Breaking Cover

47

The camera outside Georgian Apartments saw Laurenz return at ten the following morning. Then everything went quiet until suddenly at four-thirty that afternoon the feed from the camera came to life. ‘It’s go,’ said Wally Woods into his microphone, as the TVs at one end of the control room flashed, showing the BMW driving up the ramp and turning towards City Road. Minutes later the line from Sergeant Wilkinson buzzed. ‘He’s left in the car and he’s got his overnight bag… told me he’d be away for three days.’

Wally Woods phoned Liz. ‘He’s off and we’re with him.’

By now the registration number of the BMW had been fed into the Automatic Number Plate Recognition system and police forces across the country were looking out for it.

‘May I come up?’ asked Liz. The control room was Wally’s domain and it was strictly by invitation only for desk officers when an operation was on. He did not like anyone looking over the shoulders of his team and making suggestions, unless he’d asked for input. Liz was always scrupulous in seeking his permission and, as a result, always welcome.

When she arrived the chase was well under way. The BMW was making its way north, up Holloway Road and Archway Road, possibly heading for either the A1 or the M1. When they knew which it was, the cars would be able to hang back as the cameras would monitor its progress. ‘It’s the M1,’ said Wally, after a short time. ‘Any clues as to where he’s heading?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Well, Maureen’s in charge out there so we should be fine, even if he gets up to any funny business.’

Liz knew Maureen Hayes of old. She was an experienced team leader, who’d successfully carried out many operations for Liz, so she sat back comfortably on the old leather sofa that was kept for visiting case officers in the corner of the control room, well away from the operational desks, ready to enjoy the chase.

The BMW drove fast up the M1 with Maureen and her team in pursuit in three cars. Regular reports were coming in as they passed through successive police areas. Leicestershire had just reported when Maureen spoke. ‘He’s gone up the slip road, junction twenty-one, no indicators. He’s doing anti-surveillance. We’ve overshot. Can you take him, Denis?’

‘Roger,’ he replied from a car behind. ‘We’ll take him.’

‘Good luck,’ said Maureen. ‘See you later.’

Denis and the third car, driven by Marcus Washington, turned off at junction twenty-one and took up the pursuit as the BMW headed west, twisting and turning along a series of B-roads. They were driving straight into the low sun, dazzling in the flat countryside of Leicestershire. Denis and Marcus were hanging back so as not to be noticed in the quiet roads.

There was silence for five minutes while the screens showed pictures from the dashboard cameras of shadowy hedges and trees.

‘Report, please,’ said Wally.

‘Contact lost,’ announced Denis. ‘We’re looking for him but these roads are hell.’

Liz groaned to herself. She knew it was difficult and in these circumstances you needed a lot of luck. Then suddenly their luck turned. Maureen and her team partner Sally, who had gone off the motorway at the next junction, had found their way back south through the narrow roads and their camera came to life, relaying a picture of the BMW stationary, with the driver standing beside it, stretching and yawning. ‘We have him,’ shouted Maureen triumphantly, and the sighs of relief from the other cars were echoed in the control room.

The BMW was parked outside a pub in the centre of the small town of Market Bosworth. Pictures were coming in now of the old whitewashed coaching inn with window boxes and hanging baskets full of flowers. Laurenz was standing beside his vehicle and then, as Maureen watched, he got back in and drove down a narrow lane to one side of the building, on which ‘Car Park’ was signposted. By now Denis and Marcus had both reached the town and had stopped a little distance from the inn. It was just after eight.

‘I’m wondering if he’s going to stay the night,’ said Maureen. ‘It looks very cosy,’ she added rather longingly.

‘Give it a few minutes, then park in the car park and go in and have a look-see.’

‘Roger,’ said Maureen, and five minutes later she drove down the narrow lane into what turned out to be a small, walled yard at the back of the building. She tucked her car into a space in the corner and she and Sally got out and strolled towards the back door of the inn, looking for the BMW. It wasn’t there.

‘Sorry to tell you this, but the target car isn’t here. I can’t understand it. There’s no way out except the way we came in.’

In the stunned silence Sally said, ‘Wait a minute… look. There’s a row of lock-up garages. They’re sort of old lean-to barns, against the back wall of the building.’ In the twilight it was easy to miss them. ‘He must have put it in one of those. It’s the only possible explanation.’

After a glance at Wally, Liz broke in, ‘That means he must use this place a lot if he has the key to a garage. It probably also means he’s staying the night but we’d better not count on it.’

‘Go in,’ instructed Wally, ‘and see what’s going on.’

It was busy inside. A small crowd was standing at the bar, some drinking, others waiting to be served. A number of people were sitting at tables eating supper. Sally went off to the Ladies while Maureen stood at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Laurenz sitting at a small table in the corner, scanning a menu. Sally’s route back from the cloakroom passed directly beside his table. She took Maureen’s place at the bar and ordered two Diet Cokes while Maureen went off to the Ladies on the same route, passing the small table where Laurenz was now ordering food from a waitress. The resulting photographs of him sitting at the table came back clearly to the Control Room.

After they had finished their drinks the two women went back to their car and were replaced at the bar by Denis and his partner.

‘We’re going to park in the street,’ said Maureen. ‘If we stay here any longer we might get blocked in. This place is very busy. He hasn’t got his overnight bag with him and he hasn’t had time to go up to a room. I don’t think he’s staying.’

‘Roger that,’ said Wally.

From Marcus came, ‘I’m moving up closer. It’s getting dark and this place is not very well lit.’

Denis came out, having finished his drink, and reported that Laurenz was getting his bill. Cars were beginning to leave the car park now as the diners and drinkers started to drift home. The A4 cars got into position to head off whichever way the BMW turned when it came out of the car park. It was not going to be an easy follow on these unlit roads in the dark. They watched as more cars left the car park but there was no sign of the BMW.

In the control room pizzas had arrived and been eaten at the big central table and Liz was becoming anxious. She knew perfectly well that if anything had happened they’d have heard about it but she couldn’t resist asking Wally, ‘Could you find out what’s going on?’

As she spoke, Maureen’s voice came through from Market Bosworth. ‘We can’t sit here much longer. The pub will be closing soon and this place will be quiet as the grave in another half hour.’

‘OK,’ replied Wally. ‘I think it’s time to find out what’s going on in that place. Liz, are you OK for Maureen to go in and enquire if he’s staying the night?’

‘Yes. It’s the only option. Let’s hope there’s someone sensible in there.’

Maureen disappeared inside the inn and in Market Bosworth and London the tension was crackling. After twenty minutes she came out, got into her car and said, ‘We’ve been had. He left at ten; he must have snuck out the back. And we’re looking for a black Mercedes saloon.’ And she read out the digits of a number plate. Immediately, without waiting for any further explanation, the control room flashed the number to Number Plate Recognition and all police forces.

Maureen went on, ‘Mr Hansen rents two garages. He keeps the Mercedes in one and leaves the BMW in the other. His explanation is that he has to drive long distances up to Scotland with passengers and he needs the bigger car. But he uses the smaller one while in London. He’s in the oil business apparently. He wanted two garages because it’s too difficult to shuffle the cars about when the car park is full. The manager thought it was OK. He paid six months’ rent, cash in advance. He showed them his driver’s licence and gave them a mobile number, which I have.’ And she read out the number. ‘I left the manager a card and told him to ring us when Mr Hansen comes back for the BMW or if he hears from him.’

‘Sorry, Liz,’ said Wally, swinging his chair round to face the sofa. But she had already gone to get Peggy, to set in train tracing the details of the mobile phone.

By ten-thirty reports were coming in of the Mercedes’s progress. It had been sighted driving north on the M1, travelling very fast. South of Leeds, cameras at the junction spotted it joining the M62. It must have turned back southwards because it was next reported on the Manchester ring road. But before any action could be taken it had disappeared, presumably having left the motorway, somewhere near Sale.

Wally turned to Liz, who by this time was back sitting on the sofa. ‘What would you like us to do next? It sounds like the car could be anywhere in the Greater Manchester area.’

‘Could you get a team out from there to scout around, just to see if they can spot the car? It might be parked up somewhere for the night. There’s not much else we can do unless there’s a further camera sighting.’