She’d managed to get what must have been about the last seat on the packed train by travelling first class; she’d fallen briefly asleep, waited in a long queue for a taxi, and now here she was, slightly dazzled in the brightly lit Ops Room but relieved to be able to focus on something that had nothing to do with Martin Seurat and the grief that flooded through her in unpredictable waves.
Peggy said, ‘Zara’s been at his mother’s house in Eccles. We’ve just heard from the A4 team there that he’s gone out. He’s in the car he rented in Birmingham.’
‘Are they still with him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Here’s the lorry,’ Andy announced as the grey, wavy picture from the night-vision camera at the gate appeared on the screen again. The images from the camera outside the warehouse were showing on another screen. The lorry drove into the picture, made an enormous 180-degree turn, and stopped, facing out on the hard standing where Jackson and McManus stood waiting. Jackson waved it backwards and the lorry reversed slowly into the warehouse, gave a belch of exhaust, and stopped.
Jackson and McManus went in and attention in the Ops Room switched to the pictures from the cameras inside the warehouse. After a moment the driver jumped down from the cab. He was a short, stocky man in a thick dark pea jacket.
‘You made it at last,’ said Jackson, his voice clearly audible in the Ops Room.
‘Ya. That was one good long hell of a drive.’ His English was heavily accented and quite difficult to make out on the microphones. ‘We had to stop a lot for fuel.’
‘I bet you did,’ said Jackson knowingly. ‘Everything all right with the cargo?’
‘Yeah. You want to see?’
The man made to go for the rear of the lorry, but Jackson put up a hand. ‘Wait a minute. Tell me about the journey. Any problems?’
‘The journey? It was difficult, especially in Germany. Snow has come early this year.’
‘I’m not asking about the weather. I meant, when you got to Harwich. Were you stopped at Customs? Have they been through the cargo?’
‘No. I expected them to open the doors, but they didn’t.’
Jackson turned to McManus, who was standing beside him, before turning back to the driver and asking, ‘Do they usually look inside?’
‘Always. In my experience. But not tonight.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
McManus said, ‘Could just be shortage of staff, weight of traffic, Christmas spirit – anything. I wouldn’t read much into it. And he got here, didn’t he?’
Jackson’s eyes stayed on McManus. ‘Yeah, but what I’m wondering is if anyone else came along for the ride.’
The three men in the warehouse now moved outside to the tarmac forecourt, and all the microphone could pick up was the faint sound of voices.
‘What are they waiting for?’ asked Andy. He sounded cross.
Before anyone could answer, the three men started walking back into the warehouse. The driver was gesturing at the back of the lorry. ‘I should open it up now?’ His voice came through loudly.
‘Not yet,’ said Jackson curtly.
The driver was insistent. ‘I have done. Let me unload and then I can be gone. I have mattresses to go to Glasgow by tomorrow. And there is a breathing cargo here that needs some air.’
Jackson laughed harshly. ‘“A breathing cargo”. I like that. Don’t you, Jimmy?’
McManus shrugged. ‘I hope you haven’t dragged me out here for a bunch of tarts.’
‘You’ll see soon enough.’ And Jackson walked to the front of the warehouse again, while McManus stood still, half in shadow, and the lorry driver lit a cigarette.
Back in the Ops Room, Emily asked, ‘Why doesn’t he want the lorry opened up?’
‘Because the main customer hasn’t arrived,’ said Liz.
‘If he ever does,’ said Andy.
‘He will. Zara’s come all the way from London,’ Liz said. ‘I don’t think it’s just to see his mum.’
Fielding’s camera had picked up another car coming into the estate, a dark Ford S Max. Peggy looked at Liz. ‘That’s the car Zara hired.’
Thirty seconds later, as the S Max appeared on the monitor parking on the tarmac outside Jackson’s warehouse, Lazarus was on the radio to the armed police team. ‘Target has arrived.’ Turning to Liz, he said, ‘Time to go in?’
‘I think we should wait a bit.’
‘You sure? If the guns are in the lorry we’ll find them. We can strip the bloody thing down to nuts and bolts if we have to.’
‘We still don’t know where the others are.’
‘You think they’re coming to the warehouse?’
‘Possibly. I’d like to hear what Zara and Jackson say to each other.’
‘I make Jackson as just the middleman.’
‘I think you’re right, but don’t we need to hear them make the transaction if we’re going to be sure of a successful prosecution? Otherwise we haven’t got much to stick on Zara. He can say he’s come to collect mattresses, and without more evidence a jury might give him the benefit of the doubt.’
The Chief Constable broke in. ‘We’ll take the risk, George. Bring the armed team forward but hold off going in for a bit.’
Lazarus nodded and radioed some orders.
Chapter 56
What the hell is happening now, thought McManus as he stood at the door of the warehouse and watched the dark-coloured car pull up. He hadn’t believed Liz Carlyle when she’d told him that Jackson had got himself involved with a bunch of jihadis, but there was something going on here that was out of the run of Jackson’s usual style. Who was this ‘customer’ who’d arrived and what was he collecting?
He wondered how much Liz Carlyle and the team back at HQ really knew about the situation. If they’d known tonight would be dangerous, they should have warned him. When Jackson had asked him to meet up at Slim’s, there had been no reason for him to think there could be trouble brewing; it was only when Jackson had insisted on taking away his mobile phone that he’d grown worried. Without his phone, and without a gun, he felt doubly exposed.
They should have issued him with a weapon if they were putting him into a potentially violent situation, McManus thought angrily. But he knew the Chief Constable would never have authorised that, given the accusations against him. Not that the ‘customer’ who had just arrived looked very menacing. OK, he was Middle Eastern-looking, but he was slightly built, not much more than five feet nine, and looked more like a student, in his jeans, trainers and roll-neck sweater underneath a parka, than a jihadi terrorist. McManus hadn’t wanted to believe Liz Carlyle’s claims of a jihadi threat, and part of him still didn’t. And even if this guy was a fanatic, intent on slaughtering innocents, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Not when Jackson had his phone – and a gun.
Now Jackson signalled for McManus to follow him. They walked out to the tarmac in front, where the new arrival stood by his car, watching warily as Jackson and McManus approached.
‘Good timing,’ said Jackson. He gestured at the lorry. ‘Your goods have just shown up.’
‘Who’s this guy?’ the man demanded, pointing at McManus.
‘My business associate,’ said Jackson. McManus took a step back and kept his hands loose by his side. If he was supposed to be the heavy then he’d better act like one.
‘You were supposed to come alone.’ For all his youthful appearance, the man spoke with authority and without any signs of nerves. He’s been trained, thought McManus.
Jackson seemed to sense this too. ‘I’m sorry, man, but I didn’t think it mattered.’
The young guy shook his head. ‘I can see you’re new to this. Rule Number One: no surprises. Understood?’
Jackson nodded reluctantly. It was clear now to McManus who was running the show, and it wasn’t Jackson.