TAKEAWAY TERROR: The DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad series. Case No.8

by Barry Faulkner

  ​‘We don’t want a big one, do we guv? The bigger it is, the more likely to be seen,’ said Gheeta.

  ​Palmer had to agree.

  ‘True. Is this your latest toy?’

  ​‘It’s state of the art, came into the family business last week. Chinese, of course.’

  ​‘Doesn’t matter, if it does the job.’

  ​‘It will do the job, guv. It’s silent, got a range of a thousand meters from the controller, has a precision-adjustable micro camera lens slung underneath which transmits pictures continuously back to a recorder chip in the controller in colour. It has four lithium batteries, with a five-hour flying life.’

  ​She picked up what Palmer took to be a controller similar to the Playstation ones his grandchildren had, only this was a little bigger and had a protruding joystick and an eight-plasma inch screen attached.

  ​‘And this is the magic box that makes it all happen,’ Gheeta continued.

  ​‘How much?’

  ​‘What, guv?’

  ​‘How much would that cost to buy?’

  ​‘Seven hundred quid. Shall I order you one?’

  ​Palmer laughed.

  ‘No way, I was just wondering what Finance would say if we damaged it and had to pay up.’

  ​‘Don’t worry, it’s a sample. They sent three.’

  ​Palmer was astounded.

  ‘Three? Over two grand’s worth of kit for free? No wonder the Chinese are heading for a recession. The only free sample I ever had was an unrequested incontinence pad for men that came through the post through the post.’

  ​‘Did it fit, guv?’

  ​Palmer quelled their laughter.

  ‘All right, that’s enough. Let’s get a squad car and put the drone to the test. I take it the pictures can be sent into Claire and recorded? You never know, we might find something useful for evidence.’

  ​‘All sorted, I’ve programmed our wifi password into the transmitter.’

  She turned to Claire.

  ‘You’ll get the pictures as it happens onto the monitor screen, so when they start coming through click ‘share’ and open a file to accept them.’

  ​‘Okay.’

  They pulled into the same car park Knight and Gheeta had used the day before. Being Sunday it was empty so they were able to set up the drone and the controller without raising any interest, or any inquisitive noses being poked in by passers-by.

  ​Palmer spoke into the comms handset.

  ​‘This is Palmer. Who’s on duty at the scrap yard?’

  ​‘I am Sir, DS Patel. DS Russell was on the night shift and is getting some sleep.’

  ​‘Okay, any signs of life?’

  ​‘No, all quiet. Can’t be totally sure nobody is in there though, as Wellbeck’s Range Rover went in earlier and left about half an hour later. But it’s got reflective windows so I couldn’t count them in and count them out.’

  ​‘Okay. We are going to send up a small drone to take a look at the parts of the yard that we haven’t been able to see from ground level, so don’t be surprised if you see it hovering.’

  ​‘Shouldn’t be able to see it from here, Sir – I am about a hundred yards away, parked off the access road. I can see the entrance but not much else.’

  ​‘That’s fine, I’ll come back to you when we are finished, over and out.’

  He nodded to Gheeta.

  ‘Okay, let’s go.’

  ​‘Right, here we go then. Fasten your seat belts.’

  Gheeta clicked a switch and sat in the back seat of the squad car with the door open, manipulating the two joy sticks.

  ​‘Why two sticks?’

  Palmer was intrigued. Any new technology that could help his squad to do their job was to be embraced, and he liked to keep his non-technical brain in the loop as far as he could.

  ​‘One for direction – that is forward, backwards or sideways – and the other is for up and down.’

  ​‘Right.’

  ​Under her control the drone lifted into the sky – flew above the tall walls that separated the car park from the local houses – and moved silently out of sight towards the Wellbeck’s yard. Gheeta stood up and put the controller and screen on the bonnet of the squad car so they could all see. The picture was clear, bright and in colour as the drone flew steadily over houses and empty streets, until Gheeta held it hovering over the Wellbeck’s yard at about a hundred feet. She rotated the camera as they looked for signs of life.

  ​‘Looks empty,’ said Knight.

  ​Palmer had reservations on that. ‘Somebody could be inside the office, or in the warehouse.’

  ​Gheeta moved the drone down and focused on the warehouse. The doors were closed. She took it back up and directed it along the yard to the front of the office. That door was closed too. She brought it down to about twenty feet and focused on the office. No sign of life, the window blinds down.

  ​‘Get it round the back of the office to the part of the yard we couldn’t see from your button camera yesterday,’ said Palmer.

  ​The drone moved up and over the tiled roof to the rear of the office, where Gheeta hovered it and used the camera to survey the back area. A row of old scrapped lorries of all types were lined up with their cabs against the perimeter wall. She swung the camera round to the back of the office. No windows, just a steel door.

  ​‘Pretty basic, nothing unusual there.’

  ​Gheeta took the drone down to about twenty feet and turned it so that the camera pointed at the backs of the line of lorries, as it travelled along them. Most had been stripped of any saleable parts and rested on bricks.

  ​‘Bit like an elephants’ graveyard,’ Palmer observed.

  ​‘They’re lorries, guv. Elephants have four legs and a trunk – big gray things they are.’

  ​Palmer looked at her with half-closed eyes.

  ‘A figure of speech, sergeant.’

  ​‘Whoa!’

  Knight leant in to the screen.

  ‘Go back.’

  ​She reversed along the line.

  ​‘Stop!’

  Knight pointed to the screen.

  ‘That old removal lorry with the back-loading slope down, can you get a better picture of the inside?’

  ​Gheeta altered the focus and the dim interior of the vehicle became clearer; and the clearer it became, the more into focus came a red Transit van parked inside.

  ​‘Well, there’s our hit-and-run van. I’ll put money on it,’ said Palmer confidently. ‘The clever buggers, what a place to hide it.’

  ​‘Still circumstantial guv, unless we can get in and get Forensics to go over it and match the paintwork with the mopeds’ damage and the tyres with the tracks Reg Frome lifted from Jack Bernard’s crime scene.’

  ​‘Yes, but with these pictures the circumstantial is strong enough for Bateman to get a warrant for a raid, got to be. Take a look at the rest of the… elephants.’

  ​Gheeta turned the drone’s camera to look along the backs of the other lorries.

  ​‘Shit!’ she exclaimed, as the camera turned and Sammy Wellbeck came into view thirty feet away. He was looking straight at the drone, and so was the sawn-off shotgun he was aiming.

  Palmer and Knight held their breath and watched as Gheeta worked the joy sticks manically, zigzagging the drone skywards. They heard two faint blasts of gunshot in the distance. The screen went blank.

  ​‘What’s happened, is it down?’ Palmer asked.

  ​‘No, I still have it responding but no picture. Look up in the sky towards the yard and see if we can see it. It’s at seventy feet and should be coming this way.’

  ​The radio crackled into action as DS Patel reported.

  ​‘Two shotgun blasts from inside the yard. Instructions?’

  ​‘Stay put, Patel. Somebody was inside, spotted our drone and took a pop at it. Hopefully we got it away in one piece. It might cause a bit of a panic, so keep looking in case he or they come out
looking for it. If they do, give us a heads up.’

  ​‘Will do.’

  ​‘There it is!’

  Knight pointed up at the drone as it came towards them, high over the car park. Gheeta brought it down by the car. The camera had a few small holes in the lens and casing where some of Wellbeck’s shot had penetrated it. Palmer picked it up.

  ‘That was a lucky escape – if we hadn’t seen him when we did he’d have had the whole thing down. Come on, let’s get out of here before he comes looking.’

  Back at the Team Room Claire ran the downloaded file on the big screen. She held it at the picture of the Transit inside the removal lorry.

  ​‘That’s got to be our murder weapon, hasn’t it,’ said Palmer. ‘Right size, right colour, and why else would they hide it like that?’

  ​Claire ran the film on to the man with the shotgun.

  ​‘Hello Mr Wellbeck,’ said Knight. ‘I hope you have a firearms certificate for that piece of kit.’

  ​‘No he hasn’t,’ Claire answered. ‘I’ve checked. But Christine Wellbeck has. His application was refused.’

  ​‘I’m surprised he even bothered to apply,’ added Palmer. ‘Most villains don’t really want us to know they’re tooled up.’

  ​DS Patel came on the radio.

  ​‘Patel to base.’

  ​‘Go ahead DS Patel,’ said Claire. ‘The boss is here.’

  ​‘The Range Rover is back and gone inside the yard, and so has a Kia with Marty Chaplin driving and Harry O’Keefe with him. Wellbeck was in the yard all the time, he’s just opened the gates for them.’

  ​Palmer leant forward and spoke into the microphone.

  ‘Okay, when is DS Russell due back?’

  ​‘He’s back now, Sir.’

  ​‘Good, just keep watch then. I get the feeling things might be about to happen. Over.’

  He stepped back and thought for a moment.

  ‘They’re having to make a decision now, aren’t they? They don’t know the drone was ours, so it might well have been the Arifs’; and if it was the Arifs’, what was it doing? I think Wellbeck has called in his team and is deciding what move to make. Harvard and Trent, are you both in position near the takeaway?’

  ​‘Trent here, Sir. Yes, both of us are here. We are parked up about fifty metres down the road from it. It’s all quiet here, few customers going in and out and three mopeds parked outside.’

  ​‘What about the riders?’

  ​‘Inside, somewhere in the back, they’re not in the shop part.’

  ​‘Okay, probably waiting for enough orders to make a delivery ride. Stay sharp, I’ve a feeling that things might go off tonight.’

  ​‘Will do Sir.’

  CHAPTER 18

  Inside the scrap yard office Sammy Wellbeck was pacing the floor. Chaplin and O’Keefe were seated in the comfy seats and Chrissie Wellbeck was behind the counter, silently watching her husband.

  ​‘You really think it was the Arifs?’ she asked.

  ​‘Who else would it be, some kid’s toy gone astray? That was a pro job, it made off like a rocket when it saw me. Whoever was controlling it had a camera and was looking for something.’

  ​Chaplin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘Could have been the police looking for the van?’

  ​‘Police drones are larger, big professional jobs – this one wasn’t a police one, too small. I tell you, it was the fucking Arifs looking for a way in to torch the place.’

  ​‘So what are we going to do then?’ said O’Keefe, spoiling for a fight as usual. ‘Why not go and give ‘em a hiding at the takeaway. Hit them before they can hit us?’

  ​Wellbeck nodded.

  ‘That is exactly what we are going to do Harry. Attack is the best kind of defence. Those bastards can have another think if they think they are going to walk in here and take our turf.’

  ​‘Hang on, Sammy!’ said Chrissie, holding up her hands. ‘You’ll need a few extra bodies to go and bust up that place, and you’ll need to do a proper job or we’ll have a war going on and on.’

  ​‘So? If they want a war they’ll have a war.’

  Sammy was not seeing the whole picture. Chrissie was.

  ​‘It’s not what they want Sammy, it’s what we want. One hit that finishes everything off.’

  ​‘I’ll get a big team together with a few shooters.’

  ​‘No you won’t, you’ll do nothing of the sort. You’ll give Ronny Robards a ring, that’s what you’ll do. One big hit Sammy, one big hit.’

  ​Marty Chaplin’s heart sank. Why is it that when things are going so well and the water’s nice and calm, somebody throws in a fucking brick?

  The evening started off quietly. Palmer sent out for some sandwiches for the team, while Gheeta went up to the fifth floor. Being the executive floor – the Assistant Commissioners and Home Office Liaison and Administration Staff floor – it had an ‘executive’ coffee machine that dispensed a brew that vaguely resembled coffee, whereas the machine on Palmer’s floor dispensed a brew that totally resembled dishwater.

  ​They sat quietly eating and listening to the Met’s radio chatter. Palmer checked his watch: nine o’clock.

  ​‘Give it another hour and then I think we’ll call it a night if nothing happens. I’m surprised, I would have thought the drone episode would have forced Wellbeck’s hand. I’ve got Mrs P.’s home-made steak and kidney pie waiting at home.’

  ​‘I thought you were going vegan?’ said Gheeta with raised eyebrows.

  ​‘I did. Mrs P. said I was putting on weight, and vegan was the answer. I did it for a week.’

  ​‘A week? You’re not going to lose anything in a week, guv.’

  ​‘I did. A week on a vegan diet and I lost the will to live.’

  ​The radio spoke.

  ​‘DS Russell, come in base.’

  ​‘Go ahead Russell,’ Claire answered.

  ​‘The red van has left the yard. O’Keefe is driving and Wellbeck’s with him.’

  ​Palmer put down his half-eaten sandwich.

  ‘Here we go.’

  He took the mic.

  ‘Palmer here, Russell. Tail it, I think it’s probably going to the takeaway. Are Chaplin and Chrissie Wellbeck still inside the yard?

  ​‘Yes, they opened and shut the gates for the van.’

  ​‘Okay, out.’

  He gave the mic back to Claire.

  ‘Keep all the comms open Claire, so everybody can hear everybody and know what’s happening.’

  He stuck his trilby on his head and put on his coat.

  ‘Come along then, let’s go and see what Wellbeck has in mind.’

  Knight parked the squad car behind Harvard and Trent’s. The takeaway was doing good business, with plenty of punters ordering or picking up meals; several sat in the window seats eating from foil trays or paper cones. The mopeds were parked outside. A delivery lad came out, swinging a plastic carrier with what appeared to be small food boxes inside.

  Palmer peered forward.

  ‘Whatever is in that bag isn’t for eating.’

  The delivery lad put the bag in the pillion box and sped off. Palmer spoke into the radio. ‘Where are you now, Russell?’

  ​‘The van is just turning off the Charing Cross Road to where you are, Sir. We are two cars behind it.’

  ​‘Okay, if the van parks up do the same and keep your eyes open. Tail it if it doesn’t stop.’

  ​The three of them looked towards the Charing Cross Road and saw the red Transit slowly coming down the road.

  ​‘There it is, guv.’

  Gheeta pointed as the van pulled in fifty yards from the takeaway and parked. Its lights went out.

  ​‘What are they up to then?’

  ​‘Could be waiting for the next delivery moped to leave and then follow it and take it out?’ suggested Knight. ’That’s the only way they’d know which ones to hit.’

  ​‘Could be,’ Pa
lmer agreed.

  ​Harvard came on the radio.

  ‘Harvard here. We think we have eyes on the bloke whose mug shot you emailed, Robards. Is that him coming down towards the van from the main road?’

  ​Palmer, Gheeta and Knight squinted into the gloom at the figure in a long fawn coat approaching. It stopped beside the parked Transit. The passenger window lowered and Robards spoke briefly with Wellbeck, before continuing to the takeaway. The glare of the shop lights confirmed it was Robards. He went into the takeaway.

  ​‘What’s he up to?’

  Palmer was worried.

  ‘Knight, get in there with him and keep an eye on him – he might try to dump an incendiary under a table or something. If you have to buy something, get a cone of chips. I’m a bit peckish.’

  ​They all watched as Knight left the car and followed Robards inside. At the counter Robards bought a tray of curried chips and Knight bought a cone. Robards sat in the window seat and started eating. Knight sat further back on a tall stool and did the same. Palmer watched carefully.

  ​‘Don’t eat them all, you greedy bugger.’

  ​‘What’s Robards up to, guv?’ Gheeta asked. She was in uniform so had to stay in the back of the car in the shadows. Palmer had asked her to be in uniform that day so that anybody approaching them earlier in the car park with the drone could be sent away with some explanation about it being police testing equipment.

  Palmer wasn’t sure what Robards was up to. He certainly wouldn’t blow the place up whilst he was inside.

  ‘I think he’s sussing the place out. Probably seeing how much explosive to use to do damage but not bring the whole building down.’

  Gheeta pointed.

  ​‘The van’s on the move.’

  ​The van’s lights were on again and it pulled out from the kerb, drove slowly to the front of the takeaway and pulled up, blocking Palmer’s view.

  ​‘Russell, what’s happening? We haven’t got a clear view now.’

  ​‘Nothing Sir, it’s just seems to be waiting. Hang on… Robards has come out of the takeaway and got in the passenger side. Shall we follow?’

  ​‘Yes, stay with them and let us know where they are heading.’