The London Project (Portal Book 1)

by Mark J Maxwell

  ‘Sneaky bastard,’ Coates muttered. That produced a nervous laugh from everyone.

  ‘Why doesn’t his history graph have an entry from the sense logs?’ Rick asked. ‘The alley’s not a dead zone.’

  ‘The strips didn’t positively identify him,’ Coates said. ‘Any ID checks that drop below ninety-nine percent accuracy don’t get picked up by a history graph. Otherwise you could get hundreds of false positives logged. But even if someone has their face partially covered, iris scans and voice pattern matching should bring a match well above the required threshold. With the glasses and the raised hood Keller’s currently at ninety-five percent.’

  Despite herself Louisa was impressed by Keller’s efforts to remain undetected. She hadn’t known about the history graph limits. The inner workings of the sense strip matches and history graphs were the domain of SIU alone. Keller was either chancing his arm or getting help from someone with access to classified SIU operational data.

  The DI had a face like thunder. ‘Keep on him, Coates.’

  Coates followed Keller manually on the sense logs. He kept his hood up and head down as he walked. ‘Shit, he’s entered a car park.’ The footage showed him entering an underground public multi-story on Shelton Street.

  The DI groaned. ‘Tell me we have access to sense footage, or the car park has a private CCTV feed we can access?’

  ‘Sorry, Boss,’ Coates said, ‘we’re blind in there.’

  That presented a problem. If Keller switched identities they had no way of knowing whether any of the cars leaving the car park contained their man.

  ‘Okay,’ the DI said. ‘We scan each car that leaves and identify the occupants. I want a sense perimeter set with a two hundred metre radius in case he exits through an adjacent property again.’

  Coates started running through the cars leaving the car park and anyone crossing the perimeter. Then a profile popped up on the screen with a flashing red border.

  ‘We’ve got a CADET hit on a car terminal,’ Coates said. ‘Peteris Ouza. He’s got form. Arrests for extortion and aggravated assault. He’s tagged as being a member of Victor Korehkov’s gang.’

  The DI smiled for the first time that evening. ‘That’s our man. Good job, Coates.’

  ‘Who’s Victor Korehkov?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘He’s the boss of a gang that emerged out of Brixton three years ago. They started off importing Trance from Latvia where Korehkov has family contacts. From there they branched out into people-trafficking and prostitution. Korehkov’s always been careful in the past, keeping his operation small and mostly under the radar. Taking on the Clothwells is a big move for him. First things first though. We need to pick up Ouza before the Clothwells get wind of Korehkov’s expansion plans.’

  ‘Ouza drove to an apartment block in Sydenham, near Mayow Park,’ Coates said.

  ‘Is he still there?’ The DI asked.

  Coates scanned through Ouza’s history graph. ‘No, he’s on the move again. He left his apartment a few minutes ago, heading west.’

  ‘Right,’ the DI said, ‘we’re going to scoop him up when he gets to his destination. I’ll get onto SCO19 to mobilise a Tactical Support Team. We’re not tackling Ouza ourselves. Sloan, you’re directing things from here. Louisa, Rick, I’d appreciate your eyes on this in case Ouza pulls another disappearing act.’

  Louisa glanced at Rick who grinned back at her, bright-eyed. The thought of tagging along on a SCD7 operation had given him a second wind.

  ‘Sure,’ Louisa said, ‘we’ll come along for the ride.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘He’s turned onto Cavendish Road, heading towards Clapham Common,’ Sloan’s voice sounded inside the car.

  DI Lenihan had wasted no time in getting mobilised. They were in an unmarked SCD7 car heading south on an intercept course with Ouza. Before leaving they’d made a quick stop at the SCD7 lock-up. Apart from the standard speed-cuffs and SLE Baton, the DI checked out Kevlar body armour and a Glock 17 pistol. The DI handed Rick and Louisa batons and insisted they take a Kevlar vest. It was a double-weave, the DI told them, bulkier than a standard stab-vest or antiballistic Kevlar armour as it was designed to offer protection from both knives and bullets. Louisa put it on without comment, but given the force Ouza must have used to plunge a knife into the chest of the second victim, she wasn’t sure how effective the vest would be. Much to Rick’s disappointment they didn’t get offered a sidearm, but Louisa wasn’t expecting one. Neither of them was licensed to carry a weapon. Not that they should need them anyway with a Tactical Support Team on-route.

  Louisa had witnessed the response unit in action only the once before, during a botched post office robbery while she was still in uniform, but the memory had stuck with her. Two men armed with sawn-off shotguns had holed up in a post office after one of the tellers activated the post office’s emergency beacon—a new alert system integrated directly with Portal.

  Three squad cars were at the scene within minutes. Louisa was on foot in the vicinity and by the time she arrived the building was surrounded. It was at that point the two men decided to make a break for it, firing wildly in the direction of the patrol cars as they legged it out of the post office. All the officers, Louisa included, dived for cover. The men might have made their escape if the TST hadn’t intercepted them. Two Armed Response Vehicles, hi-spec five-series BMWs, screeched to a halt and the six heavily armed and armoured squad members launched themselves from the ARVs like a force of nature. Louisa barely had time to blink before sharp cracks echoed around her and the two men were down.

  Louisa didn’t rate Ouza’s chances if he put up a fight. TSTs were trained to aim for center body mass. Not so they could achieve a kill-shot, but because it lessened the chance of a shot flying wide of the mark and hitting a civilian, which was a real risk in a built-up urban environment.

  Rick leaned forward from the back seat to get a better look at the map on the windscreen. Louisa was in the passenger seat. Ouza’s car was represented by a flashing blue circle. They were only five minutes or so from each other now. The support teams’ two ARVs were also on the map, coming in from the west. Louisa knew the area well. Her apartment was close by in Chelsea Harbour on the north side of the river.

  VANS was controlling the DI’s car. They could have activated the MET’s emergency pursuit protocols which would have cleared a path for them through the traffic, but there was no point in attracting any undue attention while Ouza was heading directly for them. As soon as the protocols were activated, any other cars in their vicinity on VANS would be redirected out of their path, and if Ouza was on manual, he’d be instructed to alter his course. It could easily spook him if he was on the lookout for any hint of a police operation nearby. The plan was to tail him at a discreet distance and wait for him to stop and exit the vehicle. Then the support team would take over for the arrest.

  ‘The suspect is heading over Wandsworth Bridge now.’ Sloan coughed to clear a dry throat. The DI stolidly regarded the map before him. He hadn’t said a word since they took off from the SCD7 HQ.

  ‘He’s pulling into the car park of Imperial Warf Train Station,’ Sloan said.

  The DI swore under his breath. ‘Sloan, I want a sense perimeter established around the station as soon as he gets out of the car. Follow him in real-time as long as you can.’

  Ouza was about to pull another vanishing trick, or the DI thought as much. They could try and lock down the train station and send in the support team when they arrived, but there was no guarantee Ouza wouldn’t manage to slip away in the confusion. He’d already demonstrated the ability. The station was open twenty-four hours so it should be quiet at this time of night, but they’d no idea how many members of the public were inside. Besides, they didn’t have enough officers to cover all the exits.

  ‘He’s entered the station,’ Sloan said. ‘It’s a dead zone so he’s gone until he either comes back out or boards a train. The next one’s in twenty-five minutes.’

&
nbsp; ‘We’re backing off.’ The DI tapped on his terminal to open a channel to the support team. ‘Sergeant Brooks, hold position, one minute from Imperial Warf Station.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Brooks replied. He was the senior officer leading the TST.

  ‘What now?’ Rick asked.

  ‘We wait for Sloan to relocate Ouza,’ the DI said. ‘In the meantime we’ll keep out of sight.’ He cleared the car’s side windows and the windscreen. The DI had brought the car to a stop about half a mile from the station on Harwood Street. It was a residential road with rows of red brick terraced houses on each side. Louisa could make out the upper floors of her apartment block in the distance above the roofs of the terraces.

  ‘I live close by.’ Louisa pointed towards the apartment block. ‘It’s just over there. The River Park Apartments. I have a pass if you want to use the underground car park.’

  The DI transferred control of the car’s navigation to Louisa’s profile. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  *

  The minutes dragged by with excruciating slowness as they waited for Sloan and Coates to scrutinise everyone who passed through the sense perimeter around the station. Ouza’s profile hadn’t been identified, but they were all thinking the same thing—he could already be out and wearing a different face.

  Louisa’s thoughts turned to Jess and Charlie who were hopefully sound sleep in the apartment above them. She hated leaving them alone at night, even though she knew Jess would call if something happened. The kids were used to her working late, sometimes even having to fix themselves dinner, but it didn’t stop her worrying about them. She tried not to dwell on it, knowing her dark imaginings twisted by an undercurrent of guilt would torment her mercilessly until she returned. She would invariably find them asleep or up watching a late-night screencast with guilty looks on their faces.

  ‘We’ve found him.’ Sloan said. ‘Let me share it out.’ Her console’s screen popped up on their windscreen. Sense footage showed the outside of Imperial Warf Station, centered on the main entrance. The footage paused then and zoomed in on a man who was leaving, caught in mid-stride. He was in his late teens and wearing jeans and a black hoodie with the hood up. ‘He passed through our new profile filters and he’s a match for Ouza’s height and build.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ The DI asked.

  ‘We’re trailing him through the sense logs,’ Sloan said. ‘He left the station seven minutes ago so he has a head start on us.’ There was a pause. ‘He headed southwest on Townmead Road.’ Another pause. ‘Got him! He’s entered an apartment block.’

  Louisa sat forward. ‘What apartments?’

  ‘Let me check…River Park.’

  Louisa went ice cold. She dived for the door and wrenched it open.

  ‘Hold it, Detective,’ DI Lenihan said. ‘We can’t go anywhere until the support team arrives.’

  ‘My kids are up there,’ Louisa said, through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Rick said.

  ‘No!’ The DI glared at Rick. ‘You’re staying here, Detective. We can’t run off half-assed.’ He held up a hand to Louisa. ‘Give me a second. Then I’ll come with you.’

  Louisa hesitated, then nodded and pulled the door shut.

  The DI cleared the car’s windows. ‘Where is he now?’ He peered outside.

  ‘He’s entered the lobby,’ Sloan said.

  ‘Sergeant Brooks, are you following this?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Brooks said, ‘just say the word. We’re good to go.’

  ‘You have a green light,’ the DI said. ‘I want the apartment block secured floor by floor. Assume the suspect is armed and extremely dangerous. Be mindful that DS Bennett and I will be in the building.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  ‘Rick,’ the DI said, ‘I want you to stay here and co-ordinate with Sloan. See if you can organise more back-up. Even with SCO19 we don’t have enough bodies to secure a building this size.’

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ Rick said. ‘Everyone’s tied up with the riots.’

  ‘Do what you can. I’ll keep a channel open on my terminal.’ The DI extracted a sense band from his terminal and snapped it around his wrist. The DI tapped his sense band and a section of the dashboard in front of Louisa swung smoothly down. He reached in and withdrew a box. He waved the sense band over the lid and it popped open. He took out two ear buds and handed one to Louisa. Her hands were shaking as she paired the ear bud and snapped on a sense band. She clasped them together, hoping the DI hadn’t noticed.

  The DI twisted round to look at Rick. ‘Have you had firearms training?’

  Rick nodded. ‘Yeah, well…basic, anyway.’

  The DI took a holstered gun out of the box and handed it to Rick, who barely managed to contain his glee.

  The DI turned to Louisa. ‘Are you ready?’

  Louisa nodded. She got out of the car, closely followed by the DI.

  ‘Where is he now?’ The DI spoke into his sense band.

  Sloan’s audio feed was relayed to Louisa’s ear bud. ‘In the lobby, waiting for a lift.’

  ‘We can take the lift over there.’ Louisa nodded to a door around fifteen parking spaces away from them. ‘It’s separate from the lobby lifts and comes up near my apartment.’

  The DI unholstered his sidearm and nodded. They proceeded across the car park, eyes scanning every shadow and dark corner, the DI holding the pistol low with the barrel pointed downwards. Their slow pace grated on Louisa, but they had to be cautious. After all, they didn’t know for sure Ouza was acting alone.

  When they reached the lift Louisa called it with her terminal. The lift pinged and the DI raised his weapon, training it on the doors. They slid open, but the lift was empty.

  ‘What floor?’ The DI asked.

  ‘The ninth,’ Louisa said. ‘Apartment 915.’

  The DI punched the button and the doors closed. ‘Sloan?’

  ‘He got into the lift, sir. Sorry, he’s gone.’

  The DI swore under his breath.

  ‘Sloan,’ Louisa said, ‘the lobby has sense coverage, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘There’s a readout above the lift doors. Can you tell which floor Ouza got off at?’

  ‘Sure, one second.’ There was a pause. ‘It stopped at the ninth.’

  Louisa’s stomach clenched and she felt a sudden flash of nausea. ‘This can’t be happening.’

  ‘Brooks, did you get that?’ the DI asked.

  ‘Copy that,’ Brooks said. ‘We’re on-route to the apartment block. ETA two minutes.’

  ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions,’ the DI said. ‘It could just be a coincidence.’

  Louisa recognised his reassuring tone. She’d employed it often enough when dealing with distraught members of the public. Trying to talk them down if they got hysterical. She glanced over at him to say she was all right, but his eyes betrayed a flash of concern. Louisa’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. It was no coincidence. Ouza being here, now, in the building where she lived, on the same floor. Oh, God. Jess and Charlie!

  The lift pinged and the doors slid open. The DI stuck his head out. ‘All clear,’ he mouthed. ‘Which way?’

  Louisa pointed to the right. Her apartment was a few doors down. The building was a gently curved C-shaped structure with a single central corridor connecting all of the apartments. The lobby lifts were at the opposite end of the floor to the one they’d come up in but if Ouza was heading their way they only had seconds to spare at most.

  They ran for her apartment. Louisa flicked across her ID and the door clicked open. She moved to enter but the DI grabbed her shoulder. ‘Me first,’ he whispered. Louisa nodded and he stepped inside. Louisa followed and gently closed the door behind her.

  It was dark inside but enough light from the streetlights permeated through the living room blinds for them to see. The apartment was empty. Louisa ran to the kids’ room. She almost cried with relief seeing Jess and Charlie still
fast asleep. She went to Jess’ side and shook her gently awake.

  Jess squinted at her through heavy lidded eyes. ‘Is it time to get up?’

  ‘No sweetie,’ Louisa said. ‘Jess, I want you to stay here in your room with your brother. You might hear noises outside but you’re not to come out. No matter what happens. Do you understand?’

  Jess nodded. She knew something was wrong. Her bottom lip started to tremble. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ Louisa said. ‘Just keep the door shut.’

  Louisa returned to the living room. The DI was standing beside the apartment entrance, his eyes trained on the light from the corridor seeping in under the door. The light flickered. The DI looked up at Louisa and waved her back. She moved into the kitchenette and stood with her back to the wall that divided it from the living room.

  The apartment lock was attuned to specific profiles. It shouldn’t be possible for anyone but her and the kids to open it. But what about the apartment block’s external door and the lifts? A profile token is needed to open them too. How did Ouza get inside the building?

  The click of the door’s lock opening focussed Louisa’s attention and drove all other thoughts from her mind. Light from the corridor spilled across the kitchen floor in front of Louisa as the door swung open. Then it dimmed.

  ‘Metropolitan Police,’ the DI said, ‘don’t fucking move.’

  Louisa leaned out around the wall. A man stood just inside the apartment. DI Lenihan was to his left and had his gun pointed directly at the side of his head. It was Ouza. His face was wet, glistening. Just like Baz Waters’ had been in Soho.

  ‘Get down on your knees,’ the DI said, ‘slowly.’

  Ouza smoothly lowered himself down on one knee, then stopped.

  ‘Keep going. All the way, flat on your face.’

  Ouza leaned forward. Something glinted in his left hand.

  Louisa shouted a warning, but at the same time Ouza lashed out, punching the DI’s leg. He cried out and staggered. Ouza rose swiftly and shoved the DI backwards. He fell over in a heap, pistol spinning out of his hand and across the living room floor. It was then Louisa saw the hilt of a knife buried deep in the DI’s calf.