroll, crossed the street and walked into a Tesco.
Ryan opened the wallet he’d stolen and studied the ID. Then he took out the little Alcatel, looked at the calls received and dialled the number of the guy who told him to go to the minicab office.
‘Hey, it’s Ryan,’ he told the phone, still a touch breathless.
A deep voice came back at him. ‘Who?’
‘You told me to drop the money at the cab office, but something happened.’
The man sounded suspicious. ‘Something like what?’
‘I got jumped a few nights back. I saw one of the guys who jumped me standing by the car-wash across the street from the cab office. I managed to knock him out and nab his ID.’
The guy sounded shocked. ‘You’re the one that just knocked Fat Tony out? What the hell did you do that for?’
Ryan was confused. ‘I don’t know who Fat Tony is, but he was part of the trio who robbed me the other night.’
‘Fat Tony runs our car-wash. He works for Hagar, same as everyone else. You’d better get your arse back here and explain yourself.’
‘I . . .’ Ryan stuttered. ‘Hang on a minute, I’ll call you back.’
As he pocketed the phone, Ryan couldn’t work out what was going on and his mind was whirling. If Fat Tony was one of Hagar’s people, he must have been working for the other side. Ryan had over twenty grand of Hagar’s money in his backpack, but there was no way he was going to walk back to the cab office. It would be his word against Fat Tony’s, and what were the chances they’d believe a kid they’d never met before?
After pocketing the Alcatel, Ryan pulled his regular CHERUB-issue iPhone out of his pocket and called James.
‘You should have called me before you took Fat Tony out,’ James said, once he’d grasped Ryan’s rapid-fire explanation.
‘The guy was getting into his car. You had no signal and I had to make a decision.’
‘Fair enough,’ James said. ‘Keep walking uphill towards Crouch End, I’ll come and pick you up on the bike.’
‘Thanks,’ Ryan said.
‘See you in ten,’ James replied. ‘Fifteen tops.’
‘Can you make head or tail of this?’
James thought for a couple of seconds. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘As it goes, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on.’
27. PLANTS
Of the eight Xs marked on Ning’s map, there was one she liked most. It was a rectangular shed, easily big enough for all the trellis and forty-eight banks of lights. There was a well-hidden car park with dandelions growing out of cracks in the concrete, a peeling sign that said Marston Bowling Club and the best of the empty parking bays reserved for the club president.
Besides Fay’s trawl of Google Maps, Ning had done extra research, using local newspaper archives and the Camden Council planning website: the bowling club had sold up and built a new indoor green on cheaper land to the north, but a developer’s plans for luxury apartments had been refused planning approval.
Even more interestingly, Ning had found a Land Registry record online, which showed that around the time Warren’s cousin was building all the trellis for a grow house, ownership of the former bowling club had been transferred from the property developer to an untraceable shell company based in Jersey.
It was impossible to tell if Hagar owned the shell company, but it was exactly the kind of set-up a drug dealer would use if he was trying to protect assets from detection by police and tax authorities.
Ning followed her hunch and went to the bowling club first. It felt good working alone, pursuing her mission to bring down a drug empire without the constant handicap of having to act as Fay’s sidekick.
She approached warily, shielding her face with the brim of a baseball cap. If this was Hagar’s grow house, there would certainly be security cameras, and after taking down the stash house his entire crew would be on the lookout for someone matching Ning’s description.
With her face aimed at the gravel, Ning entered the car park, holding a beer bottle and wavering about so that she seemed drunk.
The first signs weren’t promising. The car park was empty, there was no noise from inside, no obvious security cameras, and the building’s windowless aluminium siding gave no clue about what, if anything, was happening inside.
The building’s entrance was down an alleyway, through wrought-iron gates, with chipped gold lettering that read, Marston Bowling Club est. 1852. There was no light coming through the glass entry doors, but Ning observed that the gates weren’t padlocked, and the security grilles and electronic lock on the main doors appeared to be recent additions.
Ning was pretty sure of her hunch now, but thought she might need more to convince Fay. Still acting drunk, Ning walked past the gates and cut down another alleyway which ran between the indoor bowling green and a breeze block wall that separated the club from the street.
Some of the weeds here came up to Ning’s knee, and there was litter and broken glass underfoot. Intriguingly, the building had ventilation grilles cut into the metal and every one had been covered over with a piece of hardboard. Shiny metal screw heads indicated that the boards were recent additions, presumably to keep up humidity inside and stop light escaping that might be visible from the street.
The further Ning walked, the more she also became aware of a hum of electrical equipment inside. She was now certain about her hunch, but though she hadn’t seen any CCTV cameras, Ning still reckoned there was a good chance she was being watched.
To complete the impression that she’d just wandered in drunk, Ning lobbed her empty beer bottle, pulled her denim shorts down to her ankles and squatted. It was creepy thinking that some random guy was probably sitting inside watching her pee, but it was the only thing she could think of that gave her a legitimate excuse to have wandered off the street and down the alleyway.
As her urine continued trickling towards a gutter, Ning staggered across the parking lot, and back on to a street of well-kept semis. As soon as she was out of sight of the club, she pulled out her phone to call Fay. But Ning didn’t want Fay to think she was too smart, so she decided to go back to Nebraska House for a couple of hours, take a shower, give James an update and call Fay up later.
*
James’ bike rolled up outside a laundrette, with Ryan riding shotgun.
‘Looks dead in there,’ James said. ‘Best not go back to the flat until this is sorted. Craig won’t like you hanging on to twenty grand of his money and he’s bound to have asked one of the lads from The Hangout to watch our front door.’
Ryan stepped off the bike, and pulled out the Alcatel as James led the way into the empty laundrette. He was a little shaken from James’ aggressive riding, but his attention was drawn by four missed calls on the phone.
‘They’re certainly keen to get hold of me,’ Ryan said.
The rain had finally stopped and they sat on a wooden bench, well out of the low sun. Ryan rested his crash helmet at his side.
‘I think Craig was messing with you,’ James explained.
Ryan looked curious. ‘How’d you mean?’
‘How many kids want to work for Hagar’s crew?’
‘Loads,’ Ryan said. ‘Guys like Warren who get a package are making hundreds of pounds every week. Some of the guys talk about when they get their package like winning the lottery or something.’
James nodded. ‘Hagar’s organisation needs a way to sort the kids who’ll work hard and stay loyal from the ones who are just attracted to the bling. How can you do that?’
Ryan nodded. ‘Some kind of test?’
James nodded. ‘So they send you off in the middle of the night to some bullshit safe-house, with a bag that looks like it’s full of cocaine, but it was probably just powdered milk or something. When you get there, Craig fixes it so that three of his guys are there to mug you. And the reaction to how you deal with the mugging shows your true character. Some kids – most I expect – will feel out of their depth and panic. A few – the good ones – will say sorry and spend some time scrubbing cars or whatever. And the ones who come out of that process, putting in some graft and showing determination to be part of the crew, are the ones Craig is really interested in recruiting.’
‘Makes sense,’ Ryan agreed. ‘And me bumping into that guy at the car-wash was pure coincidence?’
‘More of a balls-up on Craig’s part than a coincidence,’ James said. ‘Sending you to deliver the money in the place where one of the goons who jumped you works.’
‘So it’s another car-wash that belongs to Hagar?’
James nodded. ‘I’ll bet you that car-wash, and probably half the car-washes in north London, are fronts for Hagar to launder drug money. Maybe they wash fifty cars a day, but if you look at the books, you’ll see cash going through for a hundred or more. Minicab offices are another classic way of laundering money, ’cos everyone pays in cash and half the drivers are illegal immigrants.’
‘But me beating up Fat Tony, surely they’ll be pissed off?’
‘Fat Tony won’t be happy that you caught him off guard. But in Craig’s eyes, my guess is that it’ll just be another sign that you’re someone worth recruiting. The only thing is, Craig’s gonna get worried while you’re holding twenty grand of Hagar’s money and not answering your calls.’
‘I still don’t fancy walking into that cab office,’ Ryan said.
‘I’m with you on that,’ James said. ‘What you need to do is call them. Make it clear that you don’t want to rip them off, but you’ll meet Craig personally and give him the money.’
Ryan sounded wary. ‘He’s a moody bastard. Craig stomped Youssef’s brother because he got chocolate on his favourite chair at The Hangout.’
‘Craig’s Hagar’s number two,’ James said thoughtfully. ‘For that job you need a good head on your shoulders, and a reputation as someone not to be messed with. I wouldn’t expect Hagar to pin a rosette on you or anything, but as long as you’re not too gobby he should be OK.’
‘What if you’re wrong?’ Ryan asked. ‘I mean, I can handle myself, but he’s a hard bastard and he’s likely to have backup.’
‘I grabbed your com unit before I left the house. Wherever Craig wants to meet, I’ll be right outside and I’ll come in with all guns blazing if things get hairy. OK?’
‘I reckon I can live with that,’ Ryan said, as he pulled out the Alcatel. ‘The longer I’m off grid, the angrier Craig will get, so I’ll call right away.’
28. EXCHANGE
Ryan felt his heart thumping as a black Audi limo pulled up alongside a puddled kerb. Craig had insisted on picking him up in a car. Ryan had a tracking device tucked down his briefs so James could follow on his bike while keeping out of sight, but being on the move meant it would be much longer before James could intervene if things turned hairy.
The Audi’s back door opened electronically, revealing a big leather armrest, with Craig on the far side.
‘Get in,’ Craig said.
Ryan stepped in, placing his backpack on the armrest as he checked out the muscle in the driving seat. He was a proper thug, with a chain tattooed around his neck. Ryan knew him from surveillance pictures he’d looked at before the mission and was fairly sure he was named Paul.
‘Drive,’ Craig said, as he glanced over his shoulder out the back window.
Tyres squealed as Ryan got pressed back into his seat. His nostrils were overwhelmed by a mix of damp leather and Craig’s cigarette smoke.
‘So,’ Craig said, giving Ryan his best granite expression. ‘You’re showing some chops saying you’ll only hand the money direct to me. What have you got to say for yourself?’
Ryan clipped his seatbelt into the holder and tried to keep the tension out of his voice. ‘The way I see it, either Fat Tony is ripping you off, or you sent me up to that estate the other night with a bag full of milk powder and an ambush ready and waiting.’
The driver turned and smiled, but then caught himself. He only resumed laughing when Craig cracked a smile.
‘Which is most likely?’ Craig asked.
‘The test,’ Ryan said. ‘Every kid wants a taste of your action and you need a way to know who can really step up and do the job.’
Craig looked suspicious as he grabbed the backpack.
‘Money’s all there,’ Ryan said.
‘No doubt,’ Craig said, as he put the bag on the carpet between his legs. ‘You must be pretty bright.’
The compliment made Ryan feel more confident. ‘I’m clever and I work hard.’
‘You keep your mouth shut about the test,’ Craig said.
Ryan nodded. ‘So you’re not gonna make me go back to the car-wash?’
Craig left Ryan’s question hanging. The car took a corner as Craig reached across, grabbed a lump of Ryan’s cheek and squeezed almost hard enough to be painful.
‘I’m a big fan of common sense,’ Craig said, sounding more aggressive as he pulled Ryan across the armrest by his cheek. ‘Guts and loyalty count for a lot. But over the years, I’ve had more aggro from blokes who think they’re smart than anyone else. Know why?’
‘Why?’ Ryan asked, words distorted by the hold on his cheek.
‘Credit where it’s due, clever blokes can be useful,’ Craig began, as he let Ryan go. ‘But they usually think they know best, and they struggle with their place in the pecking order. Sooner or later the brainy ones always try to rip you off.’
‘I just want to earn dosh, for nice stuff. And maybe put a bit of money aside for uni,’ Ryan said.
Craig laughed. ‘That’s what you say now.’
‘I’m no genius,’ Ryan said. ‘It was pure coincidence that you sent me to a cab office with Fat Tony’s car-wash on the same lot.’
‘Bit of a balls-up,’ Craig admitted. ‘But most people still wouldn’t have figured that it was a test.’
‘So I’m too smart to carry on working for you?’
‘Don’t put words in my mouth, son,’ Craig warned. ‘But know this: I’ve been in this game nigh on twenty years. I’ve seen every scheme and scam and I’ve seen off guys a lot tougher and smarter than you.’
Ryan pushed his point. ‘So, the car-wash?’
‘You’re off the hook,’ Craig said. ‘But Fat Tony had jobs lined up tomorrow, and since you were tasty enough to take him down, I think you’ll make a fitting replacement.’
‘Doing what?’ Ryan asked.
‘Putting in line what needs to be put in line,’ Craig said. ‘I’ll drop you off at the tube station at the end of the road. Stick that phone in a public bin, it was already a couple of days old when you got it. I’ll have them push another one through your d
oor this evening, and you can expect a call from my good friend Clark in the morning.’
*
Fay had a bunch of surveillance equipment in the allotment shed, but years stored in damp conditions had got to the circuits and no amount of fiddling would bring it to life. When the shops opened on Sunday morning, Fay and Ning bussed it to a retail park and picked up a wireless CCTV kit and a couple of pairs of cheap binoculars.
Ning hadn’t been impressed by Fay’s method of openly asking questions about Hagar’s organisation, or the cavalier way she’d handled the stash house takedown, so she made an intervention before they got anywhere near the bowling club.
‘I didn’t see any cameras,’ Ning said, as the pair sat at a stop waiting for the bus back into town. ‘But they’d arouse suspicion if they made cameras obvious. I looked some stuff up about surveillance online. Apparently when the cops start a surveillance they do it really patiently. Like, they’ll spend a day or so just watching a gate. Then send someone in a bit closer. Then maybe back off for a few days.’
Fay gave a dismissive shake of her head. ‘Kirsten and my mum never bothered with all that.’
‘And look where they ended up,’ Ning said bluntly.
Fay reared up. ‘Don’t you diss my family.’
Ning stood her ground. ‘I’m not dissing your family. I just keep thinking about the stash house. What if there’d been a bolt instead of a chain on the lower door? We’d have blown it completely. And even though we got in, we took so long and made so much noise that Clay knew we were coming. He might have shot us both if he’d had a gun.’
‘The raid went well,’ Fay said. ‘We made our money. If you want to play this game, there’s no such thing as a risk-free job.’
‘I’m just not sure we’re doing enough to minimise risks,’ Ning said.
‘What do you know?’ Fay snapped.
‘All I’m saying is, what’s the mega rush?’ Ning asked. ‘We made more money than we can spend on the last job. So why not make this one a slow burn? Wait until Hagar’s crew drop their guard a little.’
Lone Wolf Page 14
