CHAPTER 68
That was something that I really should have guessed. It was one thing, far from easy in itself, setting up such a complex and personnel-heavy operation, costing such huge sums, no doubt, that Force accountants’ sphincters would be twitching. Actually setting the whole thing in motion would bring similar lower-back problems to the Crown Prosecution Service and the Brass.

What did we have, in the end? Rather a lot of observation data about booze, plus some specific intelligence that we couldn’t possibly divulge. Not a nice place to be in; I really felt for Sammy, and wondered how well Wildcat, in her professed love of dogs, had understood what would be needed when it came to the crunch of big teeth.

Shit. I looked up again, and Sammy was almost back on song. Almost, but still not happy.

“Two of our Officers have identified a site across the road from our target entrance, and they will be plotting up there. Candice? Jon?”

Office Blonde held up a hand to show who he meant, and rose to her feet.

“We have a flat roof with a parapet, which has excellent sight lines on the main gate to the compound. Another of our team has sorted some night-vision equipment, and we have taken advice from the Police Air Support Unit lads re infra-red kit. They will be on call, by the way. And we have this, sourced from my cousin, or rather nicked from his bedroom while he’s in the Canaries”

I had to look twice at the object she was holding before my eyes could make sense of it. The thing seemed to be the result of some unofficial mating between a baton round gun, a small telescope and an angle-poise desk lamp. Candice was grinning in her usual way.

“I absolutely do NOT want to know where the stock came from, but don’t worry: he’s a twitcher, sad little man, with an obsession with bird song and calls. It is a targetable parabolic mike. Sight on top, point it at what you want to hear, and bingo. My spy friends, of whom I have none, talk about lasers on window panes, but sod that stuff. This should let us hear at least what is going on in the compound, and possibly some of whatever noise we get out of the warehouse. I just hope it doesn’t bloody rain while we are lying up there”

Sammy took over again.

“Dedicated radio channels will be in use; unit commanders have a list. CCTV can see the fire door and any bundles coming out, so we have two options for a trigger. Listen in, await a decision. I want as fast an entry as we can get, but above all I want flexibility. Dog handlers, you will all be working with a firearms team, so agree your decision trees and trigger words between yourselves. The animals will not be friendly. Slides six to ten, please?”

The screen lit up as a mixture of my pictures and CCTV stills played, and there were more than a few rude words from the uniform lads.

“Not friendly is an understatement. They will be ramped up on fear and anger and probably blood smells. They may also be doped to push their aggression even higher. I think I have made plain how I feel about dead dogs, but if there is ANY doubt, I want them dropped. Experience in the US has shown it can take several rounds to stop them, so tactical awareness and positioning will be at a premium. If there are any further questions, ask your unit commanders so they can present us with a consolidated list. Now, get something hot inside you and then it will be team briefings”

I wasn’t really in a mood for conversation after that Lancaster of bombshells, and the thought of food wasn’t a comfortable one, so I sat in the locker room for a few minutes to centre myself on P.P as I changed into my old, familiar uniform. Lexie sat opposite me, her expression probably mirroring my own. I tried a smile.

“Should be different this time, love. Where’s Sammy putting you?”

“On the roof, with Candice and Ellen”

I twitched a little, detecting just a little sexism in there, but pushed it down. None of the three were exactly physical types, unlike me, and it made sense in the end. Candice knew the sound rig, the night vision shit was simple to use, and, most importantly, it wasn’t that long since Lexie had actually survived being shot in the head. I smiled.

“Waterproofs, girl. Top AND bottoms, isn’t it? Knowing our luck, there’ll be a great big puddle just exactly where you need to be. Head down, yeah?”

She grimaced, but there was humour there.

“Um, yes. At least I now know absolutely that the helmet works!”

I raised an eyebrow, and she laughed, properly.

“Got the old one back as a souvenir. Keep it next to the bed in case Julia gets a little…”

Her voice tailed off as a blush swept up her face, and I laughed in my own turn.

“Now now, girl! You know this team has rules! No shagging outsiders, isn’t it?”

“Oh, shut up, Di!”

“This the girl from the Smugglers?”

“Yeah…”

“Going OK?”

Sunlight through clouds, her answering smile and nod. I reached across to take both of her hands in mine and squeezed.

“Glad to hear it, love. Now: team briefing? Shall we?”

We eventually left the nick in convoy, vehicles breaking off in ones and twos so as not to look too bad or obvious. The roof team had preceded us by an hour, and I was myself more than happy to find myself accompanied by my two Traffic friends, who spared no banter at all, winding me up all the way to Merthyr. Barry was, as ever, the worst.

“If you drop your stick this time, girl, just shout ‘Fetch!’. You never know. One of the dogs may return it for you”

Bryn was deadpan in his little dig.

“Trouble is, while Fido is fetching, Fang, Brutus and Jaws will be eating your face”

A short pause, and then real concern in his voice.

“Di, love?”

“Yeah?”

“Not like that Transit stop, aye? No charging in? Stay behind us, please. Going to be some right animals there, and not just talking about the dogs, am I? Promise?”

I looked at him, twisted round in the front passenger seat to look at me as Barry drove, almost as smoothly as Blake did. The two had kept me safe so many times, and not just from violence. Away from Evans and Pritchard that time, and away from a dead baby in a car seat. Good coppers, good men, good people: two “of the good ones”, as Mam would say.

“Promise, mate. And I want the same from you two, isn’t it? No silliness!”

Bryn gave a sharp nod, and turned away, the banter at an end. We parked up in some god-forsaken back street in Merthyr, and I settled down into my spare fleece in the back seat as the radio traffic steadily sharpened.

“Bravo One, Oscar One”

Lexie’s voice, a hint of nerves there, but not too bad, considering her last operational outing.

“Go ahead, Oscar One”

“Eyes and ears on and working”

“Understood. What do we have?”

“Two boys at the gate. Conversation clear over the dish”

“Anything useful?”

“Not really, unless you want a rundown of local girls who will drop them for a Bacardi Breezer and a kebab”

Sammy let out a snort of laughter before making the radio rounds of the various team leaders. No hiccups reported, all in position, all sounding bloody tense. I found myself trembling with nerves, hearing that sound in my memory, that thump of a round striking and smashing Lexie’s lid.

Not tonight, DC Sutton. Not at all tonight, not in any way.

“Bravo One, Oscar One”

Tenser again.

“We have movement, boss, or will have in a few. One target is hungry. Shop down the road?”

I pressed ‘send’ immediately.

“Break! Bravo One, Sierra Three”

“Go ahead, Di”

“Lexie, what’s he said exactly?”

“Um, two of them are unhappy with their job. Wet and cold. Shop down the street does usual pasties, steak slices, and they have a microwave. One boy wants a feed and is trying to persuade the other he should do a food run”

“Bravo One, shop is a typical corner shop. Target is right about the food. Could we use that for entry? Leave the truck out of it?”

“Wait one, Sierra Three”

It was more like ‘Wait five’ in the end, but Sammy did come back to us, and I could tell by his tone of voice that it was most definitely Feral in place.

“Oscar One, Bravo One”

“Go ahead, Bravo One”

“Lexie, what can you see of the lock on that gate?”

“Um… huge great chain, looks like. Hang on…”

She was silent for a few seconds, and Sammy carried on with his sitrep.

“Oscars, Sierras: we have a snatch team in place by the shop, two more near the gate. I want a clear word on what the state of that chain is if our boy goes for a food run. If you are unsure, say so. If it is left loose, and you are sure of that fact, I want to know immediately. All understood?”

“Yes yes”

“All units, stand ready and await my word. Lexie, any sound from the warehouse itself?”

“Yes. Not clear, but lots of barking and a steady rumble we think is men shouting”

So many units, so many separate radio channels; Sammy must have been multitasking like a woman just to keep on top of the tactical positions as they evolved. My respect for him went up a dozen more notches.

“Bravo One, Oscar One”

“Go ahead!”

“Food run is on. One boy is leaving now. Wait for update, please!”

An eternity of nothing except an occasional hiss of drizzle on the front window of the car…

“Bravo One, Oscar One”

“Yes!”

“One off to shop. Chain is not secure, so far?”

“Can clearly see chain is loose. Gate is not locked. I say again, main gate is not locked”

“Thanks, Oscars. Stay off net until you see second snatch team. Busy here”

It felt like an hour, as such waits always do, but by my watch rather than my heart rate, Lexie was back on in a couple of minutes.

“Team in position. Sorry, Bravo One—”

“Got it, girl!”

Someone else was talking in the background, someone next to Sammy, and I clearly heard “Go! Go! Go!” before silence came back to my radio. I could imagine the scuffles as two pieces of shit were grabbed and removed in a hurry, and I was feeling even more uncomfortable. What had happened to waiting for a body bag?

Lexie broke silence.

“Bravo One, Oscar One, snatch made, gates shut but unlocked. No sign of a…”

She must have been dreading it as much as Sammy.

“Update. Bag thrown into back of Volvo estate. Three men, back into warehouse. Bastards!”

“Not now, girl. This is Bronze One. All entry teams, GO GO GO!”