Short Range (The Spider Shepherd Thrillers Book 16) Read online

  ‘No psychological review?’

  Sharpe shook his head. ‘There’s a health and safety review, but he doesn’t have to see a shrink.’

  Shepherd scowled. ‘How do you think he’s handling it? The pressure?’

  ‘Like I said, the only problem I can see is overconfidence. He’s a cocky bugger.’

  Shepherd drank his coffee as he considered his options – not that he had too many.

  ‘What are you planning to do?’ asked Bacon.

  Shepherd took an iPhone out of his pocket. ‘We need to get him to use this phone. It’s the same as the one he already has, so it’s just a matter of substituting it.’

  ‘What’s special about it?’ asked Bacon.

  Shepherd handed it to her. ‘Basically it records everything in the vicinity, whether or not the phone is switched on or the sim card is in place. Most crims think that if their phone is switched off it’s dead but this one records even when it’s off and then sends the recording when the phone is back on. It also records all conversations and text messages along with any internet activity, and sends that in bursts. But I don’t want Harry to know that. At some point you need to make a switch.’

  ‘Won’t he notice that his pictures and stuff aren’t there?’ asked Bacon.

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘It’s a clone. Everything on his phone is on this one.’

  ‘How is that even possible?’ asked Bacon.

  ‘Don’t ask me, but our tech boys can do it. Every photograph, every contact, every call log, it’s all on there. They’re also able to set it for facial recognition and have all his passwords. And everything he does with the phone can be seen and heard by us.’

  ‘What about once he’s got the phone?’ asked Sharpe. ‘Do we want him to get closer to his uncle?’

  ‘Initially, no,’ said Shepherd. ‘Gary Dexter is around at the house every Sunday so we’ll see how that goes.’

  ‘You think he’ll talk in front of Harry?’ asked Bacon.

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Shepherd. ‘Have you asked him about his uncle?’

  ‘It’s never come up,’ said Bacon.

  ‘Good,’ said Shepherd. ‘We obviously don’t want him to know that the focus of the investigation is shifting. Have you had the house under surveillance on Sundays?’

  ‘We never watch the house,’ said Sharpe. ‘In fact we keep well away from it. This is as close as we get. Why?’

  ‘I’m supposed to attach a tracker and listening unit to Gary Dexter’s car if I get the chance,’ said Shepherd. ‘We can’t get to the car at his own house because security is so tight, and usually he has a driver and bodyguards and they never leave the car alone. But when he visits his brother, he drives himself.’

  ‘So you have to do the dirty deed?’ asked Sharpe.

  ‘Not me personally, but it’s not difficult,’ said Shepherd. ‘We just need a few minutes alone with the vehicle.’

  They all jumped as the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Harry,’ said Bacon.

  ‘Can you introduce him to me?’ said Shepherd. ‘Tell him I’m Inspector David Slater, with the Drugs Squad.’ He nodded at the iPhone. ‘Can you look after that and make the switch?’

  Bacon nodded and slipped the phone into her pocket before heading down the corridor.

  ‘I think she likes you,’ said Sharpe.

  Shepherd grinned. ‘You have to admire her commitment to the lad,’ he said.

  ‘Best not to get too close to your CIs,’ said Sharpe. ‘That’s my experience.’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘Yeah, mine too. But this is different. He’s a kid.’

  They heard the front door open and close and then footsteps. Bacon walked back into the kitchen followed by Harry. Shepherd had already seen surveillance photographs of the boy – he was tall and gangly, much as Shepherd’s son Liam had been at that age, and like Liam he had acne across his forehead. He was wearing a school blazer and had his tie at half-mast. He had deep-set eyes and thick eyebrows and piercing blue eyes that narrowed as they scrutinised Shepherd.

  ‘This is Inspector Slater,’ said Bacon. ‘He’s with the London Drugs Squad.’

  ‘Why’s he here?’ Harry asked Bacon.

  ‘I’m here to offer you any support you need,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I don’t need no support,’ said Harry. He looked at Bacon again. ‘You said no one else would know what I was doing. Just you and him,’ he gestured at Sharpe. ‘The whole point of this is that it’s a secret, right?’

  ‘Inspector Slater has experience in undercover work,’ said Bacon. ‘He might be able to help you with any issues you have.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I’m good.’

  ‘We’re all very pleased with the way things have been going,’ said Shepherd. ‘You’re doing a great job.’

  Harry went over to the fridge, opened it and took out a can of Coke. He popped the tab, watching Shepherd as he drank.

  ‘Has Swifty been in touch?’ asked Bacon. Tyrone ‘Swifty’ Taylor was one of the enforcers in the Yardie gang that was using Harry. The leader of the posse was a Jamaican bodybuilder called Jason Morris, who went by the nickname Dancer. Morris ran the posse but usually had his enforcers carry out his instructions, issued from his flat in Brixton.

  Harry nodded. ‘Sent me a text this afternoon. Wants me at Waterloo tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Can I see?’ asked Bacon.

  ‘Sure,’ said Harry. He fished his iPhone out of his pocket and held it close to his face for the facial recognition to kick in. Once the phone was unlocked, he handed it to Bacon.

  ‘Have you met Swifty?’ asked Shepherd. He stood up and walked over to the fridge. He opened it and took out a bottle of Evian water.

  Harry turned to watch him. ‘A couple of times. He was the one who told me I was gonna start moving different gear.’

  ‘What about Dancer?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I’ve never met him but Swifty talks about him all time. “Dancer wants this, Dancer says that”, all that shit. They’re all scared of him.’

  Harry now had his back to Bacon and she pocketed his phone and took out the one Shepherd had given her.

  ‘Has Swifty ever threatened you?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘I’m okay,’ said Harry, but the way he averted his eyes let Shepherd know that he was being less than honest.

  ‘I guess he’s happy with the way things are going,’ said Shepherd. ‘But do you feel threatened?’

  Harry laughed. ‘Of course I feel threatened.’ He gestured at Sharpe with his can of Coke. ‘All he’s ever done is threaten me.’

  ‘I meant by Swifty. Do you feel as if he could hurt you at any point?’

  ‘If he ever finds out that I’m a grass, hell yeah,’ said Harry.

  ‘He won’t find out,’ said Bacon.

  ‘Yeah, well, the longer this goes on, the more chance there is that he’ll realise what I’m doing,’ said Harry. ‘You said I’d be done in a few days.’

  ‘It won’t be much longer,’ said Bacon.

  ‘But you keep saying that,’ said Harry.

  ‘Harry, you’re not doing anything that you wouldn’t be doing if you hadn’t been caught,’ said Sharpe. ‘If we hadn’t got you, you’d still be running the line for Swifty, you’d still be bringing in drugs a couple of times a week. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘Now I’m a fucking grass, though,’ said Harry. ‘That’s what’s changed.’

  ‘All you’re doing is passing on information that Swifty is giving you,’ said Shepherd. ‘Our surveillance teams do the rest. If Swifty does ever realise that the police are watching him, there’s no reason for him to think that you’ve been helping him.’

  ‘Yeah, well you would say that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Harry, I know we’ve only just met and you don’t know me from Adam, but I can promise you that I will never consciously put you in harm’s way,’ said Shepherd. ‘From now on I’m going to be your guardian angel and if anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to
go through me first.’

  Harry jutted his chin. ‘Are you strapped?’

  ‘Strapped?’

  ‘Strapped. Carrying. Have you got a gun?’

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘No, I’m not armed.’

  ‘So what are you going to do if Swifty and his posse turn up with MAC-10s? Flash your badge?’

  ‘We don’t have badges,’ said Shepherd. ‘We have warrant cards.’

  Harry tilted his head on one side. ‘Yeah? Let me have a look then.’

  Shepherd hesitated for a few seconds, then took a black leather warrant-card holder from his pocket. On it was the silver crest of the Metropolitan Police. He gave it to Harry who opened it and scrutinised the warrant card inside. ‘How long have you been a cop?’ he asked.

  ‘Twenty years or so,’ said Shepherd, the lie coming easily. He had memorised all the details of Inspector David Slater’s legend. It hadn’t been difficult, not with his trick memory.

  Harry snapped the warrant-card holder shut and gave it back to Shepherd. ‘So you flash that and what, Swifty and his posse surrender? You need to get with the real world. The likes of Swifty don’t give a flying fuck about the cops.’

  ‘Swifty won’t get anywhere near you, Harry,’ said Sharpe. ‘He’s under twenty-four-hour surveillance. If it even looks as if he wants to harm you, we’ll protect you.’

  ‘But it won’t come to that,’ said Bacon, patting Harry reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘He’s not going to find out.’

  Harry sipped his Coke.

  Bacon gave the phone to Harry and he put it in his blazer pocket without looking at it.

  ‘What will happen tomorrow at Waterloo?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘Someone will give me a bag and then I’ll bring it to Reading, on the train.’

  ‘What route do you use to get to Waterloo?’

  ‘I get the train to Paddington and then the Bakerloo Line.’

  ‘And you’re okay with the way things have been going?’

  Harry frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Do you feel stressed? Are you sleeping okay? It can’t be easy for you, having to do what Swifty tells you and to keep meeting with us.’

  Harry laughed harshly. ‘Mate, if it was up to me I wouldn’t be dealing with your lot, but it’s not as if I have a choice, is it?’ He looked over at Sharpe but Sharpe just shrugged. Harry looked back at Shepherd. ‘I’m between a rock and a hard place, aren’t I? If I get caught screwing over Swifty and his posse, God knows what they’ll do to me. But if I don’t do what you guys say, then I’m fucked.’

  ‘Language, Harry,’ said Bacon.

  ‘What, you gonna arrest me for swearing?’ sneered Harry. He scowled at Shepherd. ‘So no, I’m not sleeping great at the moment. And I don’t feel so good. But the way it was told to me, I don’t have a choice. If I don’t help you then my parents will find out what I’ve been doing and I’ll probably go to prison. At least this way I have a chance of getting my life back to normal.’

  ‘That’s what we all want,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘When, then?’ asked Harry. ‘When are you going to stop having me jump through hoops?’

  ‘It won’t be much longer, let’s see how it goes over the weekend.’

  Harry looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.

  ‘Take care,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I always do,’ said Harry. He headed for the front door with his Coke. Bacon hurried after him.

  ‘I’ll take you upstairs and show you what we’ve got so far,’ said Sharpe. They heard the front door close as Sharpe led Shepherd into the hallway and up the stairs. Sharpe opened a door to a small bedroom and flicked on the light. A single bed had been pushed up against the wall and four large whiteboards had been placed on easels. The boards were dotted with surveillance photographs and head and shoulder shots. The board on the right had four photographs of Jamaicans on it, two with long dreadlocks, one with short curly hair and one with his head shaved. All were in their thirties and the photographs had apparently been taken in custody suites.

  Sharpe waved at the pictures. ‘From the left: Tyrone “Swifty” Taylor, Jason “Dancer” Morris, Winston “Beamer” Lewis and Lyndon “Mario” James. They’ve all got criminal records.’ He tapped a photograph of a kebab shop. ‘They’re based on the first floor, access through the door to the left of the kebab shop door and there’s a fire escape at the rear that leads down to a small yard, which leads out into an alley. That’s where they keep their day-to-day drug supplies, but they have a lock-up a short drive away. There’s hundreds of kilos in the lock-up so they’re all going to go down for a long time once we move in.’

  He moved across to the second whiteboard. ‘These are the guys who are supplying the Yardies. They’re all Scousers but spend most of their time on the Costa del Sol these days.’ There were three photographs on the board, all taken at long range, presumably with telephoto lenses.

  ‘The leader is a guy called Jerry McAllen. Started off selling wraps of heroin in Liverpool when he was a kid, graduated to big-time marijuana trafficking and now he’s one of the biggest importers of cocaine and heroin into the UK. Never been caught, his record is as clean as the proverbial whistle. And even with all the evidence we’ve collected, we still don’t have enough to put him away. He’s one of the smart ones. Never goes near the money or the drugs, all communication is through text messages on encrypted phones.’

  Sharpe tapped the picture on the left. A younger man wearing glasses, with both arms covered in elaborate tattoos, standing by a black Porsche. ‘This is Jerry’s younger brother, Tommy. Their mum died when they were youngsters and their dad was an alcoholic so he dumped them in care and ever since Jerry has taken him under his wing. Tommy’s as careful as Jerry.’

  Sharpe stepped back from the board. ‘The brothers have enough money invested in property and stocks that they could go legit if they wanted. They’ve got millions tucked away. But Jerry gets a kick out of it. It’s like a game and he’s good at it. He loves winning.’

  ‘Have you tried getting someone undercover?’

  Sharpe shook his head. ‘To be honest, there’s no interest. My boss is after Morris and his crew and wants the county lines shutting down. He doesn’t want to put any resources into the McAllens.’

  ‘But if you just close down Morris, the McAllens will simply sell to someone else.’

  ‘They already are. They’ve got dozens of customers all over the UK. The thing about the McAllens is that they never rip anyone off. Their word really is their bond. People trust them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not softies by any means, but if you play fair with them they’ll play fair with you. The only cloud on their horizon is the Albanians. They’ve moved into the UK drugs scene big time and you don’t want to fuck with them. I’d say the Albanians have already taken half of the McAllen’s turf yet they don’t seem to care. But so far as the brothers go, we have a cunning plan.’

  Sharpe pointed at the third photograph. The man in the picture was in his late forties or early fifties, barrel-chested and with a weightlifter’s build. He had sunglasses pushed up on top of his bald head and was sitting on a patio overlooking the sea with a pretty blonde either side of him and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. ‘Martin O’Connor is their main conduit to Morris and their other customers. He’s Irish but hasn’t been there in years. He lives on the Costa but is in and out of the UK on a regular basis. We managed to record a couple of conversations he’s had with Morris, and Europol have video of him checking out a yacht in Puerto Banus that was later intercepted in British waters with a couple of hundred kilos of cocaine on board. Not enough evidence to put him away, but it’s all grist to the mill.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Shepherd. ‘Get Morris to roll over on O’Connor and then get O’Connor to give you the brothers?’

  Sharpe grinned. ‘No flies on you, Spider.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ said Shepherd. ‘I see what you did there. But yeah, it makes sense
. Set the dominoes up and knock them down.’

  ‘The worst that can happen is that we pull in a Yardie drug gang and shut down their county lines. Best scenario is that we take down a major smuggling ring. Drinks all round.’

  He gestured at the third whiteboard. There were two surveillance photographs on it, taken with a long lens. ‘Harry delivers the bags to these guys: Gavin Warwick and Stuart Bradley. Warwick wasn’t known to the cops before we had Harry on board, but he’s in our sights now.’ He tapped the photograph on the right. A young bearded man was walking out of an off-licence with a carrier bag. ‘Warwick is an Essex lad who moved to Reading a couple of years back. Bradley came with him and they share a house. Bradley is known and he’s a nasty piece of work.’ He tapped the second photograph. Bradley was bald with glasses, wearing a Nike tracksuit as he rolled out a wheelie bin. ‘He has form for drug dealing, selling mainly to youngsters, especially young boys. He has a thing for young boys and getting them hooked on drugs is how he pulls them in.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Razor, if you know that why’s he still on the streets?’

  ‘He was arrested in Chelmsford but two of the boys who were supposed to be giving evidence against him backed out. Presumably they were threatened. Like I said, he’s a nasty piece of work. The local cops were giving him a hard time so he moved to Reading. He’s a clever bastard. His customers go to the house, always to the back door which isn’t overlooked. We managed to get a guy around the back late one night and there’s a dog flap in the kitchen door. We reckon they do all their business through the flap and that the door is reinforced. We’re going to try and get a look inside at some point, send in a gas man or something.’

  ‘But the drugs stay inside the house until they’re sold?’

  Sharpe nodded. ‘Yeah. So immediately after a delivery there’ll be enough drugs in the house to put them away for a long time. Like I said, we were pretty much ready to go when your mob started to get busy about Gary Dexter.’ He took a step closer to the fourth whiteboard. ‘This is the Dexter family. Just so you know who’s who.’