by Jeff Gulvin
‘Was in D11 when I was. They don’t move them on when they’ve been there as long as he has. He’s fifty years old, Jim.’
White boards were standing unfolded on the windowsill at the front, and resting against the legs of a table upturned on another. The men moved about the room, firearms officers in black one-piece coveralls re-acquainting themselves with friends from the past. Cigarette smoke drifted as part of the atmosphere, blending with the strong smell of coffee rising from plastic cups. Two SFOs at the front handed out briefing papers.
Vanner caught Graves’s eye and nodded. He turned to Jimmy once more. ‘Young Young definitely housed?’
‘Put to bed, Guv.’
‘Someone else with the fishing rod then?’
‘3 Area Surveillance. They left when it got dark.’
‘Who’s there now?’
Jimmy looked sideways at him. ‘Couple of lovers in a car. And a body on the far bank — the other side of the bushes. We’ve got a rubbish truck ready to move later on.’
Vanner nodded. ‘Eilish McCauley’s on her way home from Belfast.’
‘Deal go down?’
‘We think so. Antrim Road Drug Squad had a body on her all the time she was there.’
‘We giving her a tug?’
‘Only if we can link her directly to the man, which somehow I don’t think we will.’
‘Right.’
Vanner looked at him. ‘If this one went okay it’ll happen again. We’ll have more time to set up a plot. Slippery’s snout can give us the inside track from Kilburn.’
The hubbub of conversation had risen an octave or two and Graves moved to the floor in front of the white boards. Vanner folded his arms and watched him.
‘Right,’ Graves said. ‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen. My name is Sergeant Graves from SO19.’ He turned to Keithley. ‘For those of you who don’t know — this is DI Keithley from 2 Area AMIP. My team and myself are here to assist DI Keithley in the arrest of Colin Robertson — more commonly known as Young Young — IC3 male, currently resident in Flat 2, Block K, Hillington Road, Hackney, opposite the Kings Park Estate. Young Young is wanted in connection with the murder of Jimmy Carter, snooker hall proprietor in Kilburn. DI Keithley will give you the full background. When he’s imparted that information I shall explain the method of tonight’s operation. There are four innocents on the premises, a woman and three children under ten.’
He turned to Keithley then who stepped forward and explained once again the full background to the night of Carter’s murder and the reasons for arresting Young Young. He passed out photographs and gave them a full description, ending with the fact that Young Young was believed to be armed with an Uzi 9mm machine pistol. When he had finished he looked over at Jimmy Crack.
‘What’s the latest on the OP, Jimmy?’
Jimmy stood up and recounted the events of the day. Young Young had not come out since he had telephoned him. A woman had left the premises at three in the afternoon and returned with three young children. She had gone up to Flat 2. Since then nobody had come in or gone out. The last word from the OP was that all the lights were out by 1 a.m.
Jimmy sat down again next to Vanner and Keithley turned to Graves. Graves pushed himself away from the table he leaned against and looked at the white boards.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’ve looked at the premises earlier today and it’s a first-floor maisonette-type occupying the upper half of what at first appears to be a tall, narrow town house. It’s approached from the river walk abutting the canal by a panelled painted door in a small recessed porch at ground level. This leads to a steep staircase split by a landing which ascends to a second front door and the living accommodation.
‘The premises is of semi-detached construction and therefore has openings on three sides. The red side has two window openings as does the black. There’s a small, enclosed rear garden divided in two but with no direct access from the target premises, apart from a fire ladder. The roof is pitched with a loft space which may or may not connect to the next-door premises. The accommodation consists of two bedrooms, lounge, bathroom and toilet with a kitchen at the front.’ He paused and pointed to the table behind him. ‘There’s a drawn plan available in case you haven’t already seen it.
‘The rear garden is fenced to shoulder height and has a gate leading to a square or parking area shared by several houses arranged similarly around it. The red side of the premises abuts a walkway and they appear on either side of the pairs of houses around the square. The square itself has pedestrian and vehicular access to Hillington Road. Again there are drawings available and if you have any questions please leave them till the appropriate time later on.’
He paused then and checked the papers in front of him on the table. Vanner shifted in his seat next to Jimmy. The two officers in coveralls who had conducted the Recce put their heads together for a moment and then Graves continued.
Our intention tonight,’ he said, ‘is to covertly contain the premises with SFO officers and an ARV crew. We’ll breach the door and call Young Young out, arresting him in a safe, controlled way. Having done so we will hand him over to the AMIP team from 2 Area.’ He broke off, looked each of his men in the eyes and repeated his words exactly.
When he had finished Vanner caught his eye and a smile passed between them. Keithley rested on the edge of a table and drank coffee. Graves cleared his throat and continued. ‘At the conclusion of this briefing we’ll load up the respective vehicles and assemble in convoy order in Lower Brixham Road facing toward Wallace Street.’ He tapped the map behind him. ‘The lead vehicle will be the ARV with DI Keithley on board. Next will be the two SFO kit vans followed by the dog van, the rest of the AMIP team, ambulance and the TSG troop carrier. I ask that you ensure the next vehicle behind maintains the convoy and communicate any problems to me. The convoy will turn right against the flow of traffic into Wallace Street and travel via Hometown Road and Marsh Avenue till level with the Kings Park Estate. Here we turn right into Hillington Road. At Marsh Avenue all lights will be extinguished and pagers and phones switched off.’
He turned and indicated the Rendezvous Point marked on the white board behind him. ‘At this designated RVP in Hillington Road the ARV will stop and the convoy form up close behind. Turn off all engines immediately. Do not slam doors and speak very quietly’ He stopped talking and turned to the Hackney Duty Officer. ‘I’ll then ask DI Morris to institute his cordons. These will be either end of the road and the canal bank. The team will form up and move forward as planned.’ He stopped again and his eyes glinted. ‘There will be some shouting and disturbance. No uniformed or AMIP officer will enter the firearms scene nor any other person unless directly called to do so by me.’ He paused again. ‘As my team move forward the arrest team will wait at the Form Up Point until called. Assuming a successful outcome the cordons will remain until the SFO team withdraws.’
He pushed his sleeves back once more and sipped from a plastic cup. ‘Right,’ he went on. ‘Contingencies. If there is a shooting SO19 will control the situation. No other intervention unless invited. In that event armed officers involved will go to Tower Hamlets police station and I will ask DI Keithley to nominate a liaison officer. Nominated hospitals are Wanstead for police and New Hall for others.
‘If the target is non-compliant we will drop into siege mode and negotiate. If there is a breakout, jumper, whatever, SO19 will deal with it. If he manages to do a runner SO19 and the dogs will deal.’
Jimmy Crack glanced over his shoulder at one of the dog handlers seated behind him with his lead stretched bandolier style across his shoulders.
Graves looked at them once again. ‘Debrief is here at Hackney. Comms are back to back, local PR channel and mainset channel 11.’ He turned then to Keithley. ‘PACE is not complied with. You will have to caution him.’
Keithley nodded and stepped forward. ‘Okay. This is armed operation number A/74-3.’
Graves looked at his watch. ‘The time no
w is 03:15. We load up at 03:30.’
At exactly 3:55 on Friday morning the attack vehicles took up their positions at the Form Up Point in Hillington Road. Keithley was in the lead Armed Response Vehicle, Vanner and Jimmy in the TSG troop carrier and the rest of the Murder Squad in an unmarked car.
Vanner felt the muscles tighten in his face with the rush of building adrenaline. Ulster years ago, dark nights in West Belfast or the Creggan Estate at dawn. Strangely he thought about Ellie and then his father lying in his bed in Norfolk. This evening he would visit him.
Outside the SFO team moved silently into position. A stillness had settled on the street like the calm before a storm. No wind. No cloud, just streetlamp-yellow and silver stars and a sickle moon over the canal.
The SFO team entered the square around K Block, no sound from rubber-soled boots. One man bearing a long kevlar shield shouldered his MP5 carbine and drew his Glock from its holster. Alongside him, the burly thick-set Method of Entry man carried the battering ram. Behind him a third officer backed them up, MP5 in his hands, and alongside him a fourth openly carried his baton in one hand and a small fire extinguisher in the other. A dog handler, Alsatian silent at his side, tightened his grip on the lead. Two more men for prisoner handling moved into position.
Graves took up his position with a vantage point from the fence by the canal. One by one he checked radios with a click from his transmitter. Each time three clicks answered him until every one had called in. Graves lifted the handset to his mouth. ‘Stand by,’ he said. ‘Stand by.’ He paused. ‘Attack,’ he said very quietly.
The MOE man smashed the front door and the SFO team sprinted up the stairs. At the top they were shouting. Again the battering ram crashed wood and the front door to the flat flew inwards. From inside a dog was barking.
‘Young Young,’ the MOE man shouted. ‘You are surrounded by armed police. Come out with your hands over your head.’
The growling grew louder and louder and then a small black dog rushed the opening. With one step the stick man lifted the fire extinguisher and sprayed foam into its face. The dog yelped, twisted in the air and landed on its side. It wriggled to its feet and the stick man sprayed it again.
The MOE man shouted: ‘Young Young. Call off your dog or we’ll shoot it.’
A bedroom door stood open and torchlight from the backup man shone on the bed, a woman, sitting up half-naked, breasts swinging free, her hands to her face, mouth open with no sound coming from it. Then she started screaming. The dog yelped again, frantically trying to scrape the foam from its face with its paws. A man rolled across the floor of the bedroom, long and black and naked. An officer switched on the mainlight and levelled his carbine at Young Young. ‘Armed police. Stand still.’
Young Young was up. From the other bedroom children were crying. Young Young pivoted on the balls of his feet.
‘Stand still or I’ll shoot you.’ The carbine was pointed directly at his chest. The baby mother was screeching.
Young Young stared, mouth hanging open. ‘What you fuckin’…’
‘Shut up.’ The officer with the carbine took one step towards him. ‘Do exactly as I tell you. Walk towards me. Do it now.’
Young Young stared at him. ‘You …’
‘Do not speak to me. Do exactly as I tell you. Walk towards me. Now.’
Young Young moved towards the door.
‘You in the bed,’ the officer said. ‘Call the dog.’
The woman stopped screaming and stared at him.
‘Call your dog. Now.’
The woman leaned over the side of the bed and called to the dog. It looked round, foam in its eyes, foam in its nose and wobbled across the floor to her. She took hold of its collar. Young Young rushed the door.
Instantly the stick man moved in, ducked a punch and rammed the end of his baton into Young Young’s gut. Young Young buckled, a cry stopped up in his throat. The woman cried out, dog barking. From the bedroom the children were screaming.
Young Young writhed on the floor, tried to get up and the stick man hit him across his shoulders, flattening him again. The MOE man dropped his knee into his neck and hauled his hands behind him. A third officer knelt down and slipped plastic handcuffs over his wrists. When he was secured they stood up. The first officer looked at the baby mother. ‘Put some trousers on him.’
Vanner and Jimmy Crack were outside when they brought him down and handed him over to Keithley. Young Young stared in Jimmy’s face and a flicker of recognition passed over his eyes. The AMIP arrest team led him away and secured him inside the troop carrier. A number of people had gathered in the carpark, some in doorways, others leaning out of their windows and hissing at the police like snakes. The SFO team led the woman and her children down the stairs and over to the arrest car.
When they were inside and out of the way the AMIP team moved in to search the premises. Graves moved alongside Vanner.
‘Hello, Cuddles,’ Vanner said.
Graves grinned at him and nodded to Jimmy.
‘Nice one.’ Jimmy shook his hand. ‘You guys want him too eh?’ Graves said. Vanner lit a cigarette, offered the pack and Graves shook his head. ‘We want a word, yeah.’
‘All yours then.’ Graves walked back to his men.
Vanner went home to shower. It was six thirty and Ellie was still in bed. He paused in the bedroom and watched her sleeping for a moment, peace on her face in the moonlight. He stood by the bed and sniffed the scent of her clothes, then he walked down the landing to the bathroom.
Weariness picked at his skin as the water spread over his face. It drifted into his mouth, his nostrils and he ducked his head to breathe. Thoughts criss-crossed themselves in his head. Ellie asleep in his bed, his father in some other bed in Norfolk. Young Young in custody in Hackney and three frightened children cowering helplessly with their mother.
In the kitchen he brewed tea and carried a tray to the bedroom. He set it down by the bed, the tails of his dressing gown flicking about his calves. Ellie stirred, lifted her head and rubbed her eyes.
‘What time is it?’
‘Almost seven.’
‘What’re you doing?’
‘I’ve come home for a shower then I’m going back to Hackney. We took out Young Young this morning.’
‘Any trouble?’
Vanner shook his head. ‘Unarmed. He must have dumped the gun somewhere.’
She looked at him then. ‘Do many policemen carry guns, Aden?’
‘Some do yes.’
‘You?’
Vanner looked down at her and shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Did you ever?’
‘Why?’
She hunched her shoulders into her neck. ‘Did you?’
He poured out the tea and sat down next to her. ‘I’m licensed to carry a sidearm if I ever had cause to,’ he said.
‘Did you ever shoot anyone?’
He opened his mouth, closed it again and looked away from her. ‘Why d’you want to know this now — you never asked before?’
‘It’s important to me, Aden.’
‘Why?’
‘It just is.’
He sipped at his tea then replaced the cup on the tray. Getting up, he shook his packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and stood by the window smoking.
‘In 1989 I shot and killed a man called Christian Tate,’ he said. ‘I was relief at D11, that’s the forerunner to SO19. Tate was an armed robber who blasted at me with a shotgun.’
‘He was armed.’
‘Of course he was armed. That’s why I shot him.’ He stared at the gathering light outside. Ellie slipped out of bed and her arms were round his waist and he could feel her nakedness pressed close against him.
‘I’m sorry.’
He dropped his cigarette in the ashtray he was holding and turned to her. She stepped back and her nipples wrinkled under his gaze. He looked in her eyes. Reaching up, she stroked his face. ‘Make love to me, Aden.’
Eilish spoke to
Stepper-Nap on the telephone from her house. She had got home half an hour ago and almost immediately Mary-Anne had come round to see her. She was supposed to contact Stepper as soon as she got home.
‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine.’
‘You got all the money.’
‘I’ve got twenty-five grand.’
‘What? Kilo and a half is forty-five.’
‘You forgot. Jimmy Carter’s cut.’
‘Jimmy Carter’s dead and his cut was supposed to be five.’
‘His friends.’
Silence for a moment. She could hear the agitated rasp of his breathing. ‘You put it where you should.’
‘Of course.’
‘Anybody follow you?’
‘Belfast for a while maybe. But they were probably interested in who I was meeting rather than me.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Okay. We’ll talk later.’ Stepper hung up and Eilish settled the receiver back in its housing. She turned to Mary-Anne who lit two cigarettes and handed one to her. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, lady.’
Eilish looked at her then. ‘Oh, I know all right,’ she said.
A key turned in the lock and James came in. Eilish got up and went out into the hall.
‘You’re back then,’ he said.
‘Aye, lover. I’m back. Kids all right are they?’
‘Kids are fine, Eilish.’ James could smell Mary-Anne’s cigarette from the living room.
He looked at his sister. ‘How’s our ma then?’
‘Better.’
‘Is she?’
‘Aye. She is. Much better.’
‘Did she ask about me?’
‘She did. She wanted to know how you were and what you were doing. I told her you were fine and looking for a job now.’
James nodded. ‘She’s not dying or anything then?’
‘No, Jamie.’ Eilish placed a hand on his chest. ‘She’s not dying or anything.’
Mary-Anne came out into the hall. ‘I’ll be away now,’ she said. ‘I’ll phone you this evening, Eilish. We can have a natter then.’
When she was gone Eilish picked up her bag and started up the stairs. ‘James, will you be a love and make us some tea?’
