Going Rogue, page 17
part #2 of Tom Novak Series
‘Still A3 Southbound. Wandsworth now,’ Tiny barked from the rear of the car. ‘I’ve a live ANPR update as well; the same Discovery as before just tripped the camera on the A3.’
Buster again relayed this to the rest of the team on the covert radio. Jaco’s tracking device should send out a signal every ten minutes, which would hopefully keep the team within striking distance. The difficult decisions would come when the vehicle came to a complete stop. Jane had a sudden thought.
‘Tiny, have a look at shooting estates heading out this way: Kent and Sussex area, probably. They are taking him somewhere he can fire a very loud sniper rifle, so it needs to be spacious, secluded, and used to loud noises.’
‘I’m on it,’ Tiny said, his voice accompanied by the patter of his fingers on computer keys.
‘That’s good thinking, Boss,’ said Buster. ‘There can’t be too many places and I can’t believe they are planning to drive Jaco for hours and hours.’
After a few minutes Tiny said, ‘Right, they are still on the A3 near Twickenham. There are a few estates and shooting clubs in that area towards the South Downs. I’m marking them on a map so it may become clearer once we get closer. I’m syncing it with your iPad, Jane.’
Jane studied the tablet and relayed the information to the rest of the team.
They continued driving through the heavy A3 traffic heading into Surrey and were just passing Guilford when Tiny spoke once more. ‘They’re not deviating from the A3 which puts them right on course for Midhurst. There is a large shooting estate about forty minutes from there: Heartwood House. It’s massive: sixteen-thousand acres. They shoot deer, all types of gamebirds, and clays. Looks perfect to me and it’s about fifty minutes away with this traffic.’
‘Jane, we need to get someone ahead and waiting and scope it out,’ said Buster. ‘Let’s send Tom on the bike.’
Jane nodded and spoke into the radio. ‘Four-two from control, make your way urgently to Heartwood House just outside Midhurst. Take a parallel route to subject vehicle and use everything you’ve got. Call as soon as you get there.’
‘All received. Making way now,’ Tom’s low, even voice was just about audible over the howl of the 1000cc bike. He would be able to make much quicker progress through the heavy traffic than the cars could ever be capable of. It was crucial that they got eyes on the place before anyone else got there, so Jane could coordinate the other units to ensure that they contained the house as best as possible.
‘ETA thirty-eight minutes. They’ve just pinged again just outside Haslemere. It doesn’t make any sense that they’re going anywhere else. Want to know something else?’
‘Go on?’ said Buster.
‘Heartwood House is also owned by Asquith-Nevison,’ Tiny said, flatly, tapping at the keys of his computer.
‘Right, get onto Farita. I want everything that there is to know on that company. Everything. Shareholders, finances, directors, the fucking lot.’ Jane’s voice was pure steel as the car sped along the A3.
32
Tom wrenched the powerful bike’s accelerator, feeling his adrenaline surge as the bike roared. Glancing at the map which was open and secure on the tank bag’s map case, he quickly calculated a route that would take him away from the A3.
He left the A3 just by Guildford, branching off onto the parallel A281, riding hard along the quieter, smaller road. He was maintaining good speed along the twisty road and was confident that he could outrun the Discovery. Most surveillance teams would have a motorcyclist attached for situations just like that; a bike can make progress that a car simply cannot, particularly if it can breach the speed limits as Tom was doing. The needle was frequently well beyond the 100mph mark on the speedometer as he negotiated the twists and turns, forming a plan in his head as he travelled towards the country estate.
Firstly, get eyes on the place and ascertain all access points by vehicle or foot.
Then, once recce’d, he would direct all the police vehicles in to contain all the ingress and egress points so that they could be ready to either deploy to make the arrests or, worst case scenario, get in to extract Jaco.
Everything felt a bit too rushed, which Tom wasn’t happy with, but their hands had been forced by the operational circumstances. The stakes were too high, and they would just have to run with it. He put the feelings of doubt out of his mind as he continued to ride as fast as he could towards the estate.
Thirty minutes later, Tom pulled up just beyond a gated entrance at the beginning of a long sweeping drive leading up to a huge manor house. The ornate and imposing gates contained the words “Heartwood Estate” in intricately designed ironwork.
Tom quickly studied his map whilst pressing his transmit button on the handlebar. ‘I’m on scene. Front entrance is locked and gated, large beech hedge either side of the gates along the road. House is approximately three hundred metres from gates. I’m going to find a suitable location to observe gates for target vehicle.’
Buster’s voice crackled in Tom’s ear, ‘All received, mate. Tiny has found a detailed map of the grounds and access points and we will deploy backup units to cover those. Get yourself out of sight and wait for the Disco to arrive. We are estimating another ten minutes before they get to you.’
‘All received,’ Tom replied.
About fifty metres along from the gates was a covered bus shelter. Remote though the estate was, it was clearly on a bus route, probably a legacy from when the numerous carless members of staff needed to get to work from nearby Midhurst.
Tom quickly spun around and rode up to the bus shelter, tucking the bike behind it to render it invisible from the road. He pulled off his helmet and stowed it in the top box at the rear of the bike along with his gloves. He was wearing motorcycle jeans that had hidden Kevlar protectors at the knees and hips but, on the face of it, just looked like regular denim. He also removed and stowed his Rukka bike jacket. Now just in jeans and a plain hooded sweatshirt, he looked like a regular person waiting for a bus. Perfect. The best tradecraft and tactics on a surveillance operation was to get ahead and be waiting for your target. People who think they are being followed tend to look behind them. They don’t often look ahead.
Buster’s voice sparked up in his ear again. ‘We have them only a couple of minutes away from you Borat, so standby. We are about fifteen minutes behind them at current estimates.’
‘Received,’ Tom mumbled into his hidden microphone.
He only half-listened to Tiny’s voice in his ear directing all the other team members to the estate’s various entry and exit points as he pulled out his mobile, opened Google Maps, and studied the layout of the estate. The aerial footage seemed to show that there were a number of buildings on the sprawling expanse as well as woodland, heathland, and crop fields.
He heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching vehicle as he hid in plain sight. He could have secreted himself within the trees opposite the gate to the estate, but there really was no need. He could have been seen entering the copse, which would have looked really suspicious, whereas sitting at a bus stop was natural. It was expected that people sat in bus shelters, it is their sole purpose after all.
As always in those situations Tom’s training came back to him. ‘Just be normal, guys. Behave like regular people behave, and no one will see you. It’s only when you piss about hiding that you get noticed.’ His instructor had a way with words, but he was always bang-on.
Tom’s eyes were ostensibly fixed on his phone, as people waiting for buses invariably did, but he was still able to watch the dark Discovery pass him and turn left towards the gates, which opened as if by magic on their approach.
Tom spoke, his lips barely moving. ‘That’s subject vehicle past me. Gates opening and it’s in, in, in towards the main house ascending the hill and out of sight to me. One in the driver’s seat, can’t see into the rear.’ It was a hangover from the days of unreliable communications that any surveillance operative would repeat highly important words three times.
‘That’s all received by control. Our ETA is fifteen. Maintain your visual on the main gate until we have further info.’ Jane spoke quietly and confidently. Despite her senior rank she had been a highly competent surveillance officer herself in the past.
Tom sighed. He now had nothing to do but wait for an update. Jaco was still on his own and was highly vulnerable, but at least backup was arriving.
*
The Discovery pulled up outside a small redbrick hunting lodge, surrounded by trees and situated just off a bumpy, unmade track.
‘You can take the hood off now, Joost. We are here,’ said Danny.
Jaco tugged the hood off his face, blinking as the light assaulted eyes that had been covered for the last hour-and-a-half. ‘Thank fuck for that. Where are we?’ he said, with mild sarcasm in his voice.
‘Nice try, mate,’ Danny retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice. ‘We are somewhere you can test the rifle, and it’s somewhere that no one will pay attention to a few loud bangs.’
The journey had been boring in the extreme and his attempts to keep track of their direction had been in vain. It had felt like they had stuck to major roads for almost the entire journey, right up until the final mile or so, which had seemed to be on bumpy and unmade roads.
He hoped that the tracker in his shoe had done the job and that the team were surrounding wherever he was. Reaching down to the tongue of the trainer he pressed the switch once more, which would completely isolate him for a short while. He couldn’t assume that he wouldn’t be scanned once again, so he felt more comfortable knowing that no signals were being emitted whatsoever. Tiny had told him that switching the device off completely would initiate a final burst of GPS that would transmit his location to the team, so he felt more relaxed knowing that his location would be visible.
‘Come on. Let’s go in the lodge, there should be coffee and some food,’ said Danny.
‘Good. I’m starving.’
All three men got out of the car and into the late morning sunshine. Jaco inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees that surrounded the lodge. It really was picture-postcard beautiful, surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, all in immaculate condition.
‘This place looks nice,’ he said. ‘Not what I expected at all.’
‘It’s usually holiday accommodation for rich shooters who pay the owners a premium to shoot red deer. Fortunately, there are no tourists about today. You can check out the firearm here and then we will drive out to where you can zero it in peace.’
Jaco nodded, taking in the scene. It was incredibly peaceful, the only sounds birdsong and the merest suggestion of distant traffic on the gentle breeze.
They entered the property through a stripped pine stable door and into a small, rustic kitchen. An Aga sat along the back wall radiating warmth and the room smelt of fresh coffee. The Major sat at the scrubbed kitchen table with a mug in his hand, studying a broadsheet newspaper that was spread out in front of him.
‘Joost, welcome. I’m so glad you could come,’ he said, standing up and extending his hand for him to shake.
‘No problem. Although I don’t see why I needed to be blindfolded, for fuck’s sake. I’m a fucking hitman; it’s not like I’d go to the police, is it?’
‘Sorry about that, old chap. The owner of this place is shy, and he does not want unknowns being aware of its location. Hopefully your very generous fee will soften the blow. We are ready to transfer the first instalment today.’ The Major showed his white, even teeth in a smile that seemed to Jaco like a mask hiding something unpleasant.
‘Well, once I’ve inspected and tested the weapon, we can sort that out. When is it coming?’
‘On its way. Take a seat, old boy. Coffee?’
‘Sure, why not. But I’m busting for a piss; I didn’t realise how long I’d be in the car.’
The Major pointed to a door. ‘In there.’
Jaco nodded and entered the small cloakroom that housed a toilet with high-level flush and a tiny handbasin. Again, everything was trendily rustic although Jaco suspected that all the furnishings were brand-new despite their distressed appearance. The whole place reeked of an interior designer.
He used the toilet quickly and pulled the old-fashioned flush chain and, as the water rushed into the toilet, he quickly knelt and activated the switch in his trainer and whispered into his collar. ‘I hope you fuckers are getting this. Major, Danny and Rocky are here, but no weapon yet.’
He washed his hands and dried them on a small, fluffy white hand towel before returning to the kitchen where Danny and the Major were sat at the table nursing their coffees. There was no sign of Rocky.
Jaco sat opposite them and sipped a lukewarm coffee which was so feebly weak it could barely be called coffee.
‘So where’s the weapon?’
‘On its way. We don’t keep our weaponry here; it’s quite a busy estate when the hunting season is in full flow. Have you looked at the location for the hit?’
‘I’ve carried out a full recce. The steps up to the front door make him a fairly easy target but he will only be in the sights for a second or two assuming I can catch him pausing at the door to lock up. Whatever, I have more than enough. It’s between three hundred and eighty to four hundred metres from the best vantage point I can find. I have plenty of options for firing points.’
‘Where will you be sited?’
‘Why do you need to know that?’ Jaco decided that he needed to resist this line of questioning as, he hoped, everything being said in the room was being recorded.
‘I just like to know exactly what those under my command are planning.’ The Major spoke brusquely and in full officer mode.
‘Major, I think you need to re-think what our roles are here. Perhaps it would help for you to think of me as a plumber about to fix a burst pipe. Now, my dear Major, if you had a burst pipe spilling water all over your nice Persian rug, would you ask the plumber how he was going to fix the burst pipe? Perhaps you should just satisfy yourself that I am an efficient plumber and I don’t work as well if I am micro-managed. Also, Major, the good thing with a plumber or any type of contractor is that they don’t give a fuck why you want your pipes fixing or re-routing. They will just do as you ask, as long as you pay them. I am just selling my skills here; I have nothing else to sell.’ Jaco spoke firmly with a half-smile on his face.
‘I need to know that you have planned properly. I am answerable to others who are insistent that Nasir Akhtar MP will be terminated as soon as possible,’ the Major said with bumptious indignation.
‘Major, you have to understand that I am putting myself at risk here, getting this close to a well-protected and high-profile politician with the intention of shooting him through the head. I will be in a densely populated tower block so you will forgive me if I prefer to keep some of the details to myself for my own protection. Satisfy yourself with this knowledge: I am a very good sniper who has killed many people. I will not fail, and the Honourable Member of Parliament for Tower Hamlets will be dead very soon.’ Jaco’s tone was soothing but assertive.
The Major indignantly let out a rush of air in defeat. ‘Just make sure you don’t fucking miss. Akhtar must be taken care of as soon as possible.’ Red blotches had appeared on his face and a vein throbbed in his temple; he clearly did not appreciate Jaco seizing control in this way.
‘Don’t worry, Major. It will be done,’ Jaco said, internally triumphant at the exchange that had just taken place. Hopefully contained within a computerised recording device was enough evidence to put the Major in prison for many decades.
The Major frowned. ‘When can you do it?’
‘Well his website says that he has a surgery at his offices between midday and 3pm tomorrow afternoon, so I will do it then. As long as the weapon is in order, obviously.’ Jaco’s tone was as matter-of-fact as if he actually was being employed to fix pipes.
At that moment the door to the lodge swung open and a huge shaven-headed man entered the room, a long, sausage-shaped, black canvas bag slung over his shoulder.
Recognition flared in Jaco like a lightning bolt as he looked at the powerful, bull-necked man. Jesus, the huge build and cauliflower ears. It was years ago, on a course in the army, but it was definitely him. Holy shit, thought Jaco, wondering if the time had come to give the extraction signal.
‘Ah, here’s the weapon,’ the Major said as the big man deposited the case on the table. ‘Thanks Chas. This is Joost, by the way.’
Chas paused and stared at Jaco, puzzlement written across his face. ‘Joost?’ he said, his features twisted in confusion as he sought to place the other man.
Jaco remained outwardly calm and extended his hand. ‘Yeah mate, I’m Joost,’ he said, a broad smile on his face, outwardly brimming with a confidence he did not feel.
‘Where do I know you from?’ Chas said, still confused.
‘Don’t think so, mate. I’m not from here.’
‘I definitely know you. Were you in the army?’
‘He was South African army, Chas,’ Danny said.
‘No he fucking wasn’t. He was in the British army. I remember him now: we were on a combat survival course together. Who is he saying he is?’ Chas’s eyes were wide and his meaty face flushed red.
The Major stood up and Danny moved towards the Lodge door, producing a pistol from the rear of his trouser waistband.
‘Chas? Are you sure?’ the Major said, not taking his eyes from Jaco.
‘Yes, I’m fucking sure. You don’t get many South Africans in the fucking Black Watch. I won’t forget him. His name is Jaco, not Joost, and he wasn’t in the South African Army, he was in the fucking Black Watch.’
At this, Danny raised the pistol and pointed it direct at Jaco, who remained stock still. ‘Who are you and why are you here?’ asked Danny.
Jaco kept his voice low and even, trying not to show the fear that gripped his insides like a vice. ‘I’ve said who I am and I don’t know this big, ugly bastard. Now if you are going to fuck about, I am getting the fuck out of this nest of vipers.’ He rocketed to his feet, speaking with force and indignation, hoping that the extraction word had reached the backup team.
