Undercover

by Joe Carter

  In the most unsubtle way, he then winked at me, and with a smile on his face bounced out of the café. Emma and I both looked at each other and giggled. I asked her how the toilet was, knowing she would go into a rant about hygiene in public bathrooms. And she didn’t disappoint me; I felt I knew each and every contour of the toilet by the time she had finished.

  I paid the bill, and as we walked to Emma’s car I explained the purpose of Ray’s meeting and the meaning of his exaggerated wink. I knew Emma didn’t like guns, and I could see in her face that she was apprehensive about me buying this one.

  I wanted to take her mind off the business of buying guns so I looked at her and said, ‘Please, not sausage pasta again for supper!’ She was good at many, many things, but her culinary skills were not at the top of her list of talents. I agreed that I would cook tonight, and said I’d meet her at home after she’d been to see Dave and the team.

  I waved Emma off, and then phoned Dave as I walked into town to get some decent food so that I could cook dinner. As I was talking to Dave, I received a text from Ray reading: Not until 8, ring you later. I replied: Done. I explained to Dave the details of my meeting, and that Ray had arranged to see someone that I apparently knew to collect a gun with a silencer and seven or eight bullets at 8 p.m. It would cost £2,500.

  I could sense that Dave was excited but nervous at the same time. He started explaining that he’d have to let the bosses know, because it was a gun. I could feel myself getting angry: ‘Dave, it’s just a commodity … whether it’s a gun or a kilo of coke, it’s just a commodity, no need to panic. Trust me. Play it low-key, it’s simple.’ I could tell that Dave understood my thoughts, but I was unsure whether the people above him would see it that way. I told him that I’d let him know any news.

  I tried to put the irritation I felt towards senior officers to one side. The sheer mention of a gun in senior police circles transcends into panic stations. They have no concept that this is just a business transaction between two consenting parties – it’s a financial agreement and the commodity happens to be a gun.

  I managed to forget the senior officers as I selected some fresh penne, basil and pancetta, and a rustic baguette and vine tomatoes. I was quite happy that I would have a lovely meal on the table when Emma returned home. But before I had started to create my magic in the kitchen and cook our meal, my phone rang. It was Ray, his voice loud and clear but very panicky. He said, ‘Listen, I’m parked in the middle of a field off a country lane. They’re all over me like a rash, I’m switching my phone off.’ The line then went dead.

  I tried to call him back immediately but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message. I knew that this was genuine; I knew that Ray was in a corner and I’d heard worry in his voice. He was letting me know there was a problem, marking my card. He had done the right thing.

  I picked up the phone and spoke with Dave, explaining the bizarre phone call I’d just had from Ray. I could hear Dave’s other phone ringing in the background, and he said he’d call me back if he got any news. I knew Dave had a lot going on with this job at the moment, and it was taking up all his time. I couldn’t think about cooking and I didn’t want to second-guess what may have happened to Ray. There was only one thing I knew for certain: I wouldn’t be buying a gun with a silencer and bullets tonight.

  I left Emma a note saying that I’d popped out and I’d be back to cook her a lovely meal. Then I drove out of town, not really knowing where to look. It was more a gesture than anything else. If I could find him and help him out, then that would be a massive bonus.

  I phoned Chloe and explained what had happened this evening. I was careful not to tell her too much, but enough to let her know I was concerned. I wanted her to know that I was out trying to find him. Ray and Chloe had an open relationship – that’s to say she knew exactly how he earned his money. She knew where he got the money to pay the mortgage, she knew how he paid for their food and clothing, and she was happy for that to continue. The one thing she couldn’t contemplate happening was Ray getting nicked.

  Chloe wasn’t overly concerned about his current predicament, and told me that she would ring me with any news but she was sure all would be well in the morning. As I was about to hang up, she told me that she was really looking forward to us all going out on Saturday night.

  I liked Chloe – she was a strong lady, a good mum, and she kept a good home for her kids. She was pregnant again, and this meant there would soon be another mouth to feed. She wore the trousers in that house, no matter what Ray said.

  Chloe’s calmness was infectious, and I put the CD player on in the car as I drove through the country lanes. I relaxed and took in the words of Oasis as I blasted out ‘Champagne Supernova’: As Liam was singing about getting high, I was enjoying the tranquillity of the countryside, and Ray’s troubles now seemed a long way away. I was sure that things would be fine – they always looked better the next morning. I phoned Emma and told her I’d be home in fifteen minutes, and I enjoyed the peacefulness of the journey home.

  Twenty-one

  My phone rang, and I could immediately sense that there was something wrong, before Ray had even breathed a word.

  ‘I need to see you now, for a face to face, where are you?’ I detected severe panic in his voice, and uncertainty. He was uncomfortable and I knew it. But I didn’t show any concern in my voice when I replied, ‘I’m just jumping in the shower, where d’ya want to meet?’

  He said he was down the Spanish coffee shop, and to hurry up and not to tell anyone we were meeting. I said I’d see him in half an hour. I hung up, and sat in silence pondering what had happened the previous evening: why the panic in his voice, why the urgency? This was not the Ray I’d spent time getting to know. Not the man who had already sold me cocaine, Mum and Dad, and offered me a gun and silencer. Ray was a reliable villain, who moved reasonable amounts of powder and earned his living this way. He did his utmost to avoid the Old Bill. He’d introduced me to people who only traded with those they knew and trusted, and I was now amongst them, talking to them on equal terms.

  I had little time to dwell on things. I jumped in the shower, and the power of the water and the cracked-black-pepper shower gel concentrated my mind. I looked in the mirror and realised that the amount of money I had paid to Molton Brown over the years wasn’t really reaping its rewards. Then my thoughts turned back to the previous evening and my meeting with Ray in the café. I had been very casual with him after he’d offered me the handgun and silencer, telling him to ring me only when he had it with him.

  As I was getting dressed, I phoned Dave and outlined my brief conversation with Ray. I could tell from his reaction that he was apprehensive about me meeting him. However, he said he’d go along with whatever I thought. He asked me if I wanted a team to back me up, to cover my back in case it all went wrong. I told him I’d rather be on my own, but if he hadn’t heard from me in an hour and a half from now, I may have a problem. He went quiet, and said, ‘Don’t say that.’ I told him I was joking, that it would be fine and I’d ring him when I was done. He paused and said, ‘Be careful. I mean it.’

  ‘Don’t be a lesbian,’ I said, and ended the call.

  I knew he was worried, and it was often the case that it was far more stressful for the other person than for me in these situations. They were in the dark, isolated, sat waiting and not knowing what was happening, going over and over in their mind whether they should’ve sent a backup team. Staring at the phone, praying that it’ll ring or a text will come through saying all is well.

  I couldn’t worry about Dave; I had a job to do. I jumped into my car and put Elbow on at full blast. The word ‘gun’ seemed to linger, seemed to hold my attention.

  I parked my car and strolled casually into the coffee shop. The smell of the freshly baked pasteis de nata and the strong ground coffee was soothing. I ordered a double espresso, and turned from the counter to see Ray sat in the corner on his own. He didn’t look well. Th
ere was no colour in his face, his lips were dry and it looked like he’d been up all night. He looked like shit, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. I sat down opposite him and studied his face. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying. I wanted to try and gauge how serious this problem was.

  He didn’t wait for me to speak. ‘I’m just going to say it. I’ve been told you’re Old Bill.’ His lip was quivering as he said the words.

  I held his gaze, and I laughed out loud and said, ‘Thank fuck for that. I really thought something terrible had happened. Is that it?’

  Ray didn’t think it was funny; he said he’d been sat in his car in the middle of a field last night for four hours. He’d had the ‘filth’ all over him once he’d left me to collect the metalwork, and then he’d had a call to say I was Old Bill.

  I stirred a tiny bit of sugar into my espresso; I wanted to drink it whilst it was still hot, to show Ray I wasn’t fazed by what he’d said. That at that moment the coffee was more important than his bombshell disclosure. I sipped the coffee and it felt good, just enough sweetness to complement the bitter strong taste.

  Before I could speak, he said, ‘I don’t want to believe it – it can’t be true, otherwise I’m fucked, I’m gone … I’ll be in the shovel for a long time.’

  I looked at him and said calmly, ‘Listen to yourself … listen to what you’re saying. Get a grip, will you? It makes no sense. How many times have I told you to slow down, to stop introducing me to new people, to stop middling deals with people we don’t need to know or need to meet. I’ve told you over and over to be sensible otherwise you’ll get us both nicked.’

  He said, ‘You’re right. I know you have. You’ve warned me to be careful, but I’ve been told.’ There was colour back in his cheeks. My calmness and balanced argument was definitely winning him over.

  I asked him who had told him, said to ring them and get them here now. I was taking control of the situation. I didn’t want to antagonise things or go overboard with denials, so I told him I wanted the person to look me in the eyes and say it in front of Ray.

  He dialled the number and I immediately recognised the voice. It was Ricardo. He was tall, well built and not shy of inflicting violence; he had a particularly nasty reputation. A career criminal, who had spent long stretches of time at Her Majesty’s pleasure.

  When Ray hung up, he said Ricardo was down the road but had just ordered rice and peas. ‘Fuck his rice and peas! I’m going to see him now.’ I didn’t shout, I didn’t scream, but Ray had known me long enough to know I wasn’t happy. I wanted to sort this bollocks out now.

  I saw him sat with two other guys in the window of the Chicken Shack. I went in, and told him to come outside and tell me to my face what he’d told Ray. He was reluctant to get up, so I took his knife and fork off him and told him I’d buy him a fresh plate if it went cold.

  Ricardo towered above me, and as I looked up at him he had a piece of rice on his moustache. It was annoying me, so I told him and he brushed it off with his hand. It was only at that moment I noticed the size of his hands. He was a big, powerful man – an intimidating man to most normal people, and physically much stronger than me.

  ‘Go on. What have you got to say, Ricardo?’

  ‘Look, I’ve been told by someone I trust that you’re Old Bill. He told me to tell Ray and that’s what I’ve done.’

  ‘For a geezer that’s traded with me and intro’d me to Ray, you don’t seem too bothered.’

  ‘Let me make this clear. If you are Old Bill, you’re dead. You’re gone.’

  I looked up at him and poked my finger into his chest. ‘Ricardo, if that’s what you believe, stay the fuck out of my way.’

  I didn’t wait for a reply; I turned and walked back to Ray, who was waiting outside. He had a bounce back in his step, the colour was back in his cheeks, and he was like the old Ray – the Ray I liked, the Ray I considered my mate. I’d spent more time with him in the last three months than any of my family or friends.

  Ray was my friend.

  Before I could tell him about my conversation with Ricardo, he pulled me close to him and said, ‘Joe, I don’t want us to speak about this again. It’s dealt with, it’s over.’ He held out his hand and I gripped it firmly and shook it.

  I said, ‘It’s up to you, Ray. I’ll walk away now if you believe him.’

  He grabbed the lapels of my coat and said, ‘What did I just say? It’s dealt with. We never talk about it again.’ He paused. ‘There’s a lovely bit of chisel on offer, but it’s a drive this afternoon. Meet me at two thirty at the back of the Mercedes dealership and we’ll go and see the fella.’ He gave me a big hug and said, ‘You know I love you, Joe. Let’s make loads of money.’

  I walked slowly back to my car, trying to digest what had just happened, the bizarre turn of events. I had a strong feeling in my stomach that this wasn’t yet over.

  I didn’t know it right then, but this was going to be a long, long day.

  Twenty-two

  As I pulled onto the driveway, I looked up at the house and felt calm, content and happy. It was a comfort to know I was home. I could see Emma looking out of the window; it was as if she had been waiting for me. I knew she would’ve been worried. I had told her before I’d left that I’d had a phone call from Ray and there was something wrong. Emma knew me well, and I didn’t keep secrets from her. She knew Ray and I had been in the middle of negotiating the purchase of a gun and ammunition. She was aware of the potential dangers that he posed to me and to her.

  I could see the worry etched on her face. I smiled at her and the worry seemed to fade away.

  At that moment, my phone rang. It was Dave. He was agitated and his words were rushed: ‘You need to come and see me now, I’ve got things I need to tell you.’

  I asked him if they could wait, as I’d just pulled up at home after my meeting with Ray and run-in with Ricardo. But he demanded that he see me straight away. Without getting out of the car or explaining to Emma, I reversed off the drive and started on the twenty-minute journey into the countryside. I could see the confused look on Emma’s face as I backed out of the drive. I would ignore her phone calls until I had something concrete to tell her after seeing Dave.

  I relaxed on the journey, and let my mind drift off to another place. When I arrived at the long lane that led to Dave’s house, it was if the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened; I couldn’t remember anything about the journey. Dave was waiting outside with his black Labrador at his side. The house was his pride and joy; recently painted a subtle pastel blue, it was like a picture-postcard cottage.

  ‘Joe, we need to talk. The bosses haven’t been giving me the full picture and I’m not happy.’ Dave was angry and disappointed, and I could tell he was worried.

  We went into his cosy kitchen, where he had hops hanging from the beams, and a beautiful cream Aga with a matching Le Creuset steam kettle sat on the hotplate. This was a tranquil, peaceful room; I could smell toast, and imagined happy family meals taking place at the large antique pine dining table where I sat.

  Dave handed me a mug of hot tea and passed me a cracked Cornishware sugar bowl, with a spoon that was caked in sugar. I found myself staring at the grains of coffee that were scattered amongst the white granules. Dave grabbed my full attention when he said, ‘Joe, last night there was a big problem with the surveillance team. Ray used a pal of his who took out two foot-surveillance officers and one of the surveillance cars.’

  I looked at him. ‘No one told me there was a surveillance team on the job, Dave. What the fuck’s going on?’

  He said that he wasn’t told, that the bosses had got nervous I was buying a gun and they had insisted that there was a surveillance team used. I told him that he could thank his bosses, but their naive decision could’ve got me killed.

  I took a long sip of the strong tea as Dave said, ‘Joe, that’s not the worst bit. The pal of his is an ex-policeman. He knows this world and he has knowledge of surveillance.
Last night he tapped two of the surveillance team on the shoulder and asked them who they were following.’ Dave went on to say that the surveillance team were so embarrassed about their performance that there’d been a closed-door debrief. This went on for four hours, and the team leader decided it was too late to tell anyone what had happened that same night. He’d made the disclosure this morning.

  I was fuming. I hated using surveillance teams, and there was always a risk that the team would ‘show out’. If they did, it could put me in a very difficult position – could put me at considerable risk.

  What was the reason for using a team? All I was doing was buying a gun, silencer and ammunition. Who had made the decision, and who was the team leader who’d gone to bed rather than tell someone that his team had been ‘burnt to cinders’?

  All these questions needing answering, but my biggest worry was who this ex–Old Bill was. What threat did he pose to me, and was he the reason for my grilling from Ray earlier?

  Dave looked at me and said, ‘What do you want to do, Joe? I’d understand if you want to throw the towel in.’

  ‘Dave, don’t be a plum. This situation isn’t good, but I’m supposed to be meeting Ray in an hour and a half to buy some coke from a new fella.’ Dave said that he’d been told by his bosses to say that they’d understand if I wanted out. ‘Dave, tell your bosses to stick to organising speed bumps on busy roads, and I’ll stick to what I’m paid to do.’

  Dave showed me a picture of the ex-policeman, and asked if I’d seen him before. He said that a few years ago Ray and this guy had been very close, but intelligence said they’d had a fall out. The policeman had resigned from the force following an investigation into his criminal connections. The reality was, he’d jumped before he was pushed.