Chapter Thirteen: The second night of surveillance. It was 6pm on the 15th and we were both enjoying a quick meal in the restaurant across the road from the Motel. Trucks and cars rumbled past, it was a busy road, but we felt safe. I raised my hand to call for the check. A second later my mobile rang; it was Jeff, my best mate from back home. ‘Hi Jeff, what’s doing?’ ‘Not much in my back yard, but your car has taken a hit. The nearside passenger window is shot, there’s glass all over the inside of the car. And someone has taken a kick or two at the same door. It’s driveable though’ ‘Bloody Hell! I upset some guy at work and he knows a few people I can tell you; and the house?’ ‘Same, back door kicked in, draws and cupboards emptied. They were looking for something’. ‘Do us a favour Jeff, call the AA for me and get the car home. And call the cops to the house. Then get ready to meet Catriona and me at Gatwick airport’. ‘Catriona, what time is our flight due in at Gatwick? Have we got a flight number?’ ‘Hang on a minute, it’s in my bag. Here you go, departure 430am on the 16th, arrival 10am, flight number yz203a’.
I repeat the information to Jeff and he is glad to help. He will sort out a few things at home, especially the house and our pickup from the airport. Now back at the room we place all the kit in a holdall and throw in a few energy bars, and a couple of bottled drinks. We’re both dressed in dark clothes and trainers. We looked each other up and down, assessing each other’s abilities and attractiveness; attractiveness you ask? Yes it’s what all couples do, isn’t it? Breathing deeply, giving each other courage, we kiss, lock the door and walk with purpose towards the hired car. If we could just get through one night of evidence gathering, everything may just work out in our favour. ‘Right Steve, where shall we start?’ The lodge in: ‘Bridge Water Township’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because: if we can take a few pictures of people coming and going, it will prove association. The New York Police Department and maybe even the Feds will love it’. Catriona and I were getting in deep and knew it; our military training was helping us make the right decisions with regards the mission. But I was not even sure of this anymore. We were trapped within a sequence of events that could only end in violence. The police would regard our evidence as circumstantial and if we did not see this through, the situation would hang heavily on our shoulders. Until, one day, just around the corner, confrontation, violence, intimidation, possibly even death awaited us. We had to proceed.
The time was now approaching 6pm and it was all ready dark. The temperature was still minus 1, maybe even minus 3 degrees, it was not snowing, but snow covered everything that was not manually cleared or driven to slush. I was driving and approached the lodge road slowly, rounding the final corner with caution and parking at the start of the road. As I turned the headlights off the car became cloaked by the darkness of the street. Catriona was already checking her firearm was loaded and the safety was on; I did the same. She then leaned into the back of the car and dragged the holdall to her lap. She passed the parabolic dish to me and kept hold of the night sight. Red and green LED’s shone brightly in the darkness of the car as we switched on the surveillance kit; Cat threw the holdall onto the back seat. It was at least 150 metres to the lodge, but we had a clear line of site diagonally across the road, and into the car park area at the front of the building. The big man’s orange Range Rover was parked out front and light could be seen coming from inside the building. ‘Shall we take a closer look?’ ‘No not yet, let’s wait and see if the goons or anyone else turns up’. Now the engine was off, the car was getting cold and I started to feel it. Firstly in my feet, then my legs, this was not good. Sitting static, in a car, in minus temperatures was lunacy and our breath started to steam the windows. Then a car turned the far end of the street, so I wiped the windscreen. It was the black Cadillac, it parked behind the Range Rover; skidding in the snow and gently rocking on its soft suspension as the brakes locked and finally rested. Just a few minutes later it was followed by a blue Chevrolet with two as yet unidentified persons in the front seats. Our respective devices were trained on the car park targets, to see and hear what was going on. The car park was not well lit, but Catriona could still see the two goons and their driver exit the Cadillac with her night sight; and remain waiting for the other car. I had the window open and was all ready tweaking the parameter pots on the Parabolic Dish, trying to tune the dish to its best effect; smiling with satisfaction as I heard the first sounds of conversation start to break through the cold night air. The narrative was feint, but after few more tweaks it became clearer and I hit the record button.
‘This should be more fun than your normal meeting. Nosa and Banta will be kicking ass for sure, business is slow’. ‘Don’t I know it, and that bloody job with those English idiots is not looking good; shush: here they come’. The Chevrolet parked behind the Cadillac. My mouth must have visibly dropped opened in disbelief. ‘It’s Ray, its bloody Ray and that McGovan geezer, what are they doing here and together to boot? Quick, get the camera, the camera!’ Catriona quickly dropped the night sight and grabbed the camera, eagerly twisting the zoom lens in an attempt to get a clear picture of the group talking. ‘I can’t see anything’. ‘Open the window, quickly! Get some pictures’. ‘What are they saying Steve’. ‘Not much at the moment it’s all hi how you doing stuff’. ‘Ray looks a little worried, but McGovan just looks hard and scary. They are being asked to go inside, must be for a meeting of some sort’. Cat and I were mesmerized by the sight of Ray meeting with these New York Cocaine dealers that appear to be using a Masons Lodge as cover to supply and distribute Cocaine. Unbelievable, what next? We both agreed in a glance that there must be more to the paperwork that I had took from Ray and we must get closer to the lodge to find out what was going on. It was now 10pm and extremely dark, dark enough to approach the lodge for sure. Catriona and I placed the night sight and sound equipment on the back seat, the folding handle helping to flatten out the 10 inch dish. We both patted our coat pockets to check the Ruger LCP’s were ready and available. It was now or never; we got out of the car, gently closed the car doors and slowly walked the 100 metres to the lodge; with 20 meters to go I could clearly see the dark red sign on the front gable of the building. Underneath a sprinkling of snow, in a gold font, the sign read: ‘The United Lodge of New York’ beneath the writing was the classic Masonic symbol of a set square and compasses, but no letter ‘G’ as in the UK Masonic symbols; which stands for: ‘By God and Geometry’.
A pedestrian passed us by on the opposite pavement, glanced over and immediately looked to the ground. Cat was getting used to the snow and casually kicked her way forward instead of stepping over the snow as before. Now only 5 metres in front of the car park, both our heart rates were up from a steady sixty to a racy eighty five beats per minute and still climbing. Cat touched her right pocket yet again to check her ‘Ruger’ was still there, searching for some reassurance of well being. Clouds of warm air hit the cold night with every breath, but neither of us could feel the cold anymore. Light was coming from a window on the left and so we headed for a narrow path down that side of the building; both of us were now stepping so slowly that the snow crunching beneath our feet made us wince with every step. As we approached the window, we could hear a low level conversation and every now and again a slightly raised voice could be heard. This voice was obviously one of the big African guys, a heavy African accent lilted with a New York twang was unmistakeable. Neither of us could be sure which guy it was, but it had to be one of the two boss men; Nosa or Banta. As for Ray and McGovan, you could not miss their vocals; Ray had the harsh, even metallic sound of East London, while McGovan’s voice reverberated with that classic Glaswegian rubble from the back of his muscular throat. Now only a few inches from the window, the conversation was clear as long as they did not move further into the building; this side window was a clear glass but our view was obscured by a small curtain. Only a couple of 3 inch gaps allowed us to look into the room. I dare not risk a look into the room just yet, but continued to listen. The conve
rsation was quite formal and polite when coming from Ray and McGovan, a sure sign that a high level of respect was unashamedly being presented; but when Nosa spoke it was with a defined and menacing presence that left fear in the hearts of all those who received his message. Only 3 voices could be heard so the other players were either listening in silence or were in another room. ‘Nosa, please know we understand your frustration in our request to involve you with the Mitchells, it was an extremely unfortunate incident in London that left us with no choice’. ‘No choice! All I can see is a honky white idiot of a man: Stupid and unreliable’! ‘Please, it’s not that bad Nosa’. ‘Not that bad! You lose the details of our drop off to a ‘nobody’ from London and come back to me to help you get them back!’ ‘Did you hear that Cat? Hang on McGovan has stepped in’. ‘Nosa, I am in charge of the UK operation and I shall make changes to reinstall some confidence. I will put a different courier in place instead of Ray. Ray can help me in other area’s’. ‘I do not think so McGovan’. In an instant of this sentence finishing, the building absorbed the shock wave of a high frequency explosion; an explosion so loud and instant that it could mean only one thing. I looked through the glass and saw a snarling Nosa standing over Ray with a pistol; McGovan was in shock, wide eyed and swearing continuously. Nosa had shot Ray through the chest at point blank range. Ray was on his back, his legs and arms convulsing as his brain tried to establish control over its now extraneous limbs. He was gasping for breath, but none came; his throat gurgled as his chest heaved on blood filled lungs. Nosa took one more step forward and calmly stood on his throat; Ray’s eyes bulged with terror, blood spattered onto Nosa’s shoes from Ray’s mouth as blood was forced up his constricted windpipe. His confused brain was shutting down as it ran out of oxygen and he drowned in his own blood, his chest heaved once, twice and then stopped moving. Ray was dead. ‘Do you get the message McGovan, sort it out. We have little time to get this sorted; it’s only four more days until the drop off’. ‘No problem, I have a team in London ready to go. We will pick up as planned’. ‘I am sending Banta over with you, he is my brother, I trust him, and he will watch your operation’. ‘Our plane will leave from the East coast in four days time, to the agreed location and complete the drop, you will, as agreed, retrieve the drop and our business will be done. Do you have the money?’ ‘Here it is; get your boys to count it if you want, but it’s all there: £4.5 million’. ‘We are done, good bye’.