Cade had now got Thomas by the neck and was starting to increase the pressure on her carotid when he looked down and saw the offending member. Rather than restrain ‘her’ it was all Cade could do not to burst into uncontrolled laughter.
Thomas had also realised that the game was up, the fight over, and began to plead for mercy.
“OK, OK fellas, enough is enough. You win. I have my looks to consider. I promise I won’t kick off again. Girl Guides honour.”
“Bloody Boy Scouts more like!” replied a genuinely horrified Roberts. “You had your fucking balls in my mouth at one point. For the love of all things holy, when were you going to tell us?”
Thomas looked genuinely upset. “But I wasn’t boys. That’s just it. I’m Lucy, not Len. I’m a girl, I’m a woman, just accept me for what I am?”
Roberts was still incensed.
“I swear if you start singing ‘I will survive’ I’ll knock your bloody teeth out.”
Cade, sensing that things were far from calm, offered to put the kettle back on.
“Guys, I think we can all put this behind us. Tom, Lucy, whatever your name is I think you need to start talking, and fast or I’ll happily put you in restraints that you won’t enjoy. Deal?”
Lucy Thomas wiped the smudged lipstick from her face, rubbing a solitary piece from her front tooth and apologised, first and foremost to Roberts.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know what was about to come over me.”
She looked at Roberts who shook his head and replied, “I can assure you it wasn’t going to be me love. I mean, really? Do you actually think I would go anywhere near a cross-dressing prossie? I’m a married man!”
“Excuse me, mister, married men make up many of my best customers. And for the record, I’m trans and proud.” Thomas’ anger was starting to boil again. Cade stepped in.
“Lucy, I can call you Lucy, can’t I?”
“You can blue eyes, but he can’t,” replied Thomas with a theatrical palm wave towards Roberts who was still nursing a pair of frantically pulsing orbs.
“Good, then start talking. I want to know when you met this individual, actually, I want to know his name, who he associates with, where he lives, where he gets his money from, when you plan to see him again…”
Thomas cut Cade off mid-sentence, “I can tell you all of this honey, I can even tell you his favourite bedroom pastime – he likes to do it ‘prison style’…”
“Lovely, do not tell me another thing about his needs, just the facts. Just the facts.”
Cade spent another hour talking to their newly hired source. He even managed to convince Roberts to join in and before long it was Roberts who was obtaining the most information. Unbeknown to them both it would be the start of a longstanding and closely guarded intelligence relationship that would see the two become as close to friends as a Metropolitan Police detective sergeant and a bi-curious, bisexual working ‘girl’ could be.
The Romanian customer had indeed seen better days. Thomas explained that they had first met in the mid to late nineties when he was running stolen goods out of central Europe into London.
Constantin Nicolescu – son of Nicolae, or Constantin as she had only ever known him – made out he was shocked when he first saw Thomas naked in a spa bath, but the reality was he knew exactly what he was getting involved in – and was hardly in a hurry to leave. He visited once a week whilst in town and then whenever he returned to the area.
She had no idea where he lived. His only obvious associates were also similar looking, so she assumed correctly that they were from the same region.
The only thing he had told her was that he was now in possession of more cash than he had seen for years and that he had worked out a way of getting more. He laughed when he told her that he intended to explode onto the London criminal scene.
She didn’t take him literally, and anyway it wasn’t her business. He was a customer after all, and rules were rules. But terrorists were terrorists – it simply didn’t matter how you dressed them up.
The only rules that existed since his release from Wormwood Scrubs were that he could not involve his friends and there was to be no kissing – not with that mouth – it repulsed her – but the money was good and in a bizarre way he was kind to her, unlike the Middle Eastern nobility who thought nothing of beating her and sharing her around. Of all her customers, they were easily the cruellest.
The two officers made a point of a professional goodbye in the hallway of Thomas’ apartment building. She knew that in order to avoid a clutch of actual bodily harm charges she had to provide timely information, and often. She assured them she would, but insisted on a code name for when she rang in to speak to them.
All of the obvious names were gone: Vixen, Foxy, Kitten and Tiger.
Cade thought that the name Lucy Thomas sounded vaguely, phonetically, at a push, and without any other possible names, a little like ‘illustrious’ and his old school friend had served on the Royal Navy aircraft carrier HMS Illustrious – he repaired Sea Harriers – or jump jets as they were colloquially known.
Jump Jet seemed appropriate but too downmarket for the undoubtedly upmarket Thomas – but Harrier, at a stretch, sounded just right. And so she became Harrier. As with most covert human intelligence sources, her name was as much a mystery as the intelligence she provided.
A few hours after they had arrived at the apartment, they were travelling back to the Yard. Neither Cade nor Roberts said a word to Murphy en route, but as they pulled into the car park he got out of the car and spoke.
“Boss, I was trying to tell you something about Lucy that I felt you needed to know, but you couldn’t hear me above the traffic.”
Roberts did his utmost to hide his eternal shame.
“Oh yes, Del and what would that have been?”
“Well, boss, Lucy is not all she seems, she’s erm a little…”
Roberts held up his hand, whilst the other sat in his trouser pocket nursing a still stinging testicle. “Derrick, there is nothing you can tell me about that lady that will upset me. Lucy, Jack and I got along just fine. We managed to obtain a lot of quality information and we will meet again whenever she has more to tell us. Cracking girl, very courageous wouldn’t you say Jack?”
“Oh indeed, the girl has got some balls that’s for sure Sergeant.”
Murphy went back to his desk, looking a little bemused as Roberts ushered Cade into a side office.
“Jack, what we saw, felt, touched, tasted, smelled, did…back there….it must never be discussed again. Ever. Never.”
He shuddered involuntarily. “I need to gargle with bleach.”
“Gentleman’s honour Jason.” He put his hand out, allowing his colleague to shake it vigorously. Roberts was walking away when Cade called out to him, pointing to below his nose.
“Jas, you’ve got a stray hair on your lip.”
He left Roberts in the office manically brushing his face with his spare hand as he gravitated with a wicked grin back towards an industrious O’Shea.
“Well hello, Inspector, the DCIs looking for you two. Hope she was worth it?”
“Carrie, you simply have no idea. None whatsoever.” He shuddered and walked along the corridor to the nearby office.
Roberts and Cade spent another half an hour briefing the detective chief inspector, strategically leaving out the finer details of their meeting.
“We learned a lot about an individual of interest but the only problem is sir, we don’t know where the next job will be. I recommend that Jason keeps his hand in with the informant. I think she can come up with the goods.”
“Whilst you have been out and about painting the town red, Carrie and her colleagues have been running the numbers again. It transpires that the ATM jobs are reducing. A few here, a couple there. The bottom line is unless anything significant occurs the commander will pull the pin on Op Breaker.”
Cade went first.
“Boss, this is crazy we are this close!” T
humb and forefinger were used to support his words.
“He’s right, sir. Just another few weeks.”
“I hear you both, but with knife-point robberies escalating, the commissioner is losing interest. Get out there and start rattling some cages, but gents, no overtime.”
All three men sighed. Despite the message that Daniel had delivered, he, too, felt that they were as close as Cade had indicated to locking up some seriously motivated offenders.
Daniel cleared his mind and spoke.
“Gents, I’ve only been on board for a short time, but I give you my word that I will back the team to the hilt. But please realise as much as I think you are all great, doing a great job…there is only so much I can do when it comes to three rounds of scissor, paper, rank.”
Cade nodded. “At risk of being rude I doubt any of us are going to get promoted any day soon so we need a sharper pair of scissors.”
Chapter Eight
The following night, Dorin Gabor left his bedsit room and walked quickly to his car. He had met Constantin earlier in the evening and the package had been exchanged. A simple, non-evidential trail; no chance of betrayal.
Whilst he didn’t trust the other male Dorin could see some light at the end of the tunnel. He finally had a chance to become someone in his home town, a man of means who others would respect. All he needed to do was to assemble the devices, attach them as he had been shown and then make the hour-long journey to the channel port of Dover, drive his car onto the ferry and head across Europe for home, raising neither interest nor suspicion – in a now practically borderless Europe it has never been easier.
Artur Gheorghiu had promised him a brighter future. So far he had paid him well and treated him like a son. So why did Gabor feel such an overwhelming desire to get the job done and leave?
The older mentor was at the forefront of Gabor’s mind as he approached the first ATM. He’d already done this a hundred times. But he felt a nervousness that he couldn’t explain. The device was almost identical to the equipment he had become familiar with, with a subtle addition – but the new equipment in the boot of his car was far from it. He had never seen such things before. He could guess what they did, but would he be right?
As he attached the plastic surround onto the first ATM he could think of nothing but the other items. Successfully in place he checked his environs and left on foot getting back into his vehicle a few hundred metres away. It was almost muscle memory in action.
At the second machine he repeated the act. And then drove onwards a short distance where a pre-selected machine from the same bank group was to become the host for another device.
Sat in his car in a darkened corner of a side street, he sent a text message to Gheorghiu.
‘It is done.’
Gheorghiu deleted the message and deliberately failed to reply. When the day was over he would destroy the SIM card. He was a professional. Why leave those bastards any clues?
In the next Borough Constantin sat in his poorly lit flat counting his money, again. He was restless. He needed to see the girl again. Perhaps tomorrow night when his job had been completed?
He picked up a backpack, left the flat and walked a short distance before head-down boarding a bus which carried him for three stops before he stepped softly onto the pavement, matching the speed of the approaching walkway expertly.
Gabor saw him approaching. He illuminated the sidelights on his car earning a solid rebuke from the older male when he entered the car.
“This is not spy film, idiot. From now onwards just do as you are told. Nothing more. Understand?”
He did. He swallowed audibly, causing Constantin to smile a ruined smile.
He placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Right Dorin my boy, let us go and earn some real money.”
Across the city another duo were attaching identical devices to cash machines at branches of another of the ‘big four’ banks: Arrive, sweep the area for witnesses, ensure your identity is obscured, attach device, leave. The instructions were simplicity itself.
Jackdaw had asked his brother to turn up the heat. He gave him no particular instruction, but he did say he was no longer motivated by money. What he craved was a reputation.
Stefan recalled his words, ‘Bring some distractions to the pathetic capital of England.’
“As you wish big brother, with your fancy name, and your illicit lifestyle, I will do just as you ask.”
In the south of the extensive capital city, a third team mirrored their colleagues’ activities. None had ever met, but all were trained via stammering, poor quality video recordings. A fourth team were a few minutes behind them working feverishly to make up lost time in the south west.
“OK Dorin, now we carry out stage two.” He playfully rubbed Gabor’s hair, causing the younger male to pull away. It was obvious that Constantin found him attractive, but Gabor did not reciprocate. He would take his time with the young man. The rewards were beyond exhilarating. He began to weave his trap – he was the funnel web and the good-looking boy, the fly.
“Get the equipment like you have been shown. I will check the street is clear. I have dealt with the cameras.” He raised his eyebrows, adding what he thought of as a hint of chemistry to their relationship. “I am good, yes?”
Gabor could sense that things had changed. Now he was unsure who to trust the least. The boss who would probably slash his throat given the opportunity or this toothless predator who was clearly flirting with him? He felt sick. He decided that a penniless escape was better than any financial security.
He would do this job and then escape, head home to his mother. If he had to he would try to kill his teacher.
Constantin almost hissed at Gabor. “Come on boy, bring the final parts and hurry – we have one chance to do this. Time is against us. We must not get caught!”
Gabor looked down at his left wrist. His recently acquired watch had not missed a beat. It meant more to him than his car. He had no idea at all that he was its second owner.
Chapter Nine
One hour later, the first device ignited. It had technically failed, but it caused some damage. Hardly a worthy distraction, it left the ATM housing partly molten and the cash machine rendered useless for a day. Constantin would not take the blame for this and unless the boy was willing to entertain him it would be reported as Gabor’s fault entirely.
The normal method of operations required the team to place within the moulding a cell phone, a false aperture, and a data recorder. It was all they needed to obtain the bank information and PIN number, which would be cloned later. Childs play. But this device was unique in that it contained a very small amount of explosive – far from enough to kill anyone, but sufficient to create the distraction the Boss had requested.
Each cell phone had a timer, the timer had been set for an hour and countdown had begun when the teams had pushed the housing against its host. The phone created a small electrical charge, which in turn caused the solid pack electric blasting cap to initiate a secondary explosion in a minute amount of explosive.
The intention was to cause a commotion – the loss of human life was far from the minds of those responsible – and this would be critical should they be apprehended and held under the robust anti-terrorism laws that were sweeping across the country.
The plan, like all best laid plans, was for all of the devices to activate at the same time.
The first had failed.
Constantin was furious with himself. He had been employed as a civil demolition technician in the late eighties. Young, poorly paid and poorly trained, he had taught himself most of what he knew. He read books, he carefully sought information, and he experimented.
Constantly struggling to find a way to feed himself, let alone his extended family he began to hone his skills and as the months dragged on towards December 1989, he realised an ambition above anything financial – to strike back at the hated Romanian leader Nicoli Ceaucescu and all that he stood for.
He
despised the dictator for what he had done to his people, living a life of obscene luxury whilst his subordinates lived in fear, misery and abject poverty.
He felt he could help support the anti-government uprising in his homeland but was held in custody after being arrested at a protest, long before his skills were ever able to be used. He was frustrated beyond belief. The fact that over a thousand people died as a result of the revolution angered him even more so. He became bitter and spent hour after hour fighting with internal dialogues that urged him to seek revenge.
It was whilst he was in prison he trained his thoughts away from retribution and back towards financial rewards – if he couldn’t earn a wage legitimately then why not use his skills to his benefit?
He began slowly, cutting holes in bank roofs and abseiling into the buildings using rudimentary equipment. His first job, alone, always alone, made him a week’s salary. Hardly worth the risk. But as time moved on he became more adept, better prepared and able to identify his targets. Soon however he had to leave the country he called home for fear of capture. He moved north, stopping in places that had appealed to him as a child, at each stop he earned enough to live on. His progress was slow, but he was for the first time in years a contented man. He had never found the love of his life, over time his work became his mistress.
It was in Cologne, Germany, that he first met his nemesis. Flush with money from the recent burglary of a savings bank, he was unwisely seen in a bar with a significant amount of cash. A pretty off-duty bar maid convinced him to buy her a meal after work. Like Constantin, she was able to converse in Russian, and they got along very well. The couple ended up at a five-star hotel for the night, which he insisted upon paying for.
Sex occurred, but it was clear he hadn’t enjoyed it. She had been satisfied and for her that was all that mattered. Whilst he slept she had the opportunity to steal his possessions and leave the hotel, blending back into the city and immune from capture. However, rather than steal from him she had seen a different financial opportunity and so introduced him to the noxious drug heroin. Why should she be its only slave?
Seven Degress (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 2) Page 11
