Deadly Intent

CHAPTER 15

The second glass of wine had eased a lot of Anna's tension, but she was still wound up. Pete had asked if she was all right a couple more times. In the end, she snapped that she was fine, then she apologized and explained."I just had a long tedious session explaining away all my suppositions."After the third glass, she finally started to really chill out. Pete was as relaxed as ever and she was glad she had suggested he come over.While she cleared away, he put up some shelves. He was good at carpentry, but not very careful about the mess he made while working, so she got out the Hoover and cleaned up as he took a shower. She laughed when he appeared in her toweling dressing gown, which was very short, the sleeves reaching just below his elbows. He hurled himself onto her bed with the remote and switched on the TV, relaxing back on her pillows.After her shower, Anna joined him on the bed, wrapped in a big white towel. He lifted his arm for her to snuggle beside him. "You want to talk about your 'suppositions'?" he asked."Not really. My boss has personal problems and had the day off— until the briefing, when she came back .. ."Anna hesitated.Cro on."Well, we had the Chief Superintendent come in and, instead of my suppositions being swept aside, he sort of.. ."Again, she paused.Pete looked at her. "Sort of what?""Well, agreed that I might be on the right track.""You mean with this Fitzpatrick guy?""Yeah. Until we have it confirmed, it's still up in the air; main thingis trying to understand why he would take such risks, coming back into the UK.""He's got to have a reason.""I know, but it's still sounding far-fetched. Whether or not it is connected to the Fentanyl, we don't know, but two of the victims were killed by an overdose of it..."Pete tilted her chin up and kissed her. Then he leaned up on his elbow to look into her eyes. "That's enough.""What?"He kissed her again. At first she didn't respond, but then he slowly began to remove her towel and kiss her breasts. She closed her eyes and murmured as he kissed her belly and then slowly moved her legs apart. She hated herself, because it was Langton's face she held in her mind, Langton caressing her, and she was ashamed. They climaxed together and he lay beside her, panting, then reached out to draw her to him.He sat up. "What's the matter?""Nothing." She turned off the bedside light.He reached across her and turned it back on. "Tell me.""Pete, there is nothing to tell. I'm just really tired and I need to get some sleep.""Okay."Anna turned the light off. Pete lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, as she curled up with her back to him. Eventually she heard his breathing deepen and knew he was asleep. She was glad he wouldn't hear that she was crying. Pete was frying eggs and bacon by the time she joined him in the kitchen. "Good morning, light of my life," he said, grinning. "Morning. I didn't hear you get up." "You were out for the count. If you want to put some toast on, we can eat—everything is ready." She kissed his cheek and then went over to the toaster. By the time she had fetched the butter and marmalade, he had wolfed down his eggs and bacon. She didn't really feel that hungry, but nevertheless managed to clear her plate. Pete poured coffee and fetched the toast as he eulogized about breakfast being the best meal of the day. He explained how to cook French toast, beating up the eggs and making a frothy batter, then dipping in the slices of bread before frying them in butter. "It's called ready steady heartburn," she said, smiling.

"Ah, but not if you also eat mounds of fruit. I chop up loads and stick them in a plastic bag so you don't have to bother with all the peeling and chopping. That's what you need, by the way—a chopping board."

Anna gestured to one of the drawers. "There's one in there, I think."

"Ah, I'll know for next time." He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm going to get off. I want to go back home and get a change of clothes. Maybe see you after work tonight?"

She smiled and nodded. "Let's see how it goes."

"I'll call you later." He kissed her again and was about to leave when he paused in the doorway. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Me? No. Why do you ask?"

"Just a feeling I get. Do you not want me to call you?"

"Yes, of course I do." She turned away, not wanting to discuss arrangements for the evening.

"Okay, I'm off."

She heard him whistling as he let himself out and felt guilty, so much so that she was almost about to hurry after him, but then she saw the greasy frying pan and grill, and the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. He was even more untidy in the kitchen than Langton had been.

She banged the frying pan down and swore—she was thinking about Langton again. She washed up with a fury until the kitchen was spick-and-span, then returned to the bedroom. Yet again Langton crossed her mind: the bed was unmade and wet towels from Pete's shower were left strewn over the floor. By the time she had tidied up, she was going to have to get her skates on so as not to be late for work. Langton had put the pressure on. Warrants were to be issued for a search of Julia Brandon's house and her sister Honour's farm. In the meantime, surveillance teams had been organized for both properties and were already in position—hopefully, this time, far more covert in Julia's case; they really didn't want another terse visit from her lawyer, Simon Fagan. Anna had no sooner sat at her desk than Cunningham called to say she would like a few words. Anna could feel the tension as soon as she entered Cunningham's office. "Langton's breathing down my neck," the DCI said.

"We really need to cover some of his suggestions. First up is the need to get more details on the drug squat. As you know, we're still unable to find out who was running the place; all we have succeeded in doing to date is tracking down people trying to score. I want you to see what you can dig up, even if it means going back to all the people you interviewed. One of them has to know." Anna shrugged. "I doubt if anyone I questioned will be of much use. They weren't regulars and usually scored through Donny Petrozzo—"

Cunningham interrupted her. "That's Paul Wrexler and Mark Taylor, correct?"

"Yes; there was also Eddie Court."

"Right, go back and see if they withheld anything."

"Do you also want me to go back and talk to Jeremy Webster, the boy who gave us all the details on the vehicles we've been tracing?"

"If you think it will be productive, yes."

Anna waited a moment and then stood up. She had the distinct feeling that she was being sidelined; she would have preferred to have been privy to the surveillance and house searches, but when she asked about them, Cunningham was tetchy.

"Langton doesn't want us to go in yet, just monitor what they're up to as we try and firm up the loose ends. Phil is coordinating that side, and the rest of us are trying to get confirmation from passport and immigration of all the false passports and aliases we know were used by Alexander Fitzpatrick. If we can get verification that he has been in the UK, then we act on that, but it is still only supposition."

"You don't think the longer we leave putting pressure on Julia and her sister means the more time they have to get him out of the country? Because I am sure that he is behind all this." "I know you are, Travis, I heard you last night, but we have to have proof, otherwise we are running around like headless chickens. Our priority is to find out who killed Frank Brandon, then I think it could all fall into place.""Like a pack of cards," Anna said, unable to hide her sarcasm. She returned to her office, where Gordon was waiting."The team are picking up where I left off, trying to track down the last guy that rented the boat Dare Devil," he told her. "They are also checking into the possibility that it might have been sold a few years ago. I got ear damage from the hours I was on the phone.""So, you're with me today, are you?""Yes—back to the Chalk Farm estate, right?"Anna sighed and picked up her briefcase. "Can you get me the lists of vehicles that Jeremy Webster recounted, as we'll also need to talk to him again."Gordon rolled his eyes. "Okay, but we've pretty well covered every listed vehicle, and traced the owner/drivers.""I am aware of that, Gordon, but maybe, just maybe there's more to get out of him!"Anna had just left the station when Phil got a call from Langton. Digging back into Fitzpatrick's past, he had discovered a previous arrest— for drunk driving—while he was at university. He had been charged, fined, and given a suspended sentence. Langton wanted them to see whether the Oxfordshire police might have retained on file Fitzpatrick's fingerprints. If that was unsuccessful, they were to contact the U.S. and see if the police there had anything that might assist in identifying their man.They still had unidentified fingerprints taken from the Mitsubishi: a part bloody thumbprint, and a smear of blood with a part palmprint.The team were taken aback at how fast Langton was moving, firing off instructions and demanding results fast. Because of the pressure, they had already arranged the surveillances and warrants; he had also requested they talk to Julia's lawyer regarding the two men seen in Wimbledon, and yet again question her financial adviser. Cunningham was handling the pressure, but appeared edgy. Phil was aware that she seemed to be sidelining Anna on yet another wild-goose chase over at the Warren Estate. He had even hinted that, with so much going on, they needed her, but got the sharp response that Travis was going to have to buckle down and work with the team. She was too close to Langton and she didn't need any one of them telling tales! The fact that Anna Travis, whether working solo or not, had brought in major results, Phil declined to mention. If the two women were in competition, then he would let them get on with it.The estate was looking even more wretched. The rain was lashing down and, as Anna parked, she could see that even more flats had been boarded up. Whether or not the flapping police cordons had put off any fresh drug dealers, the place still had a desolate feel. Deep puddles formed across the parking area, rubbish had been left out in black bin liners, and dogs or cats, or maybe vermin, had been ripping them up, so garbage was strewn everywhere.Anna hopped over the puddles with her umbrella toward Mrs. Webster's flat. Gordon followed, holding his raincoat over his head. Mrs. Webster's immaculate stone step and front door stood out among the other flats. She was very hesitant about letting them come inside, as they were both dripping from the rain. Jeremy was at work. Anna spent a few moments talking on the doorstep with Mrs. Webster before she and Gordon returned to her car and drove to Waitrose.They took a parking ticket for the Waitrose car park and drove over to the allocated parking bays. The rain was still pouring as they looked for Jeremy. There was a long line of gathered trolleys left by a wall, but no sign of him. No wonder, Anna said. He was probably taking shelter inside. Then, just as she was about to get out of the car, she saw him.He was entering from the exit gate, pushing five trolleys that had been left outside the car park. He was wearing a draped green plastic cape, the hood drawn up, almost hiding his face, and shiny black rubber overshoes, as he plodded through the puddles. Anna told Gordon to approach him and ask if they could talk to him for a few moments. She watched as Gordon hurried over to Jeremy; he didn't appear to even acknowledge him, but continued pushing his row of trolleys, collecting two more.Gordon returned to the car and got in beside Anna. "Well, he's a hard one to have a conversation with. He said he was working and couldn't talk to me, or anyone else.""Go and speak to the manager; see if they have a staff room we can»use.Gordon sighed. "Okay."She watched him trudge back across the car park and go into the store itself. He was gone for over ten minutes but then reappeared with a large blond woman, who went to talk to Jeremy while Gordon came back to Anna. "They've got a staff room at the rear of the store; we can use that. She'll give him an early tea break—she said he won't go in there unless it's for his tea break."The manageress led them through the aisles toward the staff quarters. Two assistants were having coffee when they entered; the manageress said they could finish their break in her office.Jeremy walked in and gave the two assistants a beaming smile. "Hello, Pauline.""Hello,Jay.""Hello, Carol.""Hi, Jay. Bit wet out there for you today."He looked genuinely pleased to see the two women; then his face became stern as he carefully removed his wet cloak. He took it to a peg, hung it up, and then removed his rubber overshoes. Anna was sitting at one of the tables, Gordon standing. Jeremy crossed to the small kitchen area and took a mug with his name on it. He checked it was clean, and then took an age to measure sugar, milk, and use the tea urn. He still had not even glanced at Anna; he passed Gordon to place his mug down on another table. He took out from his pocket a packet of disinfectant wipes to clean the table, but only the area he was going to use. He then placed down his mug, walked to a rubbish bin, and deposited his wipe."Mr. Webster," Anna said quietly. He ignored her as he took out a small plastic container and placed it next to his mug. He sat down and carefully opened it to remove two biscuits, which he set down side by side. "Mr. Webster, we met when I came to see you at your home."Jeremy nodded and bit into one of his biscuits. "I am on my tea break.""I really need to talk to you, and you were very helpful."He didn't look at her, chewing with a studied look on his face."It's about the lists of cars you provided for our investigation."He sipped his tea."We've been able to trace almost all of them.You really did a great job. If you don't mind, I would just like to check over a couple of things."Gordon glanced at Anna; she could have been talking to the wall. Jeremy finished his second biscuit, carefully picking up the crumbs, then he sipped his tea. Anna had to sit patiently as he washed up his mug, placed it back on the hook, and washed his hands.She tried again. "The manageress said that we could have a few moments to talk to you."He still did not make eye contact. Instead he took a deep breath, sighing and staring at the floor. "What do you want?"Anna tried to explain as quickly as possible the reason she was there, and how much she appreciated him talking to her and helping their inquiry. She took out the list of car number plates he had passed on to her, and asked if there were any more, or anything he could tell her about the vehicles."They were illegally parked," he said."Yes, I know.""They are not from the estate; they do not have parking permits.""Yes, we know that." Anna had highlighted the vehicles whose owners she had interviewed. "Is there anything else you could help me with?"He didn't want to handle the piece of paper, so she laid it flat on the table."I mean, maybe you saw the cars there more than one time?"Jeremy glanced down and stared at the rows of numbers. He then lifted his left hand, pulled back the sleeve of his sweater to look at a large watch, then pulled his sleeve back and straightened it. "You see, Mr. Webster, we have not as yet been able to identify the people using the flat to sell drugs."He walked back to his rain cape and shook it out. He stepped into his rubbers like a dancer. Anna glanced at Gordon and rolled her eyes."Can I help you with that?" Gordon said, with his hands out toward the cape.Jeremy swished it aside like a bullfighter. "No."The sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. Jeremy stepped forward to pick it up. Anna thought he was going to put it into the bin, but he replaced it onto the table and returned to fastening his rain cape.He didn't actually point; it was more an odd jerk up and down of his right index finger. "Six-twenty-one APS," he said as he pulled up his hood.Anna looked to Gordon, trying to check which of the rows of numbers he was referring to. Then he repeated the date, time, and month in numbers only, and repeated the time—8:07—then he turned and swung open the door, walking out."Shit! Which car—did you get the number?" Gordon said.Anna glanced down the paper. "Here you go—621 APS .. .Eddie Court, our witness for the tall man in the smart shoes in the Mitsubishi.""He also identified Frank Brandon," Gordon said."Right; he admitted to being at the squat late that night, but Jeremy just stated that earlier time of seven minutes past eight.""Well, if you can trust what he says," Gordon scoffed."He came up with all these, didn't he?""Yeah, I know.""Ifjeremy's correct, that little bastard was lying: he went to the squat twice in one night." Jeremy was back pushing the trolleys, all neat and perfectly lined up, staring ahead as his eyes caught sight of a stray trolley a few yards across the car park. Anna smiled and waved, but his brilliant blue eyes gave no hint of recognition as he herded them back for the shoppers to use.

"He's got to be bloody fit to handle them—they're heavy," Gordon commented.

Anna said nothing, angry that Eddie Court had lied to her. On the night Frank Brandon died, he had scored drugs from the squat. Had he also lied about how much he had actually seen?

"You okay?" Gordon asked as they waited by the barrier.

"I am going to look like a right idiot if this pans out. I'd like to get that bloody Eddie Court and wring his neck." She flashed her ID card to the man inside the booth, and he lifted the barrier.

Eddie had moved out of his mother's place and was sharing a basement flat in Maida Vale. His mother said that he didn't have a mobile, which Anna didn't believe, and he no longer had his old Mini. The basement had a steep staircase going down from the pavement, with big iron railings and a cast-iron gate. The door was quite modern, in varnished pine, with a stained-glass insert held together by white Band-Aids.

They rang the bell to the flat but could hear no sound, so banged on the door. Still no response. They looked through the windows but could see little other than gray dirty nets and some kind of heavy curtain. Anna banged with the flat of her hand; Gordon tapped her arm to listen. Then locks were being moved, one at the top of the door and one near the bottom. The latch drew back, and the door inched open. There stood a girl with dyed black hair; her face was a pasty white, with thick black mascara and eyeliner making her look like a badger.

"Eddie Court—in, is he, love?"

She screwed up her eyes as if trying to focus. Anna showed her ID, and gave her name and Gordon's.

The girl didn't seem that concerned. "What do you want?"

"To talk to Eddie; is he in?"

"Is he the DJ?"

"Yeah, that's right. Can we come in?"

The girl stepped back, wrapping her robe around herself. She was barefoot, and obviously suffering from a hangover.

"Which room is he in?" "Back room, I think—straight through, past the kitchen.""Thank you. What's your name, love?""Megan Phillips. I live in the front room, with my boyfriend. It's his place, but he's out.""Megan, can you go back to your room, please? I'll knock on the door if I need to talk to you."There was an overpowering smell in the place—a mixture of mildew, joss sticks, and body odor. The kitchen was filthy, with dirty pots and pans and cutlery and leftover takeaway cartons. A bin spewed out stale food; even the lino seemed to have a film of grease."Ugh," Gordon said, pulling a face.The end door had a large poster of Alice Cooper pinned to it; the wall beside it was covered in names and phone numbers. A pair of old Wellington boots lay tossed in the corner, alongside a broken umbrella and a Hoover with a split bag. Anna banged on the door and waited. Gordon tried the doorknob, and it turned; a safety chain hung loose. He pushed it open wider, but it was hard to see anything.The walls were a dark blue; there was a blue, threadbare carpet, but this could hardly be seen for the mounds of dirty clothes: jeans, shirts, shoes, sneakers, cowboy boots, smelly socks, and vests. The room was a pigsty and the smell disgusting.Anna eased her way farther into the room; there was a chink of light coming from the drawn curtains. The bed was a mound of old blankets and a stained orange duvet. Anna looked over the room, then gestured for Gordon to cross to the bed. She lifted the duvet and then both of them pulled it back. Curled in a ball, wearing socks, underpants, and a torn T-shirt was a comatose Eddie Court. He didn't wake, even when they pulled the curtains back. The light streamed in as best it could through the dirty windows, but still he remained curled up."Is he dead?" Gordon whispered."No, I think he's sleeping one off, though." She nudged the bed. It was astonishing: they banged the bed and shook him but he remained out of it.Gordon was becoming freaked out that he might have overdosed. "Come on, Eddie, wake up!" he said loudly. Anna turned as there was a loud blast of the Muppets' theme tune. It came from a dirty pair of jeans by her feet. Somehow this got a reaction. Eddie gave a low moan and grunted. Totally unaware that Anna and Gordon were in the room, he flopped over the side of the bed and reached, with shaking hands, to his dirty jeans."It's probably your mother," Anna said, snatching the jeans away.Eddie flopped back and squinted at the light coming in from the window. "Fucking hell, what's going on?""Just need to ask you a few questions."Anna sent Gordon out to get some coffee while Eddie went into the bathroom. There was broken frosted glass set into the door, so Anna could see Eddie's shadow as he tried to wake himself up. There was no possibility he could make it out of the window, as there were bars across it. She gave him five minutes before she rapped on the door for him to come out. He had dragged on a pair of jeans; at least he was more awake."Get out of it last night, did you?" Anna said, following him back into the disgusting bedroom."Yeah, smashed." He flung himself back on the bed, rubbing his hair."Okay, we have a few minutes before Detective Constable Loach comes back.""He gettin' me some coffee?""Yes, but that's a plus for you—I wanted a few words with you alone. If you give me what I want, then we won't take you in.""For doing what?""Lying, withholding evidence—you can get into big trouble for that.""I never done nothing."She moved closer. "Don't play any more games, Eddie. I want the truth this time.""About what?""The night you went to visit the drug dealers in Chalk Farm.""I told you, I never went in.""Not the second time you were there; that was when you were able248 to identify this man." She showed him the photograph of Frank Brandon. "But you went to the same place earlier that night, didn't you?""No.""Eddie, we know that you did. Now, I am not interested in what you scored—I just want the name of the dealer."Eddie closed his eyes, shaking his head."It's up to you, Eddie. Give up who was dealing or you'll be arrested.""I can't.""Yes, you can.""If it ever got out, I'd be fucking dead meat.""Oh, so you do know?""I never said that!""Give me the name, Eddie. It doesn't mean they'll know it came from you. Any more lies and 1 will lose my patience.""They don't deal from there no more.""Yes, I know that.The place was closed down.""You'll look out for me?""Yes."Eddie chewed his lips. A cold sore on his upper lip started to bleed. He used a corner of his filthy sheet to dab at it. "I only ever seen one of 'em—since, that's Delroy Planter."Anna jotted the name down; it wasn't one she knew. She looked up as Eddie still messed with his lip. "The second?""He's a mean bastard but, like I said, I've not seen him since. It was a bloke called Silas Roach."Anna pressed for descriptions of both men. Eddie shrugged and muttered, but eventually gave Anna some idea what the men looked like. Both, Eddie thought, were Jamaican.The front doorbell rang and it made them both jump.Gordon had left the door on the latch and was already heading down the dingy corridor with coffees. Anna asked for the address where she could find the dealers. Eddie muttered and moaned, but gave it up, as Gordon held out his coffee."Okay, Eddie. If this doesn't add up, we will be back." Anna ran both names by Sam Power. He had no record of either of the men, and no information on the squat they were now using to deal from. The address was in Kensal Rise, not that far from Chalk Farm, nor from Maida Vale; it hung between the two. Sam knew the area well, as they had busted a row of shops there two years previously. They had swooped on two hairdressing salons and a grocery store, and made over twenty-two arrests, including runners, delivery boys and girls, customers trying to score. The stash of drugs was impressive, from heroin to crack cocaine, hash, and marijuana. It was a well-publicized raid and the row of shops had since been closed and boarded up. Sam was surprised that the two dealers would be either stupid or audacious enough to operate from there again."Two years ago? Maybe the businesses have reopened.""Yeah, in more ways than one."Sam suggested they take it quietly. He and Anna should first stake out the area, as neither knew what their suspects looked like, apart from Eddie's descriptions. Silas Roach had dreadlocks and always wore a multicolored, knitted bobble hat, whereas Delroy Planter, "the muscleman," was lighter-skinned and often wore a leather jacket and trousers.Anna and Sam, with two other members of the Drug Squad, went to Kensal Rise. They used a dental practice overlooking the semicircle of shops to set up their surveillance. Three were still boarded up, but the central one was now a cafe with a board outside, advertising all-day breakfasts. Sam still had all the maps of the previous bust, so they could ascertain the ways in and out of the premises. The other building to have reopened was a hair salon Operating specifically for ethnic customers, hair and nail extensions. However, the flat above still had boards across the windows.Sam used binoculars to check over both the properties from the window in the dental surgery. He handed them to Anna. "There's our man now, outside the cafe."Their undercover officer was a short skinny black guy, wearing dirty jeans, trainers, and a cap pulled down low over his face. He appeared to be in deep conversation with a very young black boy who was wheeling his bike around him. There were a number of kids with bikes, both male and female, who entered the cafe, came out, and went into the new hair salon."They should be in school," Anna said."Yeah, but they'll be earning a lot of cash, running the drugs back and forth." Sam straightened up as a BMW drew up and out got a massive guy with a muscular body and bald shaved head. "I'd say that's your Delroy."Anna drew up a chair to sit beside Sam at the window."Second target just driven up in the Mercedes. From the description, that's got to be Silas Roach." Anna passed the binoculars back to Sam. They watched as the two men conferred on the pavement, and then strolled into the cafe, shortly followed by the undercover Drug Squad officer.They maintained surveillance for over two more hours until Sam received a call from his officer and left the building. Anna stayed at the window, watching, her nerves at breaking point; she couldn't understand why they didn't simply arrest the pair. There was also something very uncomfortable about remaining closeted in the small dental surgery with its central leather chair and tray of dental equipment.Sam eventually returned. "Okay, they're dealing from a back room in the cafe. It's got a bolted door and access over the yard into the hair salon—I'd say for a quick getaway if needed. There's a fire escape, with another possible exit route. Both cars are registered to different names than our targets, plus addresses we're checking out.""When are you going to make an arrest?" Anna asked."Not for a while; we want them dealing. Apparently they are waiting on a drop—our man was told to come back in an hour. Right now they are sitting down to a full breakfast!""But we know they were dealing from the Chalk Farm estate.""So your informant says, but we've got no prints that match any records. These two are clean and maybe very mean, according to our man. He reckons they have weapons, and they've got heavies inside as well. I'll need backup and, if we get them, handling gear. It's going to make interviewing them a lot easier if we have something to deal with, if you'll excuse the pun."Anna nodded and looked at her watch. It was after two. Putting in a call to the station, she was told that most of the team were out, but Gordon was there. They had a development with the boat, Dare Devil, he told her. It had been sold more than eight years ago and was now registered to a charter company working out of Malta. The same charter company had also rented it out to Carlo Simonetti, who was a legitimate businessman. The company had bought the boat when it had been anchored in Cannes, and still did charters there for the film festivals. They had no record of Alexander Fitzpatrick using it; the sale had gone through with a man named Stephen Anderson. This was possibly another alias used by Fitzpatrick, as they had so far been unable to trace him, and as yet had no luck from passport and immigration.Anna was frustrated. They had no details on the surveillance of either Julia Brandon or the Oxfordshire farm, but a trace had been put on the Range Rover driven by the two men that Anna had seen at the Old Windmill talking to Julia Brandon and her solicitor. They were possibly ex-army—or marines, as the Range Rover was registered to a mercenary agency. As yet the police had not had confirmation of either of the men's names, as the company just had a box number—but they were being checked out.Cunningham had interviewed Simon Fagan, who was still accusing the police of harassing his client. He said that he had instigated the hiring of the men to protect Mrs. Brandon from unnecessary invasion of privacy. Cunningham believed he was unaware of any further surveillance now operating. That was about it; in other words, nothing had really moved forward.Anna wondered if Simon Fagan could have an ulterior motive for his championing of Julia Brandon, either financial or sexual. She went for the latter. She asked if there was any more information from Rushton, and was taken aback to be told that Langton was handling the next interview. It was almost four when Sam was confident that they should move in. He had two wagons with drug-and-weapon sniffer dogs, and had orchestrated the entire bust along the same lines as the massive one two years previously. He was still astonished that the two targets had brazenly taken over the cafe and hair salon, knowing they had been the focus of a previous drug bust. It was either arrogance or stupidity, or gross misjudgment and inexperience.Anna said nothing. If these two men also worked out of the Chalk Farm drug squat, then that was how they operated—taking over rundown properties. From their luxury cars, they were obviously making money hand over fist. Could one of them be the killer of Frank Brandon?Sam turned to her, adjusting his earpiece. "Okay, it's going down. It makes it a lot easier in broad daylight."Anna stood up, but he gestured for her to remain sitting."Watch from here! I don't want you in the thick of it. Let me do my job."Anna frowned. The hours she had been hanging out there, and now she was told she wouldn't be in on the arrest! It really infuriated her, but there was nothing she could say.The two police people-carriers suddenly drove up and moved into position, blocking off the road exits at either end. At the same time, armed officers moved in from the front and rear of the building.Anna stared from the high window as the suspects came out with their hands on their heads. A few women were screeching and shouting abuse, as they had been removed from beneath the dryers. The hairdressers, wearing bright pink overalls, were also shouting and yelling as they were led out. They formed two lines along the pavement as the officers with the dogs held back the yapping, barking animals. The young kids were herded out and lined up; next came two mean-looking men with muscles and black shirts and trousers, struggling as they were cuffed. It was like a bizarre Noah's Ark, with people being brought out two by two.The last out were their two targets, Delroy Planter and Silas Roach.Both men were handcuffed to heavyweight officers and forced to stand facing the wall. The sniffer dogs were then released inside both the cafe and the hair salon. The weapon-sniffer dog weaved in and out of the lines of men and women. It was extraordinary to watch; if the dog picked up the scent of a weapon on someone, it sat down in front of them. The dogs were switched every fifteen minutes to keep their sense of smell clear.While weapons were being recovered this way, from flick knives to machetes to small-caliber pistols, armed officers with large boxes were removing a further array of weapons from the cafe. Then came the uniformed officers, ready to remove the men and woman, take down statements, and generally pave the way for clearing the area. They took the first load away as Delroy and Silas remained facing the wall.When Sam rejoined Anna, he was grinning, and looked elated. "Well, our guys are something else! They both claim they were at the cafe to just score a bit of hash. Not illegal, and for medicinal purposes only!"Anna smiled, but became serious as Sam held up a plastic bag containing a large silver Glock pistol. "Where did you find it?""In the cafe. In fact, Silas Roach tried to reach for it, then acted all innocent as if he didn't even know it was there!"Anna looked out of the window just as Silas Roach was being turned from facing the wall. He had both wrists cuffed, and kicked out as the weapon dog barked and sat in front of him. She could feel her adrenaline pumping. Might she be looking at the man who had shot Frank Brandon? If she was, he'd also shot the man standing behind him. Would he be able to identify Alexander Fitzpatrick?