“Near the crossway at the end of the street, a cream-coloured van braked beside this Asian looking gentleman. Two men jumped out of its rear with guns pointing at him. It all happened so quickly. They didn’t strike him. A few seconds later he got into the back with them and they sped off toward the High Street, like something from a film set.”
“How were they dressed? The man and the others from the van?”
“The gentleman wore a sweatshirt, with running trainers, I think they’re called, a grey top and those baggy jogging things, also grey. The other men both had dark jackets, black or navy blue. And jeans or denims, also dark coloured. I didn’t sight the driver.”
“Anybody else in the vicinity? Any shouting?”
“No. No shouting. That’s the astonishing thing, officer; I believe I’m the only witness. If we’d been as far along as the crossway, I’m sure others would’ve been around, near the feeder road toward the station.”
“You said you got the number of the vehicle? Did you write it down?”
“No need. I’m well used to numbers, and this one was fairly straight forward, EZ 2929, a Toyota.”
“And the men from the van, were they also Asian?”
“From where I stood, yes, their faces weren’t covered. Definitely Asian.”
“You called the police on your mobile phone, correct?”
“Correct. I was asked to come here, so I did so. I rang my office too, of course, as they would’ve been expecting me as usual this morning.”
“I understand, sir. Is there anything else that comes to mind, anything, even it if seems unimportant?”
“No. No, I think we’ve covered the lot, officer. What happens next?”
“Please bear with us, Mister Gamley. We’ll have a statement typed up for your signature. You’ve been most helpful. We’re grateful to you.”
The interviewer stepped across to his computer to type up the statement. An hour and a half had elapsed since the incident, but so far no calls received regarding what, on its face, was a daylight kidnapping at gunpoint. He’d put out an alert for the van, but would be surprised if it was anything other than stolen. The officer didn’t doubt Percy Gamley was telling the truth, and not one of the crackpot attention-seeking witnesses of phantom crimes who occasionally wandered in.
***
George Chu’s early morning exercise walk had only started when the grab took place. The guns made resisting his captors impossible. A few minutes after getting into the van it stopped and he was ordered to get out next to a piece of dump wasteland. He expected to be killed on the spot, but instead his abductors led him to another black transit with two small smudged rear panes for windows. The swap-over took seconds. They drove away, leaving the first vehicle in flames. The petrol poured over it ensured no trace of fingerprints for later forensic examination.
Chu lived alone, a widower for the past seven years. He didn’t keep serving help at home, preferring to do for himself in his own way. His secretary was accustomed to his frequent absences, as he often had meetings or functions away from the office, sometimes for a day or two without advising her. However, her boss didn’t show for a diarised appointment at one-thirty in the afternoon. George Chu never came late for meetings. An hour later, with growing anxiety she began to telephone some of his acquaintances where she thought he might be. At four o’clock she spoke to his deputy and told him George hadn’t shown up, and hadn’t called in to her. He agreed to call round at his house later in the evening, a ten minute drive from his own place. The thought of calling the police never occurred to either of them.
The following morning, May-Ling Calder rang Chu’s secretary, looking to tag a space in his diary when she could come to visit him again. She wanted to return the original documents to him personally as agreed, without telling his assistant the real reason for calling on him, thereby honouring the confidence. The secretary apologised, with the response her boss was temporarily unavailable for appointments, but she would revert when he returned to the office. May-Ling picked up immediately the tautness in the assistant’s voice and switched to speaking to her in their native Cantonese.
“Sister, is something wrong with Mister Chu? Is he unwell? He’s a dear family friend. What’s up?”
The girl’s professional veneer folded. Here was someone as concerned as she about her chief’s disappearance. The tension she’d felt since the previous afternoon was becoming unbearable, and May-Ling Calder wasn’t the police.
“Oh, Ma’am Calder, I’m afraid something’s happened to him. He didn’t come in yesterday, and he missed an afternoon appointment. He’s never done that in all the five years I’ve worked with him. No-one’s seen him, and he wasn’t at his home last night when we checked. He’s not answering his cell phone and I’m lost what to do next. He’d never want us to involve the authorities, but I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” May-Ling sensed the girl was close to crying. She tried to calm her, but her own stomach tightened as the conversation unfolded.
“Well, thank you for telling me this. Listen, sister, sometimes people go off for a day or so for personal reasons we don’t find out about until much later. I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon. If you get any further news, please call me. You have my mobile number with you.”
“Thank you, Ma’am Calder. Of course I’ll ring you when I hear anything.”
May-Ling cradled the telephone knowing George Chu was in trouble. The conventional thing to do meant calling the police. Somehow, right now, that didn’t sit well with her. Better to share this with the rest of the ISP guys. Maybe they’d have some answers.
CHAPTER 19
The Interpol surveillance squad in Istanbul was well practised in tracking drug movements in the city. Dependence on local law enforcement support had long since lapsed into a cosmetic veneer, and rarely resulted in direct arrests. Regular bribe money payments to the police hierarchy ensured none of the big players lacked early warning of any major moves against them. Benoit had placed his field men on high alert around Kaplani’s warehouse. Instructions were clear. Observe and report. No intervention.
Jozef had agreed with Yurev the shipment would be split into four small convoys. The first two to traverse Romania and up into southern Poland. The remaining two to travel through Bulgaria, Serbia and Slovakia to rendezvous at the compound in Wieliczka. Kaplani’s operations in each of these countries provided an extra layer of protection. With stops, the journey would take no more than two and a half days to drive the twelve hundred or so kilometres from the Turkish port to the villa.
It wasn’t difficult for the observers to recognise the change of activity at the warehouse. During the course of the afternoon, a succession of nondescript vehicles entered the building. A couple of vans and two trucks disappeared behind the large doors which were drawn shut. After a wait of twelve hours, one carrier emerged to be joined by two cars with three men in each. The first convoy was on its way. Twelve hours later they clocked the same routine with the next shipment. The third and fourth followed at similar intervals.
Marcel called Jules. “The weather has shifted from Turkey as forecast, my friend. Time to go look at your property soon.”
“Most likely in four or five days, thanks,” replied Jules. “I’ll advise you in advance if we require any weather-proofing protection.”
“My pleasure, sir. My pleasure.”
***
Although he was puzzled as to why he’d been taken, George Chu had no doubt it was the Chings’ doing. The building was the same one he’d given a clear credit rating for a year or two previously. He was sitting on a rattan chair in a medium sized ante-room leading off to a line of small offices. From the piled merchandise and crates they’d passed on the way in, the rest of the premises contained the working depot. The three men from the van were the only personnel around.
So far, he’d not been physically assaulted or rough handled, but he sensed that would change if he offered any resistance.
“What the f
uck’s going on?” he started.
The larger of the men replied, “You’ll find out soon enough. Mister Ching would like a friendly word, is all.”
“Where is Ching Mak?”
“At your service, George,” came the high nasal twang from the Chinese boss. He appeared through the doorway and walked casually across to take the seat a few feet away from him. “Thank you for accepting my invitation for a morning chat. It’s always nice to catch up with old friends, isn’t it?”
“Since when was it fashionable to send invites with guns, Mak. You know where my office is. What the hell is this?”
“Always straight to the point. Good old George. So let me respond in kind. You’ll have noticed some friends of mine have suffered a little disruption in their businesses in the past few days. They’re very upset about that. Very upset. Now, a tiny whisper is doing the rounds you’ve been seeing a woman from a company called ISP. The whisper suggests a connection with the young lady and the attacks on my friends’ businesses. All very innocent, I’m sure, George, so why don’t you tell me what the fuck’s going on?” The last sentence hung in the air with heavy menace.
Chu got the connection immediately. How did they know about May-Ling?
“She’s looking for security contracts with Chinese companies in London,” he improvised. “They cover business throughout Asia, including China and Hong Kong. She’s Cantonese herself and I’m chairman of the association. That’s all. What else did you expect?”
“My whisper tells me she met you before and just after the fire bombs, George. That rings alarm bells with my friends. Coincidence maybe, but they don’t think so.”
“You’re crazy, Mak. Whatever you and your family get involved in is your affair. It doesn’t concern me. Our meeting was purely business, nothing else.”
“I didn’t expect you to say anything different. But my friends are suggesting we keep you here for a little while to think it over. In the meantime, maybe we should set up another meeting for you with Ms May-Ling Calder in a day or two. Perhaps she can be, shall we say, persuaded, to throw some more light on the matter together with you?”
Chu felt a chill. This bastard was capable of anything. Bringing May-Ling to this warehouse would end in only one way for him and for her.
“That would serve nothing. I told you, we discussed contracts, nothing else.”
“Well, time’ll tell. My men here’ll make sure your comforts are looked after. Have another think, George. You could save us all a lot of time and unpleasantness. Now, I’ve some other business to attend to, so, until later, my friend.” He rose and left the room. George Chu’s mind began to race.
CHAPTER 20
Unlike the previous visit, Paul Manning had arranged for this second meeting in the comfortable surroundings of his own office. Bob Granger accompanied him again, dispensing with the tape recording this time around.
“Let’s see if an informal chat can produce anything more informative,” he’d instructed the DCI.
The secretary ushered in Jules Townsend and Jack Calder, but instead of May-Ling, Donnie Mullen completed the trio. Manning hadn’t expected the former policeman and his initial surprise didn’t go unnoticed.
“Thought it might help to have an old Met copper alongside, perhaps advise my colleagues how best to assist you, Paul?”
Manning spread his hands in an open gesture, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. He couldn’t ask Donnie to leave the room. Maybe as well he stayed anyway, and get his message across to all of them. He took the direct approach.
“I’m told you were out of the country for the past few days, Jules.” With Mullen present there was no mileage in the sarcastic ‘Mister’ he’d used before. “Do you want to tell us where you went?”
“Why should our movements be of interest to you, Paul? How does our travel information help your enquiries?” asked Jules.
“I’m sure you’ve read the newspapers and seen the television coverage, two nights ago a series of bombings resulted in multiple murder and arson in various sites across Europe. The attacks on premises in the UK a week ago were similar. We believe the owners of the bombed restaurant you visited last weekend are also the owners of the places firebombed here. Call me a suspicious man if you like; it smells a bit to me.”
Donnie made to reply, but his boss held up his hand to stop him and responded instead. “First of all, you may or not be aware our business covers most of the globe, including Europe and Asia. We’ve a bunch of new clients whose contracts we value greatly. They’re located in Stuttgart and Venice to be precise. We met with them on routine client calls and can supply the itineraries for those if necessary. However, I hardly fathom how our coincidental presence in the Peking Garden relates even remotely to these other incidents you’re talking about. Do you think we’re involved in any of this?”
“I didn’t say you were. But let me put it this way. The hits in England were simple enough; a modest degree of planning would’ve achieved them. What I’m hearing from the continent showed a different level of expertise altogether. Professional, I’d call them. Now, as far as my knowledge goes, I’m not aware of anyone on the criminal radar who’s capable of executing an operation on that scale.”
Jack leant forward and stared at Manning. “And you think guys like us would fit the bill, huh? Far too simple if you ask me, Paul. We’re a commercial operation. We don’t need to do the kind of stuff you’re talking about. By the way, have you managed to find any leads yet on the bastards who killed our pal? Shouldn’t you be hunting them down instead of some wild goose chase like this?”
Manning resisted the bait and replied calmly, “Our people are still working on that. When we’ve something reliable, you’ll be the first to know.”
Jack’s look said it all. Yeah, sure.
The silence hung in the air for a few seconds until Donnie intervened, playing peacemaker. “Paul, I know you’re doing your job. I’ve been in the same position myself many times. My guys here have no intention of being obstructive, but there’s nothing we can add to what your boys have already. Believe me, if we could help, we would.”
“I guess so, Donnie. Thanks for coming in.” He came around his desk and shook hands with Mullen, but noticeably not with the two others.
The door closed behind them as Bob Granger raised an eyebrow to Manning. “Well? What do you think?”
“They’re lying through their teeth, is what I think,” he growled. “The way these hits went down had their stamp all over them as sure as hell. There’s a tie-in somewhere. Sooner or later we’ll find it. When we do, let’s see how Mister Townsend squirms out of it then.” The last sentence was a venomous whisper to himself, but not lost on DCI Granger.
***
The Chief of Police in Warsaw was mildly surprised on two counts. With the regular retainer not due for another couple of weeks, and usually delivered by one of Kaplani’s lower level thugs, to be sitting here sharing mid-morning coffee with Yurev in one of Warsaw’s many indistinguishable coffee houses was a departure from the norm. It quickly became clear this wasn’t the usual bribe delivery.
“We need to find out a bit more about the two guys who had the unfortunate accident at the Hotel Kossak, Tomasz,” Yurev began. “They never told us who sent them, and I can’t recall the newspapers carrying the story afterwards. Sort of strange, eh?”
“It can be bad for tourism if such accidents get hyped in the press, Yurev. Part of our job is to help keep things manageable around here.” The Chief of Police bit into his pastry, brushing casually to remove the crumbs dropping on to his shirt. He’d seen the reports of the previous day’s attacks in Europe, and didn’t doubt these were on Kaplani’s locations. “The dead men were taken out of our hands locally in Krakow, I mean physically, just taken away.”
“What the fuck? You’re saying somebody else took over from your jurisdiction on murders down in Krakow?” In any other circumstance, Yurev’s response would have been direct incrimination, but th
is was Kaplani’s playground. The rules were different. Large amounts of bribe money different. “Who took them away, Tomasz? Who were they working for?”
The policeman popped the last piece of the pastry into his mouth and leant forward. The coffee shop was deserted apart from the two of them, but he dropped his voice to a half whisper. “As usual you never heard this from me. Your friends were doing some research work with Interpol. You didn’t get a call from us because you weren’t mentioned on their watch list. Interpol told us about their presence but not their assignment. Why they didn’t trust us with that I can’t imagine.” The irony was not lost on Yurev.
“Fucking Interpol? Does Interpol firebomb their targets? I don’t think so.” Now Tomasz had confirmation it was indeed Kaplani’s operations that had been blitzed.
“No they don’t. You’re right. It doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe somebody else has an issue to settle?”
“Maybe. Meantime, your package will be here at the end of the month. There’ll be a little extra thanks.” They rose from the table and Yurev left enough money to cover the check. They parted without a handshake. On the journey back to Wieliczka, the policeman’s words twisted in Yurev’s head. Interpol? Fucking Interpol? That’s all we bloody well need. By the time he reached the compound a couple of hours later, he had formulated his advice for Jozef.
Kaplani draped along a sofa in his sitting room, one shoeless foot perched on the coffee table.
“We’re facing a whole different threat, Jozef. The Chinese are one thing, and we’ll handle whatever they try with us, but Interpol can track across countries, in every place we operate. They’re more difficult to predict, because they’re invisible when they want to be. So far, we’ve set ourselves up with legitimate site operations, no problems. Paperwork, licences and all of that shit are okay. But there’s a limit to how much local cover we can buy in terms of the cops and customs people. We’re going to have to get even more clever.”
VENGEANCE WEARS BLACK (Jack Calder Crime Series #2) Page 8
