by Sewell, Ron
Zack removed the padlock and chain, depositing them in the rubbish bag. With the door open a few inches, he scanned the compound. It appeared deserted. With both hands he slid the door wide and closed it as Bear, Brian, and Spink exited. “Bear, I’ll give you a call later. You’ve enough to do. I’ll dump this lot in the canal.”
“Thanks. Appreciate your help.”
They walked out into the dark, aping a shambling drunken gait, keeping in the shadows. Not far from the industrial site, row upon row of pre-WWII terraced houses filled the streets. At the back of these, a narrow pedestrian alley ran the full length. The light from the few street lamps illuminated the path. Overflowing rubbish bins lined their route, the stench of rotting food repellent.
Bear checked for an open gate and, on finding one, peered into the yard. The curtains of the house were drawn closed; the music at the end of ‘Coronation Street’ drifted on the night air. “Brian, hold Spink for a minute.”
Bear sidled in, located the defunct outside toilet and returned. “We’ll dump our friend in there.”
They deposited the comatose body and went on their way.
Chapter Five
James scrutinised Chinese George’s neighbourhood. He noted the wealth that radiated from every property. No cheap cars parked on the paved section out front. Mercedes and BMWs were commonplace. The odd Porsche 911 Carrera and Lamborghini Diablo stood in pride of place under security cameras.
He located number two hundred and twelve, which was set back from the main road with two electronically-controlled gates. A pair of carved lions stood guard either side. A red brick metre-high wall with iron railings on top surrounded the house and garden. Any cars were possibly inside the treble garage and cameras covered every angle of approach. Two Dobermans wandered the grounds without restraint. The instant James walked by, they ran towards him, barked ferociously, jumped and growled. He smiled, remembering many foreign embassies with less security.
* * *
“Bear, over here,” said James.
Bear moved with caution that came from experience.
“To your left, in the wheelhouse of the Thames barge.”
“How the hell did you get on board?”
“High tide makes it easier. Thirty metres in front of you are a set of stone steps, but be careful, they’re covered in shit.”
With care, Bear descended to the level of the barge and jumped. For a moment, he slid across the wooden deck until his right hand grabbed the main mast’s rigging. From there he made his way to where James had ensconced himself.
“Fancy a coffee?” James pointed to a shelf. “My flask’s over there.”
“Thanks.” Bear poured the dark liquid into the plastic cup and leaned against the polished mahogany bulkhead. “What’s the score, good or what?”
“Crap. I’d recommend twenty-four hour bombardment before a frontal assault if we were on the front line.”
“Who is this arsehole?” said Bear. “We need to collect information. I’ll go in the main entrance if I have to.”
“You believe you can get in and out in one piece?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll have wasted time if I can’t.”
“You may well be right.”
“For the moment I assume nothing. I know this man believes he’s untouchable.”
“Taking him out is a possibility. Unfortunately, the next weasel in line jumps on the throne.”
“This man’s power has to work for us. His demise would simply alter the target. We need to figure out his weakness or fear. Let’s go home and sleep on it.”
“Wait until the level rises. I don’t fancy leaping from here onto those slime-covered steps. A couple of hours and we can step onto the pavement.”
Bear nodded. “James, if you were Chinese George, who is the last person you might consider trouble if they strolled across your driveway?”
“Gasman, meter reader, delivery man, if I’d ordered something. Why?”
“That’s the way into the house. Any chance you can get hold of a van? I reckon George will be having communication problems.”
“A van’s no problem but you’re out of date. George has a satellite link on the roof, no cables to interfere with and, no doubt, a back-up if there’s a power failure.”
“Can we kill it?”
“Easy, destroy the LNB and it’ll stop transmitting and receiving, but the moment his security company loses its signal they’ll send an engineer.”
“How long before he arrives?”
“Five, ten minutes at best.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, that’s the time I’ll have to convince George.”
James’ loyalty to the man who saved his life more than once ran deep. “So what’s next?”
“Your help means so much. My approach to Chinese George will not go ahead until I have a plan with zero to minimal risk. Can you get a target rifle?”
“I can, but why?”
“We’re going to destroy the LNB on his satellite dish and check how long it takes the repair man to arrive. I’ll need one of their vans, a uniform, and an ID card.”
“Jesus Christ. I’ll pop into the Tower and steal the crown jewels as I’m passing.”
“I want to talk to Chinese George, no more, no less. Pound to a penny, if he’s half the villain he’s cracked up to be, he’ll not want to lose face. Let the others know we’ll meet tomorrow. The Old Pack Horse, midday. It’s the nearest pub to Chiswick Park station. Their grub’s good and they sell real ale.”
“Are you buying?” James queried.
Bear grunted. “I’ll give it due thought and consideration.” He stared at the river traffic. Floating disco boats full of partygoers navigated its many bridges.
Both men waited for the barge to rise before stepping across the gap.
“Right, I’m knackered and want sleep,” said James.
“Good idea.”
* * *
Bear stood outside the main entrance to Chiswick Park station and checked the time. With minutes to spare, he strolled to the meeting place. The others waved him over. He grabbed the empty chair and sat.
The meals at The Old Pack Horse were cheap and the barmaids cheerful. The four men ordered four pints of Fullers bitter and the steak pie dinner. They exchanged chitchat until their food arrived.
Bear sipped his pint. “My plan is simple, but I’m open to suggestions. James, did you get the rifle?”
He nodded.
“The van and uniform?”
Brian smiled. “We’ve had a chat. The van’s a no-no and we haven’t the time to make one up. On the positive side, I borrowed a pair of overalls last night and formatted an ID.” He noted a frown cross Bear’s face. “Don’t worry, the night watchman’s a snitch and I slipped him a few quid.”
Bear lifted a fork full of steak to his mouth. “Can you trust him?”
“No probs,” said Brian. “The bloke’s an ex-traffic cop, dead kosher.”
“Listen,” Zack, interrupted, “you’ll gain extra time if we stop the repair man before his vehicle reaches the house.”
“How?”
“We have a plan.”
Bear paused eating and tipped his chair back on two legs. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”
“A road block. Two cars will have a slight contratemps when you give the signal.”
“Details, I need details.”
“Thanks to James, we checked out the security company. Their nearest branch is not far from Shepherd’s Bush. The driver, whoever he is, won’t fancy Mortlake High Street during the day, it’s always chocka-block. So I reckon he’ll drive across Hammersmith Bridge and come in that way. Easier and quicker, except, as I said, the road will be blocked by two cars. With the usual traffic, it’ll be grid-locked in minutes, giving you plenty of time.”
Bear gave them a half smile and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “Love it. Whose cars are you going to bend?”
“Tomorrow morning at ten. James, practice with your rifle. I need you to hit that piece of electronics first shot.”
James glanced up from his half-empty plate and gave a guarded smile. “A cuddly toy guaranteed.”
“Who’s thirsty?” asked Bear. “I’m paying.” Three men handed him their empty glasses.
Bear returned from the bar as James said, “Oh, by the way, we’ll be leaving in a police launch. The traffic might be a tad nightmarish.”
Bear finished his pint. “Call me if something happens and you can’t make it. Otherwise, thanks, people. I owe you.”
When he arrived home, Jocelyn challenged him. “What’s happening? No breakfast yesterday. You usually tell me about any collection and I can’t get hold of Maria or PK.”
“You don’t have to worry. PK has a problem and I’m the fixer.”
She burst into tears. He pulled her into his arms and held her, kissing her forehead. “With luck it’ll be over by lunchtime tomorrow. You remember James, Brian and Zack, my mates from the regiment. I’m relying on their ability and instincts. They’re with the Met, so my arse is covered.”
She wiped the tears from her face. “I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”
Bear concerned himself with the thought of getting into Chinese George’s house, aware that leaving might be another matter.
Chapter Six
Bear opened his eyes and checked the time: six-thirty. He lay and mulled over his options. Chinese George could mess up his life. He glanced at Jocelyn, her body curled in the foetal position.
Unhurried, he slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood, trying not to wake her.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice muffled by half a pillow.
“Six-thirty.”
She rolled over before sitting bolt upright. “What time are you leaving?”
“Eightish.”
“I’ll make breakfast while you’re having a shower. Bacon, eggs, sausages, two tomatoes and beans, how does that grab you?”
“What, no toast?” He gave her a kiss full on the lips. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”
“I hope it’s more than food.”
“You’d better believe it.”
With his plate wiped clean, he said goodbye as she went to work. He relaxed and read ‘The Daily Mail’. With a quick check of the time, he got ready. At ten-past-eight, he began the journey to Mortlake.
James sat in the wheelhouse of the barge opposite Chinese George’s house. Startled, he jumped up as a Rastafarian, complete with long black dreadlocks, leapt onboard.
“Excuse me, private property. Fuck off.”
“Hey, mon, fine way to greet a friend,” said Bear.
James grinned. “Bloody hell, it’s a great disguise.”
Bear laughed. “Remember working deep cover in Baghdad, dressed as Arabs, waiting for the rockets to strike?”
“Yeah. Planting those laser beacons and dodging the cruise missiles made the old sphincter valve flutter.”
“Got any coffee?”
“In the wheelhouse. Help yourself.”
Bear checked the time: nine forty-five. So far, so good. His eyes scanned the road. The traffic maintained a steady stream in both directions. “I’d better put on my overalls – act the part.”
He nodded to James. “It’s time.”
James opened the wheelhouse window, aimed the rifle and prepared to fire. “Tap me on the right shoulder when you want me to hit the bulls-eye.”
Bear waited until ten o’clock. “Let’s do it.”
A muffled crack erupted from the silencer and moments later one LNB shattered and communication from and to Chinese George’s ended.
“Time I went,” said Bear in a calm voice.
In one movement, he jumped onto the pavement and, carrying his toolbox, walked across the road towards Chinese George’s residence. At the gate, he pressed the intercom and waited.
The speaker buzzed before anyone spoke.
“Who is it?”
“Brompton Satcom. You’ve a problem with your signal.”
“You’re new.”
“Mon, I’ve been wid the company three years. Your operator’s off sick with flu.” Bear held his ID up to the camera and the entrance clicked open.
The gravel path crunched beneath his feet as he approached the main access. Two Dobermans dashed at him barking. The door opened, they stopped, growled, and loped off round the back of the house.
“Well trained, mon.”
“They do their job,” said a muscular, stocky man in his mid-thirties, his face easy to read, scarred by a better man. “Is that a gun?”
Bear laughed. “Don’t be daft, mon. It’s for cleaning the base of the LNB before I install a new one. He held it up. “Check it out, no magazine. A bottle of lubricant and spray.”
“I’d better show you the way. Follow me.” The man turned and began to walk away.
Bear trailed after him and in two long strides pressed the injection gun into the man’s back. The large dose of Ketamine put him out of action. He caught him before he hit the floor. A news broadcast from another room made him wary. He paused, listened, decided on its source, rapped hard on the door and waited. It opened and a man of similar build and age to the other stared at him.
“What the fuck do you want? Fred’ll show you where to go.”
“Hey, mon,” Bear pointed, “Fred’s flat on his back.”
The man shoved him out of the way. Bear followed. “See, mon.”
The minder kneeled and leaned over the body. “Fred, speak to me.”
Bear pressed the injection gun into this man’s back, held him for a moment and let him fall on top of the other. He breathed a sigh of relief. Methodically, he checked each space. Oriental rugs covered the floors and Chinese paintings hung in prominent positions on the walls. In one room black lacquered bookcases stretched from the floor to the ceiling. With the ground floor empty, he walked up the carpeted stairs to the top, to discover a partially open door in front of him. He approached and pushed; Chinese George, an overweight man, bald, of average height and in his late fifties, stood admiring his naked body in a full-length mirror.
“Don’t make any sudden movements,” said Bear. “Before you shout for help, your men are fast asleep downstairs. This time I just want to talk.”
A calm Chinese George turned and faced his intruder. “I’m impressed. Your disguise is excellent, but you don’t have the mannerisms and language of a Rasta. Do you mind if I put on my dressing gown and light a cigarette?”
Bear nodded.
“Thank you.” His manner guarded. “Now, please tell me, what do you want?”
Bear’s eyes locked on George, his voice severe. “Go sit on the bed.”
“If I must.”
“You use a rat called Spink to legalise your business affairs, launder money and at times to arrange things. He, and I assume with your approval, had a client of mine’s boat destroyed.”
George paused and dragged on his cigarette. “You have to be one of the men who kidnapped Mr Spink and treated him appallingly. The poor man had a fit when the police carted him off and charged him with disturbance of the peace and a few other things.” He inhaled and blew a smoke ring into the air. “You can be assured I never ordered the destruction of your client’s boat. In truth, I asked Mr Spink to arrange a meeting. I need one item collected with the utmost diplomacy.”
Bear shrugged and judged George’s words. His sixth sense came to the fore, which worked better than a lie detector. “That invitation was refused a year ago. Let’s keep hope alive because I believe in, ‘they lived happily ever after’. My client requires recompense for the loss of his boat.”
George’s mouth curled into a smile. “What if I refuse?”
“That, for me
, is when the fun starts.” He tossed an envelope at Chinese George. “Pick it up.”
Chinese George took a final drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out in an ashtray, retrieved the envelope, opened and read its contents. His thin lips barely moved when he said, “Why would a list of restaurants and other properties be of interest to me?”
“The Triads society works when one group knows little or nothing of another. A member of the London Triad visits those locations; he departs after a few minutes. What must confuse you is I am aware of everything. I don’t care about you or your organisation, but you should. My associates love nothing more than a roaring fire to warm their hands. I’m not threatening you, I’m making a promise.”
Chinese George’s face showed shock for an instant. “I have many enemies and, yes, you might make life difficult for me, but not impossible. A mosquito bite irritates for a while, then goes away.”
Bear’s mobile vibrated. Without taking his eyes off George, he retrieved it and peered at the screen. Incoming call. James. He placed it to his ear. “Yes.”
“The traffic’s beginning to move.”
He dropped it in his overall pocket. “I am the mosquito and I might choose to bite others of your family. Your daughters who are at school in Scotland. I don’t suppose you’re afraid of dying but after my team has finished with them, you might consider a new profession. Your decision. Make your mind up time.”
George held his hand. “May I open,” he pointed, “that drawer?”
“No,” said Bear brusquely. He reached across and pulled the ornate handle, scanning its contents.
“Please take my business card,” said George. “We are professionals. Please ask your client to contact me. I will of course pay for the replacement of his boat. What I don’t need is for you to give me grief.”
“Time I was out of here.” In three steps, Bear pushed Chinese George back onto the bed and injected him. “Sleep well, bastard.”
With haste he charged down the stairs, jumped over the two prostrate men, pressed the gate button and strolled out. The Dobermans barked, raced to the open gate, and paused for a moment before disappearing along the road.
