by James Hume
‘Hey, Sandra. Twice within a week? Something happening?’
‘Sure is, Malcolm. I’m in London now. This drug business has mushroomed. Dave’s got me on a special project with Bill Franklin, whom I think you know.’
‘I do. Give him my regards.’
‘Will do. We’re looking for a contact in Amsterdam that could help us with our enquiries over there. Do you know anyone?’
‘Yeah. Hold on a sec. We had a good chap help us with a cocaine bust a few years ago.’ He paused. ‘Right, I’ve got it. His name’s Guus Mulder.’ He spelled it out for her, ‘and he’s about the same level and has similar responsibilities to you and me. Here’s his number.’
She noted it. ‘That’s brilliant, Malcolm. We’ll give him a call.’
‘Great. Anything else I can help with?’
‘Well, we’re just pulling our strategy together right now, but we already know, at some point, we’ll kill the network across the country in much the same way Porritt did with Aquila. So, you’ll have a key part, Malcolm, to deal with Lyall.’
‘Oh, Jesus, Sandra. Can’t wait. Listen, will you be seeing Dave today?’
‘Yeah, probably. Why do you ask?’
‘He’s only a few doors along from me here at Scotland Yard. So, if he approves it, why don’t we start on some basics? Have an early dinner. Ask Dave along too.’
‘Okay, we’ll see if that works. Call you later.’ She turned to Bill. ‘He passes on his regards.’ She gave him a run down of the conversation. ‘So, I think we can leave the UK side with Malcolm for the moment. Let’s figure out what we say to Guus Mulder.’
‘Right. I know the Dutch have a more tolerant attitude towards drugs. Helping us to kill this drug business might not help them solve any problems. So, what’s in it for them?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Well, their economy’s probably shot to hell – even worse than ours. So, if we pay well for their help, that might relieve some pressure.
‘Oh, and let’s not forget these drugs fuelled the German invasion into the Low Countries. And the Germans occupied them for five years. That must have been hellish. Imagine how we’d feel with foreign soldiers telling us what to do all the time. I say we play a strong anti-German card and hope it resonates with Mulder.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, I like it. The HS has given us carte blanche within reason on this job, so we can pay well for help. Let’s go for it.’
‘Okay, do you want to call, or shall I do it?’
‘The approach would come better from you, Sandra. Police to police.’
Within a few moments, Mulder came on the line. She introduced herself and Bill. ‘We got your name from my colleague, Malcolm Craig, whom you helped with a drug bust a few years ago, and we wondered if you could do the same for us?’
‘Yeah, it’s possible. What are you looking for, Chief Superintendent?’
‘Call me Sandra.’
‘Okay, Sandra. I’m Guus.’
‘Right, Guus. A company in Germany has flooded our British cities with a new drug through Amsterdam. We want to kill this business before it really gets started over here, but we need your help with the Amsterdam connection. And we’re happy to pay for it too.’
‘What kind of drug?’
‘It’s called methamphetamine. I believe the Germans used it to fuel their army’s advance into your country. That must have been horrific for you.’
There was a long silence. ‘You don’t know the half of it, Sandra. What they did to our women – to our people – horrific doesn’t begin to describe it. If I can help you get rid of this scourge, I’d do it for free. But payment would be very welcome.’
Wow, this sounded very personal. ‘I’m sorry, Guus. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.’
‘Oh, I just don’t think they’ll ever heal. Anyway, tell me what you’ve got.’
‘Right, Guus. The distribution centre has the telephone number Amsterdam 327491, and we have the name Michael as the contact.’
‘Hold on a second, Sandra.’ He talked with someone in the background. ‘Right, I’m back. I’ve got one of my team finding out more about that number. So, carry on.’
‘Each drug supplier in Britain visits the Amsterdam centre about once a month. They use a special suitcase with secret sections to take the money out and bring the drugs back. I’ll send you over a photo of the suitcase so you can recognise them. We’d like as much info as you can get us on these suppliers. We also want to know more about the link upstream from Amsterdam to the manufacturing base in Germany and the brains behind it all. If you could help us identify these links, we’d really appreciate it.’
‘Okay, Sandra. Here’s the number for the photo.’ She noted it. ‘We could photograph the suppliers arriving and departing, and get their names from passport control at Schiphol, all under cover. Would that be useful?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, it would be useful, Guus.’
‘Good. What do you say then, if we put together a plan to do all of that for you and charge our resources out to you at our standard charge out rates?’
‘Yeah, that’s fine. Bill will confirm the arrangements from our Home Office.’
‘Great. Thanks, Sandra. Oh, hold on. That telephone number you gave us is for a company called GT Pharma BV, based in Keizersgracht, not far from here. The Directors are Michael Timmermann, aged twenty eight, at the Keizersgracht address, and Gerhardt Timmermann, aged fifty six, with an address in Berlin. Neither is known to our police at this time, so we agreed they could take over the lease of this office block in June. We’ll watch them and tap their phone, to get these links for you, Sandra.’
‘Thanks, Guus. Berlin’s now partly under British control. Give me that address and we’ll check it out.’ She took a note of it.
‘Do you plan to come over here soon, Sandra?’
She suddenly realised she had a problem. ‘Can I get back to you on that, Guus?’
‘Sure. Just let me know and we’ll pick you up at Schiphol.’
‘Okay. Thanks for everything. We’ll talk later.’
She hung up and gave Bill a summary of the conversation.
‘That’s brilliant, Sandra. I’ll get started on the arrangements at this end. What do you have to get back to him on?’
‘He’s asking if we’re going over.’
‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘I’ve got two problems, Bill. First, I don’t have a passport.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll fast track one for you now. You’ll have it this afternoon. What’s the second problem?’
‘I’m terrified of flying.’
‘Really? Why?’
She hesitated. ‘Ten years ago, the love of my life got killed in an RAF plane crash. A maintenance error. Totally avoidable. But for years afterwards I cringed every time a plane passed. I expected it to crash at any moment. And I’m still scared of flying.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Well, I don’t want to trivialise your fears, Sandra, but flying’s as safe as a bus or train. I mean, accidents can always happen, but aircraft today have triple systems to protect them. Crashes are very rare. And you can always cling on to me.’ He laughed.
She wondered why he said that. Just light-hearted humour? She did feel comfortable with him, though. They had a warmth in their discussions, which she put down to their common aim. But let’s keep it professional. She laughed in return. ‘What’s the alternative?’
‘I’d need to check, but I think the Channel ferries still only run to Calais. So, we’d have to drive to Dover, cross the Channel, then drive north through France and Belgium to Amsterdam. It’s doable, but it would take a full day as against a one hour flight.’
She knew her fear of flying was irrational. ‘Okay, I’ll take the flight.’ She called Tom in Glasgow and asked him to send a photo of the Thomson suitcase over to Guus.
Bill called a Foreign Office contact in Berlin and asked him to check the address for Gerhardt Timmermann.
Sandra
felt she could now pull a decent plan together, and arranged to meet Dave Burnett at five, Malcolm at six and then all go to dinner. Shaping up for a good day, she thought.
***
Sandra and Bill updated Dave Burnett with their plans. She realised, for the first time, she had a boss younger than her. Only a year younger, but it told her time raced on.
She described her outline plan to take the legs off in the UK and the head off in Germany by getting the links via the Amsterdam centre. ‘However, we don’t yet know our legal basis, sir. We’re assuming we will have one, but we’ll need to get that from the lawyers.’
‘What does the Home Office think, Bill?’
‘We’re seeing the HS in the morning, sir. I think he’ll make it work.’
‘Okay. Sounds good. What about the head?’
Sandra told him about Guus Mulder and finding out about the Timmermanns.
Bill cut in. ‘My contact in Berlin has come back to me, sir. The address we had for Gerhardt Timmermann is now a heap of rubble. He asked around and found Timmermann, a qualified doctor, also runs a private clinic at a place called Bad Oeynhausen, about two hundred miles west of Berlin. “Bad” is the German word for “bath” and means it’s a spa town. Apparently, it has thermal salt springs. He also runs a pharmaceutical manufacturing company there that relocated from Berlin some years ago, and we think it’s where they now make these drugs.
‘Now, Bad Oeynhausen is in the British Zone of Occupation, and the Military Governor of the Zone, who’s effectively in charge of that part of Germany, is Sir Bernard Montgomery, aka Field Marshal Montgomery, of El Alamein fame. He’s a close friend of the HS, so we hope to get some leverage there.
‘At the moment, we plan to go to Amsterdam tomorrow to meet with Mulder and his team, and then we’ll get a car from the Embassy to take us over to Bad Oeynhausen on Wednesday. We’ll have a meeting there with British Army staff to agree a strategy to arrest Timmermann, and close down his tablet-making operation.’
‘Great. You’ve done well, so far. I’ll do my bit when you’re ready, so just let me know when and where.’
They left Burnett and joined Malcolm Craig in his office. They agreed, with the phone tap in Hampstead, they could get the network size within a week, since each of the suppliers had to call Lyall every week with their sales figures. They’d also plan to to lift Lyall and all the UK suppliers within a five seconds target, to avoid any of them alerting the network.
Dave Burnett joined them, and they all went for dinner at Malcolm’s club in Pall Mall. As the host, Malcolm kept the conversation light and cheerful until the main course, when Bill raised the subject of GT Pharma, and the others outlined what lessons they could apply from their Aquila experience. In the end, they all agreed they should not underestimate the GT Pharma operation, and should treat it just like they did the Aquila enemy during the war.
After the meal, Dave Burnett and Malcolm went their separate ways, and Sandra walked with Bill across Trafalgar Square to her hotel at Charing Cross.
Bill checked his watch. ‘I’ve just missed a train. Do you fancy a nightcap?’
She smiled. ‘Sure. Why not?’
They went into the bar, found a quiet table over in the corner, and ordered drinks.
‘Do you have a family, Bill?’
He looked surprised for a moment. ‘A family?’ He shook his head. ‘No, no family.’
In an instant he’d become melancholy. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Bill. You’d mentioned earlier you were married.’
He sat in silence for a minute. ‘That’s true. But one night the Germans sent over a doodlebug with her name on it – and that was the end of that.’
Her jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, my God.’ She put her hand on his arm. Such a gem of a man. It seemed so unfair. ‘What happened?’
He sighed, shrugged, and smiled wanly. ‘Oh, her sister had a three-day pass from the RAF and wanted to come up to London to visit some bar or other. Eileen didn’t want to go, but she also didn’t want her sister to come up alone. London was a wild place at night during the war. So, they both came up. That night, all the cross-river train and tube lines closed as usual in an air raid, We think they were headed for a shelter at Embankment Station, just round the corner from here, when bang! That was it. Life’s just a lottery, really.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Bill. That’s terrible.’
He glanced at her. ‘Thanks. They say time heals, and – well – maybe it does. But now you’ll understand why I want to get one back on the Germans, if I can. Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Are you married?’
She shook her head. ‘Married to the job, Bill. That’s me.’
‘I just wondered, when you said you lost the love of your life ten years ago.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, well, time does heal, I suppose. But it’s hard to have a social life in this job. So, I just don’t bother now.’
‘Yeah, I know. Me neither.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Well, we’ve got a heavy day tomorrow, so I think I’d better get my train.’
They finished their drinks and went out into the hotel lobby. She wondered how he’d say goodbye. But let’s just keep it professional, she thought. She stuck out her hand. ‘Thanks for a great day, Bill.’
They shook hands. ‘Yeah. See you in the morning.’ He smiled and left.
She went up to her room and stretched out on the bed. A good day that had ended well. Bill was nice and genuine. But, for her, the job always came first, though in her quiet moments, she sometimes had a pang of regret that she had no one to share her life experiences. She thought about Bill and his tragic experience. Maybe. Just maybe.
But now she’d to think of tomorrow. A meeting with the Home Secretary and a flight to Amsterdam. Two big new experiences. She got ready for bed and hoped she’d sleep.
***
By the time she got off the plane at Schiphol around noon, Sandra had recovered her poise. They’d had an amazing morning. Twenty minutes with the Home Secretary, Mr Chuter Ede, a tall, thin-faced man with grey hair and moustache, and a ready smile. Bill took full control. He outlined their plans for removing the head and the legs of this drug network, and wanted help in two areas – to establish the legal basis for closing down the UK drug network, and to ask Sir Bernard Montgomery for help to close down the tablet-making facility in Germany.
Sandra was astonished at the clarity of the HS as he dictated a letter to the Lord Chief Justice, addressed as ‘Dear Tom,’ and to Sir Bernard, addressed as ‘Dear Bernard,’ both of which had to remain blank for him to hand write the greetings. As they left, he said, ‘Thank you both. It’s really important for the country we get a grip on this menace. When you get the tablet-making equipment, why not drop it in the Channel on the way back – accidentally, of course.’ He smiled as he shook hands.
She’d enjoyed the flight in the end. Rigid with fear at take off, she’d gradually relaxed as Bill quietly convinced her to touch her surroundings, and she even looked past him out of the window as they came in to land. She now felt no qualms about the return journey.
As they came into the terminal building, she saw the sign ‘CS Sandra Maxwell’ held aloft. Guus Mulder, a well-built man with a square face, short fair hair and a broad smile, welcomed them. ‘Hey, let’s get you out to the car,’ he said, and took her case.
On the way into Amsterdam, Guus chatted about the passing scene. Sandra relished the differences between Amsterdam and London. The architecture; the people, dressed differently and speaking a foreign language; the traffic on the right; the huge number of bicycles; the single-decked trams speeding along narrow streets. She found the reality of her first trip abroad very striking.
They settled around the conference table in Guus’s office, joined by his assistant, Inspecteur Margreet Ursel, a tall blonde woman, who also spoke very good English.
They cleared off the admin first. Bill had brought a letter from the Home Office agreeing to the terms G
uus had set out the previous day. Guus read it through and nodded. ‘That’s fine. Thank you very much. Now, would you like to walk us through your strategy of what you want to achieve here, and how we can help you do it?’
Sandra cleared her throat, and described the background to their visit. She went on, ‘We plan, over the next four to six weeks, to identify the drug manufacturing centre in Germany and all of the suppliers in the UK. We’d very much like your help to identify and prove the links from here upstream to Germany and downstream to the UK suppliers. At some point, when we’re ready, we plan to take the whole lot out in one night.’
Guus asked, ‘And what about the Amsterdam centre, do you plan to take that out too?’
Sandra shook her head. ‘No, we don’t. Subject to your agreement, we believe this Amsterdam company probably operates legally in your country. However, if we cut off the head in Germany, that would throttle the supply of tablets through Amsterdam.’
Guus nodded. ‘I agree. At the moment, we have no reason to close that company. But we’re very happy to help you with the links you’re looking for. I can tell you the phone tap has already shown calls from the UK – from GB04, GB07, and GB14 – to arrange visits and get more supplies of tablets. They’ve also had calls from France and Belgium. However, we want to know whether they distribute these drugs in our country. As you know, we experienced the effect of these drugs from the German army, and that’s something we don’t wish on anyone. I’ve had an informal meeting with our Minister here this morning to discuss this, and we think, depending on what emerges, we might join you in your efforts.’
Sandra glanced at Bill. ‘Wow, we’d really like that, Guus.’
‘Good. So, what’s your plan now you’re here?’
‘Well, first of all we’d like to see this company, GT Pharma BV, just to get a feel for it. Then discuss the information we’re looking for and the actions you’ve got in place to get it.’
‘Okay, we can do that. We’ve taken over an office opposite this company on the other side of the canal, and we photograph everyone going in and out. So we’ll show you that after lunch. I’ve organised a quick sandwich lunch here.’
