Soft Target (36 page)

Wright took a deep breath. 'I've got some CCTV footage of the suspects.' He pressed play and the screen flickered into life. A group of youngsters was huddled on a tube station platform, casually dressed in cargo pants, football shirts and flashy trainers. The oldest was barely out of his teens.

'This is the leader of the group,' said Wright, tapping a girl in a combat jacket whose hair was tied in a ponytail and fed through the back of a baseball cap. 'IC One female, five six or seven, blue eyes. She usually wears her mobile phone on a camouflage strap around her neck.' He grinned at the assembled armed officers. 'The less politically correct of our officers refer to her as Snow White, and her gang as the 284 I Seven Dwarfs. Sometimes there are seven, but there have been as many as two dozen in some of the attacks. To date,

she's the only female involved. She's been at each incident we've looked at.'

There was another ten seconds of footage from the cameras on the platform, then the viewpoint changed. This time it was footage from a camera in a busy shopping centre. It was obviously taken on a different day because the blonde girl was wearing a pink top now. 'They gather at the Trocadero in Piccadilly Circus, then head for one of the tube stations.

They've been seen going into Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square and Tottenham Court Road. That gives them direct access to the Piccadilly, Bakerloo and the Northern Lines.

We don't have video of them in action because they only strike on trains.'

On the screen the teenagers were working purposefully towards the exit. The picture jumped to a viewpoint from a camera in Piccadilly Circus, the statue of Eros in the background.

Dozens of tourists, mostly backpackers, were sitting on the steps at the base of the statue, munching fast food from Burger King and KFC.The picture jumped again, and now the group were hurrying down the steps into the tube station, elbowing an elderly couple out of the way.

There was a view of a platform. The group was gathered together at the far end, close to the tunnel entrance. Wright froze the picture. 'This is them at Leicester Square.' He tapped | the screen with his pencil. 'Here's Snow White. This is a I Bangladeshi guy. These three are IC Threes who are always with her. This is a twelve- or thirteen-year-old of mixed race.

The IC One male has been involved in at least half a dozen robberies and is always wearing an Arsenal shirt. These two are also of mixed race and have been identified at several robberies. The two IC Threes here have been involved in at least two steamings. Ten minutes after this was taken they 285 boarded a southbound train. Between Leicester Square and Charing Cross they attacked two girls, stole their mobiles and bags. One girl was slashed across the face with a Stanley knife, the other was punched repeatedly in the face and almost lost an eye. That's what makes this so bloody nasty. It's not about theft - they get a few quid out of the bags but next to nothing for the phones - they get their kicks from terrorising people. And they've been getting progressively more violent. We think they've been responsible for fifteen separate attacks over the past month.'

He ran the video for a few seconds. The view changed to a different platform and a different group of youngsters,

although the blonde girl was still at the centre. Wright tapped the face of a tubby young man in a light blue hooded jacket.

'He's been involved in several incidents and we believe he has a gun.' He froze the picture. 'We haven't seen anything on video, but three of the victims say he had one. A woman who was robbed ended up with a broken jaw and says she was pistol-whipped. We've no idea if it's a real gun or a replica.'

He pressed play again and the video showed the group getting on to a train. Another station. Another group of youngsters. 'There's Snow White again,' said Wright. He paused the video and tapped the girl's face. 'Their attacks start in different ways. If there's a large group they steam along a train, terrorising everyone, shouting, screaming and grabbing what they can. Sometimes they target individuals.

One ploy is for this young lad to start a conversation with the victim.' He tapped the face of a young mixed-race boy.

'While he's distracting them, the rest pile in. They put an American tourist in hospital last week - beat him to a pulp and didn't even steal anything. A lot of the time it's not about theft, it's about humiliation. They slash clothing, slap and punch.'

I Wright faced the SO 19 team. 'We don't know where they'll strike - that's our main problem. They don't seem to have a game plan. Snow White is their focus, but she doesn't give orders. They act like a pack of hyenas. We'll have an undercover team in the Trocadero so we'll be able to follow them down into the system, then we can track them with CCTV.

We'll know which train they board, but it's a question of getting our guys on to the same train and calling it in once they attack. That's when we'll be needing SO 19 assistance.

We'll stop the train between stations and crack on there's a mechanical problem, just long enough to get you guys in position at the next station. Then we let the train roll and arrest them.'

Wright opened a briefcase and handed out a stack of sheets of photocopied stills taken from the CCTV footage.

'These are the fifteen guys we've seen with Snow White. Two already have criminal records for assault and theft, Foday Gbonda and Leeroy Tavenier. They are the only two we can identify by name.'

The SO 19 officers passed round the sheets.

'We plan to start this afternoon in the Trocadero. We have six male officers and three females on standby. They'll follow the group if and when they leave and notify our control room which station they go to. We'd like two of your guys with us in plain clothes in case the gun is produced.'

'What about our teams? Where should they lie up?' said Swift.

'I'd suggest they stay mobile,' said Wright. 'One should be near Piccadilly Circus because that's closest to the Trocadero,

and of the fifteen attacks we know the group has carried out,

they boarded at Piccadilly Circus in nine cases.'

'Do they attack as soon as the train moves off?' asked Swift.

'Unfortunately not,' Wright said. 'On one occasion, they 287 went as far as Hammersmith and on another to Caledonian Road.'

'So the idea is that the Specialist Firearms teams shadow the train above ground?'

'That would be our game plan,' said Wright. 'By holding up the train in a tunnel we should be able to give you time to get in position.'

'You're going to lock down a train after a robbery has been committed when there's a chance that a firearm might be involved?' asked Swift.

'We'll have our officers on board, plus your plainclothes armed officers.'

'And if they start shooting? You want a firefight in a train in a tunnel?'

'I'm assuming there won't be a firefight,' said Wright, 'and that our officers will be able to contain the situation. If there is a firearm, the presence of armed officers should prevent it being used.'

'Should, would, could,' said Swift. 'If it goes wrong, civilians may get caught in the crossfire.'

'Like I said, if the boy has a gun, he hasn't fired it yet.'

Brian Ramshaw passed the photographs to Shepherd, who took a set and passed the rest to the officer on his left. The pictures were grainy but clear enough to aid in identification.

Shepherd memorised the faces.

'That's the state of play,' said Wright. 'We'll kick off at about six this evening. BTP will have six plain-clothes officers, including myself. There'll be a chief inspector running the operation at our Management Information and Communications Centre in Broadway just opposite New ScotlandYard. He'll have access to all the CCTV cameras and can liaise with us in the tunnels and with your guys above ground. Two uniformed officers with radios will be here later today and they can ride with the Specialist Firearms teams. Any questions?'

I Heads shook.

'I'm going to suggest Stu Marsden and Brian Ramshaw as the undercover officers from SO 19,' said Swift. 'Have you guys got suitable casual clothes?'

Shepherd was already wearing a leather jacket and jeans with a blue denim shirt. He glanced at Ramshaw, who was nodding.

'That's it, then,' said Swift.

'Don't suppose I can take my Heckler, can I?' asked Ramshaw.

'Only if you can hide it down the front of your trousers,'

said Swift, deadpan.

A uniformed WPC opened the cell door and smiled at Angie.

'Your lawyer's here.'

'Thanks,' said Angie. The WPC took her along a corridor to an interview room. When the woman opened the door and Angie saw who was sitting at the metal table her face fell. It wasn't the lawyer she'd phoned. It was Gary Payne,

who worked for Charlie. She hesitated but Payne got to his feet and held out his hands, a broad smile on his suntanned face. He spent a lot of time in his villa in Marbella, a stone's throw from Charlie's. 'Angie, love, what a nightmare,' he said.

She took his hand, and he squeezed it hard enough to make her wince. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were flint hard.

'Sit down and let's see what we can do to get you out of here.'

'Would you like some tea or coffee?' asked the WPC.

'Tea with milk and two sugars,' said Payne. 'Bit of a sweet tooth. Angie'll have the same.' He swung his slim Gucci briefcase on to the table.

'I don't want anything,' said Angie.

'Nonsense,' said Payne, jovially. 'Hot sweet tea will do you the world of good.'

The WPC left the room, closing the door behind her.

The smile vanished from Payne's face. 'You stupid, stupid,

cow,' he said.

Angie put her head in her hands.

Payne leaned over her, so close she could smell the garlic on his breath. 'Did you think you'd get away with it? That Charlie wouldn't find out?'

'Can you tell him I'm sorry?'Tears poured down her face.

'You're sorry?' Payne sneered. 'Sorry doesn't cut it, Angie.

Don't you understand what you've done?' He sat down opposite her, interlinked his fingers on top of his briefcase and waited for her to stop crying.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and Payne handed her a crisp white handkerchief with his initials in one corner. 'Use this. What have they said to you so far?'

'Gary, please, I've got my own lawyer coming--'

Payne's grey eyes burned into hers. 'Listen, you stupid bitch, your life is over, the trick you've tried to pull. All we're trying to do now is minimise the damage you've done. If you don't help Charlie you're going to bring more grief on your family than you can believe.'

Angie felt as if she'd been slapped across the face.

'What did they offer you?' he snapped.

'They said they'll forget what I did if I help them put Charlie away.'

'Specifically?'

'Deals he's done. People he's met. Where his money is.'

'You know the guy you paid was a cop?'

Angie's jaw dropped.

'You paid off an undercover cop.'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'He killed someone else. There were photographs.'

'It was a set-up, Angie.'

She slumped in her chair.

'The cops set you up because they needed you to help them put Charlie away. You were never going to get what you wanted. The game was rigged from the start.'

'Oh, God.'

'He can't help you now. No one can. Do I have to spell it out for you, Angie? There's your mother, your sister, your nephews. Do you want them hurt because of your stupidity?

It's over for you. Charlie won't let you take him down. You know that. The cops will end up putting you on trial for trying to have him killed. If you get sent down, Charlie will have you done in jail. And if you don't go down, you know what he'll do to you. Heads or tails, Angie, it's over for you.

You paid a guy to kill Charlie. He can't let that lie.'

Angie nodded.

'You know what you've got to do, don't you?'

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she blew her nose.

'Look at me, Angie.' Her eyes locked with Payne's. 'You do know what you have to do, don't you?' he repeated. 'You have no choice.'

She nodded again.

'Better to get this sorted now, rather than dragging it out.

Because if you do drag it out, others are going to get hurt.'

'Okay,' she whispered.

Payne reached into his pocket and took out a small polythene bag, containing two dozen capsules. He slid the bag m across the table. 'These are barbiturates, Angie. Sleeping tablets. When you get back to your cell, take them with that cup of tea. Flush the bag down the toilet. Then lie down, go I to sleep and everything will be okay.'

Angie reached for the bag. She picked it up and slipped it into her pocket.

'You know it's for the best, don't you, Angie?'

'Yes,' she said, her voice barely a whisper.

291 'Good girl,' said Payne. He stood up, picked up his briefcase and patted her shoulder. 'Your will's all sorted. Your mum will want for nothing, there's money for your nephews,

your sister gets your jewellery. Everything will be neat and tidy. Don't worry about a thing.'

Payne opened the door. The WPC was waiting there, her back to the wall. 'Everything okay?' she said.

'Everything's fine,' said Payne, cheerfully. 'Mrs Kerr might need a few seconds to get herself together. She's had an emotional time.'

'Superintendent Hargrove would like a word with you on your way out, sir,' said the WPC. 'Third door on the left.'

Payne walked down the corridor, knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. There were three men in the room. Payne knew one, Christopher Thornton, a portly lawyer who worked for the Crown Prosecution Service.

'Christopher, hi, I'm looking for Superintendent Hargrove.'

'That would be me,' said the tallest of the three. He was in his mid-forties, his hair greying at the temples, a professional smile on his lips. He was wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit with a pale blue shirt and gold cufflinks in the shape of cricket bats. His grip was firm when he shook Payne's hand.