Walk On By: DI Ted Darling Book 7

by L M Krier

  He set the alarm on his mobile phone and put it on the side table next to the bed. Then he slipped cautiously under the duvet, trying to make enough room for himself without waking Trev. It was certainly easier without having to navigate his way between six cats as well. Trev stirred only slightly before burrowing down further under the duvet with a contented sigh.

  Ted closed his eyes and managed to sleep fitfully. It seemed no time at all before he was snapped awake by the muted buzzing and flashing lights of his mobile phone. He planted a gentle kiss on the back of Trev’s head, the only part visible above the bedclothes, then got soundlessly to his feet to start getting ready.

  He was glad Trev was still asleep. He would need to dig his shoulder holster out from the back of the wardrobe’s top shelf. That was going to take some explaining if Trev happened to see it. He opted for his poplin field jacket rather than his suit. He didn’t want the loaded holster to be bulky and noticeable.

  He had a shower then started on some of the remedies which had been recommended, gargling with aspirin, then going downstairs to make hot lemon and honey. Whilst he was waiting for the kettle to boil, he scooped a spoonful of honey out of the pot and sucked on it greedily. He was sure he’d heard somewhere that opera singers took honey to help their throats.

  He scribbled a note to let Trev know he was going back to work and had no idea what time he’d be back. Unusually for him, he finished it off with ‘Love you xxx’. Then he drove by the station to pick up his service vehicle before heading out to Ringway.

  The pre-op briefing was taking place in a police control room at the airport. The same officers as earlier were all there, some of them looking as if they envied Ted the short break he’d taken, although they understood that he, more than any of them, would need his wits about him. There was fresh, hot coffee, which smelt decent enough, and a plate of sandwiches on a side table.

  Marston was, as ever, in his element, directing operations. Ted had to concede that he was good at that aspect of his job. Personnel management skills were not something he seemed to bother with, however. He had a diagram of the seating plan of the type of aircraft on which Kateb had booked his flight. As soon as Ted arrived, he went straight into his description of how things would unfold, as long as everything went according to plan and there were no surprises in store for them.

  ‘Kateb’s booked a window seat here, on the wing,’ he jabbed a pointer at the diagram. Ted wondered fleetingly if he thought any of those present might not know what a wing was, without his guidance, but he kept quiet, his face neutral. ‘The airline has freed up the two seats next to his. As you can see, on this aircraft, the seating is arranged in two lots of three, one on each side of the aisle. Luckily for us, the flight is not completely full.

  ‘As is often the case with these budget airlines, the turnaround time between this plane arriving, being cleaned and refuelled and sent back on its way to Paris, is very short. We’ve therefore arranged for DCI Darling to go on as the cleaners are finishing off and before any of the other passengers start to board.’

  ‘What if Kateb is watching from the gate and gets suspicious at seeing someone boarding early?’ Ted asked. His voice was still weak but at least his throat wasn’t quite as sore after all his ministrations.

  ‘We already have that covered. You’ll be taken to the steps in a wheelchair, by a member of the airport security staff, who will then assist you on board. Perhaps if you could limp convincingly, or something? Then if anyone is watching, you’re a disabled passenger and it’s not unusual for such people to be boarded before anyone else.

  ‘Now, I know this type of work is more in your area of expertise than perhaps any of us,’ Marston couldn’t quite keep the grudging note out of his voice, ‘but I do want to stress one thing. The last thing we want to happen is for you to have to produce a gun and frighten the living daylights out of the rest of the passengers on board. It’s for that reason I would have preferred uniformed officers, perhaps with Tasers. But I accept that would also have involved risks. So we are in your hands, DCI Darling, for a successful outcome. Do you have any questions?’

  ‘A couple, sir. Who knows I’m a police officer under cover?’

  ‘Just in case of anyone seeing your weapon, we’ve had to inform some of the airport security staff, those who will have direct contact with you, as well as the flight and cabin crew of the aircraft you will be boarding.’

  Ted addressed the ACC as he posed his next question.

  ‘And are we happy about the risk of leaks from any of those sources to Kateb or anyone he might be in contact with?’

  ‘CCU have not yet completed all their enquiries but we are as happy as we can be, between us, that the source of the previous leak was internal, within our force, and that those likely to be behind it have been kept out of this phase of the operation.’

  Ted nodded and had a drink from the bottle of water which was next to his seat. He wondered if his Super had made arrangements for those, as he saw there were plenty on the table.

  ‘The next thing is, at the moment I can’t see a way to get a pair of handcuffs on board, without that being very obvious.’

  ‘Already been thought of and sorted,’ Marston put in smugly. ‘We’ve arranged one of those carry-on meals for you, in a brown paper bag. The handcuffs will be underneath a sandwich. If you keep the bag handy, you should be able to access them easily enough.’

  ‘Right, sir. Nothing with mustard for me, though, please.’

  There were some smiles at Ted’s attempt at humour, although Marston was clearly not impressed.

  ‘And there’s plenty of surveillance in place, so we know if and when Kateb is on the way?’

  ‘All of that has also been anticipated and organised, I can assure you, DCI Darling.’ Marston again, showing his impatience. ‘We’ve slightly upped the number of armed officers on duty, though not enough for it to be suspicious, and there are plenty of plain clothes officers also dotted about.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. And, excuse me if this sounds as if I’m telling anyone how to do their job, but has it been double checked that Kateb is not, in fact, booked on to another flight leaving today? Perhaps one from another terminal? Because if it was me, I’d want a belt and braces. I’d want to do a thorough recce of Terminal One and then, if I didn’t like what I saw, I’d want to go to another terminal and slip away that way.’

  ‘Good call, Ted,’ the ACC said appreciatively. ‘We’ve got the railway station, the bus stops and the taxi ranks covered, but it’s certainly worth checking other airlines. Mr Marston?’

  Ted could see from the furious look on Marston’s face that he’d been caught flat-footed.

  ‘The APW is still in force, of course, sir, and should be covering that, but I’ll see that someone follows it up to be doubly sure.’

  The ACC leaned back in his seat and looked at Ted.

  ‘So now we wait, and hope that the flight inbound isn’t delayed so long it starts to make Kateb jumpy. If he shows up at all. Then it’s all down to you, Ted.’

  It felt strange to be carrying a handgun again operationally, for the first time in years, although Ted always kept his training up to date. The weight was reassuring against his side. He was fitted with a discreet earpiece and a hidden microphone, so he would be in constant contact with the control room, in case of any problems. Even close to, it would just look like someone listening to music for the flight. He was as ready as he could be.

  He’d signed for the firearm Alex Porter had sorted for him and spent a few moments balancing it in his hand, getting the feel of it once more. He’d opted for one with a safety mechanism which meant it would not go off if there was a struggle and it happened to get dropped. He fervently hoped he would not need to use it. It would all depend on how much of an attempt Kateb put up to resist arrest. He’d come so far in evading capture that Ted doubted he would roll over meekly at the end.

  Next he checked his pack-up, in its brown carrier bag, to make sure h
e could access the handcuffs fast enough. He was waiting with Alex Porter and Bill Wilson for company. Both burst out laughing like mischievous schoolboys when Ted studied the sandwich and found it was ham and mustard.

  ‘I’m not wasting what remains of my voice on dignifying that with a response,’ he told them, but he was smiling.

  The inbound Paris flight touched down only minutes behind its scheduled time. They were nearly ready for action. Ted had been informed that Kateb had arrived and checked in, right at the last minute, as he’d suspected.

  Once it was time to get Ted on board, Bill Wilson escorted him to find the security staff member who would wheel him out to the waiting plane in a chair. It felt alien to Ted not to be independently mobile, but it was a good cover, just in case Kateb was watching. He made a point of going slowly and laboriously up the steps, one at a time.

  The flight attendant who greeted him launched into her usual spiel, although Ted thought he detected a hint of nervousness about her eyes. He imagined it wasn’t every day she had to welcome an armed undercover police officer onto the flight. He also guessed from her expression of slight surprise, that he looked nothing like whatever mental image she had of someone in that role. His hair was a similar colour to Daniel Craig’s, but there any resemblance to James Bond or other secret agents ended.

  He smiled at her in his most reassuring way. The last thing he needed was any suggestion of anything out of the ordinary when Kateb boarded. He didn’t waste time trying to say anything. If she heard how weak his voice was, she might worry that he was ill and not up to the job.

  He made his way down the aisle and sat in the first seat in the row in which Kateb had reserved. Once again, all he could do was wait, listening to the disembodied voice in his ear, keeping him up to date. The plane was filling up, the last of the passengers straggling on after the first rush. Ted never understood the initial stampede when everyone could have a reserved seat these days.

  Then he got the alert. Kateb was on his way.

  ‘Now sporting a full-face beard and with much shorter hair than in the photos we have so far, but this man has definitely checked in as Antoine Fournier and he matches the suspect for approximate height, build and age.’

  Then Ted was getting his first view of their target, Samir Kateb, as he made his way down the plane. He certainly looked like a match, apart from the slight changes to his appearance. Ted was busy weighing him up as a potential adversary. He was a lot taller than Ted, athletically built, but not overweight. He was checking the seat numbers and stopped when he got next to Ted.

  ‘Excuse me, please,’ he said politely. He looked relaxed, calm, but his eyes were alert, assessing. Ted saw an expression in them he had seen so many times before. Kateb’s gaze travelled over Ted and instantly dismissed any threat in this small, insignificant-looking man.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Ted replied, getting to his feet and stepping back to allow Kateb through. He saw that he was carrying a cabin bag, which suited his plan ideally.

  As soon as Kateb reached up to open the overhead locker to store his luggage, Ted stepped up close beside him, effectively preventing him from moving anywhere. Not making any attempt to raise his voice, he simply said, ‘Samir Kateb? I’m a police officer. I’m here to arrest you.’

  Kateb moved quickly. He whirled as much as the confined space allowed and a straight-edged hand shot out in a chopping motion aimed at Ted’s throat. He had no way of knowing what he was facing. Ted’s speed was legendary. Trev knew to his cost that when Ted was on form, it was impossible to anticipate his moves and certainly to defend against them. They simply happened too quickly.

  He effortlessly knocked Kateb’s feet out from under him and had him face-down across the seats and in handcuffs before the other man had worked out quite what was happening to him. It all happened so fast that apart from a few curious looks from the passengers in the row directly behind, nobody seemed to have realised what had just taken place.

  Ted hauled him upright by his cuffed hands and said, still making no effort to try to raise his voice, ‘Let’s go quietly, Mr Kateb. I am armed, so I strongly recommend you just cooperate and don’t try anything further.’

  He pushed him into the aisle and directed him along the passageway towards the still-open door. He smiled at the same flight attendant who had greeted him and said, as he shoved Kateb towards the exit, ‘There’s an unopened ham and mustard sandwich on my seat, if anyone wants it. I hate mustard.

  Then, into his mike, ‘Suspect arrested and secured. No weapons visible. We’re on our way out.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  As soon as Ted emerged from the plane with his prisoner, Armed Response Officers came running across the tarmac to surround Kateb and take him away. One or two of them nodded their appreciation to Ted. It was a job well done and they respected that.

  Ted sauntered off to find Porter and Wilson where he’d left them. Both were grinning their pleasure, thumping him on the back and congratulating him. Ted was surprised to see Marston walking towards him. The other two tactfully withdrew at the sight of him.

  ‘Well done, Darling,’ he said, although it was clear it cost him an effort.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I must have got lucky. Again.’

  Marston’s face darkened as he retorted, ‘Don’t push it. I haven’t changed my opinion of you just because of a couple of good arrests. I still think you’re a cocky little sod who knows he can do no wrong in the eyes of the top brass.

  ‘Now get yourself back to Central Park, straight away. I’ve called a debriefing for all officers involved, and the ACC will be there.’

  Marston pivoted on his heel and stalked off. Ted wished his voice was stronger so the Chief Super could have heard the contempt in the ‘Sir,’ which he threw at his retreating back.

  Once he’d signed his firearm and ammunition back in, he made his way out of the terminal and found his service car, pausing, before he started it, to send a quick text to Trev: ‘Mission accomplished. Just debriefing now. Home when I can. T xxx’

  He was surprised to find quite a crowd at Central Park, assembled in the large conference room, for the end-of-operation briefing. He spotted straight away that Neil Smith was amongst those present. He took that as a good sign. He’d hopefully been cleared. Ted would try to catch a word with him at some point.

  There was a relaxed air about the gathering. Everyone was standing, drinks in hand, celebrating the closure of a complicated operation with a successful result. As soon as the ACC saw Ted, he raised his glass in acknowledgement.

  ‘Here he is, the man of the moment, once more. Bloody good job, Ted. Well done. And well done to all of you. Good result, well worth celebrating. Get a glass, Ted. We remembered and got some fizzy pop for you. There’s food too, of sorts, some of which might even be edible. This has been a good outcome, just the way we wanted it to finish. All the gang members safely rounded up and I’m pleased to tell you that the mole within has also been exposed and arrested. So we have a good excuse to raise a glass.’

  ‘Sir, with respect, should we perhaps complete the debriefing first, before we start to relax?’ Marston asked him.

  ‘I think we all deserve to relax now, Mr Marston. I know I do. Everyone, please ensure you put your reports through to Mr Marston no later than first thing tomorrow morning. There, that’s the debriefing taken care of. You’ll have all the reports you need tomorrow. After that, I imagine, you’ll want to get on your way back to London, as soon as possible? And I’m sure the rest of us want to get back to our families as soon as we can this evening.’

  It was so close to a public put-down that Ted had to hide a smile in his glass of sparkling apple juice. As there was clearly going to be no formal agenda, he made his way over to Neil Smith.

  ‘All sorted now, Neil?’

  ‘Yes, sir, thankfully.’

  ‘Sir? Behave yourself. It’s Ted, now we’re all letting our hair down. So, who was our informer in the end?’

  ‘L
uckily for me, not one of my team. One of the extras who were drafted in early on for the surveillance. It was a DS with a serious gambling habit. He’d been in the gang’s pocket for years, as well as that of several others. Such a relief for me to know it wasn’t one of my own. Anyway, congratulations to you. Good result.’

  Ted had to put up with a lot more back-slapping and congratulating. In the end it was his own Super who came to his aid. She could be supportive and sensitive when the occasion called for it.

  ‘Ted, you look rough. You need to go home. I’ll make your excuses while you slip away. Go and get some rest, and I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Standing around making small talk isn’t helping what’s left of your voice and I know it’s not your thing. Go. I’ve got you covered. It’s my job.’

  Trev had clearly been listening out for him coming home. As soon as Ted put his key in the front door, it was pulled open and he found himself engulfed in a warm hug, at the same time as being pulled bodily into the house.

  ‘How did it go? Did you get the bad guys? Are you all right?’

  Then he pushed Ted back to arm’s length, frowning.

  ‘Why have you got a shoulder holster under your jacket? Have you been doing armed and dangerous stuff?’

  Now he’d been rumbled, there was no chance of Ted returning his holster to the wardrobe without Trev noticing. He took off his jacket and undid the harness, putting it on the hall table.

  ‘Nothing dangerous. They just needed an SFO to go on board an aircraft and arrest someone. The suspect wasn’t armed or anything, but I just had to carry a concealed weapon as a precaution.’

  Trev was still looking at him suspiciously.

  ‘Really. It was all just routine. Nothing for you to worry about. It won’t even get me another commendation.’