Church followed them out into the adjoining office.
Crowley looked at him. ‘I want a private conversation with Tennison.’
Church shook his head. ‘Not when she’s one of my officers. Her safety is my responsibility… if you want her to stay, I stay as well.’
Crowley didn’t have much option other than to agree.
‘I was thinking that Tennison could go up to the second-floor flat alone and speak with the Jamaican couple… find out what they know about the recent movements at the suspect’s flat. She’s young, like them, and doesn’t stick out as old bill like the rest of us. Anyone watching would think she was just a friend, visiting.’
Church looked apprehensive. ‘And what if it all goes pear-shaped? You seem to forget that when she saw the suspect at Covent Garden, he also saw her. You’ve had a surveillance team protecting her and now, just to satisfy your own ambition, you’re willing to risk her life? No. It’s not on. We sit and wait, or go straight in. Those are the only viable options, and you know it.’
‘This is not about me, Church, it’s about arresting a bunch of murderers. The people in the flat above may be able to tell us more.’
Jane was fed up with the two of them bickering. ‘I’ll do it. I’ve got a scarf in my bag and a different coat from the one I wore at Covent Garden. I can tie up my hair, and take off my make-up so I look older… and keep my head down.’
Church was adamant that it was too risky but Jane stood her ground.
Crowley said he would have her fitted up with a covert radio and asked if she knew how to work one.
‘Yes, sir, I do.’
‘Right, let’s get this show on the road…’ Crowley said. rubbing his hands together.
Within half an hour everyone was in position on the nearby streets. Stanley’s Silver team had gained entry to the builders’ yard from the rear of the opposite premises and were hidden, ready to go when the order was given. Jane had done everything she could to make herself unrecognisable and Dexter, ever the charmer, said she still looked attractive even without make-up. She tested the covert radio before getting out of the obo van and walking slowly down Caversham Street towards the block of flats. The light rain had given a yellow sheen to the pavement. She was wearing her sensible Cuban-heeled shoes and found her own footsteps sounded loud to her.
Crowley gave her the landlord’s keys so she could just let herself in through the front door and go straight up to the first-floor flat.
Jane felt nervous, particularly when someone walked towards, or passed, her. She kept her head down and didn’t make eye contact in case the person was the IRA bomber she had seen. Her heart was pounding as she moved up the worn narrow flagstone path and stepped up to a dirty, sodden doormat. There were two empty milk bottles on the doorstep. The front door had peeling paint with four mottled glass panes. She opened the front door, then placed the key under the mat for Crowley. As she carefully walked up the threadbare, carpeted stairs some of them creaked. There was a yellowing plastic lampshade around a low wattage bulb hanging from what had once been an elegant ceiling rose. Outside flat 2 she got her warrant card out and knocked on the door. It was eventually opened by a young, attractive Jamaican woman in a nightdress. Jane held up her warrant card and put her finger to her mouth to indicate to the woman to be quiet. To Jane’s relief she remained silent and let her in. Jane then introduced herself and the woman looked distressed, speaking in a strong West Indian accent.
‘We done nuttin’ wrong! We only just come here from Jamaica… you can check me passport and visa… and me husband’s… he got a job in de baker’s.’
Jane gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It’s OK… there’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s the downstairs flat I’m interested in, and anything you or your husband can tell me about the residents.’
‘Me husband’s not here at de moment. He’s still out lookin’ for de cat. But he should be back soon.’
Crowley sat impatiently in the obo van with Church, Dexter, Lawrence, and the rest of the Gold team.
‘She’s taking her bloody time. She should have radioed in by now.’
Lawrence was quick to defend Jane. ‘Give her a chance. She’s only been gone a few minutes. If any of us were in her shoes we wouldn’t be in a rush.’
The radio hissed. Everyone sat upright waiting for Jane’s update, but the call was from the officers inside the neighbouring flat.
‘Oscar Papa One to Gold… we just heard movement in target premises… over.’
‘You sure?’ Crowley asked.
‘Yes, certain… someone just dropped a glass and we heard it shatter.’
Crowley spoke over the radio. ‘Silver team go, go, go to rear of target and notify when secure… we’ll drive down closer then go in when you’re in position.’
Dexter said he and Lawrence would wait outside on the street while they made the arrests and secured the scene. It took only seconds for Stanley’s team to climb the garden fence and radio Crowley that they were in position. Crowley and his team were out of the obo van in an instant, crouching down like panthers stalking prey as they moved up the steps, guns held ready.
Crowley retrieved the key from under the mat and quietly opened the front door. He and Church took up position in the hallway either side of the ground-floor flat door. A detective with a large metal rammer stood in front of the door and Crowley raised his hand to give a countdown of three using his fingers and silently mouthing the number ‘one’ as he did so.
‘No! Don’t do it!’ Jane screamed as loudly as she could from the top of the stairs. Everyone froze for a split second, apart from the officer with the rammer, who raised it backwards. Again Jane screamed as she ran down the stairs.
‘STOP! It might be booby-trapped. They’ve left already!’
Crowley raised his palm in the nick of time to stop the officer ramming the door open. Dexter and Lawrence, who had heard Jane’s screams, came running in. Jane’s voice was trembling as she spoke.
‘The woman upstairs said she was looking out of the window a quarter of an hour ago, and saw three men leaving the premises. She recognised the Irishman who occupied the ground-floor flat. They were carrying a suitcase, holdall and rucksacks and got into a black cab. It looks like they’ve moved out.’
There was a unanimous groan.
‘All of you shut it! And back off. I need to check the door for a booby trap. Stand back, stand right back!’ shouted Dexter. Using a crowbar he forced open the front window to access the premises and it wasn’t long before he opened the front door. He was holding a scruffy-looking cat in his arms and stroking it.
‘Doors not rigged to explode… Place is empty, apart from this little bugger, who, it would seem, is the culprit that knocked a glass off the table.’
‘Oh t’ank you, sir! You find Bob Marley!’ the Jamaican woman said, as she walked down the stairs. ‘He must ha got in d’ere when de men leave.’
Dexter handed her the cat. ‘He very nearly used up one of his nine lives, luv.’
Crowley looked furious, but the absurdity of the moment was not lost on the others, who started to laugh. Dexter congratulated Jane on her quick action and said that if the door had been rigged she would have saved a lot of lives.
Crowley wasn’t impressed. ‘The Commander is going to be livid, and I’m the one who’s got to tell him the suspects moved out before we even got here. He said he wanted to know the result right away so I’m going back to the Yard to call him.’
Crowley told everyone to stand down over the radio and asked Dexter to check the rest of the premises with Lawrence for explosives before they carried out a full search.
‘Could I assist with the search of the flat, sir?’ Jane asked.