UG3 Diminishing Returns   Chapter 05     Woman

 

By the weekend, Heather had responses to most of her queries and was putting a picture together of the gang. The great unknowns remained, where were they and were they all just one person?

She was still waiting for a full report on Hollande’s bank card, including any Belgian accounts, and updated Sophie with her progress. Sophie, in turn, had managed to finalise her enquiries in Plymouth.

“It’s taking time, I’m pretty sure we’re only dealing with one person but two identities and maybe more besides. Oh, how did your chat with Customs go?”

“Good, it seems they have an issue with the local Special Branch but are happy to talk to me.”

“What's their issue?”

“Apparently the SB officers are all desk jockeys, they like to stay in the office and ask everyone to do their work for them, then take the glory when something juicy comes their way.”

“Not a good way to work.”

“No, Customs Intel in Plymouth send all their reports to their national intel centre so SB are often out of the loop.”

“Okay, are we going to get the same treatment?”

“No, I've given them enough background information that they can use, better profiling and so on. It’s a quid pro quo arrangement.”

“Did you ask them about the dogs?”

“Yes, the drugs detection dogs are all spaniels apparently. During January and February they spend more time at the local airports as there's no RORO services.”

“There's a rumour that they can't detect drugs when it's freezing outside?”

“Yeah, I put that one to them. The officer said they started that rumour to tempt the drug traffickers into making a mistake.”

“Right, what are they planning to do?”

“The dogs team are planning to visit the small harbours and airports regularly, but that means only one visit every three weeks to each location.

“That's good news, but it’s really only flag waving for now?”

“Yes, but they’ll pick up intel; I think Customs will make these visits for the intel alone, especially if places virtually under their noses are being used for drug imports!”

“Good, but how much will you report back to Emily?”

“Given that I didn't learn very much, I won't be able to say much, will I?”

“Maybe, I suspect the local SB will be rather pissed if Customs have a big find based on Met intel?”

“The National Crime Agency is now running the operation and collating the intel, Emily told me, so each of the regional Special Branch units will get an updated intel package. Whether or not they liaise with Customs is their problem, not ours!”

“Do we let Bob know?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“He should be briefed from within the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary, we should only pass on what is needed if it is relevant and pressing.”

“Okay, Sophie, what's the plan for next week?”

“Well, we're both on the 0605 into London on Friday.”

“Packing for five days?”

“Make it six, I bet we don't get straight back here.”

“What are your plans?”

“I'll be in Plymouth on Wednesday, What about you?”

“I'm seeing my GP on the same day.”

“Okay.”

“The rest of the time I'll be in here. I'm getting closer to locating the gang.”

As the new week started, new intelligence dried up. Of the two known debit cards, neither was currently active anywhere in the UK. Heather stared at her screen, trying to make sense of the data; it was a shame that the existing technology could easily track vehicles but not individuals.

She lodged a request with the DVSA for any vehicles registered under any of the gang's identities. The response took an hour.

“Bloody hell, Sophie, Dimitris Dēmētríou bought a van last July in Clapton. The registered address is one of Fourani's houses on Northwold Road.”

“Damn, when was Hamiz Fourani killed?”

“26th July.”

“When was the van bought?”

“The registration date is the 14th, so he could have bought it any day between the first and fourteenth of July.”

“What about previous owners?”

“I didn't get that information, can you find it out?”

Sophie called the Met's Counter Terrorism unit and asked the duty officer to look up the data. Heather meanwhile tried to make sense of the latest information.

David Jones had been the accountant for Hamiz Fourani, an Iranian, who had been murdered in Germany on 26th July 2014. David's apartment in Hackney had been torched the same day and Fourani's brother, Hamed, was found deceased inside.

Those incidents had put a price on David's head as well as connecting him to the Security Service and SO15 at New Scotland Yard. It also prompted David's transition to Heather Young, firstly as a disguise and then as a concious decision.

Her copy of the Fourani accounts, however, only ran to the end of May of the previous year, 2014.

“You're not going to like this, Heather.”

“Go on.”

“Fourani sold the van.”

“I guessed as much. Bugger.”

This connected the drugs gang to Fourani, who had a hand in properties, weapons, extortion and drugs.

“Is it possible, Heather, that Dēmētríou was working for Fourani, handling his drugs imports, then went freelance?”

“Seems reasonable, in which case he should feature in the older accounts.”

“Although he only arrived in the UK at the end of June?”

“Perhaps that was just the latest arrival?”

“Did you search for any more tickets under the name of Bernice Hollande?”

“No, that's an oversight.”

“Then I suggest you send that request off before you look in the Fourani accounts.”

“Can you search on PNC for her?”

“Sure.”

Heather submitted her search to each of the ferry companies, airlines and the Tunnel. How well did Dēmētríou pass as a woman? Were there any photos?

Sophie was back off the phone, “no trace.”

The secure phone rang a minute later, neither were surprised to see SO15 on the display.

“Hi Emily.”

“Hi, what's up with these searches Sophie has just done?”

“We've opened a new line of inquiry, Dēmētríou is connected to Fourani.”

“Shit!”

“Exactly.” Heather quickly briefed Detective Inspector Keane.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Heather's laptop pinged, her search had generated a few responses.

“Bernice Hollande left the UK by car several times, using Eurotunnel, if I send you the relevant info, can we get dates, times and images?”

“Kent SB have access to that information. What's the car reg?”

“It's an old one, KKE289L, a red Ford Fiesta.”

Emily tapped away. “That's supposed to be a yellow Renault 12 from the 70s and it’s been scrapped! I'll also request a search on the London ANPR databases for the registration, but that will take a while.”

“Cheers.”

“Does Jenny know any of this?”

“Not yet, I'm still compiling information.”

“Let her know as soon as possible, could I have a copy of your notes?”

“Sure, Emily.”

By the end of Tuesday, Heather had a clearer idea of Dēmētríou’s involvement. Looking through the Fourani accounts, she could see large sums being spent, apparently, on properties in Cyprus and Germany. These purchases had generated substantial income nearly immediately, labelled as rental income.

Whilst the UK properties had been extensively researched, overseas properties hadn't and Heather, however, suspected that the buildings didn't exist. It was also clear that the drugs brokers had to hand over the profit before the next job was financed; Fourani didn't trust anyone.

At the time, just before his death, Fourani had shown some trust in only one person, his accountant. Had he kept David Jones alive, but how much longer would that have lasted? Heather shuddered, she could have been fired at any point, figuratively and physically.

Now everyone wanted David dead, he knew too much and he’d betrayed a trust. Some wanted the data and his demise, others just wanted his demise.

For David it was a less than ideal situation but he had to die. The moment, on the 27th of July the previous year, David had handed over the data to the Police, he was a dead man walking.

That was the reason why David Jones had ceased to exist, firstly becoming Gail Jones and ending up as Heather Young. The assassination attempts had also seemingly drawn to an end, for now, although Heather still held a Glock 26 handbag pistol for self-protection; it was currently in the safe by her right foot.

Sophie was originally Heather's close protection officer, but was now her police liaison and lover.

At nine on Wednesday morning Heather found herself in her GP’s surgery.

“How are you feeling, Heather?”

“Fine, I seem to be over it.”

“That’s not what I meant, how are you with yourself?”

“Busy, but I feel okay.”

“The Royal Cornwall Hospital noted that you were run down and your iron count was low.”

“I ran out of the iron tablets a few weeks ago.”

“And the HRT?”

“I took the last one just over a week ago, the day we last went to London, make that two weeks ago.”

“Okay, but you should have made an appointment to see me?”

“The first day we were back it snowed and on the second day I ended up in hospital!”

“Okay, but you don’t have to wait for the prescription to run out! Now, I was concerned last time you saw me that you were over-doing it?”

“Since I work from home most of the time and we only go into London once a fortnight, I can’t see that I’m over doing anything?”

“Who looks after your home?”

“I guess I’m the housewife.”

“So you work from home and have a full-time homemaker role?”

“Yes.”

“Any time to unwind, maybe relax?”

“Rarely.”

“Can you swim?”

“Yes,”

“Okay, I’m prescribing you an hour a week in the pool.”

“I’m not sure?”

“Do you have a problem wearing a swim suit?”

“No.” She cupped her breasts. “And I could hardly wear trunks!”

“So what’s the issue, Heather?”

“Time?”

“I think you’ve just proved my point. Get yourself down to Carn Brea Leisure Centre, I recommend the Aqua Aerobics on a Monday morning or a Tuesday evening.”

“I’ll see how I am next week.”

“Okay, but I’ll be checking up on you!”

“Am I out of time?”

“I put you in for a double appointment, seeing how you only see me when your prescription needs to be re-issued.”

“Oh, why?”

“I like to keep in touch with all of my patients who have additional needs.”

“Not special needs?”

“Those as well, but there are also patients who deserve a little extra time because of their medical history.”

“Like me?”

“Correct. I can’t see that you’re under a gender counsellor or any of the gender clinics?”

“My management aren’t keen on a random health professional digging into my past.”

“Even though it’s the usual route to gender affirmative surgery?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for surgery.”

“Given the time-scale so far, I’d agree but that’s not a decision that rests on my shoulders. I can give you a referral to the local gender identity outreach clinic, it’s in Exeter.”

“And what could they do?”

“Monitor your progress and recommend surgery when it’s appropriate, although that’s not all they do.”

“I’m sorry Rachel, but I think I’d be wasting my time and taking the place of someone who really needs their help. I’ll find my own way, and avoid the wrath of my managers at the same time.”

Rachel Wilson looked confused. “Aren’t your management supportive?”

“Completely, that’s how I was given the HRT only two weeks after my transition. My problem is that any shrink would like to know the circumstances of my transition and that is not for discussion under any circumstances. My guess is that I would be refused treatment and my HRT would be stopped on the basis of non cooperation?”

“That’s entirely possible, seeing how the reason for your transition is key to confirming and advancing your dysphoria diagnosis.”

“So you see my dilemma?”

“I do, so how do you see your future?”

“My management will find me an appropriate shrink, meanwhile I’ll get on with my life.”

“So how would you describe yourself?”

“I’m a housewife with a sideline in accountancy.”

Simply that?”

“Yes, did you expect me to affirm myself as a woman?”

“To be honest, yes.”

“Why? I know it, you know it, and the rest of the bloody world knows it. I don’t need to shout it because I am a woman, a living breathing woman with a minor defect, but still a woman.”

Heather paused but raised her hand, she wasn’t finished.

“As I said, I’m a housewife and an accountant. It’s boring but it’s true. Now, can I have those repeat prescriptions?”

“Yes, but I want you to see the nurse before you leave the building. I want blood.”

“A ruddy vampire, I knew it!”

Heather walked home fifteen minutes later with a sticking plaster on her left arm and an appointment to return there for another blood test a few weeks hence. Sophie was working in the office.

“Heather, did Fourani only have properties in London?”

“No, he had places right across the UK – especially university towns. He’d buy a run down building and convert it to flats, students always needed flats and didn’t ask too many questions.”

Heather spent the rest of Wednesday, and all day Thursday, going over the Fourani data, now stored on the Security Services servers, looking for the addresses outside London that had hadn't warranted investigation previously.

The properties were owned by Fourani through a holding company and half were then passed to local letting agents in return for a percentage and a legitimate income. The rest were directly managed by Fourani’s people through the holding company, most appeared to be used as safe houses or storage locations. Heather wondered if the houses were used for regional distribution of Columbia's major product, or perhaps even the refinement of such a product?

It wasn't a surprise when the existing address for Bernice Hollande matched one on the Fourani files, or that several properties in the database were even in Devon and Cornwall. She figured that most letting agencies use a website for listings so searched for each address on Google, noting which agency had most recently advertised an apartment. Two properties didn't have any recorded lettings listed.

Heather pulled up the Land Registry entries for both, both had adjacent garages and rear access to the sites. One, in Swindon, also had a cellar and she suspected that had an escape route? Maps and satellite images didn't help.

She contemplated asking Wiltshire police to get a street view look at the properties but she wasn't in a position to do that. Heather wrote up her notes into a report and filed that at teatime on Thursday.

Her searches had brought more information but that would have to wait until the following week as they had an early start the following day.