‘I’m on the wing, man. I only got about ten minutes left on my phone card. You got some answers for me? I need to know, man, because something went down today that’s freaking me out. I gotta stand trial for this Murphy business, right? These two motherfuckers came and started laying it on me about passing the gear, the rock cakes to Eamon, you hearin’ me?’
‘I said it would all be fine. You know these arrangements take time; with all the extra security at the airports, we have to be very careful. So, what’s your problem?’ The voice was soft, quite well-spoken, with only a slight burr of an accent.
‘They wanna know about the weed; they said Krasiniqe put me in the frame.’
‘He couldn’t do that.’
‘I am just telling you what went down.’
The mobile phone was being used by someone on the move, probably travelling in a car. They got the location as Epsom. As the officer talked on, they were able to pinpoint it as being close to the racetrack. Epsom was close to Chessington, but it was a massive area. There were many houses in both locations that were set well back from the road; many also had hidden access and tight security. Keith’s description had not been very clear, but five minutes later they were dependent on it, as the call was cut off.
Langton now pulled in the locals, as well as all his teams, to give him even more bodies. Covering the area was going to be a nightmare. The child’s description of the house was radioed in to stations at Chessington, Epsom and Leatherhead. Langton orchestrated the search. He asked for no sirens, plain patrol cars only, and to watch radio contact: Camorra was likely to have a lot of toys that could tune into police frequency. Estate agents in the area were also being contacted and given the description of the house. Langton was back in his stride.
Keith continued to chatter; he recognized the signs for Chessington on the A3, but he couldn’t recall when they left the motorway or on which route. They headed towards the theme park as the other cars covered the areas that fitted the description he had given.
Langton had now joined the search. He was with Mike Lewis; they were covering a section of properties past the racecourse.
‘He might not even be there,’ Langton said, lighting one cigarette from the butt of another.
‘We’re due some luck,’ Lewis replied. The reality was they were looking for a needle in a giant haystack.
Anna was beginning to get concerned. Keith was tired; he no longer seemed interested in looking out of the window, but fiddled with the radio. Alison asked if he wanted to go back; he said he wanted a Coca-Cola. They pulled over to a small row of shops and Alison went into an off-licence. It only took a few minutes, but Anna was on edge: they were in a marked patrol car. She stepped away from the car to call Langton and say they were going to head back.
‘We shall keep going,’ he replied.
‘You know, he’s described two cars: one he said was a big four-door, the other was a red low sports car, maybe a Ferrari.’
‘Yeah, yeah, gatepost, dog kennel, big fences, big hedges.’ He was beginning to think he should have waited.
Anna got back in the car and asked the driver to do a U-turn and head back to the motorway.
Alison leaned forwards. ‘Keith, hold the can up, love, you’re spilling it.’
‘Bad man. I want my handcuffs,’ the boy said fiercely.
By now, the patrol car had turned round. They saw a man come out of the off-licence with a carrier bag. He took an Evening Standard from under his arm and flipped it open.
‘Bad man!’ screeched Keith.
‘Let me check him out for you,’ Anna said, opening her door as the car slowed down for her. She instructed Alison to calm Keith and for the driver to keep going.
Anna kept controclass="underline" she opened her mobile phone and starting talking as she waited to be put through to Langton. ‘But you said you’d pick her up from school, James! I’m at the shops … well, I can, but she’s waiting at the gates.’
The man continued to read the newspaper and turned left at the end of the row of shops. He had glanced at Anna, but dismissed her as some frantic housewife.
‘Hello, what’s this?’ came Langton’s voice.
‘Maybe have target: the kid got very distressed. He’s about ten feet in front of me now, turning into a cul-de-sac: Edge Lane. He’s short, dark-skinned, suit, rimless glasses.’
Anna gesticulated wildly as if she was still having an argument on the phone as the target drove out of the cul-de-sac; he paused to let a cyclist pass, then turned left and drove off. Anna passed on a description of the car: a black Mitsubishi, registration number 345-A.
She crossed the road, as the patrol car reversed back to pick her up, and got in. Keith was very distressed, holding up his handcuffs, saying he wanted to get the bad man, he wanted to arrest the bad man. Anna picked up the radio and held it out, this time for real. ‘You are going to be able to listen now: this is going to be really exciting.’
In came the radio call. ‘We have target, heading past Chessington Garden Centre. Over.’
Langton looked at Mike as he studied the map; the vehicle had been picked up on the A23 heading towards Redhill. It was then a game of follow the target, as one car after another moved into position. The driver went round the big roundabout and turned down towards Redhill Lane. Unaware of the tail both back and front, he continued for a few miles before indicating and turning into the drive of a large gated property. The electric gates opened, and there was a sound of a dog barking.
Langton radioed to Anna: she, Keith and Alison were to swap into an unmarked patrol car. They were then to drive past the target property and not stop until they saw an open gateway, where he would be waiting.
Keith had perked up: he liked switching cars and, as Anna said, going undercover. Alison sat next to him in the back.
Anna turned to him. ‘We are going to drive past the house that we think you’ve been telling us about. We will have to drive past and not stop, as the bad man might try to escape. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’ The small boy was clutching his handcuffs.
It was only ten minutes before they, too, were heading down Redhill Lane. They passed the electric gates and the big posts that the child had described. The car slowed down; they could not stop in case they gave the game away, but they didn’t need to. Keith began to cry, his small chest heaving, as he sobbed and garbled barely intelligible words: ‘Bad men, bad men hurt me in there.’
Langton was waiting by the gateway as promised; as their car drew up, he opened the door. Alison had Keith in her arms.
‘You the detective heading up this arrest?’ he asked.
Keith looked at him: the fear had come back and he couldn’t play the game.
Langton bent down to his level. ‘Keith, listen to me: you are going to be okay. I am very proud of you and I am going to recommend you get a bravery award for helping us.’
It broke Langton’s heart the way the child turned away, his eyes brimming with tears, his voice croaky from crying. ‘Thank you.’
Alison and Keith were taken back into London by an officer in an unmarked patrol car. Alison had been very impressed by the way everyone had handled the situation. The small silent boy, who now had tears trickling down his cheeks, stared ahead; clasped in his hand were the handcuffs he had wanted to put on the bad man.
The same question was in all the officers’ minds: was this the right bad man?
The house now under surveillance, Langton regrouped at the nearest police station to determine how many people occupied the premises and to work out the best strategy for entering. It would be getting dark soon. He ordered a helicopter to move over the house with an infra-red camera to determine what they would be faced with.