She still had the pistol in her hand as he rushed to embrace her. She clung to him. “Oh, Jack, thank God you’re safe.”
He thought, ‘Thank God I’m safe?’ but couldn’t speak. The wave of relief and emotion he felt was a new experience to him. He found his voice, a touch hoarse. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course I am, Mister Calder,” she said, her teasing reply almost choking him up.
A deep Irish brogue interrupted them. “Well, Mister and Mrs Calder, if we can break into your date, d’ye mind if we crack on now? There’s more work to be done yet y’know.”
Jules appeared alongside Malky. “You okay, May-Ling?”
“I’m good to go. What’s next?”
“We’ve a farmhouse situation to take care of, but I think you should rest up and wait for us to get back from that.”
Her reply shocked even Jack. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jules? Now I’m here, I’m in.” The three men laughed and shook their heads. They could recall seldom, if ever, hearing her curse. Jules sensed she had figured out why Jack wasn’t the first one through the door on her level. Both he and May-Ling were also aware that to keep Jack fully switched on operationally this evening, her husband would want her in full sight after getting her back.
Jules had already planned ahead for the next issue. “Jack, you lead the phase at the farmhouse. May-Ling partners you along with myself. You can brief her on the way there. Her kit’s in the van.” Malky marvelled yet again at how far forward his commander had been able to think, but more particularly the psychology, allowing Jack to take back his persona as a leader and a fighting machine as well as a protector of the woman he loved.
Jules spoke again. “Malky, make sure the guys Guna took down outside are brought back into the building. Find out where the telephone wires are in here and cut them. If anyone calls from the farm, they’ll just think there’s a connection problem.
Detail, detail, detail.
CHAPTER 32
The initial awkwardness lasted only a few minutes. Kaplani greeted Ching Mak with a formality bordering on graciousness as he stepped out of the limo. “I’m so pleased you could come to meet with us. I’m Jozef Kaplani. You’ve already met my lieutenant, Yurev. My apologies for not being present in London for the meeting with you, but be assured he’s told me only good things about you and Mister Parker.”
Any surprise Ching and Parker may have felt at realising that Kaplani, and not Yurev, was the top honcho was well disguised.
“I’m pleased to be here, Jozef. Perhaps past circumstance hasn’t been kind to us in forming an understanding, but I look forward to this evening’s discussions and trust we can work out how to change that. Please call me Mak,” said Ching.
“Let’s move ahead accordingly, Mak. In the businesses we run, I understand your need for caution, including the presence of your men. As you’ll note, I’ve similar companions around me. May I suggest these men pair up to stand guard with us? If we start like this, the idea of cooperation gets off on a good footing, no?”
Charlie Parker nodded and Ching responded, “Okay with me. How do you wish to proceed? You have an agenda, I’m sure?”
“Yes, I do. First, may I show you the merchandise we’re capable of bringing to the party? If we agree, I propose we work out a means of monitoring joint product flow, perhaps even combine our sources for the goods. My sense is we can make one and one add up to more than two, don’t you think?”
“All things are possible if the intention is good,” replied Ching. “Does your agenda include talking about the common threat we seem to be facing right now? Some of our line people on both sides are still being targeted.” For a moment the silence cooled the atmosphere as Ching’s words hung in the air. No direct responsibility for the dealers’ deaths on each side, but Kaplani and Ching knew the sensitivity, as neither could be certain who had killed their men.
“Yes, it does, Mak. May I show you and Mister Parker downstairs to where we can discuss our issues privately? The product is also stored down there.” Kaplani guided his two main guests into the farmhouse. The deceptively large layout had several rooms spreading out from a generous open living area in the centre. Against the back wall a huge unlit fireplace was stacked with logs. The host walked across to the far end of the room. Yurev preceded his boss by a couple of paces and opened a heavy, iron-strapped door off to the side. Parker paused.
Kaplani put his hand on his shoulder. “Please relax, Mister Parker. The only persons coming down here are you, Mak, Yurev and myself.” Ching Mak stepped forward as a sign he was comfortable and his lawyer followed him. The door swung open to reveal a set of stone steps leading down about twelve feet from the ground level. An enormous basement area supported with pillars housed a dining table with seating comfortable for around fifteen people. At one side of the room a billiard table stood, dressed with a grey cloth sheet. On top of the sheet sat tightly stacked bundles covered in black plastic wrapping. Charlie Parker had never seen drugs in bulk, nor even in small doses apart from his medicines, but Ching Mak recognised the unmistakable merchandise of the heroin trade.
“Mak, would you care to choose a few random bundles from anywhere in this?” said Kaplani. “Yurev will open them for you to see these are for real.”
Ching replied immediately, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take your word for now. Others’ll do the checking for us both, as and when we combine our resources.”
Honour among thieves. A dangerous concept, thought Parker.
Brewed coffee, soft drinks, and bottled water spread across the table along with ample finger food. No notepads or writing material in sight. When bosses meet, agreements are seldom made on paper.
“Perhaps we should get down to business, Mak?” Kaplani pointed toward the chairs at one end of the dining table. The guests sat together opposite their intended new partner and his second in command. A long night loomed.
***
The luminous dial on his wristwatch told Manning midnight had come and gone. Even at this distance, through the binoculars he could tell the guards were relaxed, some walking around smoking, others talking amongst themselves. A few leaned against the walls and the cars, passing the hours with their new acquaintances. These boys didn’t expect any threat from outside of the farmhouse.
He decided to move in for a closer look. Manning eased out of the car, checked the machine pistol, and with the spyglasses slung around his neck began a long, slow circuit of the area to get nearer to the building. Thick bushes coupled with the dry night and heavy cloud cover made his approach easier. Fifty metres from the side of the house he heard the men’s voices as they chatted. Close enough for now, he decided. Some of the men moved in and out of the farmhouse with no sign of Ching or Parker. They must be in a separate room from their internal guards. He loosened the button on his weapon holster, not expecting to be involved in any confrontation, but ready, just in case. The suspended Head of Serious Crimes was well out of his comfort zone. Fuck it, I’ve come this far, let’s see where it goes from here. He settled down in the new observation spot and prepared to do what good detectives do best…wait and watch.
***
Detail, detail, detail.
The telephone lines had been severed as commanded, the rope ladder and abseiling ropes recovered and the bodies brought inside the old hotel. The room where May-Ling had been held was wiped to leave no trace of her fingerprints. Guna and his colleague reported very little noise audible outside as the assault progressed. The thick walls of these old buildings let nothing out.
At this early hour, nobody came running to discover what was going on. By the time the local authorities investigated, no physical evidence would point toward Jules Townsend and his squad. The cops could make of things as they wished. The bodies were probably all suspected criminals, the bullets common standard issue across the world, although the shattered glass photograph wouldn’t register as a lethal weapon. A double-check of the premises revealed no cache of dr
ugs. The second phase of the night’s operation lay ahead.
***
The few hours already spent in discussion around the dining table surfaced a surprising amount of issues that worked to the common benefit of Ching and Kaplani. Each knew the mistrust between them would not disappear quickly, but the seeds of unity became evident. Charlie Parker watched, partly with the eye of an outsider and partly with his new status as an integral member of the Chinaman’s insider coterie. His legal mind cottoned on very rapidly to the basic fact that, despite being criminals, both these guys ran excellent businesses. Ultimately their purpose was to make money, lots of money.
Part of Parker’s courtroom armoury included a finely honed instinct for reading body language. As the evening progressed, he picked up on Kaplani’s and Ching’s unconscious signals of growing comfort levels with each other. Yurev also became affected, but less so than the two principals. Understandable, he thought. Yurev’s his shield. The same role Ching expects of me.
Guarded exchanges about the respective operational strengths and resources thus far indicated the basis for a working arrangement between the parties. Then Kaplani made a comment which gave Parker an inkling of the European’s incisive decision-making quality.
“Mak, we’ve a long way to go to find a common trust. Let’s not kid ourselves. But I’m prepared to work with you if you can get comfortable with me. You’ve shown me a network from Asia which is admirable. Our sources are mainly through Istanbul. We partner with Ahmed Fadi there. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?”
Ching nodded. Fadi, the largest mover of drugs throughout the Near East, also had tentacles across most of the Far East and Australia. Every law enforcement agency in the world knew the name, but strangely, no clear photographs had ever been produced of the man. He operated in the deeper shadows of a filthy global trade, his name undoubtedly an alias, his influence on the heroin market second to none.
“I’d like to take you with me to Istanbul to meet him,” said Kaplani. “Together we would have a formidable business, far in excess of each of our separate operations. What do you think?” He paused and waited for Ching to respond.
Ching took a moment or two to reply. “I share your view we can work together, Jozef. Charlie and I will go with you to Istanbul,” he said, gesturing to Parker, who pursed his lips and moved his head in agreement. “From our side, we have an endless supply of girls from Asia for the other business. Let me contribute them to the pot.”
Kaplani smiled. “You’re a good businessman, my friend. All things are tradable, eh?” He offered more coffee as he spoke. “Something a little stronger? Vodka, brandy, whisky?” he added, waving his hand at a collection of bottles on a smaller table at the side of the room.
“Brandy. With ice, thanks.”
Yurev rose to get the drinks. “Charlie? How about you,” asked the lieutenant.
“I don’t drink alcohol,” replied the lawyer, choosing not to explain the medical reasons for the abstention. “I’ll stick with coffee.”
Yurev brought glasses to the table and poured generous measures of vodka for his boss and himself and filled one with ice for Ching before topping it with brandy, the way Asians preferred to drink it.
“A toast,” said Kaplani, rising to his feet. “To our new partnership!” And he tapped glasses with Ching and Yurev.
“To our new partnership!” responded Ching.
They sat down and Kaplani changed the subject matter. “Perhaps we can discuss the common threat. You gave Yurev a name in London. We did a little something about that already, but it seems maybe a bigger solution is needed?”
“Yes. I think so.”
Charlie Parker realised he was teetering on the brink of a line once crossed never to be retraced. The agenda had switched expressly to murder.
***
The same cover of darkness welcomed by Paul Manning also offered a bonus for the assault team. Jack took over as pivot commander for the farmhouse operation. Everything from eight hundred metres in denoted a silent-signal area. May-Ling was well briefed on the journey and changed into black night fatigues. Her husband split the group into twos and threes so everyone had at least one back-up partner. All these guys had done this dozens of times in the past. Eight hundred metres as close as they needed to come with their two vehicles, Jack signalled each grouping to move forward, fanning out in familiar pincer engagement mode. Exactly seven minutes later, the first wave launched. Three sets of outside perimeter guards were taken down silently as the kukri knives did their work. Neither the Chinese nor the Europeans heard the Gurkhas ghost up to them, stifling any last-second awareness as they slashed their throats in smooth movements.
From his vantage point fifty metres from the edge of the building Paul Manning saw the first two guards drop to the ground with a couple of shadowy figures beside them. He trained the field glasses on them and let out a low whistle. Moments later, on the far side from the initial hit another pair dropped, again with dark apparitions alongside. He drew his gun and moved on the farmhouse, crouching on a steady half-walk. Reaching the corner where the first two bodies fell, he pressed his back against the wall and peered around to the front. Two larger figures and one slimmer person moved toward a set of four guards clustered around some parked vehicles. One of them is a woman! He made the connection instantly. May-Ling! I knew it! I fucking knew it! So, the other guys must be…
His thoughts were interrupted as the action unfolded ahead of him. One of the intended targets glanced in the direction of the small clearing as the attacking trio advanced with their knives at the ready. He screamed in fright, unable to prevent his death. Split seconds too late to use the blades, the attackers utilised the machine pistols. The silenced bullets zipped into the group and they slumped lifeless to the ground, one of them banging across the hood of the car beside him. Ten metres away Manning’s eye caught the swift arm movement of another guard stepping out from the bushes opposite with a gun raised, pointing at one of the attack squad. His SCO 19 training instincts went into overdrive.
“Look out,” he yelled and fired four rapid rounds into the sentry causing his body to reel backward from the force of the shots. The guard’s would-be target spun round to locate where the burst had come from. Manning had the presence of mind to raise his arms in non-attack position. He had no desire to be killed by ‘friendly fire’. The man whose life he’d saved reached him instantly.
“I should ask you what the fuck you’re doing here, Paul,” said Jules Townsend. “With the racket you’ve made with your gun, we’ve lost the surprise we had. I presume you’re with us?”
“I’m with you. There’s about thirty of them inside, including Ching Mak and Charlie Parker.”
“This is take-down time, Paul. We’re going black. You okay with that? If not, back away now.”
“Okay with me.”
“Stay close to me and my lads won’t take you out.”
“Got it.”
The gunfire from Manning’s pistol had alerted the internal guards. Indiscriminate firing from inside started. Glass shattered outward as they blasted at their unseen attackers. The fusillades directed straight ahead, harmlessly away from the attack team. Unwittingly this contributed to their demise. It was a simple action to lob smoke grenades through the newly-created openings. Subtlety was no longer needed. Jack’s men approached from the sides of the windows on opposing ends of the building. The AK47s amounted to too much firepower for those inside. Each member of the ISP squad unloaded and stepped back as a partner filled the gap, maintaining a deadly stream of fire. Silence settled after a couple of minutes. From close to the main door, Jack sighted Brad and Zeb at each end corner of the front of the building. They in turn had a clear view of Johan and Guna at the side windows. Jack dropped his arm with his thumb extended. Clean-up time. Brad and Zeb copied his signal to Jules and Guna who each lobbed in another stun grenade. These would immobilise anyone else alive inside. Twenty seconds later in criss-cross style they entered the fa
rmhouse. The clearing smoke revealed the extent of the assault. Bodies were strewn across the bloodied carpets, some behind seats and against the walls. The damage done by the AK47s was comprehensive. Bullets which hadn’t struck people left gorged chunks in the furniture and stonework. No-one inside survived.
“Where’s Ching and Parker?” asked Malky. “They’re not among this lot.”
“They were present earlier. I followed them from the airport and watched them come in. Nobody’s left since I’ve been here,” said Manning.
“Since you’ve been here,” repeated Jack. “And just what the hell are you doing here?”
“Easy, Jack. Later,” Jules intervened. “For the moment he’s with us. Explanations can wait.”
VENGEANCE WEARS BLACK (Jack Calder Crime Series #2) Page 15
