“Oh Jesus. Here we go, ag…” More breakfast left the window and flew backwards at a hundred miles an hour, as half-digested blueberries were neatly cut to shreds by the tail rotor.
He had his face out of the window now, desperate not to get his suit dirty. Another convulsion started.
“Carrie, I’ll probably have to ring you back and go and wipe the DCI down. Ring you in ten, or ring me if you have any new intel.”
Roberts had his head back inside now and was carefully closing the window to avoid the buffeting wind. He wiped some oats from his chin.
“If any of you repeat a word of this, I will have you all sacked.” He dropped the tissue to the ground and sat back, praying that was the last of it.
“So, the good news. We’ve only got enough fuel for another few hours.” Cade grinned as he looked down onto the countryside that was becoming more marshland and less agricultural land.
“What was it Denby said? We stayed close to the coastline all the way in, near enough to the target, whilst avoiding prying eyes.”
“So where would you hide the treasure?”
“Depends on your interpretation of treasure, Jas. Gold, silver, gemstones, bloody hell, you could stash them anywhere down there. In that person’s garden just there, or in a safe somewhere. No, you see, when Denby referred to treasure I think he meant the human kind. He’s a good man. He never wanted any of the spoils of war, if he did he would have taken them long ago and lived accordingly.”
“If he’d remembered where he buried them!”
The Eurocopter continued to circle back and forth along the coastline, from the Isle of Sheppey, where just offshore the Richard Montgomery lay brooding, to the Isle of Grain and then into the Thames Estuary.
“How’s the visibility on that camera?” Cade asked the white-helmeted tactical flight officer or TFO.
“Superb boss. Balls on a gnat from a mile away. We’ve got the L-3 Wescam MX-15 on board. It uses a gyro-stabilised day camera and a thermal one for night-time. We are also able to downlink straight into the control room. In laymen’s terms, what we see, they see. With our FLIR we can pick out a human from miles away at night too. They can hide all they like, but they can’t hide their heat signature. We all emit radiation, especially when we’ve been running.”
“What about buildings?”
“That technology isn’t quite with us yet, boss. Perhaps one day?”
“Can it read minds?”
“No chance, especially my wife’s, she has a mind very much of her own.”
“Stop!” Roberts brought the cockpit to a state of silence, concerned he might throw up again, they’d ridden out the smell of the last episode which could often create a wave of nausea on board.
“Down there. I know the light is starting to fade a little, but I swear I’ve just seen the Bentley.” He pointed as the pilot altered course slightly and lowered, ever mindful of the inbound aircraft from his right.
The TFO toggled the joystick on his camera system, bringing the ground ever closer and a series of vehicles travelling along the A289, heading east and at speed, certainly above the local limit.
Cade rang O’Shea.
“It’s me. Get onto Kent Police control room. See if you can patch into their CCTV. They must have cameras all over the main trunk roads and get them to load this plate into their ANPR system as a matter of urgency.” He read the registration plate of the Bentley from what looked like ten feet away, but was probably a distance of half a mile.
“Got it?” She looked at Dave Francis who was nodding vigorously and also busy tapping on his keyboard, quenching his thirst with a ginger ale and not missing the scotch one bit.
He started running checks across the police PNC2 system, the Covert Human Source database, and every other application he could think of. He ran a check on open source areas too. Sometimes they provided the quickest answer.
“Stolen plate. From two years ago. Strangely enough, it was originally on another Bentley. City of London and the Met have markers on the plate. Keeper was a finance company in Kensington. Nothing else. Hang on someone has just checked it. Popular car.”
Carrie continued, chatting into her headset – a receptionist she wasn’t, and most PAs she knew had never stabbed a man with a pencil or had it off with their new boss whilst the public of Greater London moseyed on by.
“Has to be the same car. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Cade over the noise of the rotors. Not many of those in the country, let alone two in the same area of Kent at the same time. It’s our target, I’ll lay your pension on it.”
“OK, now what?’ She was enjoying being back in the realm of policing again. Surrounded by three screens, all angled so she could drag a mouse from one to the other, they helped her function so much quicker than using just one.
“Find JD. Tell him to get Tom to a place we can pick him up in a helo. Do that now and let me know where. I’ve had an idea.” He was gone before she had chance to say another word.
She hated it when he had inspiration and she wasn’t stood alongside him, hanging onto his coattails. She missed him and right now he was having the time of his bloody life again. It was what he did best; take a large helping of chaos, mould it, kneed it, add some sexy ingredients and bake a beautiful success cake. Smug bastard. Probably moist too, and she detested that word.
She rang John Daniel.
“Hello Carrie. What brings your luscious voice to this neck of the woods?” John Daniel had always been best described as smooth.
“No time for flirting, boss. Jack wants you to get Tom to a place where he can be picked up in the force helicopter.”
“What?”
“I’m just the messenger. Give me a site, boss. It sounded important.”
“Well, right now we are just driving around in ever-increasing circles, like highly paid tour guides.”
“Tell you what how does…” She scanned the map, hoping she’d spotted everything obvious in terms of risk. “How does St. James’ Park, just north east of the Blue Bridge sound?”
“Sounds like we would cause absolute chaos on such a fine day. You’d better warn the control room and the CAA and whoever else casts a beady eye over the city. We’ll be there in fifteen.”
O’Shea sent the affirmation text to Cade.
He read it and turned to Roberts. “We need to get back to the city. It’s dawned on me we are this close.” He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“If we are so close why on earth would we leave? Makes no sense, Jack.”
“We’ve got the map, but not the mapmaker. You alright to carry on, or shall we drop you off?”
“Do I look like I need dropping off?” Roberts asked, surreptitiously wiping the vomit off the door of the Eurocopter with a tissue.
“Honestly mate, yes. You are greener than a man from the Emerald Isle on Saint Paddy’s Day. But perhaps you’ll be OK now?”
Roberts nodded and stared at the horizon, fighting back the bile and wishing he was sat under a tree on a desert island.
Cade leaned forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.
“We got enough gas to get us to St James’ Park and back to this rough area before the light fully fades?”
“If we take it steady, loads. If we don’t by the skin of our teeth.”
“Then take it steady, we’ve got some precious cargo to pick up.”
They headed north west and dropped down to an acceptable altitude, skirting the Thames to their north. They had what some would call a million-dollar view. Roberts would have paid twice that to get off.
“So, remind me what is your latest plan Sherlock?”
“Well, Dr Watson it dawned on me as we scuttling around the Kent coast that Tom said something about staying close to the coast but away from prying eyes and you said, pointing to a place on the ground, what about there? But I ignored you for no other reason than I was thinking about something else, and you were wiping autumn fruits from your tie. But i
t’s been bothering me as we buzz around aimlessly. And then it hit me. If we get Tom on board, he might remember – you know, close enough, but away from prying eyes. Where else would he be safer right now than with you, and me and JD?”
“In a lion’s den? The Wheel of Death? Swimming off the coast of Amity wearing a seal costume? Smothering ourselves in…”
“I get it. He’s probably safer in a random high street or prison than he is with us. But if we don’t pull our collective fingers out of our singular arsehole, we could lose him and what he has up in that brilliant mind.”
“You still think it’s brilliant after spending time with him?”
“One hundred percent. Sometimes, when you know someone has a skill, the hardest part is asking the right questions. And I think I’ve worked it out. Trust me?”
“Nope. Not one bit. Last time you said that I got shot.”
“Well, technically you were shot at. He missed.”
“I won’t bloody miss you next time the chance arises!”
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
The light-hearted banter was interrupted by the pilot.
“Boss, down there I take it?”
They looked down onto St. James’ which had appeared very quickly and saw that the local police had done a superb job of pissing all the casual strollers, two plus two families and hand in hand lovers off by holding them back. They would all see why when the chopper started to descend and throw a cloud of dust and grass at them from a hundred paces.
Landing on the massive lawned area, the pilot kept the machine running as the TFO got out and checked the aircraft for any obvious external issues as Cade left to run across to meet Daniel.
“Where’s Tom?” he yelled over the din of the Pratt & Whitney engines.
“In the gents with Johnnie. Emptying his bag! The things us carers have to do. You alright?” He yelled back, shielding his eyes from the dust.
“Never better. Listen, I’ve had an idea. We need to leave Jason here. He’s about as good an air traveller as I am on the harpsichord. We need to kick the TFO out too – it’ll go down like a lead fart and they won’t be happy, but scissors, paper, Prime Minister should win.”
He waved to Roberts, who was leaving the aircraft with a mock look of disappointment.
“Jas. Not enough room for all of us and I know you are still getting over Blueberry Gate – so we’ll go in the helo, you get travelling to Kent. Fast as you can.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Where he takes us.” He pointed to Denby, who was being escorted towards the Eurocopter with a grin like a little boy in a sweet shop.
“Catch you on the ice. Don’t be late. This could get interesting.” He checked his phone. Three texts.
The first was reminding him about the fact that he owed a king’s ransom for his hotel room – that he’d hardly slept in in days. He deleted it. They could wait. They had his credit card information.
The second was from Carrie.
‘Intel coming in all the time. The Bentley pinged an ANPR camera. Local unit reckons it’s probably parked up. North Kent, fairly large patch. Looking at the map, there’s nothing down there. Try the marina? I’ll send a grid ref.’
Cade replied, ‘Get Jason to check out the marina.’
The second text was a little more succinct.
‘Stay away from what doesn’t concern you.’ A number he soon had O’Shea running through her box of tricks.
She replied, ‘Comes back to a female called Clarke. London area.’
He replied, ‘Initial J by any chance? Thanks. All I need to know.’
He yelled across to Roberts who was head down walking towards a patrol car that was about to be commandeered in another game of scissors, paper, rank.
“Jas. Jacqui Clarke is definitely involved in this. You know what she looks like. Go and find her and when you do watch your back. She’s a dark horse.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Cade put a helpful hand into Denby’s back as JD pulled him up into the cockpit.
“Let’s go. Come on, Tom, we’ve got a thrill lined up for you.” JD helped him into the back seat and strapped him in, slipped a pair of headphones over his grey-haired head and swivelled the microphone into place.
“Thumbs up if you can hear me Tom?”
“I can. Isn’t that marvellous? Modern technology is wonderful. Shame about the awful smell of sick. Are there toilets where we are going? And a café?”
“The place we are going to has everything. All I need you to do is sit back and watch. And if you remember anything, just shout into that microphone. Jack and I can hear you. Deal?”
He grinned back as the ground became a bird's-eye view. It was his first time in a helicopter. “This is marvellous. Is there a café where we are going?”
“The best there is Tom,” said JD, tagging in for Cade who was busy on his phone.
“Hey it’s us, Team Orion, heading south east at a rate of a few hundred knots. Talk to me about the Bentley.”
“Spotted on a camera at a small place called Hoo.”
Cade resisted the inevitable question.
“It’s on the north bank of the River Medway.”
“Yep, I can see it on the map.”
He tapped the pilot again. “You hearing this?”
He put a thumbs up and turned onto a south easterly course. “Twenty minutes, give or take a few.”
Cade felt under his jacket. Shoulder holster there. Check. Glock. Check. All he needed now was for the old sailor to come to the party.
Roberts dialled McGee immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Long story Guv. I’ve got Reddington and Kate on board with me and I’m on hands free.”
Roberts took the hint and tempered the chat.
“OK – well then fill me in when you pick me up. We need to head towards Kent. Something going down. Blame Cade if it all goes wrong.”
“But boss Captain Reddington needs to get to Tom Denby as soon as possible.”
“Bridie, every man and his bloody dog wants that. Why are you any different Miss Reddington?”
“That I can’t tell you. Find him for me and I will.”
“The time for games is over, Susan. Stop messing us about and interfering with our op or I will have you locked up.” Roberts had had enough now, the waves of nausea and the humiliation of having to leave the helicopter had made him tetchy to say the least.
“Anyone listening?” asked Reddington.
“Who knows these days, probably half the security services and your mob – whoever that might be.”
“My mob as you so succinctly put it is the reason this op is still going on Jason. My mob is the actual reason Jack Cade met Tom Denby in the first place. My mob were keeping him alive until yours stepped in and muddied the waters.”
“Finished?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Now listen to me. If Jack hadn’t taken Denby out of the home when he did, other groups would have nabbed him and he’d be gone forever. I think we both know that. It would be nice if you would just show my team a little bit more respect.”
“Your team let him escape from the hotel.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I had people there too. We were about to extract him when he climbed through the bloody roof and managed at the ripe of age of eighty something to almost run across two major roads and evade all of our people and all that with a catheter inserted. Now, given all of that, don’t you think he was goal-driven enough to get somewhere important – or least to meet someone important?”
“Sue. I can call you Sue?” He was trying to soften the tone. “Are you telling me that dear old Tom is not as daft as everyone thinks?”
“Lieutenant Commander Denby is far from daft Jason. He’s got dementia, that much we know, and that doesn’t mean he’s a fool. In fact, in his day he was a true rising star of Whitehall. A very clever man indeed. But for him, the gover
nment would have been on its knees a few times. He almost single-handedly ran Op Griffon back in the day and did enough to ensure it still runs today – where else do you think Britain gets its manual workers from?”
“You are telling me that modern British slavery exists, is alive and well because of this man?”
“No, not at all. I’m saying it is alive and as well as it can be because this man made sure the people were cared for. There’s a subtle difference. They look up to him. He knew where they were all kept, prisoners if you like, and the money and commodities that their descendants brought into Britain is all nicely holed up, just waiting to be discovered.”
“Like a seventeenth-century highwayman’s stash under an old oak tree?”
“Exactly like that.”
“Look, let me cut to the chase here. I don’t get it. Why would you literally store people in virtual prisons? Why not flood the market with workers and then get more?”
“Would you flood the market with precious metals or new stocks? No. And people are the commodity, especially if they can also smuggle other valuable commodities out of Africa and into Britain. They are kept in sites all over England, we just don’t know where, but if we can encourage Tom to dig deep, we can find them.”
“As simple as that?”
“As simple as that.”
“Bridie get to St James’ Park, pick me up soon as you can.”
McGee and the two women arrived within fifteen minutes. Roberts got into the back seat with Briton.
“Kate.”
“Jason.”
An awkward silence continued for a mile until she spoke.
“I’m sorry. For two reasons. One I couldn’t tell you who I worked for really, the second, I didn’t mean to lead you on, it wasn’t part of an act. I genuinely find you attractive.” She placed a hand on his and squeezed it, then smiled.
McGee gave her boss a look in the rear-view mirror that said one thing only.
Roberts leapt from the trapeze into the virtual safety net.
“Kate, I accept your apology. We both made a mistake. Let’s move on. Susan, talk to me.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
The Angel of Whitehall Page 48
