by James Hume
‘Good stuff. Can we get a police artist picture of the wife, please?’
‘Yeah. Will do, ma’am.’ He took a note.
‘Can we find out where they went?’
‘We’ll try, ma’am, but it’s a long shot. I’d guess, with Thomson’s death, they’d want to clear the country pronto, and that means London and across the Channel on Saturday.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. But let’s check anyway.’
‘Right, ma’am. Next, our diving team retrieved an empty half bottle of Johnnie Walker from the river.’
She laughed. ‘Hey, excellent news.’
‘And, within two feet of the bottle, they found a gun, ma’am, fully loaded and active. They’re now with Doc Roberts’ people.’
‘Jesus Christ. A gun? Serious stuff, then. Be interested to see which one it belongs to – Huizen or Thomson.’ She shrugged. ‘Of course, it might have nothing to do with either of them. Well done to all the teams, Tom. Make sure that gets passed on.’
‘Will do, ma’am.’ He stood up to leave. ‘Still want to meet later?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Four to five – ish. Particularly if we get a prints match between the bottle and the hotel room.’
‘Okay, see you then, ma’am.’ Tom left the room.
Sandra opened the envelope Doc Roberts had left earlier. It contained a pile of photos of Thomson’s notebook. A note said, ‘Copied only pages with a written entry. Also, two papers folded in back cover. Case more of a problem. Need more time for that. Alex.’
She remembered the notebook had a series of indented pages with letters of the alphabet in sequence. The first photo was one of the B pages. The list read –
BNDR G 08020540 09130540 10250540
Then a gap –
BNHB N 08030540 09072020 10052020 11022020
Then a gap –
BPGC N 08170540 10050540
All in very neat printing. Just like a draughtsman would use, she thought. The other photos had a similar pattern, some with more entries, some with less.
The last page read –
CD NKFLFKS 440847 PRD BPGVJC ICP3053
072320012
091050010
1112100008
She examined the photos of the two separate papers. One was a newspaper cutting of a classified advert. ‘DISTRIBUTOR for new product. Glasgow area. Potential high earnings. Legal. Must be comfortable dealing with men of 30+ in sociable situations, eg pubs. Experience of direct selling an advantage but not essential. Full training provided. Give age, background, and two photos, headshot and full length. 2103, Herald Office’
This must be the opportunity the employer mentioned. She called the newspaper. The advertiser was a company called GT Pharma Ltd, with an address in Hampstead, London.
The other document was a single page, headed, GT PHARMA DISTRIBUTOR, followed by David Wilson’s name and address, with the code number GB06. It detailed six steps in what seemed a job contract.
After completing the GT Training Programme, you have been allocated the franchise to sell GT Pharma products in Glasgow.
This franchise renews annually, provided you reach and maintain your sales target of one tablet per month per thousand population. Failure to reach and maintain this target as agreed, will result in this franchise being voided and re-allocated.
The costs of GT Pharma products to you are set annually by GT Pharma Ltd. Your minimum selling prices and volume discounts are set by your Principal Regional Distributor (PRD), to provide a satisfactory income and fairness between adjacent franchises. You must maintain that price structure and limit the use of free samples to one per customer.
You must call your PRD each Monday with your sales results for the previous week. Failure to do so will result in this franchise being voided and re-allocated.
You will be responsible for collecting new supplies of products from Central Distribution (CD), giving one week’s notice. After collection, you will be solely responsible for the security and safety of your supplies. We recommend you use the GT Suitcase and GT Writing Bureau, both of which have proved effective. GT Pharma has no responsibility for your personal security or safety at any time.
Amendments may be made to this contract by GT Pharma from time to time to reflect changes in organisation.
This contract meant Thomson had a target of about one thousand tablets per month, given the Glasgow population of around one million. It sounded pretty substantial, she thought, although it probably reflected reality somewhere. She also noted the requirement to call in every Monday. Thomson had failed on that one, so what would happen to the contract now? Would it be re-allocated? If so, how would they do it? Would they call the second placed candidate from the advert or re-run it? She’d keep an eye out for it. Maybe a chance to worm her way in without alerting them.
She went back to the page entries. Clearly, Thomson had applied a code to the names, but the numbers seemed to follow a pattern. The first two numbers looked like the month, followed by the next two numbers as the date. Then what?
On the indented pages, the lists must refer to his sales – the names and numbers of tablets sold. So, the fifth and sixth digits could be the number of tablets, and the last two digits could be the price. Alex had said the tablets sold at two pounds each, or forty shillings, so the last two digits could be the price per tablet in shillings.
If this was right, then the first person listed on the B page had bought five tablets at two pounds each on 2nd August, and then repeated the purchase every six weeks, presumably for his own use. On the other hand, the second person listed had bought five tablets on 3rd August, and then twenty tablets at a pound each every four weeks. He looked like he supplied others. So that’s how Tommy built up his business. And he probably gave each customer a free trial tablet up front to get them hooked.
The last page must show his purchases. He’d bought two hundred tablets at twelve shillings each on 23rd July, then five hundred tablets at ten shillings each on 10th September, then a thousand tablets at eight shillings each on 12th November. Each date coincided with a trip to Amsterdam. The name and number above these entries could be his contact in Amsterdam at Central Distribution. So, even with a few giveaways, Tommy had more than doubled his money. A very lucrative business indeed.
She now had two problems – who did he sell to – and where? All the sales dates were either a Thursday, Friday or Saturday. So, where did Tommy go on these dates? It could be anywhere people gathered to have a good time. But the tablets were expensive, and the advert indicated the target market was men over thirty. So, it sounded like up-market pubs would be the place to sell. How could she find out where?
And the purchaser’s names were coded. How could she break that code? She had a sudden thought. It couldn’t be, could it?
She picked up the phone. ‘Get me CS Malcolm Craig at SB London, please, Gillian?’
A few minutes later her phone rang. ‘Hey, Sandra. Long time no speak. What can I do for you?’
‘Hi, Malcolm. I’m on to pick your brains again.’
‘Again? When did you do it the first time?’
‘Oh, sorry. Yesterday I came across a writing bureau, and I remembered you told us, when we were all together on the Aquila job, how you watched your safecracker find a secret drawer in a bureau. I followed the same procedure and – voila – found a secret drawer.’
‘Christ, you must have a great memory, Sandra.’
‘I also remember you told us how the whole Aquila job kicked off when you picked up a coded message. The Bletchley Park boys said it was a simple code used by German agents in the field so they didn’t have to carry a code book. But you thought it quite clever. Can you remember it now?’
‘Oh, jeez, Sandra. Give me a minute to think. Erm, each letter in a word moved forward in the alphabet by its position in the word. So the first letter moved forward by one, the second by two, and so on. So, your name, Sandra, would appear as T-C-Q-H-W-G. Get it?’
She w
orked it out on her pad. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘And the numbers work the same way. So, the number 1122 would appear as 2-3-5-6.’
‘Right, okay. Just let me try this.’ She looked at the B page in front of her and worked out the coded names. BNDR became A-L-A-N; BNHB, A-L-E-X; and BPGC, A-N-D-Y. ‘Right, that works, Malcolm. Just one last check.’
She wrote on her pad WILLIE M, the name of Sam McFadden’s brother-in-law, who had been killed by a bus in the Saltmarket. She coded it as XKOPNK N. She turned to the X page in the photos – and there it was. He’d bought five tablets on 10th November, the day he died. Wow, the code worked.
‘Malcolm, you’re brilliant.’
‘Nice to hear. What’re you doing?’
‘I’ve just decoded the names in a drug dealer’s notebook.’
‘Bloody hell, Sandra. That’s some coincidence.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘A drug dealer uses the same code as Aquila? Is he part of a network?’
She hesitated. ‘Yeah, it looks like it. I’ve got a copy of a contract for the distributor here in Glasgow. So, I assume there must be others elsewhere. Let me just check this with you. There’s a mention in the contract of a Principal Regional Distributor, with a coded name and number. Let me just decode it.’ She worked out the number on the last page. ‘It would appear to be Andrew at a number HAM 2829.’
‘That’s a London number, Sandra. Hampstead 2829. Let me check the subscriber for you. It’ll only take a couple of minutes. Do you want to hold on?’
‘Yeah, I’ll hold.’
Within two minutes, he came back on the line. ‘You’ve hit gold, Sandra.’
Her heart leaped. ‘How do you mean?’
‘The subscriber at the Hampstead number is a Mr Andrew Lyall. I don’t know if you remember, but the spymaster who ran Aquila in London and the south of the country was a Mr Roger Lyall. They’re definitely back in business, Sandra, but this time Aquila’s a drug network, not a spy network.’
Her heart pounded. This was the connection she needed. ‘Jesus, Malcolm. Can we keep this between ourselves, please, until I talk to the boss?’
‘Of course.’
‘He’s in a meeting this afternoon with the Home Secretary on the spread of these drugs across British cities. This’ll change the whole picture. Thanks so much for your help.’
‘No problem. Let’s have dinner the next time you’re in London. On me.’
‘Will do. Bye.’
She hung up and stared at the pages. The whole story of how to develop a drug network lay in front of her. She turned to the last page again and looked at the name and number, CD NKFLFKS 440847. This must be the Central Distribution contact in Amsterdam, where Thomson got his supplies from. She decoded the name on to her pad. M-I-C-H-A-E-L. Then decoded the number 3-2-7-4-9-1.
Could she do it? Validate the number? She could act as a close friend of Tommy Thomson, aka Davy Wilson, who wanted to get into the same business, but Davy had said they wouldn’t use a woman. But, because she insisted, he’d given her this number to check. Hence the call.
She’d worked undercover before and knew she had to be totally credible in the undercover character. She began to calm down as she thought of her false self. She’d use the character she used a few years ago, Sarah Miller, and dug through her desk to find her papers and ID card. It all flooded back to her, and she relaxed into her new role. She now wanted to start her own business in a different town. It would have to be big enough to support this type of business. Let’s say Paisley. She picked up the phone. ‘Could you get me the International Operator, please, Gillian? I’ll hold on.’
‘International. What number, please?’
‘I’d like Amsterdam 440847, please.’ Let’s try the number as listed first, she thought.
‘One moment, caller.’ There was a delay. ‘I’m sorry, caller, there’s no such number.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. Could I have Amsterdam 327491, please?’
‘One moment, please.’ Silence, then, ‘Go ahead, caller.’
‘Ja?’ A woman’s voice.
‘Oh, hello. Could I speak to Michael, please?’
‘Nee. Erm, sorry. No. He will be one hour.’
‘Okay, thanks. I’ll call back. Bye.’
‘Erm. Okay.’
She hung up. The number was valid for Michael. And she hadn’t had to pretend, thank goodness. Now what should she do?
She needed to talk to Porritt and update him, but she needed to wait for Huizen’s prints first. She also needed to update Burnett, but he’d still be at the meeting with the Home Secretary. Shit. Patience didn’t come easy to her.
She looked up as Tom knocked her door. She waved him in. ‘What have you got?’
‘Well, Doc Roberts has pulled out the stops for us. We’ve got prints off the whisky bottle, and they match a set of prints lifted off the back of the toilet bowl in the hotel room. The same man. No doubt about it.’
‘Brilliant, Tom. Can you get me a set of prints and I’ll send it over to Porritt?’
‘Will do, ma’am. The other big news? We got a set of prints off the gun. Tommy Thomson’s, ma’am.’
‘Wow. So, Thomson had the gun, and presumably threatened Huizen with it.’
‘Yep. That’s what it looks like, ma’am. And then something happened, and it all went tits up for Thomson.’
‘Jesus. Must have been quite a fight down by the river.’
‘Yeah. And that’s why Huizen sat in a daze on the bus. It didn’t go as he expected.’ He handed over an envelope. ‘Here’s the artist’s impression of Huizen’s wife, ma’am, from the owner of the hotel.’
She pulled out the sketch. A pretty enough girl with blonde hair. Nothing distinctive. You could find a hundred girls in Glasgow who’d match it. ‘I’ll send it over to Porritt as well. What else can we do?’
He shrugged. ‘I think that’s it, ma’am. We’ll check, but I’m sure Huizen and his wife will have scarpered out of the country. And they’ll have travelled under another name, so we’ll never trace them.’
Her phone rang. She picked up the receiver. ‘Maxwell.’
‘Desk Sergeant, ma’am. We’ve a woman here to see you. A Mrs Peggy McLeod. She’s pretty hysterical, ma’am.’
‘Okay. Put her in a meeting room, sergeant. We’ll be right down.’ She stood up to put her jacket on. Tom looked over to her in surprise. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Peggy McLeod’s turned up hysterical. Let’s go down and see her.’
They entered the meeting room. Peggy jumped up from her seat, rushed over to her, and dissolved into tears.
‘Oh, ma’am. I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I tried to keep my promise to you, but I couldn’t. They threatened my boy.’
Sandra took her by the arm, led her back to her seat and sat beside her holding her hand. ‘Now, just start at the beginning, Peggy. Tell me what happened.’
Peggy took a few minutes to recover. ‘They got me just as I left the bar after lunch today, and forced me into a car.’
‘Who did, Peggy. Do you know them?’
She shook her head and started to bubble again. ‘No. Three of them. All smiles, but scary. They wanted to know what I told you last night.’
‘About?’
‘About the photograph. They showed me the same photo you had last night. Of Pieter. They wanted to know his name. But I’d promised you I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, so I didn’t say. But then they threatened if I didn’t talk, my boy would get hurt. And they really meant it.’ She sniffled with tears again. ‘And so I told them the man’s name – I’d to write it down for them – and he was from Amsterdam, and had stayed in a hotel near Queen’s Park. I’m really sorry, but I had no choice, ma’am.’
Sandra patted her arm. ‘I know. You had no choice.’ She turned to Tom. ‘Could you get the photos Doc Roberts showed us this morning, please, Tom?’
‘Sure.’ He left the room.
Sandra turned back to Peggy an
d held her hand. ‘Now, it’s okay. It’s not easy to come in and tell me this, Peggy. So, thanks for that. I’ll do my best to make sure you and your boy stay safe. So please try not to worry, though I know it’s difficult.’
Tom came back into the room and passed the pictures to Sandra, face down.
‘Now, Peggy. I want you to look at this picture and tell me if they’re the men who threatened you today.’ She passed her the picture of McFadden and Bailey.
Peggy dissolved into tears. ‘That’s two of them. The other one’s older. Late forties.’
Sandra folded the other photo to show only the man behind DI Bruce, and held it up to Peggy. ‘How about this man?’
Peggy’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, that’s him. You always have pictures of these men. What’s going on?’
‘It’s a complicated story, Peggy. Can I just check? Would you go to court because they threatened you?’
She shook her head, and looked scared. ‘Oh, no way. They’d hurt me and my boy.’
Sandra patted Peggy’s hand. ‘That’s okay. I believe they only wanted that information, so you should be okay now.’
Peggy looked up at her. ‘Do you think so?’
Sandra nodded. ‘I’m pretty certain. But you know you can call me at any time.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Let me show you out.’ She helped Peggy to her feet, and guided her back to the desk.
She came back into the meeting room and plumped down in her chair again. ‘These bastards.’ She shook her head. ‘Why the hell would Bruce be stupid enough to visit Thomson’s flat with a criminal? What sort of hold do these people have over him? What does he give in return? And why would McFadden threaten Peggy? Why couldn’t he get Huizen’s name from Bruce?’
Tom pondered the question. ‘I don’t think Huizen’s name was mentioned at the pub, ma’am. Peggy wrote the name in my notebook and passed it to you. But DC Orr never saw it, so he couldn’t put it in his report to DI Bruce, who couldn’t then leak it to McFadden. They couldn’t ask us for it. They had to get it from Peggy direct.’
