Lies And Consequences Collection

Chapter 2

Three Months Earlier

There had been four gunmen and two drivers, both of whom had stayed inside the cars at their respective steering wheels of a red S-Type Jaguar and blue 3.5 Rover, one in front of the security van and one behind as it started to pull away from the last bank on its route. Two of the robbers had pickaxes with their guns and the other two just firearms; sawn-off shotguns. The pickaxes went through the windscreen before Henry Acre fired both barrels of his g*n at the roof just above the uniformed driver and his mate. He reloaded and was holding his weapon pointed at the passenger"s face as I shot him dead. The second sawn-off holder turned in my direction, levelled his g*n and was then wounded by an armed colleague from the Flying Squad. Acre immediately died at the scene. Greenlee, the one wounded, was taken to University College Hospital where he was still receiving treatment. None of the other four in the g**g had a chance to use any weapons. All were arrested and taken into custody before I removed my heavy disguise. It was then that Jack Price had noted my description, the one he gave in his written statement taken at Tottenham Court Road nick a few hours later. I knew of Acre"s intentions to shoot the driver as it was I who had infiltrated the Kilburn Six, as they were known, some months prior to the robbery. That"s why Trenchard insisted that I was included at the scene, at least that"s what I was told.

My father was a born and bred Londoner but my mother was Irish through and through, hence the name of Patrick, my red hair and my natural Irish accent which, after a few months of ironing away any flawed nuances, was perfect enough to get an invitation to Edward (Teddy) Greenlee"s table in the Nag"s Head pub, Cricklewood Lane one Thursday night, three months, more or less, to the day of my calling on Jack.

Bill Hewitt, an Irish-Canadian, had unknowingly invited an undercover policeman into the heart of a conspiracy. The other three at the table that night: William O"Brien, Roy Murry (known as the Beret, which he wore come rain or come shine) and Ward Morrill, were all Irish by birth. Murry and Morrill were the two drivers. I had the innate endearing Irish ability of friendly conversation, aligned with good humour along with a deep pocket that my cover legend provided. My peripheral acceptance within the group was guaranteed as I worked at a second-hand quality car showroom where I could get legitimate cars without the need to "ring" them. Henry Acre, whom I met later, was notably different from the others. Whereas they all were vicious he had a criminal record more akin to a savage animal than any human, and that"s what worried Bill.

“He"s going to shoot one of the guards regardless of the outcome, Pat. I can sense it. It"s a statement he wants to make, not just pull off a robbery. Some time ago he told me of his Republican friends trying to drag me into the Provos, but I"m not a bomber. I"m a tea-leaf and a good one at that. I"ll take my share then leg it back to Toronto away from politics, cos that"s what turns him on in all of this. The money is less important to him than the statement. You mark my words!”

On the strength of the assessment made by Hewitt, coupled with Acre"s previous two convictions of grievous bodily harm, one using a firearm, we were instructed to shoot if the situation looked life-threatening. As I was the only one with a clear shot I followed the orders given by Detective Superintendent Ball, the head of C1, the flying squad.

“Have you shot someone before, young Patrick? I only ask as you seem so unaffected by it all. As though it"s quite a common occurrence in your everyday life as a police officer.” We were well into our second glass of throat-blistering liquid as Jack asked his question.

“Mind if I smoke, Jack?”

“Not at all! I"ll give the ashtray an empty just for you.” On his return with a now sparkling clean one, I offered him a Dunhill cigarette which he accepted before I answered.

“First time, Jack! And yes, it never touched me. My hands were as cold as ice as I squeezed that trigger, not one shake anywhere. How about you when you faced down that neo-Nazi in his black-shirted uniform on the steps of the public toilets in Whitechapel? Did you shake? Were you scared stiff?”

“Different days then, Patrick, maybe we had different reactions too. Long forgotten times and best that way.”

“You were the same age as me, were you not?”

“I was twenty-three, I believe, at the time. So, if you"re twenty-three, then, yes, I was.”

“Signed on in any particular branch of the services, or waiting to join up with the Americans and win the war, Jack?”

Now he did laugh, a high-pitched loud one at that. It suddenly struck me that I could not hear the sound of s*x coming from below his flat but could hear the traffic on Shaftesbury Avenue, some fifty yards away.

“If Barrington Trenchard has sent you on this mission of yours then I"m sure he must have filled in some details, Patrick. Are you fishing for bigger game in order to persuade me to visit Tottenham Court Road nick again, because there"s really no need?”

Another bottle of golden colour liquor appeared without a label attached, as our two glasses were refilled.

“I was trying to get more background on you as you"ll have my life in your hands. Not only would I like you to change your statement slightly, I need an introduction to someone you both know. Only Trenchard is on the same side of the fence with no camouflage to work behind nowadays.”

“Who might that be then?” he asked as my packet of cigarettes was further used.

“A Charlie Miller! I was told he is a top rank Met Police officer. My Mr Trenchard believes he knows the p**n magazine trade in London inside out. Apparently every shop we raid is suddenly emptied of pornographic material before we arrive and it"s Miller"s department who organise the raids. Whoever he"s in with is always one step ahead of us and we would like to stop that with your help. That was to be my next mission, hence the reason for the disguise. Not that it worked that well did it? We just need you to take out all reference to what I look like.”

“A bit odd that your lot would expose you in such a high profile way just before another operation, don"t you think?”

“That"s why I joined the police, Jack. To uphold the law. Mine"s not to reason why.”

“And why did Barrington Trenchard send you looking for me, do you think?”

“The only reason I can think of is that he suspects you might know Miller and know his tricks.”

“Hmm,” was the only reply as he sipped his drink before adding, “anything in it for me, this help you ask for?”

“About the same reward you got from MI5 when they dispensed with your services, Jack. Nothing but our thanks.”

“I did get the pension that you remarked on, Pat, plus I got the chair I"m sitting in.”

“Strange gift, the chair I mean. Far from normal government furniture, I would have thought.”

“And you wouldn"t be wrong in that. It was presented to me when I came home from abroad and they billeted me at an outstation of Five in Pinner, Middlesex. It was part of my job to grade the pupils at the nearby Harrow School as to their prospects towards a career in the intelligence gathering industry.”

“Funny shape for a chair,” I said, to which he made no comment.

“Give me half an hour to dress, shave and what have you, then you can buy me dinner. I hope, but doubt, you"ve got a huge expense account as I"m as hungry as an old war horse, and the club I and Miller use doesn"t open until nine o"clock. We"ll have hours to fill with food and drink before you"ll have a chance to meet one another. Go find Fifi on the floor below, tell her I send my avuncular love. Her real name is Gloria, comes every day from Bethnal Green. The door painted pink is hers. Likes a quick turnaround of clients, does my French neighbour, so she won"t keep you long.” Again he laughed, but even more so when I declined that invitation.

“Scared I might hear of your s****l prowess, or lack of it, are you!” he said as he left the room.

“While you"re away I"ll try to think of reasons why you only empty ashtrays when you have a visitor. Not many call on you, I"m guessing,” I countered.