Backlash (44 page)

Anna watched as the tech support officer fixed Mike up with a wire and gave him a small tracking device to put in the car. She moved closer.

‘Still worried about the lack of action?’

He didn’t answer as Langton took him aside.

‘Radio back to us as soon as you’re in position. When we hear you check with him where he wants to go we’ll be ready for the off. You’ll have a surveillance car on your
tail.’

From the street map of New Malden, they could see that the NatWest Bank was on a corner. Langton told Mike to draw up outside the bank, drop Bradford off and wait in the street for him to
return. There would also be an officer in the back of the bank monitoring everything on the CCTV.

‘What if a traffic warden turns up?’

‘Don’t worry about that, there’ll be a couple of surveillance officers in the street so if they see any they’ll soon get rid of them.’

Anna noticed that whenever Langton was in conversation with Mike he turned to the SO19 and tactical support teams immediately afterwards.

‘Okay, DCI Lewis has given the go-ahead.’

By doing this it seemed that all the decisions were coming from Mike Lewis, not himself.

Mike had instructed all surveillance units to use the code name ‘Silver’ for Bradford. Oates was to be referred to as ‘Gold’, should he be seen to leave
the Kingsnympton premises.

Fifteen minutes flew past. Then came the message in from the surveillance officers in the van with Barbara watching Mrs Douglas’s flat.

‘This is OP one. Silver out of blue door, heading from premises . . . Fast pace . . . Towards lane by Block C.’

‘Here he comes,’ Langton said unnecessarily as it was pretty obvious.

‘Silver in black BB cap, dark donkey jacket, blue jeans, white sneakers, carrying black holdall . . . on foot towards shopping area.’

Mike had parked the Crown taxicab directly outside the small hair salon, where he sat reading a paper. He glanced up to see Bradford heading towards him. Bradford rapped on the passenger window,
opened the door, got in and slammed it shut.

‘NatWest, New Malden, was it, mate?’ Mike asked.

Bradford nodded and as the taxi moved off, they could hear him telling Mike the direction he wanted to go, asking him to take a left and then go into Warren Road, and not to worry about it being
a private road as the guy on the gates at the end would let a taxi through without stopping him. The surveillance car seamlessly moved into position behind the taxi.

Bradford told Mike to turn left out of Warren Road and then go right towards New Malden High Street. There was a slight moment of confusion as Bradford said Mike should pass the bank, keep on
driving and turn left by Boots the Chemist, as he had to get something.

Mike knew that their conversation was being relayed back to base, but he nevertheless became concerned.

‘I got you down for the NatWest Bank and then back to the estate?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, but you just wait, I’ll only be a minute. Go left at the lights, mate, and park it there.’

The surveillance car continued to follow, but held back as the taxi turned left and parked. A plain clothes officer got out to tail Bradford as he left the cab.

Mike was now parked on a double yellow line a few yards from the traffic lights. There was a pause, then the surveillance officer following Bradford made contact, reporting that Bradford had
gone to the hair-styling section and selected a box of red L’Oréal hair dye and was now at the checkout counter.

Langton, listening in, glanced at Anna, wondering if it was for his mother. She smiled.

‘I doubt it, dyeing it my shade? Quite clever: Oates’s blond hair will take the colour easily,’ she said.

Bradford paid for his hair dye and then came out from Boots to cross to a shoe shop on the opposite corner. Again he was tailed and back came the information that he was buying
a pair of boots, which he hadn’t even tried on! They also got the nod that he was very agitated, had dropped his wallet and was very impatient with the assistant, swearing at her to hurry
up.

Bradford came out and tossed the purchases into the taxi. Mike turned towards him.

‘Where to now?’

Bradford had his hand on the open door.

‘Go to the bank now.’

‘It’s a no right turn,’ Mike said.

‘Then do a fucking u-ey, pal . . . Wait, leave it . . . I’ll walk up to the bank, meet me outside on the corner.’

Mike let him slam the door shut and a different surveillance officer now took over as Bradford hurried along New Malden High Street towards the bank.

Mike did an illegal right turn, followed by the surveillance car, to the great annoyance of one irate driver who yelled out abuse as they came alongside the hurrying figure of
Bradford.

‘Silver now into bank.’

Waiting in the bank was the surveillance officer monitoring the CCTV. It was a small local branch, with just four cashiers behind the plate glass and a cordoned area for the customers to queue.
There were two Japanese women, and an elderly man with a wheelie cart. Bradford took out papers from his jacket and was visibly sweating as he waited.

A cashier became available and he stepped forwards in front of the old man, who pushed his cart in front of Bradford.

‘Get the fuck out of my way,’ Bradford snarled.

A second cashier spoke into her microphone to say position number three was now available and Bradford elbowed past the old man.

The bank manager had already been primed to let the transaction take place without too many questions, as they didn’t want Bradford to become at all suspicious.

‘I’m here on behalf of my mother. She called you and I’ve got all the signed forms and my passport here,’ Bradford explained.

In fact it would usually have taken considerably more time, with all the security questions and identification checks that were legally required, but Langton had preempted this. However, as with
all carefully plotted and planned arrangements, there could always be a blip and this time it came from the cashier.

‘I will have to speak to the manager to clear this, one moment.’

If Bradford was nervous so was everyone else. He was breathing very heavily, constantly looking over his shoulder and back to the empty teller’s chair.

Langton threw up his hands in despair, asking what the hell was going on. But the wait wasn’t over even when the cashier returned, as she asked Bradford to go into the
small office as they didn’t want to pass over such a large payment in the view of other customers.

It seemed an interminable length of time, but it was actually only five minutes before Bradford emerged from the office and hurriedly left the bank with ten thousand pounds
cash. He almost ran around the corner to where the taxi was parked, and had a good look round before getting in.

‘Get me back to the estate.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As they drove off Mike noticed Bradford continually glancing in the passenger wing mirror and becoming increasingly agitated, so he decided to drive back via the Kingston Road and then up the
London Road and back to the estate via Kingston Hill. Bradford didn’t seem to notice the different route as he was so busy looking in the wing mirror.

The surveillance car behind radioed back to base the route they were taking. Langton wondered what on earth Mike was up to and worried he could blow the whole operation until he heard
Bradford’s voice over Mike’s concealed radio.

‘That car behind – do you know him?’

‘What ya mean, do I know him?’

‘It was behind us when we went to the bank and now it’s back again.’

‘Fuck off, you’re paranoid, mate . . . unless you just robbed the bank,’ Mike said, trying to ease the situation.

‘The passenger in it, he was in Boots.’

‘Look, they don’t pay me enough to drive nutters, so I tell you what, I’ll drop you off at the Kingston Lodge up there.’

Mike put his foot down hard on the pedal and swung into the hotel car park.

‘What you bloody doing? Stop the car, STOP!’

Mike hit the brakes and, opening the driver’s door, ran out of the vehicle and dived to the ground, knowing from experience exactly what would happen next and the last place he wanted to
be was in the possible line of fire.

The surveillance car behind drew up almost bumper to bumper as two plain clothes armed officers rushed out and moved to the front and passenger side of the taxi, their guns drawn and aimed at
Bradford.

It was over in seconds. Bradford was hauled from the taxi, dropping his shoebox and Boots carrier bag and forced to the ground at gunpoint. He was quickly handcuffed and roughly manhandled
towards the rear entrance of the hotel screeching, ‘What you think you’re fucking doing? LET GO! LET GO OF ME!’

Bradford, with his arms held behind him, was forced to bend from the waist as he was pushed into a small side room where Langton and Anna were waiting.

He had a look of terror on his sweating face, and he was almost sobbing as he kept on repeating, ‘What? What? What?’

Bradford was pushed into a chair as Langton confronted him.

‘Who’ve you been shopping for, Mr Bradford?’

‘Oh Christ, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ve got to let me go.’

Mike swiftly went to the washroom and brushed himself down, before joining the others in the side room. Bradford was sitting by a table crying, the cuffs had been removed and
Langton was holding out his mobile.

‘Come on, son, just calm down, call him, say there’s been a bit of a hold-up at the bank with the money.’

Anna updated Mike.

‘Oates is in the flat. He’s put Timmy’s mother in the bathroom with a noose around her neck that’s attached to a pulley ring above the bath.’

Bradford heard Anna and became even more agitated.

‘Henry told me that he’s left her standing on the kitchen stepping stool. He said he’d be watching out for me and if I come back with anyone or was late he’d go and pull
the stool away and hang her.’ Bradford wailed and put his head on his hands.

‘Come on, straighten out, we’ll make sure she’s okay.’

‘She’s eighty-two years old. She can’t stand up for long,’ Bradford groaned, and blurted out that Oates had said he had to be back in an hour or he’d kill his
mother.

‘What were you doing in the chemist’s?’

‘He wanted red hair dye, said he’s gonna dye his hair.’

‘Were the boots for him as well?’

‘Yes. You don’t understand what you’re doin’ holding me here, he’ll kill her.’

Langton drew up a chair so close their knees were almost touching.

‘Now you listen to me, Tim, you’ve got to calm yourself right down because we need time to make sure we get your mother out of there alive.’

‘BUT WE’RE WASTIN’ TIME!’

‘Shush now, look at me. Tim, look at me. You were a fighter, am I right, yes? Good one, from what I’ve been told. Now I want you to look at this like you were about to go into the
ring, deep breaths, that’s it, get yourself ready, keep looking at me, Tim, good lad, now this is what you do, because we need some time.’

Bradford nodded and Langton caught a full whiff of his disgusting halitosis.

‘You make a call and you tell him there’s been a hitch with the money withdrawal, person who deals with it is still in with someone else. Say it’s going to take another fifteen
minutes before they can hand it over to you, then you still get another ten to drive back to the estate, okay? You ready to do this, Tim?’

‘Yeah, yeah, but I’m scared for my mum. He’s got her on that stool.’

‘Well, you are going to save her by doing this; here’s your mobile, now let’s call the bastard, shall we? If you get into a problem say the manager or the cashier will talk to
him to confirm you’re telling the truth, okay? Understand?’

Bradford nodded, his hand shaking as he pressed dial on the mobile. Timmy’s landline had already been tapped so they knew the call could be recorded and Anna was on her phone, which had
been linked in to listen to the conversation.

It rang and Oates picked up.

‘It’s me, Timmy.’

‘You got the money yet?’

‘I’m still here at the bank, there’s a hitch. Cos it’s so much money a cashier can’t deal with it, the manager has to and I’m still waiting to see
him.’

‘You better not be fucking me about?’

‘I’m tellin’ you the truth.’

‘How long do I have to wait, for Chrissake?’

‘Said no more than fifteen then I’ll come straight home. I got the taxi waitin’.’

‘You better get a move on cos I’m starting to get edgy, man, and you know what happens when I get edgy—’

Bradford’s voice trembled as he interrupted Oates.

‘Yeah, you kill someone.’

‘That’s right, and the clock’s ticking.’

As Oates replaced the phone, Bradford, sweating and shaking, cried out for him not to kill his mother. Langton gripped Bradford’s shoulder.

‘That was brilliant, and it gives us the time we need.’

The team were now galvanized into action, planning the best way to arrest Oates and get Mrs Douglas out alive. The neighbours, Mr and Mrs Pearson, were now at the hotel and had
given permission for the police to use their premises for the operation. With the key Barbara had got from the Pearsons, tech support and firearms officers had gone into the flat on the other side
while Oates was on the phone speaking to Timmy. Another group had gone into the Pearsons’ at the same time. Being on the first floor, there was no rear entrance – the only way in was
through the front door. They considered using a double for Bradford with his baseball cap pulled down, who would knock at the door; as soon as Oates opened it the armed officers would crash in and
overpower him.

This plan became a no-goer when Bradford told them that he had the key to the front door and Oates knew it, so to ring the bell or knock on the door would be a clear signal that something was
wrong. Langton, against his better judgement, decided that an all-out assault on the flat was too dangerous and Timmy Bradford should return to the premises and give Oates the money. There was
still the danger that Oates might harm Bradford or his mother, but it was unlikely that he would leave the premises until late at night and this would give them breathing space to reassess the
situation. Timmy was told to try and keep Oates in conversation about what he was going to do.