“Human rights.” Karl left the laptop and came back to the window. “You mind if I make a couple of calls?”
“Fine by me. Don’t be long.”
Karl wandered off in the direction of the toilet. While he was gone the laptop kicked into life, a ringtone announcing an incoming call. Thomas looked over but stayed at his post. It would all be on disk. The conversation jangled through the computer’s tinny speaker — an inquiry about replacement tyres. Thomas smiled. A code so simple that a nine-year-old could crack it. ‘Four sports tyres wanted. Urgent delivery.’
A 4x4 drove past the shutters, the sort that Thomas called a fake Land Rover. He photographed it anyway and waited for laughing boy to return.
“That building you visited near Bank is completely legit. Which means,” Karl took his place at the window, “it isn’t. Although ASI has been a bona fide company for decades.”
“I’ve got to say, Karl, you’re taking all this in your stride. If it was my dad I’d want to give him a good lamping.”
“Nah.” Karl waved a hand in the air, as if he were wiping away a stain. “It’s ancient history. Did he tell you he got me into the army? True enough, I have to give him some credit for that. I found out way down the line. As far as I’m concerned, he’s like anyone else in the intelligence community — to be treated with a mixture of respect and suspicion. Incidentally,” Karl passed over his phone, “I took the liberty of picking up a couple of ASI unlisted numbers for you.”
Thomas copied down the numbers and didn’t ask who had texted them. Time to be unpredictable.
The first number went through to another office, so he asked for Heick and said he was looking to invest in European stocks. He could see Karl smiling at his camera. Heick was out so he left him a message. “It’s Thomas Bladen. Just wanted to thank you for our informative meeting and I look forward to the next one.”
“Do you have a plan, Tommo?”
“Not yet. First I need to know what Heick wants. A tenner says it’s not a family reunion!”
Karl sucked a tooth. “Don’t be so sure. We’re in the same business now, remember. Hey, nice motor.”
Thomas moved to the window, just as the Honda CR-V pulled away — the vehicle he’d seen earlier.
“It’s the second appearance. Same driver? Twenties or thereabouts?”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Interesting. Yer man at the wheel was on his mobile phone. A pound to a penny he’ll be back. Maybe the old geezer inside the building is hard of hearing.”
The Honda CR-V returned within five minutes. Only this time, as it pulled up, the shutter was raised. Thomas left the camerawork to Karl and did some surveillance of his own with binoculars. There were shopping bags behind the driver and . . . holy fuck . . . a baby in a car seat.
“Karl?”
“Yeah, I see it.” Karl stayed with his camera.
Thomas watched, transfixed, as the vehicle disappeared undercover and the shutter descended. A minute later the driver emerged alone and ran off along the street. Thomas knew the score — an opportunist car theft, and meanwhile some mother was going out of her mind.
“We can call it in, Tommo.”
“And how long will that take? No, I’ll go now. I have the element of surprise and the old bloke won’t want a kidnapping on his conscience.”
“What if there’s someone else there?”
Thomas was already by the door.
“Wait!” Karl caught up with him. “Put this on.” He slipped a device into his pocket. “At least I’ll hear you.”
“Give me a tracker too. Maybe we can go one better.”
Chapter 5
Thomas made his way down to street level and walked round to the garage. Whispering ‘command and control’ to himself, he marched to the gate. If this was going to work he’d have to be resolute and fast.
He banged on the metal door and waited, checking the street for any sudden arrivals. The old bloke was already speaking as he opened the inner door.
“I don’t want no part of this. I’m just a caretaker—” He stopped when he saw Thomas.
Thomas shoved him backwards and closed the door behind him. “I’ve come for the kid.”
It was dark, and the neon high above cast everything in an eerie bluish light. The caretaker had recovered and was reaching for his phone.
“Turn it off or it’ll be the last thing you’ll do.” Thomas smiled to himself as the bloke capitulated. Okay, he’d exaggerated a bit — the last thing you’ll do for a while.
“Who are you?” the guy stammered.
“Someone who can solve your problem.”
The caretaker held out his hands the way you stop a charging dog. “He never said there was a kid in the back.”
Bollocks. Think fast, Thomas. Command and control.
“Okay, it works like this. I take the kid and I walk out, and none of this ever happened.”
“Did Mr Moretti send you?” Now the bloke looked terrified.
Thomas leaned in and smiled. “Mr who?”
The old guy’s legs buckled on the way to the car. Thomas helped him up, roughly, so as not to appear soft. When they reached the car, Thomas saw that the baby was still asleep.
“Right, turn around.”
The old bloke was shaking now, which said something about the sort of people he dealt with.
“Please,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything.”
“Close your eyes — and stay there.”
In less than two minutes, Thomas had photos of nine number plates. He opened the Honda’s door and carefully unclipped the car seat. Gently does it. Once he’d accomplished that he pushed the tracking device down into the crack between the seats. If he’d had more time he’d have planted it in the office, but he knew when not to chance his luck.
He could hear the guy sobbing and turned to check he was still in position, hands at the back of his head. Poor bastard.
“Give me your mobile number.” Thomas set the baby down and tapped the number into his phone. “And you better not be lying to me.”
“Please . . . don’t tell Arlo Moretti.”
“It’ll be our secret,” Thomas assured him.
He left the bloke sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, whispering ‘thank you’ like a mantra.
Outside, Thomas rocked his arm back and forth as he walked, hoping to keep the baby asleep. He managed about thirty paces.
“Karl, mission accomplished.”
“So I heard. You’d better head back here.”
“Nah, too conspicuous. That’s why the Bat Cave never had a crèche.” Karl laughed like a donkey on nitrous oxide. It helped Thomas take his mind off the tremor in his hands.
He knew Karl wouldn’t desert his post so they compromised. He’d play babysitter in the nearest cafe he could find, and in the meantime Karl could contact Karen Edwards.
She rang Thomas while he was still on the move.
“What the bloody hell have you been up to?” she hissed. “You could have jeopardised a city-wide surveillance operation. You still might have.”
Thomas bore her scorn stoically. He doubted the mother would see it that way. “How soon can you get here?”
“I’m on my way now — alone, like your sidekick asked. You better have a good explanation.”
It was hard to appear nonchalant when an unmarked black Vauxhall Astra sped towards him, blue lights flashing silently at the front.
“Well, get in!” Edwards barked, cursing as he struggled to secure the child carrier on the backseat.
He’d barely closed his passenger door before she put her foot down. The kiddie saw this as the ideal moment to bawl its head off.
“Bloody marvellous. Now, you’ve got ten minutes to tell me what the fook is going on.”
All things considered, it could have been worse. Giving her Moretti’s name and explaining that he’d planted a device in the Honda seemed to offset most of her fury. She evidently did her thinking aloud.
“
My DI is gonna go mental. The best we can hope for is that they move the Honda on somewhere else and we get another piece of the pie.”
He was pretty sure she meant ‘puzzle,’ but now was not the time to be picky. As her brain rattled around the car he leant back and tried the old Bladen charm on the bairn. A couple of funny faces and some finger play seemed to distract it for a while — him too.
They pulled up outside a police station, where a distraught woman was already waiting beside a couple of uniforms. He got the kid out and passed it to a sea of waiting arms, and then got back in quickly so the mother couldn’t speak to him.
Edwards muttered a few words with her colleagues and then drove off. She stopped a hundred yards up the road and parked, slapping her hands against the steering wheel.
“All credit to you both. But if you think that’s the end of it, you’re very much mistaken. DI Ferguson wants to see you after your shift.”
They ditched the car and Edwards walked him back to the surveillance site. Thomas put the kettle on and gave Edwards and Karl some space. Tea made and a piss later, he carried through a tray and the last of the digestives from the cupboard. Edwards was slapping Karl’s arm and smiling.
“You’re a funny bastard.” She shifted round to rendezvous with the tray. “Thanks, Thomas. I need a cuppa after this morning. I believe one of those biscuits has my name on it.”
He put the tray down near her, grabbed a mug of tea and went over to the window, listening at relatively close quarters for the fifteen minutes she stuck around. She was so quiet back there that, out of habit, he checked his mobile for messages. The first text up was from Sheryl — a simple thank you. That was followed — uncomfortably quickly, judging by the times — with Miranda suggesting they meet up that night if he were free. He did the maths and figured he’d still have time to re-masculate the flat. He paused, mid-thought. Heick might have warned Sheryl off from telling Miranda but there was no saying he had to. She’d find out anyway and surely it was better coming from him.
“Another vehicle stopping.” He set his phone aside and took some photos. It struck him then that it’d be a good thing if there were no official footage of him leaving the target area, especially with a baby on his arm.
“Is it the same driver?” Karl called over, probably for Edwards’s benefit.
“Looks like it. This one’s an Audi.”
“Right, chaps, I'll leave you to it.” She brushed the crumbs from her trousers. “I’ll pick you up later.”
Thomas didn’t speak again until the door closed. “Did you manage to get her onside?”
Karl shrugged. “I hope so. Don’t get me wrong — we did the right thing. I’m surprised, actually. Time was when you’d sit back and let me take the lead. Miranda must be feeding you something special.”
Thomas let it pass. As much as he trusted Karl, Miranda was sacred ground.
By the time the next shift arrived, Thomas had excised any images showing him outside the storage facility. That left things messy, but DS Edwards and DI Ferguson would just have to puzzle it out for themselves. That’s what detectives were supposed to be good at.
Chapter 6
It didn’t take surveillance skills for Thomas to figure out DS Edwards was pissed off. The odds were that DI Ferguson had given her another grilling, not that she revealed much. No, that joyful conversation was still awaiting them.
She remained in the car, hands on the wheel, staring ahead as if she could see the iceberg. Thomas opted for the passenger seat and left Karl to sit behind. He watched for signs of life and began with an easy question.
“What did Ferguson say?”
She threw him a glance. “DI Ferguson was as perplexed as I am. He wanted to know if you two are on some other assignment?”
That killed the conversation for a few minutes. Thomas wasn’t sure how to respond and Karl, thankfully, had taken an unexpected vow of silence.
Edwards started again as they sailed through the lights. “The thing is, I can see why you got involved. What troubles me — and my DI — is that you were capable of doing so.”
If Thomas had thought Karl would intervene, he was disappointed. The backseat was as quiet as a leatherette grave.
“Ask the baby’s mother how she feels.”
He could hear Karl chuckling.
“Point taken, Thomas. But it doesn’t answer the question.” She shut up again.
A couple of uniformed officers gave them a quick round of applause as they went up the stairs. Thomas figured word had already got around the police station. Either that or they were taking the piss.
* * *
DI Ferguson waited in the middle of his office, out of his depth in the shag pile. There were no coffees in evidence. Edwards closed the door and the four of them stood like chessmen in search of a board. Ferguson let go a heavy sigh.
“What were you thinking?”
Thomas could see he was sweating. Karl cleared his throat.
“The child was at risk and we assessed her to be in imminent danger. Section 17 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act . . . End of story.”
DI Ferguson pointed a finger at Karl’s face. “Don’t be clever,” he snapped.
It had been well worth the call to Ajit before Edwards picked them up.
“Look,” Thomas tried to smooth the ripples, “We had to act quickly in case the car was moved on. We knew there was only one person on site — just the hired help. It gave me an opportunity to plant a device in the vehicle when I took the baby out. I got a name too, from the old guy: Arlo Moretti.”
One look at Ferguson’s face told them this wasn’t news.
“Karen, could you give us a minute?”
Edwards looked embarrassed as she scuttled to the door.
“Sit down, please.” Ferguson’s charm tablets had started kicking in. “Moretti is part of a separate case and isn’t pertinent to this investigation.”
“Does he know that?” Karl chipped in.
Thomas racked his brain for a suitable pincer move, but before he could come up with something sparkling a text came in on his phone.
“Sorry, it could be urgent.” It was, but not in the way he’d expected.
‘You did well, saving a child today. I’m impressed. We will talk again soon.’ No name, except he knew exactly who had sent it. Heick might as well have included the Star-Spangled Banner. He put his phone away.
“You alright, Thomas?” Karl had picked up that he wasn’t.
“Something’s come up,” he announced to the room. “We need to go. Now.”
Ferguson seemed confused. “Right, well, forget about Arlo Moretti and concentrate on the job you’re paid to do. Karen will see you out.”
Edwards was loitering by her desk and made a beeline for them.
“How’d it go?”
Thomas started walking, leaving the two of them to catch up. Karen kept pace with Karl and followed them onto the street. Thomas rounded on her, almost colliding.
“Who did you tell about our little escapade today?”
“Only the DI. I had to. I wasn’t claiming the glory, honest. The DI told me to keep everything under wraps.”
“So why were the uniforms clapping?”
“You’re the first team of outsiders reporting directly to me.”
Karl waited until they were in the car together.
“What’s eating you, Tommo?”
He directed Karl to his mobile and let him check the text. “The way I see it, Karl, either the DI or the sergeant is reporting back.”
“Yeah.” Karl unwrapped a toffee and popped it into his mouth. “Or we’re the ones under surveillance.”
Not a very comforting thought. “Except,” Thomas accepted a hard toffee and sucked at it. “In order to surveil us they’d have to know where we’re working, which brings us back to Ferguson or Edwards. My money’s on the DI — although that could be class prejudice.”
“Either way, Tommo, I don’t like it, not one little bit.�
��
* * *
They parted company at Kilburn, leaving Thomas with his thoughts. Heick must want more than a message to Karl, so why was he holding back? Before setting off he dug out his personal phone and dialled Miranda, one eye on the rear mirror watching Karl.
“Miranda Wright. Go ahead caller!”
“You’re funny. Can you come over tonight — meet me after work?”
“I can do better than that. Sheryl’s back at work so I can slope off early like a bad old boss.”
“Brilliant. See you in an hour or so. Can you pick up a takeaway, something spicy? Surprise me.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Mr Bladen. See you soon, hon.”
The smile on his face lasted until he noticed Karl was still there, watching him.
Chapter 7
Thomas’s spirits lifted at the sight of a Mini Cooper parked up outside his flat. He pulled in behind it, ignoring his neighbour’s twitching curtain. He felt the Mini’s bonnet — still warm. The aroma of Szechuan prawns hung in the air like a promise. Unlocking the front door he caught the strains of The Platters welcoming him home after a fairly shit day, and crept into his flat.
“You made it then.” He pushed the kitchen door, just in time to see Miranda lowering a knife.
“That’s because I ran all the way.”
He put his rucksack down carefully and stood in front of her, drawing her close so they could sway together to Twilight Time. He smiled to himself. His day had been closer to Twilight Zone.
Miranda struggled a little, but only a little. “Food.”
“Nah, let’s stay like this forever.”
Miranda sighed contentedly. “Then who would eat the banana fritters?”
“Well,” Thomas let her go in an instant, “when you put it like that . . .”
He was deeply engrossed in chow mein when Miranda suddenly set her fork down.
“Do you want the bad news or the bad news? Jack Langton gets out of prison soon. I think Sheryl’s freaking out and that’s why she pulled a sickie. Maybe you could have a word to reassure her?”
He chewed on a prawn. Jack Langton — a scumbag he’d helped to put in prison, and who also happened to be Sheryl’s father.
Shadow State Page 3
