‘DC Armstrong?’ the voice began. ‘Bill McCafferty here. We’ve had an MGB GT in for crushing this morning, along with three other old cars. A Granada, an XJ6 and a Rover P5. They sound like the ones you’re after.’
‘Great, fantastic. Look, hang on to them for me, would you? Don’t let anyone touch them. And remind me, Bill, whereabouts are you again?’
‘Whitehaven. You came in the other day.’
‘Oh, aye, I remember now. Do you know who it was who delivered the cars?’
‘I wasn’t here, and that’s the trouble, see. I only got back to the yard ten minutes ago, and one of the cars had already been crushed.’
‘Shit. The Granada?’
‘No. The MG.’
‘Thank God for that. Listen, don’t worry about it. I happen to know that the owner won’t mind not getting it back. But the Granada is OK, you’re sure?’
‘Aye, as far as I can see.’
‘Great. And do you have CCTV of the yard?’
‘Aye, we do. But where they unloaded, it’s not actually covered, like. I’ve already checked that.’
Armstrong was going to say something about that being convenient, but he didn’t. He’d never be able to prove for certain who it was who’d nicked those cars, but he was sure that the great classic car crime wave would stop now. He called the ACC’s PA and was put through to the man himself, though only after she’d established that Armstrong had good news to report.
‘Your father’s car has been recovered, sir.’
‘Undamaged?’
‘As far as I know, yes. I’ve literally just got off the phone with the scrapyard where the car was left, along with a number of others.’
‘Was your father’s MG among them?’
‘You know about that then, sir?’
‘I know about everything, DC Armstrong, that’s my job. And it was a bold plan, if a rather foolish one, I must say. So was your dad’s car recovered as well?’
‘It was, in a way.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. Well, be a good lad and get the Granada collected, would you? And ask the lads at the police garage to give it a quick once over, just for safety reasons.’
‘I will, sir.’
‘And if they’d just throw a bucket of water over it too, maybe wipe it down with a chamois, that would be appreciated.’
‘I’ll pass that on, sir. I know who’s responsible for this, sir, but I’m afraid I have to tell you that there’s no realistic likelihood of a conviction.’
‘That’s a pity, DC Armstrong, but it’s important that we always remain cognisant of the resources that we deploy against specific offending behaviours. But I’m quite sure that you haven’t spent too much time on this investigation, modest as it was.’
‘Certainly not, sir.’
‘That’s excellent, good. As you know I’d never ask for, nor expect, any form of special treatment.’
‘Perish the thought, sir.’
There was silence, just for a moment, before the ACC spoke again. And Armstrong thought that his tone was altogether cooler, although he might have imagined that. ‘Carry on, DC Armstrong, and I will pass on my thanks for your help to your supervisor.’
When Alan Farmer finally phoned Rex Copeland had gone home, at Pepper’s insistence, but the call was routed straight to her, in accordance with the agreed protocol.
‘I’ve got what you need’, said Farmer.
‘All of it? No more teasing?’
‘Aye, everything. It’s tonight. Meet me at the entrance to the castle in half an hour. By the gates, like.’
‘All right, but you better not be pissing me about. And at least tell me what time we’re talking about for this to go off? I need to put the team on stand-by.’
‘Be ready at eleven. No, make it half-ten.’
Pepper ran to Mary Clark’s office, knocked, and dashed straight in.
‘We’re on. It’s tonight.’
‘You’ve notified armed response?’
‘Yes, they’re already on two hours notice.’
‘Do you trust your informant?’
‘Absolutely not. The one thing I do know is that if we do nick Terry Maxwell tonight, and it’s seen by Maxwell’s mates to be down to Young, then I wouldn’t give much for Dai’s chances. There’s been a fifty grand reward out on Maxwell for months and there hasn’t been a sniff, which has to tell you something.’
‘Other villains are too scared to grass him up?’
‘Exactly, and with good reason. The man’s an animal, and his mates are no better. But I need to dash, ma’am, to meet Farmer. I’ll be back to brief the team in an hour.’
Alan Farmer was waiting at the locked castle gates, and he acknowledged Pepper with a nod. ‘Where’s your boy?’
‘If you mean DC Copeland, he’s off duty now. He was injured during a citizen’s arrest this morning.’
‘He doesn’t need to do that, does he? Aren’t you always a copper, even when you’re off duty?’
‘He was on the receiving end of the arrest. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get this done.’
‘All right, keep you hair on, love. Maxwell and a driver, who I hear is more than handy behind the wheel, will be coming onto the M6 at the Sedbergh junction, and coming off again around Carlisle, or possibly Gretna. They’ve got options, apparently. But they’ll be there at the M6 on-slip about half eleven, give or take ten minutes. The car is a silver Lexus saloon, but I don’t know the plates.’
‘And they’re two up, you’re sure?’
‘Aye, certain.’
‘Is there a chase car? Any sort of escort?’
‘No, nothing. Not for this stretch of the trip, anyway. They didn’t want too many people kicking about at the safe house, apparently.’
‘And the driver?’
‘Sorry, don’t know. Local talent, apparently. Hired to drive, not to fight, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘And is Maxwell armed?’
‘Of course he will be, Pepper. Act you age, love. He’s an armed robber and a killer, isn’t he? He’s certain to be carrying.’
‘But you don’t know this for a fact?’
‘No, but like I say, he will be. Handgun, I dare say, plus a knife, of course. But he’ll be no trouble to all of you lot, will he?’
‘Not if your information is correct, and they’re just two up in one vehicle.’
‘Oh, aye, don’t you worry about that. It’s absolutely on the money, is this info.’
‘Anything else you know? Anything at all?’
‘No, just that they’re feeling pretty relaxed. Maxwell reckons that he’s pretty well home and hosed, apparently.’
Pepper looked round, but the path behind her was empty. She wasn’t surprised, because the wind was cold and the rain was coming on again. She shook her head, and looked hard at Farmer. ‘This still doesn’t feel right, Alan. Because if Maxwell’s boys ever find out that you grassed them up then it’s you, not Dai Young, that they’ll come after. But you still seem so relaxed, somehow.’
‘That’s right, they would, but they never will find out, will they? I don’t have to appear in court, and my identity is protected. So the only possible risk is if you’ve got another little bird in your nest, Pepper, and I don’t think you have.’
‘Are you willing to bet your life on that?’
‘I just have, haven’t I? Don’t you worry about me, love. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve backed the right horse, like, and that’s all I’m saying.’
‘John Porter? Are you sure? Look, I know he’s standing up to Dai Young, that’s obvious from the fact that you and he are still in circulation, even after what happened to your mate Roberts. So maybe you have got the strength to keep Young at bay, but woe betide you if you haven’t. Because he’ll eat you alive. And if you’re playing some other kind of devious game here then I wouldn’t give you a dog’s chance of getting out of this, Alan, especially if Dai Young is in the mix somewhere. Still, it’s yo
ur funeral, as they say.’
It was a long time since Pepper had seen forty officers together in the briefing room, and everyone shut up as soon as she and the tactical commander, Chief Inspector Ray Henderson, walked into the room. That was unusual too, but it wasn’t every day that there was even a chance that street cops might arrest a genuinely high profile criminal, the kind that even their mates would have heard of. Pepper briefed the team on the background to the operation, and then took questions.
‘What’s your CI’s source of information?’ asked one of the armed response team, who Pepper knew by sight. She’d always quite liked the sight of him, too.
‘Unknown. He hints that he’s got a spy in their camp, but he’s never been more specific. But, as I said, the team down south that’s been looking for Maxwell is taking this information seriously, and they’ve got officers en route to join us.’ Pepper waited for the inevitable groan. ‘Don’t worry, lads and lasses, they’ll not be here in time. This one is strictly down to us. So if there’s nothing else I’ll hand over to Ray, who will be tactical commander on the ground.’
Henderson got up, and stood next to Pepper. He was quietly spoken, with a strong West Cumbrian accent, and he had a reputation for being both an effective tactical commander and a terrible politician, with a career-limiting tendency towards honesty. He was, therefore, popular and respected by the officers who’d actually be working the job with him that night.
‘Thanks, Pepper. As you all know our main target is not to be underestimated. If he raises a weapon, after a warning has been issued by us, armed officers are authorised to fire without further recourse to me. That instruction will be formally issued to all of you, and has been signed-off by the ACC Ops. Maxwell has engaged police officers with firearms before, in the course of an armed robbery, and will not hesitate to do so again. But, having said that, if our information is correct then we have a fairly straightforward hard stop operation to execute here, assuming that everything goes to plan. So let’s get straight into some detail. We’ll have spotters on both sides of junction 37, located here and here,’ Henderson pointed at the map on the interactive whiteboard, ‘and armed officers will be located in a vehicle here, just beyond the motorway junction on the Sedbergh Road. When the target vehicle turns for the M6, onto the slip road, they will follow, and will be on the slip road twenty seconds after the target. The spotters will then converge at the top of the slip road, stop other traffic and deploy a stinger, if required. Is that all clear?’
There were a couple of questions, and Henderson checked that his answers were sufficiently clear before he moved on. Abla Khan, one of the traffic officers, held up her hand.
‘What if chummy comes on at a higher or lower junction, sir?’
‘Good question, thanks. We’ve got unmarked cars at both 36 and 38, with instructions to report in only. They’re not to pursue. I’ll come back to our fall-back options in a moment, but if you’re happy let’s get back to the central plan. OK, so the target car is on the slip road. Now, either through accident or design they’ve chosen quite well, and we can’t safely deploy a stinger on the on-slip, so we’ll have an armed response car under the bridge just before the junction, with another as back-up, plus two traffic vehicles, all with lights out waiting a further quarter of a mile back down the M6. So even if the target drives onto the bridge and gets out for a recce they won’t see us, because one vehicle will be underneath, and the others will be well out of sight. So as the target vehicle comes down the slip road we deploy four vehicles, two lead armed response cars, the back up and one of the traffic cars. The last traffic car holds position and awaits instructions. These are the positions that I want all four of you to take at the bottom of the slip, where the stop will be made.’ Once again Henderson turned back to the screen, and again he took questions, even the obvious ones, patiently and carefully.
‘Now, let’s talk about what happens if it all goes tits up. We’re keeping air support well away from the area, but they can be over the junction in under ten minutes. If Maxwell’s driver beats our block, or joins the motorway either higher or lower, then we probably can’t perform the usual box manoeuvre, because at low speeds our officers would be too vulnerable to him opening fire. We’ll therefore pursue, with a traffic car leading, and deploy a stinger team at each exit. However it is imperative that Maxwell is not permitted to exit the motorway network, so we may be forced to deliberately collide with the target vehicle, if we can’t box him safely. And I know how you all like a go on the dodgems. Now, is that all clear? Good. Right, what I’d like you to do now is spend twenty minutes talking to each other, and going through your roles for tonight. I will be here, and so will DS Wilson, and if you have any questions or concerns, no matter how small, please raise them with us. I don’t bite, even if Pepper does. And remember one thing, all of you. Terry Maxwell is a violent offender, and so we need to treat him with all of the respect that he would never show us. But we’re a highly trained and equipped team, with the added advantage of surprise, we’re deploying overwhelming force, and we will prevail. It’s up to him whether he goes down easy, or hard.’
‘Where will you be, sir?’ asked one of the firearms officers, who was standing at the back.
‘With DS Wilson in the lead traffic pursuit car driven by PC Khan, and crewed by PC Matthews. But it will be dark, and lots of people will be talking at once, so the main thing is to make sure that you’re well co-ordinated within your sub-teams before we set off. So talk to each other now, go through the simulations on the computer, and come to me and DS Wilson if you have any problems or concerns. It’s game time tonight, believe you me. We’ve not seen the likes of Terry Maxwell in Cumbria in many a long year. But I know that we all like a challenge, now don’t we?’
After Pepper had called and finally persuaded Adam to go round and sit for her, in return for as yet unspecified favours, she sat and ate a sandwich with Henderson. They didn’t talk much, and she was happy about that. Both Rex Copeland and Henry Armstrong were off duty, but both had been on the phone, offering to come back in. She’d been half tempted to ask one of them to sit for her, but instead she stood them both down, after first checking with Henderson that they weren’t needed.
‘They’re keen, your lads.’
‘They are that. They’re good officers, both of them.’
‘Well there’d be nowt for either of them to do tonight, Pepper. And extra passengers just cause confusion.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Just one thing. How tight have you managed to keep this? How come your DCs know what we’re on with?’
‘The informant made contact with DC Copeland originally, and we work as a team. I needed to keep DC Armstrong in the loop.’
‘Aye, well, let’s hope this intel isn’t all round the bloody spot. If Maxwell gets wind of this then we could have a right disaster on our hands. I could see him turning up mob-handed tonight, just for the hell of it, like.’
The police cars rolled away from Divisional HQ at nine pm, leaving one at a time and at two minute intervals. Abla Khan drove at her normal patrol speed on the motorway, and after a few miles a Porsche shot past, only slowing after it had passed the police car. ‘Lucky, lucky boy’ said Abla, glancing in the mirror at Henderson, who had his eyes down on his laptop. But she caught Pepper’s eye, and they both smiled.
They drove down to junction 36, crossed over the bridge and then headed north again. Ahead of them the lead armed response vehicle pulled onto the hard shoulder and Abla Khan followed, checking that the other traffic car was behind her. Then they sat in silence, listening to the occasional confirmations on the radio from the rest of the team. Soon everyone was in place. It was just before 10pm, and the motorway was quiet. They felt the air-wash from the occasional lorry passing, and one of them hooted his horn repeatedly as he drove past. ‘Wanker’, said Abla, quietly.
An hour later the radio had fallen completely silent. Henderson sat, stock still and leaning forwar
d in his seat, while Pepper tried not to fidget. And then they all heard it, a fraction of a second of digital hiss as someone, somewhere pressed transmit. The voice was calm and measured, and it gave the call sign of the car waiting at junction 38, five minutes to the north of them. They’d spotted a car of the right make and model, two up, approaching the motorway junction. No identification of the occupants possible. Everyone in Abla’s car held their breath, glad that they didn’t have to make the call. Was it really the right car? It had to be, didn’t it?
‘Target vehicle identified’ said Henderson. ‘Move.’
The armed response car in front of them pulled onto the carriageway, and Abla knew that she could go much faster. Henderson must have sensed it, and told her to overtake, but to stay behind the lead armed response car. ‘Come on, come on’ Abla said, listening to the commentary from the spotter up ahead. The target car had been pootling along, but as it approached the motorway junction it had accelerated, as if the driver somehow sensed an ambush ahead. Henderson told the helicopter to scramble, and listened to the commentary from the driver behind the target, as he gave speed updates. ‘Shit’ said Henderson, when he heard that the target was doing over 80, ‘he’ll beat us on to the motorway for sure.’
‘Are you going to close the motorway?’ asked Pepper, and Henderson held up his hand to stop her from speaking.
‘Deploy reserve cars to junction 40’ he said on the radio, ‘and prepare for full motorway closure.’ Then he turned to Pepper. ‘I hope it doesn’t come to that. We could end up with civilians getting caught in the middle of this. Shit.’
Twenty seconds later they all knew the worst, because the target car was on the M6, and its speed was still building.
The Devil's Interval Page 12
