by Martin Cox
Monday morning came around sooner than they had hoped. The weekend had been full of good weather, pleasurable walks in the country and of course, the theatre, this time they had indulged in the music of Les Miserables at the Queen’s. They dressed together as usual and Jack headed down to the kitchen, leaving Sarah to do her make up and hair. Jack had set a simple table of muesli and orange juice and hot, black coffee, slightly less exciting than the previous day’s scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. As Jack contently munched through his bowl of seeds and nuts, Sarah joined him at the table. She poured herself a coffee and took a sip.
‘How about you join me for lunch today?’ It was an optimistic question, as previous attempts always returned a ‘no.’ Jack finished his mouthful and smiled across the table.
‘I don’t think I’ll have time, sweet heart. Best to say, no.’ Jack never knew where he would be at any given time and would never want to cancel on Sarah. Jack finished his cereal, rose from the table and placed the bowl and spoon in the sink. He made Sarah stand and kissed her on the lips.
‘I’ll see you tonight. Don’t work too hard.’
‘See you soon. Love you.’
‘Love you too,’ Jack replied, without hesitation and with that he left.
Sarah’s office wasn’t that far from Elephant and Castle and as she drove into her usual parking space, the scattered white clouds disappeared to reveal, what could only be, a good day. Her job involved a great amount of travel and her educated eye for detail, made her one of the most sought after travel photographers in England. Sarah sat at her desk and switched on her computer, her assistant, Bridgett, bringing her a cup of black coffee. Bridgett was now well into her fifties but far from feeling the years. Sarah had always told Jack that she had the motivation of someone half her age.
‘Thank you, Bridgett, any messages?’
‘Saracen Holidays called late on Friday, but they said they’ll be phoning back today, something about their new beach huts in one of the Fijian islands, they weren’t very specific, they wanted to speak to you. I don’t think they wanted to reveal too much to me.’
‘We’ll just have to set them straight then, thank you, Bridgett.’ Sarah smiled and returned to the computer and opened up her Photoshop editing software. There was a small beep from the phone on Sarah’s desk and Brigitte’s voice emitted from its speaker.
‘Saracen Holidays on line one for you, would you like to take it?’
‘Yes please, put them through.’
Jack, in the meantime, sat opposite Shelton, Morgan and Grimlock, never before discussing what had gone wrong.
‘You say in your report that you assume Sperafico was tipped off,’ began Morgan, her thick, red-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose as she stared into Jack’s detailed report. Being an ex-field agent, she didn’t question his recollection of the events and proceeded to find out how much Jack really knew. ‘Do you have an idea who it could be?’
‘No, but it was someone who knew I couldn’t make the shot from that angle.’
‘Although you tried,’ Shelton interjected, looking at his copy of the report.
‘Unprofessional on my part, I admit,’ replied Jack, now looking frustrated.
‘Surely, if Sperafico was tipped off, he would have used the front exit ensuring his certain safety,’ Morgan continued.
‘From the position I was in, it was impossible to get a clean shot.’ Jack’s mistake was now eating at him, and he knew that he was right about the leak. ‘I phoned in the location to intelligence to ensure that it would be safe, anyone could have passed on that information to Sperafico.’
‘We checked the phone records, Jack,’ Shelton announced. ‘There were no calls to his room, or his mobile, between the time you cleared the location with intelligence and the time he exited the building.’
‘Not one, doesn’t that seem strange to you?’ Jack began to lose his calm disposition, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips and shaking his head. Grimlock looked up from his paperwork, stroking his thin moustache.
‘We know from the past, Sperafico is very unpredictable, it could have been coincidence that he used that exit and the evidence you have given us is all very circumstantial, Jack, we can’t investigate a leak if we don’t know that we actually have one.’
‘He’s right, Jack,’ agreed Shelton reluctantly, ‘we’ll monitor his dealings as usual, and an attempt on his life may be a good enough reason for him to go back to his smaller operations.’
‘I think it’s for the best if you forget about this one Jack,’ Grimlock suggested, closing his copy of Jack’s report and placing it in the silver shredder behind him.
Morgan took off her glasses and stood up from her chair.
‘That’ll be all thanks, Jack.’ And with that Jack left the office.
Twelve thirty came round swiftly and the persistent rumbling sounds from Sarah’s stomach confirmed that it was lunchtime. Her usual lunchtime spot was the Edwardian Restaurant, two streets away. Her walk was brisk, only stopping to buy a novel on the way in the newsagents. She read a lot, becoming an enthralled reader of fantasy literature during her first assignment, having time to spare at the airport. As she made her way round the corner to the restaurant, Sarah stopped to cross the road, noticing a familiar face waiting outside its pitched roofed entrance. It was Jack. Enjoying his wife’s company over the weekend, and an excuse to forget about work, he had decided to have lunch with her; he knew she usually ate alone. He stood waiting patiently. Looking for traffic, Sarah stepped into the road, Jack smiling receptively. Suddenly, from its stationary position a black Lexus RX 4x4 span out into the road and accelerated with immense speed. Sarah immediately noticed the car heading towards her. She attempted to run, breaking the heel of her right shoe causing her to stumble. Jack made his move, darting into the street but it was too late. The Lexus hit Sarah full on, smashing her stooped head with its front grill as it made contact. As the car passed, Sarah’s body disappeared under it. Jack could clearly see the two men in the front two seats of the vehicle. They were two of Sperafico’s bodyguards. Jack’s heart sank as he picked up his wife, who was now covered in blood and unconscious. A young, Chinese woman stood directly behind him, her mobile phone to her ear.
‘An, am, ambulance is on its way,’ she stuttered, shocked by what she had just seen. Jack heard her kind words but chose not to respond. He did everything he could to keep her alive until the ambulance and the two police cars arrived simultaneously.
The ambulance hurtled, at speed, on its way to St. Thomas’s hospital. The crew were doing as much as they could, despite the severe loss of blood from her head wound. As they arrived, two male Asian doctors emerged from the entrance and listened closely to the information that spieled out of the female paramedic’s mouth. Jack felt quite useless, he had seen injuries like this in the past but he had never had this involuntary reaction before. The medical team worked fast, addressing each injury methodically, using every piece of knowledge they possessed to control the bleeding. Jack held Sarah’s hand, the nurses now working round him, following the look he gave the nurse who asked him to step aside when they first arrived. It had been 45 minutes and countless bags of blood. The doctors stopped and the nurses became silent. Jack knew the verdict and pulled up a nearby metal stool, continuing to hold his wife’s hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, exhaling a breath that held back his emotions. The doctor knew that his usual detailed explanation wasn’t required and, along with the rest of the staff, left the room.
Jack was now sitting in the small waiting room, his hands supporting his face. He was surrounded by large, brown leather sofas, but chose the hardness of an orange plastic chair. He raised his head as Alex entered the room. One of the nurses had phoned and informed him of what had happened.
‘What can I say? I just don’t believe it.’ Alex said, sitting opposite him, slumping into the sofas soft material. ‘Do you need me to phone anyone?’ he asked, looking round the room, su
pportive yet uncomfortable.
‘No thanks, the hospital took care of it. Sarah’s parents are on their way. They’ll be here in a couple of hours.’ They both sat silently for a second, before Jack spoke.
‘It was an intentional hit, I recognised the two guys from Italy. There’s a leak, Alex, and I intend to find out who, even if it takes me to an early grave.’
‘Well, if you need help, I’ve got two weeks off, already mowed the lawn, got nothing else to do,’ Alex replied, realising he was inappropriately injecting humour into the conversation. ‘Err, let me get you a drink,’ and with that Alex jumped up and left the waiting room in search of a vending machine.
As the doctors described the extent of Sarah’s injuries to her grieving and shocked parents, Jack kept silent about his additional information. Alex had gone home to change and was heading straight into the office to start his enquiries. Jack left the funeral arrangements to Sarah’s parents on their request, something that Jack didn’t mind in the slightest, he just wanted to get even with Sperafico and especially the person who had revealed his identity and personal life to him.
The sun was setting early as it was now approaching autumn. The grass at the Victoria Embankment Gardens was a beautiful dark green. The numerous thick, wooden benches were empty, except one. On it, sat a man in a grey overcoat. He wore a pair of small, rounded sunglasses protecting his eyes from the bright, but disappearing sun. The man was Douglas Grimlock. As he sat in his tranquil surroundings, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his coat, took one out and lit it with his silver Zippo lighter, clicked it shut and placed it back in his left trouser pocket. He exhaled, whirling smoke from his flared nostrils, glancing at his gold citizen watch. It was approaching five o’clock and Grimlock sat motionless, his eyes glancing in all directions as if waiting for someone. Grimlock took the last short drag of his cigarette and flicked into the path in front of him. As he stared at the floor beneath him, a large brown shoe stepped on the still smouldering embers of the cigarette, extinguishing it with a swift turn of its black sole. Grimlock followed the large, blue trouser leg upwards, eventually staring into the eyes of a large, tanned man.
‘Thiago, here, doesn’t like smokers. I’m not in the same opinion, as you can imagine. Tobacco is a big business and I wouldn’t be as wealthy as I am if it wasn’t for smokers,’ said Sperafico, laughing moderately. Grimlock’s face became pale as Sperafico took a seat next to him, his entourage standing close nearby, eyes both on Grimlock and the surrounding area. Grimlock spoke.
‘You said you were going to get rid of Harvey, not his wife.’
‘Douglas, my friend, may I call you a friend, we have known each other for such a long time now,’ Grimlock just nodded, genuinely scared of the man sitting next to him.
‘It was my boy’s idea, they felt, after following him for the weekend, that this was a much better punishment, and I just had to agree with them.’
‘But what if he finds out it was me?’ replied Grimlock, his raised voice quieting as he spoke on. ‘This leaves me with a huge problem.’ Sperafico shrugged his shoulders and stood up from the bench.
‘I’m sure he suspects someone, but if you’ve been clean and careful like I told you, you won’t have a problem.’ He straightened his long black coat and did up its top button.
‘What about the thirty thousand for the information?’ Grimlock asked, looking up at Sperafico from the bench, resembling a scared child confronting a violent parent.
‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that and decided that it was sufficient repayment for letting a bullet get that close to me, oh, and for the lives of two of my loyal employees.’ Sperafico turned, signalling to the two huge men that they were leaving.
‘He’ll be after you now. You know that. He won’t stop until you’re dead,’ Grimlock said. Sperafico stopped and turned.
‘I’m sure you’ll stay in touch and keep me up to speed with his comings and goings, and I hope everything is arranged for tomorrow night, I don’t want any delays.’ And with that the three men wandered off down the lamp lit paths of the park. Grimlock rose from the bench, staring at their disappearing image, his hand grasped on the gun inside his coat. As they vanished out of sight, he released his grip and walked off in the opposite direction.
It was the following evening. Sperafico stood with two-dozen men, leaning against a stack of shipping containers, overlooking Tilbury dock, near the mouth of the river Thames. The night air was cold and damp and it was fast approaching midnight. Sperafico wrapped himself tighter in his thick, grey, trench coat, buttoning his top button, protecting his neck. The cargo ship he was waiting for, was now docking with the help of two tugboats. The 95-metre ship came to a halt and dropped its anchor, its immense weight plunging into the murky waters of the Thames. Sperafico approached the ship, numerous men throwing ropes to the dock securing the mighty vessel. In the background were a fleet of twenty Scania lorries, each one waiting for their 40-foot container. The containers would be distributed to numerous warehouses throughout London. The lorries would each make three trips. As soon as the last rope had been secured, the cranes got to work, unloading the numerous containers and their loose contents. Sperafico stood with a smile on his face knowing that there would be no disturbance from the authorities, thanks to Grimlock. The container’s contents consisted of Amazon timber, tobacco and a large quantity of weapons and firearms, destined for Britain and mainland Europe.
The hours passed and it was all going well, until the final five containers. From the shadows of the containers, a large group of men emerged, the majority built like Sperafico’s bodyguards. They stopped a few metres from Sperafico. A young, shaven-headed man spoke.
‘We want to know what’s going on here. We’ve been told you’ve been transporting containers all night.’ Sperafico’s men stopped what they were doing and formed a group next to their boss.
‘I believe it is no concern of yours,’ Sperafico announced, slipping his hand inside his coat for his gun, prompting the rest of his men to do the same.
‘Well, that’s where your wrong mate, cos we are concerned and we want to make sure you’re not up to no good. But I think we can assume you are, so you must have something of interest in those containers, otherwise you wouldn’t be here in the small hours of the morning, without proper security.’
‘You are not as stupid as you look,’ Sperafico replied, still with a firm grip on his firearm.
‘I went to college me, pride of the family I am.’ Sperafico knew that gunfire wouldn’t be a wise idea, so he pulled his arm from his coat and took a step backwards.
‘Finish this, before it starts,’ he ordered, waving his hands to his men, indicating them to advance. From their coats, the London gang pulled out a variety of heavy pipes and knives. The fight commenced. Sperafico watched, as his men gave as good as they got, but it wasn’t good enough. Numerous men were thrown into the water and in the dark it was difficult to figure out who was who. Mark Sweetly, Sperafico’s head of security, ran from the ship just in time to see one of his men receive a phenomenal kicking from a tattoo faced youth.
‘You call this the best security?’ asked Sperafico.
‘Who are they?’
‘Does it matter? You have disappointed me once too often. I no longer have a use for you,’ Sperafico shouted, pulling out his gun and shooting Mark dead. The gunshot attracted a lot of attention from the extensive affray. The London gang stopped what they were doing and took a step back. Sperafico’s men looked a little annoyed; drawing their guns could have saved them a lot of damage. They all dipped into their coats and drew their weapons. The London gang dived for cover as the bullets started to fly, ricocheting off the sturdy containers. A few of the Londoners had guns but they all took a bullet as soon they stood to use them. The rest sensibly retreated. Sperafico ran to the ship ordering the captain to clear everything from the hold with the few men that were able. Due to the few residents in the area and security, it wasn’t long before th
e police would turn up. The final containers were loaded onto the lorries and they made hast out of the area along with a few of the men. The ship would be fine; the authorities would find the appropriate paperwork all in order. Sperafico and his bruised and bleeding men climbed aboard the tugs and made their way out of the dock and up river. Overhead the sound of the Metropolitan Police Air Support Unit could be heard. Both tugs pulled into an empty berth and became silent and dark against the night’s black water.
The Eurocopter’s searchlights hovered over Tilbury dock, discovering numerous bodies. An abundance of blue lights were visible in the distance. Sperafico took out his phone and called Grimlock and explained the situation.
‘You’re supposed to keep a low profile, normal import businesses do not carry firearms,’ Grimlock said, a little angrier than he would like to be with a man like Sperafico.
‘I had no choice. One of your stupid London gangs tried to take my shipment. I tried to stick to your rules but these thugs would not listen to reason,’ replied Sperafico angrily.
‘Stay hidden, I’ll try and deal with it,’ Grimlock said. The sun was now rising, an orange haze forming around the numerous grey clouds that passed swiftly overhead.
Sperafico sat in the small cabin of one of the tugs, beginning to feel the cold. The occasional morning sun shone down from above and enticed Sperafico and two others to venture out on deck to bask in its warmth. The police patrol boat made its way slowly down the Thames. One of the crew noticed the movement from the tug. The boat turned and approached the berth. It was too late for Sperafico and his two men to hide.
