Backlash

Chapter Nineteen

Mike Lewis was one of the first to arrive in the incident room, to find that a cleaner was just clearing his office, the window wide open. In her cart were the empty glass and bottle of Scotch and the disgusting beaker filled with cigarette stubs. Mike could still smell cigarette smoke; he guessed instinctively that Langton had been using his office. Fifteen minutes later he knew for certain because he found him in the canteen eating breakfast.

‘Good morning,’ Mike said pleasantly.

‘Glad you think it’s good,’ Langton grumbled. ‘Bring me another coffee, would you?’

He looked as if he needed a shave and his tie was loose around his unbuttoned collar.

As Langton’s breakfast tray was cleared Mike sat opposite him and got the singing-off-the-same-hymn-sheet discussion. Mike listened and agreed, but he was nevertheless nervous. He asked if there was going to be an inquisition and Langton laughed.

‘Too bloody right – don’t know about inquisition, but we’re going to have the top brass breathing all over us, so better to be prepared and show a united front.’

Mike said he would get onto it straight away, and took the remainder of his coffee with him, leaving a surly-looking Langton still in the canteen.

Anna was at her desk when Mike told her that Langton was up in the canteen. She was surprised; it wasn’t even eight-thirty yet.

‘I think he was in my office, stinks of cigarettes, and by the look of him he was there all night.’

‘Old habits die hard,’ she said, smiling.

‘Yeah, maybe they do, but it’s my office.’

‘You see how many calls came in last night?’ she asked.

Mike nodded, but none had given them any information they could use, most of them were time-wasters, but any remotely likely ones had to be checked out. Henry Oates had been ‘seen’ in Waitrose, at a petrol station, and at a variety of Tube stations, and every location had to be visited, enquiries made and any CCTV viewed.

Mike said he would give a briefing to the team as soon as everyone was gathered.

‘Make sure we’re all singing off the same hymn sheet?’ Anna laughed, but Mike wasn’t amused – it just confirmed that Langton had already discussed it with her previously.

Langton was having a shave in the Gents. He splashed cold water over his face and dabbed it dry with a rather seedy grey towel. His opened briefcase revealed some cologne and a laundered tie; he always kept a spare one in case he spilt food down himself. By the time he walked into the incident room, Mike was winding down his briefing.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ Langton bellowed as he banged open the double doors, tossed his briefcase onto Barbara’s desk and clapped his hands, making his way to join Mike at the front.

‘Right, let’s make this a day to remember. He’s out there somewhere and I want him tracked down.’

Langton pointed to the slew of calls and possible sightings and turned back to the expectant faces.

‘I don’t believe Oates is out and about living off the land. I think he is hiding and it’s either in a fucking squat in some derelict house or he’s homed in on some poor bastard. Now, what have we got? Who did he know? Who would be mad enough to let him lie low? We know he’s got no money, he escaped wearing a police-issue grey tracksuit, and although he left his rain protective suit in the stolen police car, he would have still been wearing the boots we so helpfully provided. He’ll want a change of clothes, new footwear – does he steal them? What reports have we got in from clothes shops that he may have been seen in, or thefts from clothes lines, and remember we’ve got petrol stations selling everything from underwear to Reeboks. What have we got?’

He took a look at the likeliest possible sightings, dismissed them bullishly and then gestured to Travis.

‘These two known associates, what about them?’

Anna went to the board to read the reports from officers who had visited both addresses. Ira Zacks’ elegant flat had been investigated. The information they now had on Zacks was that he had been picked up for drug dealing and was being held at Brixton Police Station. The flat was empty and there was no sign of a break-in or that anyone had been living there recently. Mr and Mrs Murphy, who lived opposite the squat in Hackney, had also been visited but they had not seen Oates. The three houses earmarked for demolition remained under surveillance in case Oates attempted to return to his basement flat. There had been no sightings of him at his old sports centre. Lastly, they had a report from the address where Timmy Bradford was living with his mother. The officers had not spoken to Bradford’s mother, but Timmy had said he hadn’t seen Oates and promised that should he make contact he would alert the police. Also up on the board was the number for DCI McBride in Glasgow, who had reported back that Oates had not attempted to seek help from his ex-wife. This was easily confirmed as Eileen was now under police protection, having given evidence against her so-called boyfriend.

Langton sighed as the room went quiet.

‘Well we appear to be up fucking shit creek, don’t we?’

Anna was still at the board. She turned.

‘Can I just ask if the officers who went to Timmy Bradford’s place searched it?’

A young DC stepped forwards to say that Bradford had been very civil, and had said that his mother was in the bath, that it was inconvenient, but if they wanted to come back they were welcome to take a look around.

‘Did you?’

‘Yes, ma’am, we went back about half an hour later and he let us in, we looked over the flat and left.’

‘Did you look in the bedroom cupboards, under the beds?’

‘We had a good look round, yes.’

‘What about his mother, Mrs Douglas – did you speak to her?’

‘No, ma’am, he said she had just gone to the corner shop.’

‘How did Mr Bradford seem to you?’

‘Like I said, ma’am, he was very civil and suggested if we wanted to wait we could.’

‘So he didn’t seem nervous or agitated in any way?’

‘No, ma’am.’

Anna returned to her desk, tapping a pencil up and down as phones carried on ringing. Langton came over.

‘Do you have a charger I can use? Battery’s low.’

Anna opened her desk, where she kept various chargers, and he rooted through them, bending close to her.

‘This is a total fuck-up,’ he muttered.

She leaned closer to him.

‘What’s that cologne you’ve got on?’

‘Don’t ask me, Christmas present from Kitty. I just chuck ’em into my briefcase – you like it?’

The ground felt as if it was opening up beneath her. She knew exactly what it was: ‘Happy’ by Clinique – it was the same one that Ken Hudson had used.

‘What is it?’ Langton could see she had turned pale and had started shaking.

‘Christ, it’s not that bad, is it?’

‘Excuse me.’

Anna had to get out of the room. She was finding it hard to catch her breath and her head felt as if it would explode. Langton watched her go and Mike had noticed her as well.

‘What’s up?’

Langton shrugged as he fixed the charger to his mobile, plugged it in and sat at her desk. On a notepad he could see she had scribbled ‘mother’ then underlined it twice.

Anna clung onto the washbasin rim, taking short sharp gasps of breath, not wanting to faint. It had hit her so hard and so unexpectedly. Langton wearing the same cologne was unbelievable, and would be funny if it didn’t rip her heart in two.

‘Calm down, calm down,’ she said to herself like a mantra, but she was too dizzy to release her hold of the washbasin. Her stomach lurched, and she almost bounced off the walls as she stumbled into the lavatory, where she was violently sick. Now her body felt cold, but at least she had stopped shaking and was eventually able to stand upright.

It was another ten minutes before she was capable of washing her face and hands and another few moments before she managed to walk out and back into the corridor.

Langton was leaning against the wall, waiting.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes, must have been the Chinese I ate last night.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘You mean you went off and got a takeaway after we finished up here?’

‘YES!’

He gestured for her to calm down and they walked along the corridor together.

‘You’ve written the word “mother” on your notepad.’

‘Yes.’

‘You going to tell me why or do you want me to guess?’

She stopped and folded her arms.

‘I met Mrs Douglas, Timmy Bradford’s mother. She’s neat and tidy and very house-proud. They have the first visit to her flat recorded at eleven-thirty in the morning, and it doesn’t ring true to me that she would be having a bath at that time. I would think she’s got her twinset and pearls on by seven, fully dressed and dusting.’

Langton pursed his lips.

‘Does Oates know the flat? Has he been there before?’

‘Yes, though Bradford said he’d never actually let him in, but he’s already shown himself to be a liar when it comes to Oates, so he could be helping him.’

Langton took only a brief moment before he decided that another visit would be on the cards. He also added that they would take it very carefully, first question neigh-bours, no uniforms and no patrol cars on show.

‘They know you, right? The mother and son?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, so you’ll be able to identify Bradford. Now tell me about the time you were there.’

Anna repeated in detail her visit to Timmy Bradford’s and his recollections of his boxing days with Oates, how he had lied to her about seeing Oates just the once and only admitted going to the chalk quarry with him when he was brought into the station for questioning. She added that his mother appeared to be a nice woman.

Back in the incident room they pinned up maps of the Kingsnympton estate, along with enlarged photographs on which the empty boarded-up flats could be clearly seen. It was a very well-maintained estate, but a very large one, with hundreds of flats. They also scrutinized a small row of shops frequented by the residents of the estate. There was an off-licence, a hair salon, a closed-down minimarket, a launderette and a newsagent’s.

Langton suggested they start with a few discreet enquiries before upping the ante and bringing in the SO19 firearms arrest team. He stressed they were just working on a theory, and had no proof yet that Oates was hiding out at Bradford’s, so it was imperative they play a very covert hand.

‘Why take it softly-softly?’ Mike asked.

‘Because if I call in SO19 now the top brass will be all over this after what happened at the quarry. If Oates isn’t there and the firearms go in throwing thunder flashes and waving guns about we’ll look like a right bunch of pricks for not doing our homework, so I want some surveillance on the premises first.’

‘But they searched the flat,’ Mike pointed out.

‘Never saw the mother, though. Oates could have been in the bathroom with her, keeping her quiet or tied up.’

‘Timmy wouldn’t risk his mother’s life to grass on Oates under those circumstances,’ Anna said, looking at them both.

By twelve o’clock Anna, with two members of the surveillance team, was in position in a high-tech police observation vehicle, which had been disguised to look like a painter and decorator’s van. They were able to park unnoticed inside the estate and had a clear view of the balcony and door of Bradford’s mother’s flat. Langton had decided that as Anna knew Timmy Bradford, and vice versa, it was best she was out of sight in case he was assisting Oates and recognized her. If Timmy or Oates came out of the flat she was to notify Langton over the radio. After about twenty minutes’ observation she reported that there appeared to be some movement inside, but owing to the net curtains she could not make out who it was.

Langton, Mike and Barbara were parked up nearby and out of sight in an unmarked police car.

‘Quite eerie, isn’t it?’ Barbara said.

‘What’s eerie about an undercover observation in broad daylight?’ Mike asked.

‘Nothing. It’s just eerie that the last person to drive this car was Oates after he shot Barolli,’ Barbara replied as Anna’s voice came over the radio.

‘Shut up, Barbara, I can’t hear what Anna is saying,’ Langton said.

Travis informed Langton that there was movement in the flat and asked for further instructions.

‘If Bradford comes out, one of the surveillance officers will follow him on foot and keep in radio contact. If Oates comes out I’ve got plain clothes armed officers ready to make the arrest,’ Langton told her, making it clear he was leaving nothing to chance this time.

Leaving Barbara in the car, Mike headed for the offlicence and Langton for the newsagent’s. Langton waited until the proprietor had served a customer before showing his ID and asking him to close the shop whilst he spoke to him. Nervously, the proprietor started to protest that he never sold cigarettes to underage kids, but Langton put his mind at ease fast.

‘This is not connected to your sales unless you want it to be. I need to ask you a few questions about someone who may use your shop, so I’d like your assistance.’

Langton was first to return to the waiting Barbara. He got into the back seat and immediately radioed through to Anna.

‘Okay, the newsagent said they get the Daily Mail delivered every day. Yesterday Timmy Bradford came in and got an Evening Standard, this morning he came back and bought the Daily Mirror and the Sun, plus two pints of milk, which he’d never done before. He also bought a sliced loaf, four packets of biscuits and six cans of Red Bull.’

‘The mother likes biscuits; she offered some to me,’ Anna replied, wondering what was so unusual.

Langton suggested that the extra newspapers could be of interest because Timmy might be following the story of his old friend’s escape, while the extra milk and biscuits could mean they had a visitor.

Mike appeared by the open passenger window. ‘Okay, Timmy Bradford is not a regular, but last night he came in and bought a six pack of beer, plus two bottles of cider.’

Langton rubbed his chin.

‘Well, not exactly throwing a party, are they, but that combined with Red Bull means somebody’s thirsty or needs to stay awake. Okay, round two, we need to speak with the neighbours, find out if they’ve noticed anything unusual.’

‘We can’t go anywhere near them – Oates knows us both. If he’s in there and sees us from the window God knows what he might do,’ Mike warned him.

‘I have considered that, so Barbara here is going to canvas for the Green Party. Newsagent said they visit the estate regularly so they’ll be used to knocks on the door,’ Langton said as he opened a plastic bag and handed Barbara some Green Party leaflets and stickers that he had got from the newsagent’s counter.

‘I thought I was just here to be the driver?’ Barbara replied nervously.

‘I think this is all a bit Miss Marple, for Chrissake,’ Mike said.

‘He’s killed seven women, Mike, he’s a madman. Like you just said, God knows what he could do if he saw someone he recognized as police.’

‘Well you said it, he’s a madman, and I just think this approach is wasting time. What if he’s not in there?’

‘What if he is?’

‘Right, and what if he is there and snatches Barbara round the fucking throat and drags her inside?’

Barbara looked at Langton. Mike had a point and she knew it.

Langton radioed Anna to let her know what the plan was, but it was a while before Anna saw Barbara come into view and walk up the communal stairs and then along the balcony. She went to the next-door neighbours’ flat and rang the bell a few times but got no reply, then moved on to the target flat and rang the bell, stepping back as she waited. No response. She rang again, still no response. She was starting to move away when the door opened a fraction. She was very good; Anna could see her smiling and talking and showing the leaflets, but the door was only open about six inches and she couldn’t make out who Barbara was talking to. Still smiling, Barbara gestured to the neighbouring flat, at which point the door closed. During all of this Langton was constantly on the radio to Anna, asking what was happening.

Langton then received a call from the station telling him that a wiretap on Bradford’s home telephone had been approved and was up and running. It was going to take a little longer to set up a tap on his mobile.

‘Check on who’s calling who and any texts since Oates escaped then get back to me.’

Whilst he was on the phone to the station Anna had spoken with Mike on the radio to report that Barbara had gone into the other neighbour’s and the occupier seemed fine and calm when he opened the door to her.

Langton had become so impatient he could no longer sit still and was pacing up and down the pavement. After about twenty minutes Barbara returned and got in the car, so Langton calmed down enough to join her and Mike.

‘It was Bradford. He said it wasn’t a convenient time and he’d never voted for anyone, especially not some rich bastard’s son! And then as much as I tried he shut the door. I had no chance of even seeing past him. I could hear a TV on – a football match or something.’

‘Do you think he suspected anything?’

‘No, I asked if there was anyone else resident who voted; he said his mother but she was a Labour supporter.’

‘How did he seem to you?’

‘His eyes were red-rimmed as if he’s not been sleeping. He also smelt very heavily of BO, and had terrible halitosis. Didn’t seem to want me to see inside, never opened the door fully.’

‘What about the neighbours?’

‘Okay, no reply one side and on the other a Mr and Mrs Pearson: I told them I was a police officer but they haven’t seen or heard anything unusual. They know Timmy’s mother quite well but don’t have much to do with him. There’s a community hall on the estate used for bingo evenings and residents’ meetings – they discuss any local problems. There was a meeting last night and Mrs Douglas usually does the tea and biscuits for everyone but she didn’t turn up.’

‘Residents’ meetings?’

‘Yeah, there’s a lot of council properties, but also lots of flats being done up for sale: their beef is who is going to be paying for what as there’s grass that needs cutting and garden maintenance and so on.’

‘Did they knock to see why Mrs Douglas didn’t go?’

‘No, the neighbour saw Timmy coming back from the newsagent’s this morning, he said his mum was under the weather and in bed.’

‘Good work, Barbara.’

‘Thank you, sir, and you might want this,’ she said, handing him a Yale key. ‘Mrs Pearson said Bradford’s other neighbours are away and she goes in to water the balcony plants for them. I thought the key might come in handy.’

Langton smiled and praised her quick thinking, before contacting Anna to tell her that he wanted her to discreetly change places with Barbara in the observation van as Timmy now knew what the DC looked like.

Langton turned to Mike in the back seat.

‘Give me ten minutes. I just need to stretch my legs and make some calls.’

A few minutes later and Anna was back in the car with Mike. She could see he was mad about something.

‘Where’s Langton?’

‘I don’t know what the fuck he’s playing at. Do you?’ Mike snapped.

Anna took a deep breath. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You two seem to like having cosy discussions without me.’

Anna sighed; sometimes Mike really exasperated her.

‘Mike, don’t you get it? He’s protecting you, all of us, because don’t you realize that the Deputy Commissioner wants a head to roll?’

Mike shook his head. ‘In other words he’s protecting himself.’

‘No, you idiot, he’s protecting you. If Oates is in that flat he wants you to get the kudos of a tight clean arrest.’

‘Yeah, sure he does.’

Anna gave up, closing her eyes.

‘He gave the okay to take the handcuffs off Oates, you know full well that I was hesitant about it.’

‘Mike, you headed up the operation, and-’

Langton opened the passenger door and got inside.

‘Bradford’s made a call from the landline. NatWest Bank, New Malden, mother has an account there. She made an earlier arrangement for him to withdraw ten thousand in cash from her savings account. Bank said as he’s her son all he needs is the signed cheque, a letter of authority and proof of identity. They have arranged that he can collect the money at four-thirty this afternoon. Now we go to work…’

‘Arranged it over the phone? Surely that can’t be right,’ Mike said, surprised.

‘Well I’ve got two officers going to see the bank manager to make sure it happens,’ Langton informed them.

‘Timmy told me his mother is always up and about early, and she seemed to me perfectly capable of going to the bank herself. From my conversation with her I doubt that she’d give him that much money. Something’s not right,’ Anna said.

‘Oates is in there, it’s the ten grand,’ Langton said, his voice devoid of emotion as he turned and looked at Anna.

Langton drove off, and parked on Kingston Hill by the old gates that had once led into the estate in the days when it had been a big house surrounded by parkland. He got out and looked around. He could see for miles, but the spot was very exposed, not quite what he needed. Then he remembered just the place. Collecting Anna and Mike, they set off for the Kingston Lodge Hotel, which was less than half a mile away from the Kingsnympton estate. It would make an ideal base for their operation. En route he told them that it had parking at the rear and a conference room that could be used for briefing the SO19 officers and other units they would need.

On arrival the three of them went and spoke to the manager. Langton was right; it was the ideal place, and they could come and go using the rear entrance without causing too much disturbance. The manager was more than happy to help and took them to the conference room and also arranged for coffee and sandwiches to be brought in. He seemed to be enjoying himself and said that whatever they needed just to let him know.

Anna and Mike watched and listened as Langton got on his mobile and phoned the Commander to let her know that DCI Lewis would be setting up and running the Gold Command base at the hotel. She obviously gave the go-ahead as he next phoned Central Command at Scotland Yard to request firearms and tactical support group officers in unmarked vehicles. He also asked for the technical support unit to bring their silent drilling and listening equipment. Lastly he phoned the Hostage Negotiation Unit and briefed them on the strong possibility that Oates was in the Bradford flat. He had covered every single base with all the correct procedures in an amazingly short period of time, and his ability to take control of a situation and think on his feet was quite breathtaking. When he had finished on the phone he put his hand out to Mike.

‘Are we in this together?’

‘Yeah, we’re singing off the same hymn sheet.’ Mike shook hands with Langton, and Anna was grateful their feud was over.

Whilst awaiting the arrival of all the teams at the hotel, Langton briefed Mike and Anna on what he felt would be the best course of action. Mr and Mrs Pearson, the neigh-bours, had been asked to leave their premises and come to the hotel. Within the hour everyone was assembled in the conference room. Radio contact had been maintained with Barbara, who was still in the observation van at the Kingsnympton estate. She confirmed that no one had left or entered the premises. The technical support boffins made use of the conference room projector to show everyone aerial shots of the estate on a large screen, along with pictures of Oates taken since his arrest. The firearms supervisor used a large map on the wall to mark the best vantage points for his officers, should they need to storm the flat or deal with a hostage situation. Travis was able to give them all a layout of the Bradford flat from her visit.

Langton stepped forward and introduced himself, then reminded them of what a dangerous and violent man Henry Oates was. He gave a brief account of the day’s events so far and informed them that armed officers were already in place to make a street arrest should Oates leave the premises. This would be the best and safest scenario, however he felt Oates was unlikely to come out until Bradford had collected the money from the bank. Vehicle and foot surveillance on Bradford was the main priority at present as there was always the possibility, as slim as it was, that Oates could be holed up somewhere else and Bradford was planning to take the money to him. Langton then introduced Mike as the DCI leading the investigation.

Mike, using a laser pointer, indicated on the screen the current position of the surveillance and firearms officers and added that Barbara Maddox would be able to inform them when Bradford left the flat from her observation point in the van. They expected Bradford would take the 97 bus route to New Malden. He would be followed on foot, with the surveillance officers continually changing places so that he remained unaware of what was happening. Surveillance vehicles, including a motorcycle, would also follow the bus. Mike impressed Langton when he raised the possibility that they might lose Bradford, and said that he had instructed a technical support officer and a detective to go to the bank to speak to the manager and have a tracking device put in the moneybag. Mike finished by stressing that no arrest was to be made unless authorized by him or DCS Langton. Langton again stepped forward and asked if there were any questions. No one spoke and in the silence the tension was obvious.

The monitored calls caused a flurry of activity when it was revealed that Timmy had called a local taxi company, Crown Cars, and asked them to send a taxi in fifteen minutes to pick him up by the row of shops. He wanted to be driven to the NatWest in New Malden and for the driver to wait and return him to the estate. The taxi company was based near the hotel, so Mike Lewis, who had not been seen by Timmy, would replace their driver.

Anna watched as the tech support officer fixed Mike up with a wire and gave him a small tracking device to put in the car. She moved closer.

‘Still worried about the lack of action?’

He didn’t answer as Langton took him aside.

‘Radio back to us as soon as you’re in position. When we hear you check with him where he wants to go we’ll be ready for the off. You’ll have a surveillance car on your tail.’

From the street map of New Malden, they could see that the NatWest Bank was on a corner. Langton told Mike to draw up outside the bank, drop Bradford off and wait in the street for him to return. There would also be an officer in the back of the bank monitoring everything on the CCTV.

‘What if a traffic warden turns up?’

‘Don’t worry about that, there’ll be a couple of surveil-lance officers in the street so if they see any they’ll soon get rid of them.’

Anna noticed that whenever Langton was in conversation with Mike he turned to the SO19 and tactical support teams immediately afterwards.

‘Okay, DCI Lewis has given the go-ahead.’

By doing this it seemed that all the decisions were coming from Mike Lewis, not himself.

Mike had instructed all surveillance units to use the code name ‘Silver’ for Bradford. Oates was to be referred to as ‘Gold’, should he be seen to leave the Kingsnympton premises.

Fifteen minutes flew past. Then came the message in from the surveillance officers in the van with Barbara watching Mrs Douglas’s flat.

‘This is OP one. Silver out of blue door, heading from premises… Fast pace… Towards lane by Block C.’

‘Here he comes,’ Langton said unnecessarily as it was pretty obvious.

‘Silver in black BB cap, dark donkey jacket, blue jeans, white sneakers, carrying black holdall… on foot towards shopping area.’

Mike had parked the Crown taxicab directly outside the small hair salon, where he sat reading a paper. He glanced up to see Bradford heading towards him. Bradford rapped on the passenger window, opened the door, got in and slammed it shut.

‘NatWest, New Malden, was it, mate?’ Mike asked.

Bradford nodded and as the taxi moved off, they could hear him telling Mike the direction he wanted to go, asking him to take a left and then go into Warren Road, and not to worry about it being a private road as the guy on the gates at the end would let a taxi through without stopping him. The surveillance car seamlessly moved into position behind the taxi.

Bradford told Mike to turn left out of Warren Road and then go right towards New Malden High Street. There was a slight moment of confusion as Bradford said Mike should pass the bank, keep on driving and turn left by Boots the Chemist, as he had to get something.

Mike knew that their conversation was being relayed back to base, but he nevertheless became concerned.

‘I got you down for the NatWest Bank and then back to the estate?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, but you just wait, I’ll only be a minute. Go left at the lights, mate, and park it there.’

The surveillance car continued to follow, but held back as the taxi turned left and parked. A plain clothes officer got out to tail Bradford as he left the cab.

Mike was now parked on a double yellow line a few yards from the traffic lights. There was a pause, then the surveillance officer following Bradford made contact, reporting that Bradford had gone to the hair-styling section and selected a box of red L’Oréal hair dye and was now at the checkout counter.

Langton, listening in, glanced at Anna, wondering if it was for his mother. She smiled.

‘I doubt it, dyeing it my shade? Quite clever: Oates’s blond hair will take the colour easily,’ she said.

Bradford paid for his hair dye and then came out from Boots to cross to a shoe shop on the opposite corner. Again he was tailed and back came the information that he was buying a pair of boots, which he hadn’t even tried on! They also got the nod that he was very agitated, had dropped his wallet and was very impatient with the assistant, swearing at her to hurry up.

Bradford came out and tossed the purchases into the taxi. Mike turned towards him.

‘Where to now?’

Bradford had his hand on the open door.

‘Go to the bank now.’

‘It’s a no right turn,’ Mike said.

‘Then do a fucking u-ey, pal… Wait, leave it… I’ll walk up to the bank, meet me outside on the corner.’

Mike let him slam the door shut and a different surveil-lance officer now took over as Bradford hurried along New Malden High Street towards the bank.

Mike did an illegal right turn, followed by the surveillance car, to the great annoyance of one irate driver who yelled out abuse as they came alongside the hurrying figure of Bradford.

‘Silver now into bank.’

Waiting in the bank was the surveillance officer monitoring the CCTV. It was a small local branch, with just four cashiers behind the plate glass and a cordoned area for the customers to queue. There were two Japanese women, and an elderly man with a wheelie cart. Bradford took out papers from his jacket and was visibly sweating as he waited.

A cashier became available and he stepped forwards in front of the old man, who pushed his cart in front of Bradford.

‘Get the fuck out of my way,’ Bradford snarled.

A second cashier spoke into her microphone to say position number three was now available and Bradford elbowed past the old man.

The bank manager had already been primed to let the transaction take place without too many questions, as they didn’t want Bradford to become at all suspicious.

‘I’m here on behalf of my mother. She called you and I’ve got all the signed forms and my passport here,’ Bradford explained.

In fact it would usually have taken considerably more time, with all the security questions and identification checks that were legally required, but Langton had preempted this. However, as with all carefully plotted and planned arrangements, there could always be a blip and this time it came from the cashier.

‘I will have to speak to the manager to clear this, one moment.’

If Bradford was nervous so was everyone else. He was breathing very heavily, constantly looking over his shoulder and back to the empty teller’s chair.

Langton threw up his hands in despair, asking what the hell was going on. But the wait wasn’t over even when the cashier returned, as she asked Bradford to go into the small office as they didn’t want to pass over such a large payment in the view of other customers.

It seemed an interminable length of time, but it was actually only five minutes before Bradford emerged from the office and hurriedly left the bank with ten thousand pounds cash. He almost ran around the corner to where the taxi was parked, and had a good look round before getting in.

‘Get me back to the estate.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As they drove off Mike noticed Bradford continually glancing in the passenger wing mirror and becoming increasingly agitated, so he decided to drive back via the Kingston Road and then up the London Road and back to the estate via Kingston Hill. Bradford didn’t seem to notice the different route as he was so busy looking in the wing mirror.

The surveillance car behind radioed back to base the route they were taking. Langton wondered what on earth Mike was up to and worried he could blow the whole operation until he heard Bradford’s voice over Mike’s concealed radio.

‘That car behind – do you know him?’

‘What ya mean, do I know him?’

‘It was behind us when we went to the bank and now it’s back again.’

‘Fuck off, you’re paranoid, mate… unless you just robbed the bank,’ Mike said, trying to ease the situation.

‘The passenger in it, he was in Boots.’

‘Look, they don’t pay me enough to drive nutters, so I tell you what, I’ll drop you off at the Kingston Lodge up there.’

Mike put his foot down hard on the pedal and swung into the hotel car park.

‘What you bloody doing? Stop the car, STOP!’

Mike hit the brakes and, opening the driver’s door, ran out of the vehicle and dived to the ground, knowing from experience exactly what would happen next and the last place he wanted to be was in the possible line of fire.

The surveillance car behind drew up almost bumper to bumper as two plain clothes armed officers rushed out and moved to the front and passenger side of the taxi, their guns drawn and aimed at Bradford.

It was over in seconds. Bradford was hauled from the taxi, dropping his shoebox and Boots carrier bag and forced to the ground at gunpoint. He was quickly handcuffed and roughly manhandled towards the rear entrance of the hotel screeching, ‘What you think you’re fucking doing? LET GO! LET GO OF ME!’

Bradford, with his arms held behind him, was forced to bend from the waist as he was pushed into a small side room where Langton and Anna were waiting.

He had a look of terror on his sweating face, and he was almost sobbing as he kept on repeating, ‘What? What? What?’

Bradford was pushed into a chair as Langton confronted him.

‘Who’ve you been shopping for, Mr Bradford?’

‘Oh Christ, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ve got to let me go.’

Mike swiftly went to the washroom and brushed himself down, before joining the others in the side room. Bradford was sitting by a table crying, the cuffs had been removed and Langton was holding out his mobile.

‘Come on, son, just calm down, call him, say there’s been a bit of a hold-up at the bank with the money.’

Anna updated Mike.

‘Oates is in the flat. He’s put Timmy’s mother in the bathroom with a noose around her neck that’s attached to a pulley ring above the bath.’

Bradford heard Anna and became even more agitated.

‘Henry told me that he’s left her standing on the kitchen stepping stool. He said he’d be watching out for me and if I come back with anyone or was late he’d go and pull the stool away and hang her.’ Bradford wailed and put his head on his hands.

‘Come on, straighten out, we’ll make sure she’s okay.’

‘She’s eighty-two years old. She can’t stand up for long,’ Bradford groaned, and blurted out that Oates had said he had to be back in an hour or he’d kill his mother.

‘What were you doing in the chemist’s?’

‘He wanted red hair dye, said he’s gonna dye his hair.’

‘Were the boots for him as well?’

‘Yes. You don’t understand what you’re doin’ holding me here, he’ll kill her.’

Langton drew up a chair so close their knees were almost touching.

‘Now you listen to me, Tim, you’ve got to calm yourself right down because we need time to make sure we get your mother out of there alive.’

‘BUT WE’RE WASTIN’ TIME!’

‘Shush now, look at me. Tim, look at me. You were a fighter, am I right, yes? Good one, from what I’ve been told. Now I want you to look at this like you were about to go into the ring, deep breaths, that’s it, get yourself ready, keep looking at me, Tim, good lad, now this is what you do, because we need some time.’

Bradford nodded and Langton caught a full whiff of his disgusting halitosis.

‘You make a call and you tell him there’s been a hitch with the money withdrawal, person who deals with it is still in with someone else. Say it’s going to take another fifteen minutes before they can hand it over to you, then you still get another ten to drive back to the estate, okay? You ready to do this, Tim?’

‘Yeah, yeah, but I’m scared for my mum. He’s got her on that stool.’

‘Well, you are going to save her by doing this; here’s your mobile, now let’s call the bastard, shall we? If you get into a problem say the manager or the cashier will talk to him to confirm you’re telling the truth, okay? Understand?’

Bradford nodded, his hand shaking as he pressed dial on the mobile. Timmy’s landline had already been tapped so they knew the call could be recorded and Anna was on her phone, which had been linked in to listen to the conversation.

It rang and Oates picked up.

‘It’s me, Timmy.’

‘You got the money yet?’

‘I’m still here at the bank, there’s a hitch. Cos it’s so much money a cashier can’t deal with it, the manager has to and I’m still waiting to see him.’

‘You better not be fucking me about?’

‘I’m tellin’ you the truth.’

‘How long do I have to wait, for Chrissake?’

‘Said no more than fifteen then I’ll come straight home. I got the taxi waitin’.’

‘You better get a move on cos I’m starting to get edgy, man, and you know what happens when I get edgy-’

Bradford’s voice trembled as he interrupted Oates.

‘Yeah, you kill someone.’

‘That’s right, and the clock’s ticking.’

As Oates replaced the phone, Bradford, sweating and shaking, cried out for him not to kill his mother. Langton gripped Bradford’s shoulder.

‘That was brilliant, and it gives us the time we need.’

The team were now galvanized into action, planning the best way to arrest Oates and get Mrs Douglas out alive. The neighbours, Mr and Mrs Pearson, were now at the hotel and had given permission for the police to use their premises for the operation. With the key Barbara had got from the Pearsons, tech support and firearms officers had gone into the flat on the other side while Oates was on the phone speaking to Timmy. Another group had gone into the Pearsons’ at the same time. Being on the first floor, there was no rear entrance – the only way in was through the front door. They considered using a double for Bradford with his baseball cap pulled down, who would knock at the door; as soon as Oates opened it the armed officers would crash in and overpower him.

This plan became a no-goer when Bradford told them that he had the key to the front door and Oates knew it, so to ring the bell or knock on the door would be a clear signal that something was wrong. Langton, against his better judgement, decided that an all-out assault on the flat was too dangerous and Timmy Bradford should return to the premises and give Oates the money. There was still the danger that Oates might harm Bradford or his mother, but it was unlikely that he would leave the premises until late at night and this would give them breathing space to reassess the situation. Timmy was told to try and keep Oates in conversation about what he was going to do.

The tech support officers were now ready to drill from the Pearsons’ bathroom into Mrs Douglas’s. It would be a very difficult process going through at floor level to come out in the corner wall beside the toilet and would take at least half an hour, maybe longer. By using a fish-eye camera lens on the end of a thin optical cable they would be able to check on her condition and most importantly see if she was still alive. It was considered too risky to drill into the living room to see what Oates was doing. Bradford had described how his deceased stepfather had suffered from arthritis and so a pulley on a ring with a hand bar had been installed for him to grip onto to heave himself in and out of the bath. The ring was secured to the ceiling and Oates had tied a dressing-gown cord to the pulley, looping it round his mother’s neck. She was balanced on a kitchen stool.

Keeping him calm, Anna and Mike sat with Timmy as he was given some very sweet coffee. He explained how Oates had found his mother’s bank statements and forced him to make the arrangement to withdraw the money and then collect it or he’d kill her. He cried, and then wept even harder when he said that he’d never forgive himself for not being there the night Oates had got into the flat. He’d been out betting on the dogs at Wimbledon race track until late, not returning home until after midnight. He’d lost all his cash and had had to walk from the track, which was the reason he’d been so late. Oates had rung the bell and his mother, presuming her son must have forgotten his key, had opened the front door without a second thought.

‘She’s in her nightie,’ he said pitifully.

‘She’s going to be okay, we’ll get her out. Has he got any weapons?’

‘He’s got a kitchen knife he carries around all the time. Ten grand – that’s all her savings, and you know if anything happened to her it’s not how I wanted to get my inheritance.’

Anna nodded. The over-anxious son was worried about his mother but also about losing her money.

Langton gestured for Anna to come over.

‘Hard to believe that in the middle of all this I get the hotel manager come up and give me the bill for the champagne and sandwiches the Pearsons ordered – bloody people…’

Langton held up the holdall containing the money.

‘Too dangerous to wire up Bradford so we’ve got a pin-sized microphone fixed to one of the studs on the base of the holdall. The tracker’s been taken out-’

‘There’s been some complications, sir,’ the technical support officer said as he rushed into the room. ‘The concrete is thicker and harder to drill through than we originally imagined so the team at the Pearsons’ flat will need another thirty to forty minutes before they can get a camera lens into the bathroom.’

‘We don’t have that long,’ Langton snapped.

The clock was ticking, and to keep Bradford in a calm state was far from easy. They simply didn’t have the option of waiting, and Bradford was told to be ready to return to the flat.

Mike whispered to Anna that he wasn’t sure Bradford was going to be able to keep himself together. She watched Langton yet again sit close to him and this time he really pumped him up.

‘This is a fight, Tim, you up for it? Can you go in there and come out on top? We need you and we’re doing it this way to protect your mum. You can save her, right? Look at me, Tim, you set to do this?’

Bradford nodded and he did seem to be up for it, licking his lips and nodding.

‘Okay, here’s the holdall with the money, the shoebox and the bag with the hair dye, you just act normal. Make sure you put the holdall down in the living room so we can hear everything. The sooner you hand this gear over to him, the sooner he’s gonna walk out and we’ll have him, okay?’

Bradford was driven up to the edge of the Kingsnympton estate, from where he then walked up to the flat with the moneybag, the boots and the hair dye. They watched him head towards the block, still with his baseball cap pulled down low, and he came into view once more as he headed along the corridor towards the blue front door.

‘Silver at the door, letting himself in now.’

On camera they could see Bradford putting the key into the lock and stepping inside.

Meanwhile the drilling continued. They were almost through the wall, the specialist silent drills working carefully and, inch by inch, following the pipeline, getting closer so they could finally see inside the bathroom.

Langton signalled that they had a pick-up from the microphone hidden in the holdall.

‘These my size?’

‘Yeah, you said ten and a half, right? Try them on.’

‘Very nice, they look like Doc Martens, don’t they?’

‘I need to see my mum.’

‘You’ll fucking see her when I’m ready. Now gimme the bag. I want to count the cash.’

‘It’s all there, ten grand. I done what you asked me to.’

There was then a long period where all they could hear was Oates counting the money. Langton had told Bradford to keep Oates talking but assumed that he was just sitting there paralysed with fear. There was no sound of a scuffle and it was nearly ten minutes before they heard Timmy’s voice again.

‘You got my leather jacket on.’

‘Yeah, and your trousers. Here, there’s a few quid for you.’

Oates laughed. In the hotel conference room everyone grew very tense as it appeared that Oates was preparing to move out.

‘I’m sorry to tie you up, Timmy, it’s just to give me time, right?’

‘You said I could see my mum, she’s fucking eighty-two years old.’

‘Once you get out of these ropes you can. I guess you’re hoping she’s still alive?’

They could hear Bradford start to cry. Oates told him to shut up and then asked where the hair dye was. Bradford told him it was in the kitchen in the Boots bag.

Langton got the signal that the drills were through the wall and the camera was being threaded through into the bathroom. On the small screen they could see Mrs Douglas hanging motionless from the pulley ring. The kitchen stool lay on its side and her feet were dangling inches above the bath. Oates, it seemed, had already murdered Timmy Bradford’s mother.

With Mrs Douglas obviously dead and Bradford’s own life clearly under threat Langton turned to Mike.

‘DCI Lewis, do we go in? Just give the signal.’

Mike nodded, and Anna knew yet again Langton was placing Mike in the driving seat.

‘Let’s do it.’

After such a tense long waiting game, the actual arrest was over very quickly. An SO19 officer used a hand-held metal battering ram on the front door and then threw in two thunder flashes, which went off with a massive boom, disorientating not only Oates but Bradford as well. Three more armed officers, one carrying a Taser stun gun, crashed into the flat, screaming out a warning that they were armed.

Oates was in the kitchen, red hair dye dripping down his face, the carving knife close to hand. As he turned towards them the officer with the Taser fired the dart-like electrodes into his chest, sending an electric current racing through his body. Oates’s muscles went into spasm and he collapsed onto the kitchen floor and was quickly handcuffed. Oates was taken to Hackney Police Station under armed guard in a police van using its blue lights and sirens along the route from the Kingsnympton estate.

Anna followed hard on the heels of the armed officers and went straight to Timmy Bradford. She tried to be as diplomatic and as caring as possible as she untied his hands.

‘I’m afraid your mother…’

‘What? Is she okay? Is she all right?’

‘No, I’m sorry, we’ll have a medical team in straight away-’ She didn’t get the opportunity to tell him as Bradford started to push past her, heading towards the bathroom.

The door was now wide open and the pitiful body could be seen hanging from the pulley ring. Bradford stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, his eyes wide in disbelief.

‘He’s killed her. Why, why, why?’

‘I’m so sorry.’

It was very obvious Mrs Douglas was dead. She was dressed only in her nightgown; her eyes protruded from their sockets and her face was a purplish red colour. Her mouth was covered with masking tape and her hands were tied behind her back with the same tape. It was a tragic, hideous sight and Bradford crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.

The flat was cordoned off for the forensic team to cut her down and then her body was taken to the mortuary as the distraught exhausted Timmy Bradford was helped from the flat. At one point he did become concerned about the moneybag, but was told it was safe and had to be kept for evidence. He agreed that he would go with them to give a statement at Hackney Police Station, where he was well taken care of. The police doctor came to see him and prescribed some sedatives, he was given food and a change of clothes and a family liaison officer sat with him until the team were ready to take down a full statement.

Oates was being held at the station in the cells and had hardly spoken to anyone. The entire operation had to be written up and reports submitted before they could move on and interview him again. Although they had made a successful arrest and prevented any harm coming to Timmy Bradford, the fact remained that Henry Oates had murdered Mrs Douglas after he had escaped from police custody. This was something that the media had picked up on at once, with headlines and stories of police incompetence leading to the murder of an eighty-two-year-old woman. The Deputy Commissioner, along with Langton, held a big press conference, which in truth was nothing more than a damage limitation exercise. They both praised the skill and efforts of DCI Lewis in apprehending Oates and saving Timmy Bradford. When it came to the death of Mrs Douglas they said that as it was an ongoing enquiry and a suspect awaited interview they were not prepared to comment on that side of the investigation.

The team all congratulated Mike Lewis on the way he had handled the arrest, but it was tainted by the fact that Mrs Douglas was dead. They knew it was possible she had been murdered as soon as Oates had forced her to let him inside her flat. The weary team did not break until two in the morning, knowing that they would reconvene early the next day to re-question Oates. There was no sense of achievement, more of relief, and it still wasn’t over. Anna, like everyone else, went home to recharge for the following days, which would finally lead to closing the investigation.

As tired as she was, Anna was unable to sleep. The haunting picture of Mrs Douglas kept returning to her in flashes. It made her angry that the officers sent to question Bradford had not done their job properly. Oates had been inside that flat all that time, most probably in the bathroom, and she wondered if this might even have been when he killed Mrs Douglas in fear she’d cry out for help. Anna tossed and turned. Had he actually killed her as soon as she had let him in? Something didn’t add up, but she was too exhausted to put it together. She got up to make herself a cup of hot milk and brought it back to her bed. Sitting up with her hands cupped around it, having taken two aspirins and a sleeping pill, still she couldn’t stop her mind churning over all the facts and trying to figure out what was wrong – what was stored in the recess of her mind? The jigsaw pieces that linked one case to the other had all appeared to be in place, but the more restless she became the more fractured the pattern became. Adding a big slug of Scotch to the now tepid milk didn’t help. But it made her groggy enough to lie back and close her eyes. She sighed. Maybe it would fall into place in the morning.