Limit of Exploitation (12 page)

Billy and Ritchie slide into plastic bucket seats opposite John and wave to the waitress. “Scuse me love, can we get a couple of brews here? Ta.”

Billy's Liverpudlian accent cuts through the air.

“If you don't want those eggs I'll scoff em, I'm fucking starving. You look like three shades of shite John, had a bad night kid?”

John ignores the banter, his face is set hard. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” Ritchie leans in and lowers his voice.

“This little ‘problem' of yours is getting out of control John. We come with Ian Braddock's compliments; he wants this sorted out and then apparently we're to bring you back with us to sunny Helmand province, one way or the other. Before it all goes completely tits up.”

“Back? Do I look like I'm going back anywhere?” The two corporals exchange glances. Billy can see John getting agitated.

“John, we're not the enemy mate. We know you won't be going anywhere unless you want to.” Ritchie stops talking as a waitress places down two mugs of steaming tea. When she's safely out of ear shot he continues on.

“Me and scouse reckon the sooner this euro trash is dealt with, the sooner we can all get back to our day jobs. We've spoken to your sister too, we know about Jack Lyndhurst. We know what's going on John.”

Billy spoons sugar into his tea. “That's right, so we know there's no fucking point even trying to talk you out of anything. So fuck it, in for a penny.”

John raises an eyebrow. “In for a penny? I'm off the grid here lads and about to dive into some deep shit, do you know that?”

“Yeah we know.” Ritchie takes a mouthful of tea, leans back and gives John a hard stare. “So what's the next move? You better brief us up mate, we don't have long. We need to know everything you know.”

John leans back in his chair also and thoughtfully rubs at his crew cut. “Well I wont lie to you boys, this fucking Zemun Clan are holding all the ace's at the moment. Well, all except one.”

Billy stops drinking. “And that is?”

“A woman called Senka, she's their bosses girlfriend, and I think she wants out.”

Ritchie puts his elbows on the table. “And what makes you think that? Because she went to see Paula?”

“Yeah.”

“You trust her?”

“No, do I shite. But she's all we have at the moment; we've set up a meeting with her tomorrow in Piccadilly. I want some fucking answers.”

Now Billy leans in also. “Where in Piccadilly mate?”

John looks at each man in turn before answering in a matter of fact way. “Come on then, lets take a walk.”

Billy nods in earnest and then looks at John untouched food. “So, do ya want those eggs or what?”

Sam wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the appearance of Billy and Ritchie. She wanted to exert her control over the situation entirely, still wanting to get to Miroslav for her own reasons. The appearance of two of John’s own unit on the scene was making that possibility slip away. She was feeling distinctly outnumbered.

For now though the meeting with Senka was burning bright on her radar.

After Paula’s phone call a couple of days before, Senka had kept to her word and text through the details of a rendezvous for their meeting. As Sam guessed, the venue was nice and public. A Costa Coffee in central London is about as public as it gets.

Senka would need to be controlled; she would need picking up, following, and then housing into the venue. Who knew what was going through her head. Whatever the result of the meeting, they all knew that she couldn’t be trusted, and when she left they would follow. Senka was their best, if only, chance of locating Emma and she would need to be gripped.

Phil wasn’t involved in the surveillance or the meeting; he had other chores to perform. John also decided that he and Sam could use some time apart.

Senka surfaced from the tube station at Piccadilly Circus and made her way along Piccadilly itself. The street was heaving with tourists, the office gang, and people in a hurry.

Leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the road, Ritchie is in lost tourist mode and looking busy with an
A – Z
. He wears a covert earpiece and easily picks out Senka from the Bishopsgate imagery. He squeezes the PTT in the palm of his hand and acts natural.

“I have Bravo three foxtrot on the south side, from Red one towards Costa. She’s black on white on denim.” Senka was walking from the tube station towards Costa Coffee on the southern side of Piccadilly. She was in a black coat over a white top and wearing Jeans. Billy is monitoring the radio traffic from the Omega. Parked up in a side street he acknowledges and confirms the call. “That’s Bravo three foxtrot towards Costa on the south side, black on white on denim.”

Sat inside the coffee shop and unable to speak in public, Sam and John listen to the calls through their earpieces and acknowledge with a rapid click clunk, click clunk on a concealed PTT. A few meters from their table Paula sits playing with her Latte, she shoots a nervous smile at them. Sam speaks into her newspaper.

“I wish she would stop smiling at us, she’s gonna compromise this.”

John responded. “She’s just flapping a bit, she’ll be okay.”

Customers chatter and mingle as they line up to be served, while suits on mobiles battle to yak over roaring coffee machines. Ritchie’s metallic voice comes through their earpieces.

“That’s Bravo three at Costa, and into Costa. Bravo three unsighted to me.” Sam turns her
Metro
to the sports section on the back. Click clunk, click clunk. She eye’s the entrance. John quietly sips coffee, avoiding eye contact with Senka as she shimmies her way through the throngs of people. She spots Paula and makes her way over. Sitting opposite, she is not in the best of moods.

“This meeting is not a good idea, I don’t have long, what’s the problem, what do you want?”

Paula’s got backup so is full of brave pills. “What do I want? I want my fucking daughter back.”

Senka leans in. “Keep your voice down! Is this why I’m here? I told you this would not be easy, I said this may take some time.”

Paula wears her best fuck you face. “Yeah well, time is running out.”

A look of concern comes over Senka. “What does that mean?” As she gets her words out Sam slides in next to Senka on the bench seat.

“Hi ya Senka, your eyes looking better.”

Senka starts to flap, she turns to Paula who is already up and leaving. She tries to leave as well but Sam grabs her arm in vice like grip. “Keep it cool Senka, we don’t want a scene now do we.”

“What the fuck is this? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a friend if you want me to be, or we can be very unfriendly.” Sam indicates towards John who sits stone faced, his eyes burning into Senka. She gets the message.

“I don’t, I don’t know…”

Sam cuts her dead. “Let’s cut the shit here shall we sweetheart, it’ll save us both a great deal of time. I know who you are, I know the people you’re involved with and I know why your here.”

“You are Police!”

“No, I’m not the Police, but fuck me around and believe me; you’ll wish that I was. You know where Emma is, we want her back and I’ve a feeling you want something out of all this too, so spill.”

“Girl? What girl? I don’t…”

Sam sighs and runs her finger gently down Senka’s cheek. “Senka? Is that Serbian? I like Serbia. I spent some time there once tracking down Arkans Tigers to drag back to the Hague.”

Senka’s brain is now running at warp speed, she’s beginning to crumble. Her eye’s flash fear and uncertainty. Who the fuck is this head case?

Sam’s tone hardens up. “That’s right. So stop stalling princess, what do you people want with Emma? And what does Senka hope to gain from all this? Tell me, we don’t have long.”

Senka’s faces Sam and gets eye lock. “Freedom, I want to get away, get away from that pig!”

“Miroslav?”

“Shit! You know him? Shit!”

Sam’s unimpressed and raises her eyes. “Stop with the performance and get to the point, we don’t have time for your dramatics.”

Senka takes a breath. “They are never going to let the child go, they are going to sell her, they always were, that’s what this is all about.”

“Sell her? Who to? When?”

The floodgates are now open. “I don’t know that, but I know she is to be sold.” She pauses. “The same way I was.”

Sam couldn’t give a rats arse about Senka’s life story; she is ice cold and has Senka right where she wants her. “You’re breaking my heart. The girl, WHERE is she?”

“I can tell you, but what then? What of me? I want to tell you, to help, but what becomes of me?”

Now the clincher. “You want your exit from all this?”

“Of course.”

Now the deal. “Then I’m your only way out, but be warned, you lie to me princess.” Sam moves in closer. “I’ll huff.” Closer. “And I’ll puff.” Closer still. “And I’ll blow ALL your houses down.” Sam blows lightly on Senka’s cheek.

If Senka was unnerved earlier, she is now flapping big time. John watches as the two women continue in their earnest conversation. Sam is sat perfectly calmly while Senka is restless and gestures with her hands. Whatever they were talking about, John bet it wasn’t the edition of
Hello.

Outside across Piccadilly Ritchie is plotted up in a sandwich shop with a trigger on the entrance of Costa. Over his earpiece he receives a rapid succession of, click clunk, click clunk, click clunk, click clunk. John is thumbing his PTT; an early warning of an event about to take place. Senka is leaving after her meeting with Sam.

Ritchie speaks quietly and gets eyes across the street. “Billy, Ritchie, check over.”

The metallic scouse accent comes straight back through his earpiece. “That’s good to me over.”

“I have Bravo three out of Costa, foxtrot towards red one.” Senka is out the door and walking back the way she came.

Billy is already out the Omega and at the Tube entrance casually looking though a
Big Bus
flyer. In his earpiece Ritchie continues reporting on Senka.

“That’s Bravo three halfway to red one, I’m going foxtrot.”

Sam and John are on their feet and moving through the crowds on Piccadilly. They cut through an alleyway into an adjacent side street and locate the Omega. Sam takes the wheel while John gets busy with an
A – Z
.

“If she takes the tube she can go east or west on the Piccadilly line or north and south on the Bakerloo.”

Sam guns the engine. “A month’s money says the bitch heads south for a mainline station.”

Earpieces crack into life. Billy has the eyeball and he can see Senka coming towards him at the tube entrance. “This is Billy, I have, Bravo three towards red one.”

John acknowledges. “That’s Bravo three towards.” He turns to Sam. “Here she goes.”

Back at the tube entrance throngs of people descend the steps, a human wave of culture clashes chattering and flowing down into the station. Billy picks out Senka and joins the wave of people two steps behind her. Ritchie picks out Billy, makes eye contact and joins the wave three steps behind him.

“That’s Bravo three into red one.”

Both the men hear John in their earpieces. “That’s Bravo three into red one.”

Conducting a foot surveillance in busy city environ­ments like London could be a nightmare at the best of times, lose the subject once and you could lose them forever. Senka was heading into an underground rail network with multiple options for exits and directions of travel. With just the two of them, Billy and Ritchie know they will have to be all over this, rotating who was behind her at any one time.

Back in the Omega John thinks aloud. “Fuck me, come on boys.”

Sam shakes a bag of sweets “Want one?”

Down in the tube station Senka mingles with the masses shuffling their way to the ticket barriers. Billy follows Senka from three bodies back, Ritchie can’t see Senka but it doesn’t matter, he just follows Billy from about the same distance.

Senka swiftly palms her oyster card at the barrier, it clunks open. If she turns left and follows the blue stripe she’ll be on the Piccadilly line. Turning right on the brown stripe meant Bakerloo. Billy is two bodies back from the barrier, now one body. He watches as Senka heads to her right and makes for the escalator to the Bakerloo line. He scratches the back of his head with his right hand; Ritchie see’s the signal and speaks into the covert mic hanging on a loop around his neck under his shirt.

“That’s Bravo three intending south on brown, south on brown.”

John hears the call but it’s difficult to make out, the signal is degraded by being underground.

“Say again your last. Ritchie check. Ritchie Check over.” He grabs his iPhone and quickly thumbs numbers but his call goes straight to Ritchie’s answer phone.

“Fuck!”

Billy hits the escalator; he can see Senka’s blonde hair bobbing about half a dozen people in front, he hopes Ritchie is behind him. Turning around on the escalator and looking back would be unnatural, nobody does that in London. Ritchie shoves his way past a group of slow moving suits yakking crap about contagion; he ignores their tuts and huffs and gets missile lock on Billy as he glides down deep into the tube station.

John gives up the struggle with his comms. “Fuck it. I heard Bakerloo but no direction.”

Sam raises her eyes. “I’m telling you, south”

“And if it isn’t?”

“South.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“SOOOOUTH!”

“Why? Why fucking south?”

“At the meeting Senka told me Miroslav has a large country pile down in Surrey. My guess is she’s heading back there now, and if she is, then she’ll be heading across to Waterloo for a train. Remember, no one knows she’s here.”

“Any other information you feel like sharing with me? Like did she mention where Emma is?”

Sam takes a breath. “Yes, I was getting to that. She thinks Emma is still in the house in Surrey.”

“Right, then fuck Senka, let’s get down there now.”

Sam shakes her head. “This is why I wanted to tell you later. We need to plan John, not go blundering in guns blazing.”