The pair of us worked long into the night cleaning the house. Despite my best endeavours, Heather would not divulge what she had planned for us when we finally left out current location.
"Don't worry, Tony, I'm not going to turn you into your old friends. After the visit from the Polis, I checked them out via a friend of mine from Parkhead. His words were, 'don't do it. They will want to clear up all loose ends, and you will be one of those loose ends'. That means I'm a target just like you. He added that Jonjo’s gang had been run out of Glasgow for being too violent several years back. You really fucked up getting involved with them. You know who the ‘they’ that I am talking about are.”
Somehow, I got the idea that she was only telling me part of the story, but that would have to do for now.
“I already know that. Somehow someone managed to get something on me that would put me away for a five stretch, so I didn’t have much choice but to go along with them, at least for that operation."
“Then you know that I can’t walk away from you. They probably know that I am here and also where we are. If they don’t know right now, it might not be long before they do find out where we are.”
“So? What do you propose I do about it?”
Heather glared at me.
“Look numpty, it is US for the foreseeable future. If I’d known the sort of people you were hooked up with, I'd have never taken this gig. I didn't, and now I know I'm up the same shit creek as you whether I like it or not. That's why I went shopping yesterday."
“What did you get?”
"Not so fast buster, we have to do this the right way or not at all."
Heather’s words put me in my place all right.
“Ok. Message understood loud and clear.”
"Good. Now, exactly who are Jonjo Mackay, and his crew going to be looking for when they come calling?"
“You and me. So?”
Heather grinned at me. As she did so, a feeling of fear ran through my body.
“They won’t be looking for two women.”
“No. No and No.”
“Ok, go and give yourself up to Jonjo’s crew, and see how long you last.”
“Look at me. There is no way I can pass for a woman at the drop of a hat now is there?”
“So, you go disguised at first.”
Heather had an answer for everything.
“At first?”
“Jonjo’s gang of enforcers were known as the ‘Glasgow Mounties’ in that they never give up. If you want, I could call a pal of mine in Gorbals. He’ll tell you about Jonjo and retribution. He’s like his Pa before him, and his Pa before him. They never give up. No matter where you are, he'll find you if you stay as you are. You have to change. Otherwise…"
Heather did a mimic of a knife being drawn across her throat.
I got the message.
“I could go abroad?”
Heather shook her head.
“There was a man named Danny Frazer from Govan, he wasn’t a bad person...for a Rangers supporter. Someone put the word was put out that he'd double-crossed Jonjo. Danny knew Jonjo's reputation, so he ran and ran and ran. He ended up in Brazil. Jonjo found him almost five years later and had him decapitated in front of his family who had been kidnapped in Scotland, and made to watch via CCTV. Then he put his body on a spit, and after roasting it, he fed it to the piranhas. Then his family disappeared off the face of the earth. Nothing remained. Danny wanted to disappear, and Jonjo made sure that he'd never be found. So, in the end, he got what he wanted but not in the way he wanted. About a year later, it came to light that Danny hadn't ratted Jonjo out, but instead of doing the honourable thing, he made the family disappear. Loose ends are not his forte. A couple of years later, the person who had dobbed Danny into Jonjo was exposed as the real double crosser. Jonjo took him and the whole of his family on a fishing boat out past the 200-mile mark and threw them overboard with weights tied around their ankles. Then the boat carried on fishing as if nothing had happened. That is the sort of evil bastard he is.”
Heather sighed.
"Some people in the Scottish media have even compared Jonjo to the Krays. The Krays were pussycats compared to him. The Krays had a weird sort of ethics around families, and old people. Jonjo is all about Jonjo. He is devoid of emotion even towards family members. He's also one of those people, who by some quirk of nature can’t feel any pain. You could stick a knife into him, and he'd feel nothing."
She let that sink in for a moment.
“He and his crew were only run out of Glasgow because all the other bad guys in the city teamed up and beat the fuck out of his crew with him watching. Then they torched his home. He got the message that he'd be next, so he and his crew came south.”
I sagged visibly.
“Ok. I get it. What do I need to do?”
“Great. Both of us are going to go in ‘mufti’.
“Mufti? What the hell is that?”
"The word was originally used to describe Army officers wearing civilian clothes."
“And in our case?”
“We dress as Muslim women.”
“Hell No.”
"Why not? They won't be looking for two women wearing Hijabs. It has been shown in several studies that people tend to ignore the faces of women who are wearing hijabs. That is what we will rely on."
What Heather was saying, made sense. Perfect sense to her but not to me.
That evening I was introduced to Muslim dress.
Heather showed me how to put on a Hijab. After drawing blood a few times, I managed to pin everything in place.
At the end of the evening, she showed me the final part of my disguise, the Niqab.
“I have two here,” she explained.
"One has a veil, and one does not."
I looked at the ‘things’.
“Could you drive in a veil? I don’t think the ‘Polis’ would like that’.”
“Yes. But it can be lifted up and away from your face.”
“Let me have the one with the veil.”
Heather smiled. I think I made the right choice.
A minute later, she said,
“Let me put the first veil over your eyes.”
“The first veil? How many are there?”
Grinning, she replied
“Three.”
I sighed as she lowered the first one over my eyes.
“This is very light,” I commented.
“But it hides my eyes very well.”
Then she put the second layer over me.
“Wow. How can people move around with this over their eyes?”
"I don't know, but I have seen them in places like Bradford. I wouldn't want to do it myself. "
“Ok, and the final one?”
Then it went almost dark.
“Ok, this is the ‘I don’t want to be disturbed’ layer,” I commented.
I heard a chuckle.
I lifted the layers of the veil over my head, so that I could see again.
"We have another job to do, but only when the agent has been and given the place the all-clear."
“What’s that?”
"I'll need to pluck your eyebrows. They are far too masculine. The only thing that you will have visible is your eyes. I'll put some kohl around them, but your eyebrows need some attention. Most Muslim women keep the bit between the brows well plucked.”
I looked at myself in the mirror. She was right.
“How much will you remove?”
“Oh, don’t worry. There will be quite a lot left. I have to do mine as well,” she joked.
“I’ve let them go a bit wild since I’ve been here.”
The letting Agent came the following day and did the inventory of the house. Our bags were all packed and ready by the front door.
After what seemed an eternity, he agreed that everything was as it should be and the documents were signed off.
With the house locked up and Heather’s car all loaded up, the Agent left them to it after saying,
“I have a viewing to attend to. Can you make sure the gates at the end of the drive are shut after you?”
“We will,” said Heather.
With him gone, we went back into the house using a spare key that Heather had used during their time there and got changed. As they were doing so, Tony’s phone rang.
I looked at the caller ID, and as it was the inspector, he answered it.
"Hi, Inspector. What can I do for you this dismal day?" I asked cheerily.
“They are? Well, we are almost ready to depart.”
"Ok. Thanks for the tip-off."
I disconnected the call.
"The Inspector just told me that the ANPR Cameras on the M6 has reported that some vehicles belonging to Jonjo or his crew are heading this way, and that we need to get out of here pronto. He said that the last report showed them passing Stoke Services.”
“Well, what are we waiting for, eh?” answered a fully covered Heather.
She quickly finished dressing me, and with just the one veil covering my eyes, we left the house for the last time.
Once we were off the property and with the gates closed behind us, we turned left away from the direction that Jonjo and his crew would come. A couple of hundred yards down the road, Heather turned the car around, and we sat parked at a bus stop. We waited
for our visitor's welcome or not to arrive.
Nearly forty minutes after we'd left the property, four black Porsche Cayman SUVs with blacked out windows arrived on the scene.
One man, dressed all in black jumped out of the first vehicle to open the gates. The vehicles then disappeared inside the property. As they did so, I dialled '999' from a phone, that Heather had bought the previous day.
"Police, please," I said from underneath the Niqab.
“Yes. Four vehicles with at least six heavily armed men inside have just broken into 278 Knutsford Road. Come quickly. One of them is believed to be Jonjo Mackay.”
Before any further questions could be asked, I ended the call. I didn't stop to switch the phone off, but simply removed the back, the battery and finally, the SIM card. I threw the SIM card out of the car window.
“I think we can get out of here now,” I said calmly.
Heather drove us down the road. We both resisted any attempt to look down the drive towards the house as we went past the entrance.
As Heather pulled onto the M6 and headed north she asked,
“Well, we are free of them for the time being. Where to now?”
“Keep on going. When we are past Lancaster, we can ditch these clothes and find somewhere to stay for a few days. I need to see someone in Kendal. We will need to ditch the car as well.”
“What do you need to see someone about?” asked Heather.
“Money and stuff. The sort of thing that is needed to start afresh.”
Heather didn’t answer.
The journey north was done mostly in silence. Once they'd passed Preston, both of them began to relax.
“Heather, I didn’t say this before, but I want to now,” I said softly.
“I am truly sorry for putting you into danger like this. It was not my intention in any way shape or form.”
"I know. Just a coincidence really. What's done is done. I didn't know who you were involved with when I accepted this assignment, but it is too late to back out now.”
Heather pulled off the Motorway near Lancaster, and stopped in a fairly secluded spot so that their disguises could be removed.
“I’m glad to be out of that,” I remarked.
Heather smiled,
“I thought it suited you very well.”
I glared at her.
“You know that we need to keep a very low profile. Jonjo will be royally pissed off for not finding you at the house. If the polis got there in time, he’ll be livid as well as possibly being banged up again, but Jonjo would never carry a weapon if you get my gist. We may have to travel disguised for some time.”
I knew that she was talking sense.
“I guessed as much even if I don’t particularly like it.”
Then I said, “We need to ditch the car tomorrow or the next day at the latest. If someone connects it to us, then he'll put the word out about it."
Then I added,
“Tomorrow, I'm going to take the bus to Kendal. There is someone I need to see there, and I need to do it alone."
“The bus? Why?”
“Because no one will be looking for me on a bus. When I get back, we can decide what to do next.”
“Will you have some money? I only have enough cash for a few days.”
“Yes. I will have some money plus a new passport?”
“Passport? Where are we going?”
"I don't know yet, but it may be wise to get out of the country for a while."
I did know where we were going, but I wasn’t going to let on for a while. Two can play at the ‘need to know’ game.
Heather couldn’t argue with that.
Their Hotel room was very spartanly furnished but adequate for two nights. They watched the TV news to see if there were any reports of the Police arresting Jonjo and his men, but there was nothing. I wasn’t surprised in the least.
The next morning, Heather took me to the centre of Lancaster so that I could get the bus.
“Enjoy Morecambe,” I said cheerily as I got out of the car. Heather had said that she was going to Morecambe for the day.
I took the bus north but got off at Carnforth, where, I took the next train south to Preston. The person I wanted to see was not in Kendal but was in Preston. I was not sure that I could trust Heather 100% at the moment. Even so, the less she knew of what I was doing and who I was seeing, the better for her just in case.
Just before 11:00, I walked into the offices of Hall, Smith and Parry, my other lawyers. I’d made the appointment the previous day, while Heather was cleaning the house.
“Hello Tony, it has been a while,” said Mr Parry as I was shown into his office.
“Yes, it has Bob. Things are a little difficult at the moment. That’s why I’m here.”
Bob Parry didn't react. He knew that his client would only be here if that were the case.
“What can I do for you today?”
“I need the Safe Deposit key and the other items I left with you for safekeeping.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Tony looked at his old friend and distant cousin and said,
“I’m going to have to disappear. Some very nasty men are after me. The documents I lodged with you need to be sent to the Police, the newspapers and TV stations today. Put them on the Internet as well. The more people who read them, the better."
“Oh, is it that bad?”
I nodded.
“Worse.”
Nothing more needed to be said. Bob left me alone while he went to retrieve the key and documents from the company safe. When he returned, he gave the key to me.
“There is a DVD in the package,” I said.
“Get copies of it made and sent to the Police and the Media. If you can do it all anonymously the all the better.”
“Do I need to know what is on it before I do it?”
"You can view it. Some of it is pretty horrible, but everything is genuine and is backed up by the documents in the folder."
“What then?”
"Forget that I was ever here, and that I ever had any dealings with you."
Bob did a sharp intake of breath.
“You are in deep shit, aren’t you?”
"Yes, I am, and it was all my own fault. This is part of my insurance policy.”
Bob nodded.
“There is a USB stick in there as well. I’ll need that just in case.”
“Just in case?” asked Bob.
“Just in case what is there in your hands gets suppressed. If the information on the DVD is not acted upon, then I'll post the contents of the USB on social media. That should get some attention from the right people.”
“You don’t take any chances, do you?”
Tony shook his head as Bob gave him a USB stick from the folder.
"I need to be going now, I have a train to catch."
The two shook hands as they parted.
“Will I see you again?”
"Bob, I honestly can't say, but I hope so."
I returned to the railway station and took the next train to Manchester. My first task after arriving there was to buy a briefcase. In less than an hour, I found one in a charity shop that would do perfectly. It was leather and well used which was ideal. Then I walked into a ‘Private Bank’ where my safe deposit box was located.
Twenty minutes later, I walked out with a considerably heavier briefcase. After I'd visited a few more shops, I headed back to the station and a train to Lancaster hoping that I’d not been spotted or followed.
While I waited for the train, I posted a letter to Bob. It gave him total control of my estate should I meet a sticky end.
On the train north, I connected the laptop that I’d bought at a second-hand store to the free WiFi that the operator provided. Once the connection was established, I quickly uploaded a bunch of files to the Internet, and then I sent an email to a friend of a friend in London who I felt I could trust to do the right thing with the data should they get the signal from me. I just had enough time to do that before the train slowed down for the Lancaster stop.
Heather was waiting for me outside the station as arranged.
“How did it go?” she asked once they’d left the station forecourt.
“As well as could be expected,” I replied trying to be non-committal.
“I cashed in some insurance policies, and also activated another one.”
“Are you going to tell me what they are?”
“We need to watch the TV news tonight. There should be at least one item of interest to us.”
Heather looked at him and said,
“You are a canny man Tony. Are you sure you aren’t Scottish?”
I had to laugh. I’d grown used to her sense of humour over these past months. It was a really nice change from the Brummy one.
“I try Heather, I try.”
They’d reached the outskirts of Lancaster and were heading towards the Lake District.
“I think it is time to ditch the car.”
Heather looked a bit concerned.
“You can be connected to me through this. Well, this and my seemingly crooked lawyer. He’s going to get a surprise tomorrow, but he could retaliate and… Well, you know what might happen if you know who gets wind of you helping me."
“What do we do then?”
“Once we get some new wheels, I think we need to put on our Hijabs again and take a very roundabout route to Portsmouth or Poole. I say roundabout because we will avoid all the ANPR cameras apart from the very end of the journey. We will still get clocked by other CCTV systems, but the Polis will have to search manually for them, but as we will have only just purchased the car, it will take a few days for the government systems to catch up.
“How do you know where these ANPR things are?”
Tony smiled.
“As part of proving myself to Jonjo, I acquired a list of locations of the fixed cameras from a slightly bent copper. He was going to need it in the second phase of the operation. It is all part of making a stolen lorry full of Scotch seemingly disappear without trace, from the road system in broad daylight. Getting a 40-tonne HGV from Brum to Felixstowe without going through an ANPR camera is not that easy but it is possible... just.”
Heather smiled.
“Where too next then?”
"Keep on going north. We will turn east and then take the pretty route south. We will have to stop for something to eat, and also to fill up the car. We should do that before we pass the last ANPR Camera on the A66. It will show it heading towards Penrith and Scotland, but it will be wrong.”
“You seem to have this all planned out?”
“Not really. We will just have to take a chance that we can get out of the country on the passports we have with us. Then we’ll head for somewhere to get new ones. What you said about Jonjo got me thinking. That led to this plan of action. It is the best I can do for now.”
“It is a start,” said Heather.
Her voice didn’t have a great deal of certainty about it.
“But I think that you are winging it… aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer but that answer was ‘yes’.
We stopped in Kendal and parked the car at the Railway Station. Then we walked to a second-hand car dealership that I’d seen on the way into town.
An hour and twenty minutes later, I drove us out of the dealer in an old but serviceable Ford Focus. It had taken a bit longer to get some insurance arranged, but once Heather's credit card had been used, it was relatively plain sailing.
I filled the car full of fuel at a supermarket on the edge of town while Heather did some food shopping. We’d need some supplies for the journey south. If all went well, we would be on the road most of the night, which thankfully was pretty short at this time of year. Finally, we stopped at the next Motorway Service Station northbound on the M6 and transferred our bags to the new car. Heather then left the keys in the ignition of her old car and wound down one window. If ever there was a car to steal, then this was it.
Then I joined Heather in the car and looked at her.
“Ready?”
“I suppose so. Where too now?” she asked. She was taking the first stint behind the wheel.
“Up to Penrith, the East on the A66 towards Scotch Corner. Then we turn around as if we had taken the wrong turning. Then we go past the ANPR camera that is located on the way into the town. After that, we take the back roads south. All the way down to the south coast.
Our journey to Portsmouth was roundabout and slow at times. We came down from Portsdown Hill and crossed over onto the Island of Portsmouth just before 11:00 the next day. I directed Heather to a supermarket on the eastern side of the island. Portsmouth was a key naval base and cross-channel port, so it was ringed with ANPR Cameras, but at this point in our journey, it didn't matter one little bit.
“We can ditch the car here. According to the map on my phone, there is a railway station called Hilsea, about half a mile away. We can take the train from there.”
“Aren’t we taking the ferry from Portsmouth?”
I smiled and shook my head.
“That’s what I want people to think. Well, if anyone has tracked us this far. No, we’ll take the train to Brighton. Then we carry on east along the coast to Ashford, and then to Dover. Hopefully, we can get on a ferry and be more than halfway to France before we get spotted by the Polis.”
Tony loved using the Scottish term for Police.
Heather looked rather tired.
"You look beat. You should try to get some rest on the train."
“I feel drained,” came her reply.
They took the minimum of things from the car and left it. Out of habit, Heather locked it.
“Leave it open and the keys in the ignition. Some local chancers will hopefully find it before the Polis. They will make it either disappear, and be broken up or they'd have some fun before torching it when they are done."
She laughed.
“You know how criminals behave very well don’t you?”
“I should do. I was one of them for more years than I should have been.”
We had to change trains in Brighton. While we waited for our connection to Hastings, I took the opportunity to grab a copy of ‘The Metro’ free newspaper. There was nothing in it about the data that I'd let loose to a good number of sources the previous day, but a Café Ion the concourse was showing on the BBC morning News. I could also see the West Midlands Police HQ in an item. The subtitles told me all I needed to know. Some very deserving people would soon be getting their day in court.
I returned to an anxious-looking Heather.
“You look pleased with yourself?”
“A good number of people that the Polis are after will be getting their collars felt today.”
“Is that your doing?”
I nodded.
"Yep. The list that I provided inclused atl east a dozen corrupt cops, including an Assistant Chief Constable will be feeling the heat. I think that one of them was feeding info to Jonjo.”
“Any news about the people who came to visit where we were yesterday?”
“Just this,” he said pointing to a small item in the paper.
The article simply said that, six men had been arrested on suspicion of possessing illegal firearms near Knutsford the previous afternoon.
“No mention of Jonjo?”
“I would not expect him to do his dirty work. These are mere foot soldiers. They might not even be in his crew, but just some thugs hired to get me. From what you told me, he does not get involved until the final act.”
Heather didn’t say anything.
“A penny for them?”
“You are awfully trusting of a lot of people, aren’t you?”
I chuckled.
"I suppose so, but for most of them, money talks. If they cross me, all I need to do is put the word out, and bang goes a lot of their… shall we say more lucrative business. They keep profitable by saying nothing to anyone about anything. When you are wheeling and dealing as I was, you get involved with an awful lot of people. I was often the middle-man between rival groups. I just took a small cut of whatever passed through my hands. As long as both sides were aware of how much, and that I wasn't getting greedy, my 'handling fees' were seen as part of doing business. Because I was the middle-man in many instances of illegality, I picked up a lot of dirt on an awful lot of people. As long as I was in business no one minded. Jonjo put a stop to that. For him, it was obey him or disappear as you described the other day. As a result of the information I leaked, I would expect that his crew or rather what's left of it will find times rather hard in Brum for a while.”
“I think I understand,” replied Heather after a bit of thought.
We had to change trains twice more before we arrived in Dover. A bus took us to the Ferry terminal.
As we “Can you buy the tickets on your cards? I don’t want to use mine until we are out of the country.”
“Are yours likely to be being monitored?”
I laughed.
“No. I don’t use any plastic here. Cash only I’m afraid. That makes it far harder for anyone to track my spending. My cards are for use in Europe as they are in Euros.”
That sort of made sense to Heather. She raised an eyebrow at the mention of my cards being in euros but said nothing.
Both of us were a bit on edge until the ferry to Ostend had left the outer breakwater of the harbour.
“Here, I’ll give you the cost of the tickets,” I said as we left the deck and went inside the ship.
“You don’t have to, you know.”
"Why don't you take the cash and get some Euro currency? That way you will have some spending money."
“What about you? Don’t you need some?”
“I have some.”
I lied a little bit. I had more than a hundred thousand euros in the briefcase I was carrying. Most of it was in twenty and fifty euro notes.
I bought us some Coffee while Heather went to the Bureau de Change to get some Euros.
She seemed happy when she returned with the cash.
“Ok, mister man of mystery, where too next?”
“We get the train to Brussels and then towards Germany and the town of Baden-Baden. There is a place there where we can lie low for a bit. Then we can decide what to do next."
“Why Baden-Baden?”
“It sounded cool. It was either there or Kassel, but that's farther away."
It was very late evening when we arrived at my apartment in Baden-Baden. I’d retrieved the keys from my now empty safe deposit box.
“It does not seem as if anyone has been here for months?” commented Heather as we entered the apartment.
"It has been more than nine months since I was last here. That was for the Oktoberfest," I replied.
“It is a nice place. How did you come by it?”
“I won it in a Poker Game. The previous owner thought his full house could beat mine.”
“What did you put up as a bet?”
“My place in Brum,” I replied confidently.
“You must have had a good hand then.”
“Aces over Kings beats Queens over Jacks any day of the week. He’d discarded an Ace as well.”
Once we’d opened all the windows and tidied up a bit, I sat and waited for Heather to finish something or other in her bedroom.
She came and sat opposite me at the small table in the kitchen.
“Right,” I said.
"I think it is time for you to come clean don't you think? I know that you have been calling someone on your phone. I counted three times since we got off the boat. Who is it, and why are you calling them? If it is Jonjo then, I will be very unhappy."
Heather’s shoulders sagged.
“How did you twig that I had another phone?”
"I was driving early this morning, and you dozed off. I did a quick rummage through your bag and found a phone. It wasn't your normal one, so I had to assume the worst. Was I right?"
She looked at me for several long seconds. Then she dug into her bag, and from where I knew not, she found something and tossed it to me.
I looked at it. It was a Police Warrant card.
“You are a cop?”
“Yes, Detective Sergeant Heather Watson of the Met Police."
“Did that detective who came to visit us the other day know about you?”
She shook her head.
“Only six people in the world apart from you know. If Jonjo got word then we’d both be dead inside an hour, two at the outside. Well, probably a bit longer now that we are out of the UK, but he’d put the hit out on us just the same.”
“Why?”
“I’m his sister…”
Those three words hit me right where it hurts the most. I was about to say something but Heather carried on.
“Jonjo does not take kindly to anyone in the family going over to the dark side. I volunteered for this assignment hoping to nail his ass once and for all. I failed."
“We escaped. Isn’t that good enough?”
She shook her head.
“Not really. He’s still in business.”
“Why did you go against him?”
“More years ago than I care to remember, he spotted our Da talking to a copper in a Pub. He took that as a sign that Da was ratting him out. So, he killed our Da with his bare hands as a lesson to the rest of us. Da wasn’t ratting us out as we later found out. They were talking Football. But, what he did to his own flesh and blood ultimately led to him being kicked out of Glasgow. Even most hardened criminals felt sick at what he’d done. Da was like you, on the wrong side of the law but always played by the rules. Jonjo tore up the rule book, and the natives didn't like that. When they kicked Jonjo out, the Polis turned a blind eye to their crimes for a month as a sort of reward for getting rid of Jonjo.
“Who were you calling?”
“My Handler in MI5.”
“The spooks?”
"Yeah. As you know, Jonjo has been dealing in some nasty weapons. What you don’t know is that he has been selling them to some very bad people.”
“Terrorists?”
“You said it, I didn’t but yes both in Eire and Central Africa.”
“Will we be safe here?”
Heather nodded.
"Yes. I failed in my mission, and they want me to go home. You turned out to be too small a fry to get Jonjo to move in a way that would put him away for life."
I felt completely let down.
“So, all that… what we did last night and today was a waste of time?”
“Mostly it was yes.”
“Only Mostly?”
“Yes,” she said with a huge sigh in her voice.
“The problem is that I ignored all the warning signs and fell for you. Fundamentally, you are a nice person and not the hardened criminal that West Midlands Police made out. I should have pulled out weeks ago, but I didn't."
“So, all that blarney about being a nurse and stuff was crap?”
She shook her head.
"I was a nurse in the Army. I did a tour of Iraq. When I left the Army, I had seen enough blood and gore to last a lifetime. A friend from Iraq and I joined the Met Police. Jonjo sort of tolerated that because he was in Scotland. When he came south things got a little difficult for me so I transferred to London, and that's when I became a liaison officer between the Met and MI5. Even Jonjo did not want MI5 going up against him. And we wouldn't but for that bungled Armoured Car job last year."
I remembered that. Four innocent bystanders had been murdered by his crew.
“I remember that. Nasty business. I heard tell that Jonjo just laughed it off.”
“Four civilian fatalities were four too many, but more than enough to get us involved. Then you had your accident, and I was assigned to be your rehab nurse.”
"But what about my lawyer? He's crooked as they come, and he arranged it all."
“His secretary is one of us.”
She didn’t need to say anything else.
Then she came and sat beside me.
"As of seventeen hundred today, I'm out of a job. I called MI5 from the ferry and told them where we were, and that I had no idea where we were going and that I quit. Since then I have had a few texts and calls asking me to reconsider. When we changed trains in Koln, I ditched my phone after telling them that we were going to Berlin.
"When you told them that you were quitting, was that when you went to get those Euros?"
She nodded her head.
“Yep.”
“So that’s why you looked so happy when you came back?”
"It was. I'd been struggling with what I should do for days. My handler wanted me to pull out. He even came up to Morecambe to meet me when you were off doing your business. I told him that I was done with everything. He persuaded me to stay on the job for another 24 hours. When I spoke with him when you are getting the tickets and a paper at Brighton, he said that Jonjo had been arrested and charged with six counts of murder, and that was just for starters."
“But… you could have bailed out then?”
She nodded.
"I could, but I didn't."
Then she kissed me. Slowly at first, but then with increasing passion.
When we broke apart, both of us were slightly out of breath.
“So, I’m safe then?”
“Far from it sadly. Jonjo has put a price on your head, and it will still be there in 10 years. When Jonjo decides that someone is for the chop, he puts the money in the hands of a trusted third party, so that even if he were to die tomorrow, the contract on you would still be there just waiting for some lucky sod to find you, and now by implication me as well.”
I was speechless. I’d known for a while that Heather was not quite ‘kosher’ but what she’d told me was almost unimaginable.
[To be continued]
Comments
Not quite kosher?
As phony as a $3 bill! But what fun.
Nicely done, dear!
Sara
Between the wrinkles, the orthopedic shoes, and nine decades of gravity, it is really hard to be alluring. My icon, you ask? It is the last picture I allowed to escape the camera ... back before most BC authors were born.
As I...
Read this I kept thinking there was more to Heather. Nothing glaring said that, but it was a feeling - then... Well, I got confirmation. I don't often get hunches right. lol Nicely done... An interesting tale, with twists! Enjoying this!
XOXOXO
Rachel M. Moore...
Quite a commitment
That's a monumental change on Heathers part. Have the Hijabs done their work or is there more subterfuge lurking in the future? Great start. :D
DeeDee
not sure why
he'd go to Baden Baden for the Oktoberfest, its a flippin' long way from Munich where it is held and not even in Bavaria. They were also very clever getting a ferry to Ostend, there aren't currently any ferries docking at any Belgian port from the UK, the nearest from Dover would be Dunkirk just over the French border.
Sorry for being a bit of a pedant but both of these are easily checked and unlike you to get wrong.
What can possibly happen in part 3?
Madeline Anafrid Bell
Ferries to Belgium
When I started the tale, there were ferries going to Oostende. I got to this part and then hit a brick wall that wasn't scaled until 2020 and I finished the story last summer.
Samantha.
Welcome to the counter terrorism unit
They may be harder to survive than Jonjo.
Whiplash
There are a lot of things that don't add up for me.
Tony starts out as a small-time black-market type, but suddenly he turns out to have been keeping a apartment in Germany (unused, at least for the last 9 months) as a spare or something. And one of the mob bosses that is gunning for him can trace people to South America (and presumably has connections with organized crime there), but haven't noticed that Tony has this pad in Germany?
This all-seeing mob boss with worldwide connections is expected to come by to kill them all (a.k.a. clean up any loose ends), and they don't split ASAP, but hang around to make sure the apartment passes inspection by the letting agent first? Tony gets them fake passports, and nobody worries that Mob Boss will have connections with the sort of forgers that can produce said passports? They need to disguise themselves as muslim women to get away, but shortly afterwards, they travel undisguised, and Tony (undisguised) travels by public transportation, and doesn't have to worry that he'll be recognized?
Then there's the MI5 involvement.
I know this is just a story, but the constant changes in disbelief that I'm supposed to suspend are giving me whiplash.
Salting away his ill gotten gains
Tony was as Heather said, a canny person. He never flashed the cash but salted his [cough][cough] illegal earnings away in preparation for the inevitable day that his career came to an end.
As regards, leaving the house. To do it in an orderly manner would arouse fewer raised eyebrows than just pulling out. Once they'd handed the key back then any damage done by Jonjo's crew or the police when arresting them would not be their responsibility. All part of keeping out of trouble with the law. Tony has never wanted to draw undue attention to himself.
Heather was assigned because of the connection of Jonjo to international organised crime and possible shipments of arms to terrorist groups. When it became clear that Tony didn't know anything of importance, her handler wanted to pull her out.
They got away from Jonjo by disguising themselves because there was imminent danger. Once they were clear of him and his thugs, there was no reason to continue with the disguise. Because there was no warrant out for his arrest why wouldn't he be free to travel. The precautions they took with the ANPR cameras was just to be safe in case there was a traitor in the ranks of the Police. Staying off the radar and not broadcasting their intentions is a good move is it not? Keep a low profile and keep safe. Once they were out of the UK, it would be a lot harder to keep tabs on them without involving an International Arrest Warrant and tony is hardly a criminal in the same league as Jonjo now is he?
I hope this helps
Samantha
“Too violent for Glasgow”
I’m a Glaswegian and that made me laugh out loud. Our reputation goes before us.
This is yet another cracking tale, Sam.
☠️