Undercover

by Joe Carter

  The first issue was to find a chemist, or at least someone who had the intellect to pretend to be one. I knew exactly who I wanted, and I telephoned his office at the Yard to ask him to meet for a coffee at the Broadway Café, very close by.

  James was a truly nice man; he was a very experienced detective and competent UC who had been doing the work far longer than I had. He spoke very well, with a Home Counties accent, like a middle-aged man who had been privately educated. He didn’t look like a typical policeman, and could easily have passed as a university lecturer or a vet. I asked him directly if he fancied being my chemist. I was portraying a South London drug dealer, and he would be the chemist who had the knowledge to convert isosafrole to MDMA.

  James looked at me and said he’d love to do it; he thought it was a real challenge and different to most jobs he’d done before. I explained that the guy I had met represented two other villains from East London. I thought that once I introduced James to Billy as the chemist, then the operation would open up. I told James how I’d like him to dress for the meeting, and begrudgingly he agreed. Then I gave him the contact details of the precursor unit staff, who could help to educate him in respect to the chemical process. James was keen as mustard and I really enjoyed his company. I asked him to keep Friday free, as I knew he had a really busy day job. He was very humble and thanked me for asking him to help, and he said he was looking forward to it.

  I phoned Billy the next day and he answered politely and business-like. He said he’d see me and my mate on Friday at 11 a.m. in the Wimpy at Barking train station. Once he heard me acknowledge the appointment, he hung up. I confirmed with James that he was available and we agreed to meet early Friday morning for breakfast before we travelled to Barking together. In the 1990s, we were required on certain operations to record conversations in order that our evidence could be accepted in court. If you can imagine the size of the first mobile phones, which were like house bricks, then this was mirrored in relation to recording devices. I had to wear a huge recorder, which had been designed by the Polish inventor Stefan Kudelski. It had revolutionised sound recording for television and radio, as it allowed directors to record outside the confines of a studio. The device was the size of an A6 diary, and as thick as a deck of cards. It had two reel-to-reel spools that you had to manually wind the tape onto. I used to wear it on the small of my back, and there were leads as thick as phone chargers that I had to wear over my shoulders. These leads had microphones on the ends and I would tape these to my chest. It was hugely cumbersome and not in any way safe to wear, and it was virtually impossible to conceal. But those were the rules back then, so I had to wear the device on this occasion.

  James and I made our way to Barking station, and when we arrived Billy was waiting for us. He shook my hand and nodded at James. I was expecting him to lead us into the Wimpy restaurant, but instead we walked past and he said he would make us a cup of tea at his place. We walked in virtual silence for the next five minutes until we arrived at a small block of council flats. Billy took a set of keys out of his Crombie coat, and unlocked an iron gate that protected a small tiled area leading to a front door. I could see a camera to the left of the door, facing the metal gate. All three of us were now between the gate and the door, and Billy locked us in no man’s land before unlocking three locks on the front door. I could see that he was protecting something, or just paranoid about security.

  Billy used two keys to secure deadbolts in the door so that we were safely locked in. He winked at me and said, ‘Save anyone disturbing us.’ There was a long corridor that led to a closed door at the end. Billy took his Crombie off and hung it on a coat rail in the hallway, I noticed a baseball bat and a large machete neatly positioned behind the door. Both James and I waited for Billy to lead the way. He opened the door at the end of the hall and told us to join him.

  As we both stepped into the room, I tried to take in all my surroundings. To my left was a raised area almost like a stage, with an organ on it, spotlights, and a bar area with two stools. There were optics behind the bar, and West Ham merchandise covered the walls. There was a framed 1975 FA Cup Final programme – West Ham versus Fulham – that caught my eye.

  I looked to my right; sat on a green chesterfield sofa were two white men around the sixty-year mark. Both spoke with East London accents, and one wore a black roll-neck sweater underneath a black silk blouson. The other had a Gabicci striped black cardigan on, with black Farah trousers and black oxford shoes. Both men were smoking, and there was a large glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of them that was full of half-smoked cigarettes. The curtains were pulled shut, and the only illumination was from the lights on the stage. I noticed that there were two dining room chairs on the other side of the coffee table, facing the two men. The roll-neck man beckoned us both to sit down. My first thought was that there wasn’t a dining room table in the room; these men had strategically placed the chairs there pending our arrival.

  Roll-neck man introduced himself by his full name and explained in a very aggressive manner that I could go down the East End or into Essex and ask anyone his name and people would reference him. He went on to say that he’d spent over eighteen years in prison, and then rattled off a number of names of gangsters that he knew well. He then introduced Gabicci by his first name and said, ‘Gary has a similar pedigree as me.’ He took a long tug on his cigarette, held it for a moment, and then exhaled and said, ‘Now, who the fuck are you?’

  This was a classic, ‘old school’ sit-down to get to know each other. We were locked in a flat with three career criminals who wanted to know exactly who we were before they decided to do any business with us. This had the potential to go horribly wrong, and although these were older guys, they were used to violence and would think nothing of harming us. Add to that the fact I had a ‘ghetto blaster’ strapped to my back, and the situation was very volatile.

  I knew that I had to take control of things before they got out of hand. I looked straight at roll-neck, and then turned to James and said, ‘Do you mind waiting in the corridor while I have a chat with these gentlemen, please?’ I could see the bemusement on his face, but he nodded and sheepishly got up. Then he slowly walked to the door, after awkwardly picking up his tatty rucksack from under his chair on the second attempt. I waited for the door to close behind him, leaving the four of us in the room alone.

  I then leant forwards and said in a very calm and quiet voice, ‘Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours convincing the chef to help us with our project. He was worried, as he isn’t like us four, he’s made of different stuff – he isn’t a villain, he’s an educated man. You’re scaring him half to death, I could feel him shaking sat next to me. Ask what you like of me, but if you want me to keep him on board, treat him with a bit of respect. Be nice to him.’

  The two men on the sofa looked at each other, and roll-neck acknowledged that his approach was completely wrong as he apologised to me. So did Gabicci, who then asked, ‘Do you think we’ve naused this up?’

  I ignored him and said, ‘We need him more than he needs us, that’s for sure. Are you gentleman with me on this one?’ All three agreed and apologised again. I asked them to give me five minutes with him in the corridor, and I’d try and bring him back in.

  James was down at the front door keeping an eye on the baseball bat and machete. I walked over to him, and he whispered that he hadn’t been expecting the reception party. I explained what I’d just said to the men, and James had a little chuckle. I told him that if they asked him a direct question, to look at me before he answered and I would give him the nod. We walked back into the room, and roll-neck took control. He was like a different man, and he explained to James that he was really grateful that James had come to this meeting. He apologised for the misunderstanding earlier and said he was looking forward to getting this ‘thing’ underway. He paused for a minute and then said, ‘I’ve only got one question for you – can you make us the
product we want with twenty litres of isosafrole?’

  James looked sideways at me and I nodded. He replied in a clear but quiet, eloquent voice: ‘Yes I can, and I will do my utmost to get the maximum product for Joe.’

  Roll-neck and Gabicci stood up at the same time, shook James’s hand and thanked him for coming. I asked James to give us a minute. Again, he walked out of the room. I looked at the three men and asked if we were all happy. They had smiles on their faces and shook my hand. Gabicci said he was thankful that I’d squared things up, and the men agreed that it wouldn’t happen again. I told them that I’d get my fella to come up with calculations for the amount of possible end-commodity and a list of requirements. We agreed that we’d meet again the following Tuesday in the West End.

  Billy walked us to the door, and unlocked all the bolts and the security gate. He thanked me again and whispered to me, ‘I could tell he was a scientist – the jumbo cords were a give-away.’ Then he winked at me.

  As James and I made our way back to Barking station, he said out of the side of his mouth, ‘I’ve been to strange meetings in my time, but that ranks at the top.’ I told him that the one thing that had won the day for us was the fact that he was wearing jumbo cords as I had requested last week. We both laughed out loud.

  Twenty-eight

  Billy and I had spent the next three weeks together, mostly driving around in the dodgiest Luton van he could’ve chosen. We looked like one of the rag-and-bone vans that used to call door to door and take away anything that people didn’t want. Billy really was a character. He loved to sing and play the piano and organ, and we had many a sing-song in his Barking flat. He’d told me that he’d been asked to do the music for the ‘Mad’ Frankie Fraser film.

  We had also had meetings, where we agreed that there would be a four-way split on the commodity at the conclusion of the chef’s work. The other three’s thought process behind this was that it was in my best interests for the chemist to be on the button with his work. The better he was at his job, the more MDMA would be produced, making more profits for the four of us, who would split the pills four ways.

  At the time, MDMA was sold in pill form and the bestsellers were mitsis, doves and double doves, hens and speckled hens. The dilemma that we had as a group of four criminals was the fact that we would end up with MDMA in powder form at the conclusion of the chemical process, but the demand from all the customers was for a pill with one of the most popular motifs on. There were two choices: place powder into capsules or convert it into solid pill form. The decision of the East London firm was to convert to pills. This required a pill-making machine, where the powder or paste is fed in one end, and the mechanisms within cut and round the tablets. However, a separate machine was then required to stamp the pills with the chosen motif.

  The first job for Billy and me was to find a suitable property to use as a lab to make the Ecstasy. I had read up a lot on this, and in my head I pictured a secluded cottage deep in the English countryside, with smoke coming from a chimney. Away from any prying eyes, curtain-twitchers or nosy neighbours. There had been a number of well-documented explosions in such places, due to the necessity of heating highly volatile chemicals, and so our choice of premises was particularly important. After viewing many properties, the firm decided on a fifth-floor council flat in the heart of East London. The thinking behind this was that people in the area minded their own business and were highly unlikely to call the police. It would be easy to come and go freely.

  There were two bedrooms in the flat, which was completely and utterly unfurnished. One of the most important issues was to install a good extraction system to ensure that all the fumes safely left the flat without poisoning anyone, inside or outside.

  I had one final meeting at Billy’s flat with the three East London men. In the lead-up to the meeting, Billy had said that the other two were happy with the progress we were making, but wanted a final sit-down to discuss the specific details of the project. As usual, I was locked in the flat with the other three. Billy made cups of tea for us all, and had bought a packet of ginger nut biscuits especially for this meet.

  The roll-neck man, Jimmy, was clearly sat at the top of this criminal organisation. I was expecting a calm and relaxed chat amongst the three of us, but Jimmy clearly had different plans. He looked me up and down from the comfort of the chesterfield, and quietly said, ‘Gary and I were just having a natter before you arrived, and the truth of the matter is we know very little about you.’

  I was much younger than these men, but I had seen their criminal records and the intelligence on their criminal activities, and I knew what they were capable of. I was on their ‘manor’, and was locked in the flat with no real way of escape. If I took these three men on, I wouldn’t come out the winner.

  I needed to nip this in the bud and deal with it head-on, so I looked at Jimmy and said, ‘Do you know what, Jimmy – you’re right. You don’t know me, and I only know you through Billy. Like my old man told me once or twice, if you’re not happy with someone or it doesn’t feel right, walk away. So now is the time to make that decision, because I came here today to tell you gents that the chef has booked three days off from his day job to complete our project. And that’s next Wednesday to Friday – only a week away. So tell me now if you want to walk away, fellas, so we don’t waste any more of each other’s time.’ I took a ginger nut from the packet, dipped it in my mug of tea, and broke the soft half off in my mouth.

  I could see Jimmy taking in what I had just said. I knew Gary would go along with him, but I was certain Billy was on my side because we had already done so much work towards setting up the flat. I was nervous, and inside I was praying that they would see how close the pound notes were.

  I needed to tempt them further. I’d asked James to make some calculations as to the potential yield, and so I took these out of my jacket pocket. The precursor unit had confirmed these figures, and the numbers were reliable. I placed the notes on the coffee table and purposely slid the ashtray closer to them. ‘If the cook goes exactly to plan, there should be over one million tablets … that makes a split of 250,000 pills each. Single tablets are selling for between five and ten pounds at the moment. That’s a nice payday for us all.’

  I could almost see pound signs in their eyes; the payday was so close and they knew they had to do very little to earn it. Jimmy took the bait completely, and there was excitement in his voice when he said, ‘Gary and I will do security on the place for the three days.’ He insisted that from the moment the chef arrived at the flat, it would be on lockdown until the process was complete. He said that the flat needed to be self-sufficient, and he dictated a list of requirements to Billy that included two ‘put me up’ camping beds with sleeping bags – for Gary and him – a fully stocked fridge and endless toilet rolls. They knew that the project was in its final stages. For the next hour, we discussed the logistics of what would happen next.

  I had hired a lock-up, where I had stored all the glassware and barrels of other chemicals that would be required for the cooking process. Jimmy insisted that, on the Tuesday, all the glasswork should be set up during the day. In the evening, Billy and I would collect the remaining chemicals required from my lock-up, and at that stage he would bring the isosafrole. Jimmy had also managed to get his hands on an industrial extractor fan, which would ensure all fumes safely left the flat and didn’t kill anyone inside.

  Jimmy handed Billy a wad of money to pay for his shopping list, and we all agreed that Billy and I would meet again on Monday to complete the final stages of the lab set-up. Before I left the three men, I reminded them that the chef would also have to sleep, but he would need a proper mattress with a duvet and pillows. There was no point having a tired chemist who messed up the cooking. Billy put these further requirements on his list, and Jimmy counted a few hundred pounds more off the wad he had in his pocket.

  I knew that we had got lots of evidence against the three men for conspiracy to manufacture MDMA, but it w
as crucial that we recovered all the isosafrole. This would be the vital piece of evidence, as without that one chemical it was impossible to manufacture MDMA, and we needed to prove they had possession of that key ingredient. I had worked hard on this job to convince the two old lags that I was what I said I was, and Jimmy had been a particularly hard nut to crack.

  As we were now so close to the end of the job, I needed to go and see James to bring him up to speed with where we were. James always reminded me of a scruffy public schoolboy. His clothes were well made but also well worn, and his shirt always seemed to be untucked. He worked under chaotic conditions in his office, and I wondered how he ever got anything done.

  He had just poured boiling water out of the kettle from the next-door office into a cafetière. I could see one polystyrene cup left on a tray in the corner of his office so I grabbed it, as there was no way I was going to drink from any of the filthy china ones. James poured me a full cup of coffee, and sat down and demanded to know where we were at with the operation. I explained everything to him and requested his attendance next Tuesday evening, when everyone would be at the flat ready to go into production the following morning. I told him it would be good if he got the train out to East London as if he’d finished his day job, and to bring an overnight bag to look like he was staying for three days. This would be the time that everyone would be arrested – once Jimmy and Gary had brought the isosafrole to the flat. For all his years as a detective and as a UC, James was thoroughly impressed with the operation and said he was looking forward to Tuesday. I ensured he knew exactly where he needed to be and, of course, told him to put his ‘lucky’ jumbo cords on.

  I spent all day Monday with Billy transporting the camp beds, sleeping bags, mattress and fridge, as well as tray after tray of lager – and almost as much toilet roll – to the flat. Billy checked all the lighting, heating and gas to make sure it was working, and we collected the industrial extractor fan from one of Jimmy’s lock-ups in Bethnal Green. We stopped at Kelly’s on the Roman Road for double pie and mash with liquor, and Billy had some hot eels. A tummy full of pie and mash always makes you feel better.