Chapter Eighteen: The Meeting. Catriona woke first at about 2pm, and promptly woke me with a nudge to the ribs. After a good stretch, yawn, and a quick chat about the basics of what we wanted to achieve today; we dressed and headed for the living room. Jeff was still on the sofa, but awake and making rapid progress through a barrel of biscuits. I walked straight into the kitchen and put the kettle on. ‘Do you want tea and toast Cat?’ ‘Yes please’. We sat at the table and discussed our next move. We had to corner McGovan or we would never be safe. Catriona was concerned about my move to involve Tom Brule; I agreed that it was a risk, but Tom new a lot of people and he would be able to introduce us to the right contacts, senior police officers who could to put a serious amount of human resource on the ground. If it all went well, McGovan and his cronies would be in custody within the week. Catriona looked worried, and to be honest I was too, Jeff was his usual nonchalant self. We knew roughly where and when the drop was, all we needed to do was convince the cops that our information was good and get them to mobilise an operation designed to trap McGovan and all the bad guys. It sounded easy but we all know these things never are; we left to meet Tom Brule. He was sat in the far corner of the Costa Coffee as per our agreement. His short and tubby appearance always bordering on the comical; but to his credit his smart and expensive suits had always saved the day and gave the impression of money and style. He had a pretty boy face, well cut dark hair and always looked smart; even good looking. Again: an opposite when compared to me: tall, fit, hard even, with a thinning but shaven scalp. I was always smiling to alleviate the worry I could see in everyone’s face as I entered a room. ‘Hi Tom; how you’re doing?’ ‘Not bad Steve; yourself?’ ‘Well, I’ve had better holidays than this last one that’s for sure! And how are things at work?’ ‘Just as bad if you must know’. ‘Sit down Steve, relax, and you Catriona; how are you?’ ‘I’m fine thanks Tom’. Cat was her usual curt self with Tom; she just didn’t trust him, plain and simple. ‘And this is a friend, I presume?’ ‘Yes Tom. This is Jeff, my best mate’. Jeff just sat down and did not say a word; his usual ‘say nothing’ style and sheer size, enabling him to control his environment with little worry of eloquence or a need to impress. ‘Ok, what’s the issue here? Why the sudden drama of a must have meeting at short notice?’ A waitress attended our table: ‘Coffee anyone?’ ‘Yes please, skinny Latte’s all round’.
Now I did not necessarily trust Tom, but I had no choice really. He listened intently and sometimes with utter astonishment at my tales and information, accounted from, and investigated in: New York. Tom seemed to listen with a renewed level of interest when I went on to describe how I came to have possession of Ray Meads business folder and what I found contained within, and as our coffee arrived: how the same folder implicated association with the known criminal ‘McGovan’ and that they were both Freemasons. Albeit, McGovan was expelled, but he was a Mason and he was in association with Ray Mead. The final and damning link: being the sighting of both men together at the lodge in New York. And the two of us witnessing his murder; then McGovan hindering our escape and chasing us through the Bridge Water Township, and Manhattan: Guns blazing. We have been busy haven’t we? And where an earth do I fit into all this? And have you been to the Police?’ ‘We have not been to the Police, here or in the States, because we have been busy trying to stay alive. We want to approach the UK Police now, but have not got a clue on how or where to start, so that we may be taken seriously. We reckon there is only two days to the drop and we cannot afford to be giving statements for two or three days while they get the gear and disappear. This is where you come in’. ‘I do?’ ‘Yes Tom; You and I damn well know you have more than one contact within the City of London Police, maybe even the commissioner himself. Setup a meeting within twenty four hours and we will spill the beans; and then hopefully the cops can set up an operation to nail these bastards’. ‘Well Steve, it seems like you do have a point and I may be able to help you. This seems serious enough not to be a waste of my time. I’ll do it’. ‘Great. Where do we start?’ ‘Go home and’. ‘I don’t think so’. Catriona interrupts. We were all thinking the same thing; but Cat was in to him like a shot from an LCP! ‘Ok, OK, Catriona. Go where ever you feel safe. Call me in twenty four hours and I will have your contact ready’. ‘Not quick enough Tom; make it twelve hours instead, we do not have enough time’. ‘Ok, it’s agreed then; call me in twelve hours. That’s at 5 am tomorrow morning’.
This was good news. I think. We all stood up, shook hands and departed the Cafe. The expected doubts and criticisms from Catriona came forth as soon as we hit the open air; she was still going when we got in the car. ‘You can’t trust him, he’s a slimy toad, he will only make himself look good and dump us in the mire’. Well, as much as I love her and to be honest still lust over her tight little bum, this was getting boring and hence I started getting a little stressed myself. ‘We need him Cat! He will get us straight to a senior detective. We can explain our story and share our information; and then nail these bastards with the help of the law’. ‘I just hope your right Steve, for all our sakes’. Jeff headed down the A13 and out of the east End, the street lights now blazing brightly as the evening turned to a cold and black night sky. But it was not overcast so the stars shone brightly. I stared up through the top of the windscreen at the night sky and thought to myself what a bloody beautiful evening for a jog, blood lovely. We soon passed the last speed camera and Jeff pushed the Jag up to a steady 80mph. It wasn’t long before we hit the junction for the M25 turnoff and then quickly onwards to the Queen Elizabeth bridge at Dartford. ‘Where are we going then?’ ‘Jeff’s’ Demanded Catriona. ‘It’s Ok with me Steve, if that’s what you want, none of these mugs know where I live, should be safe’. ‘Let’s do it. Food would be good too; Chinese?’ ‘Suit’s me’.
Jeff’s mechanical alarm clock was ringing my ears off and Catriona was punching me in the back to turn it off. The playful but thudding punches were soon replaced with Catriona’s feminine warmth soaking into my back; I rolled over and embraced her deeply, taking in her sweet aroma. The same sweet aroma that captured my very being some 17 years ago released by the prime evil link that bonded us together without our consent. We kissed and hugged, my groin pushed into her womanhood, I became hard, but held back. It was at least a week since we had made love and I was missing the intense pleasure that only mutual copulation can provide. But how can anyone chill out and make love when you know McGovan could knock on your door at any time. ‘Cat’ ‘Yes dear’. ‘Let’s get breakfast and call that slime ball Tom’. ‘OK’. Jeff strolled into the kitchen just as Cat was cooking the bacon; the smell wafting around the bungalow was a delight, quickly followed by the smell of strong coffee. ‘Lovely Cat, got some for me?’ ‘Anything for the man of the house: first service in two minutes’. Jeff joined me at the table and Cat shortly after, we all laid into the bacon, eggs, beans and toast. ‘So, today’s the day then. Who is going to call him?’ ‘It’s got to be Toms buddy Steve’ Sniped Cat. ‘All right give it a rest Cat. I’ll finish my grub and give him a call’. ‘Not from here; on the landline or on a mobile. They could trace either call with software or triangulation. Drive at least 5 miles down the road and call him from there’. ‘Fair play Cat, that’s good thinking’.
The call to Tom was friendly, brief and thorough. He had great pleasure informing me that he had sorted things out and that I should meet him and his contact at 2pm, at New Scotland Yard, Victoria Street, London. This sounded good to me and on my return to the house, I gleefully informed Catriona that he must be on the level as we were to meet this detective at New Scotland Yard. As nervous as I was, it all sounded credible to me. We talked about it, and talked some more, but nothing changed, we still had to go or we would never be free. Jeff offered to bring his brothers and some of the local hoods in to watch over us. I seriously considered this, but thought we would stick to the plan and use the legal route. We had a police contact that was sure to listen and then devise
a plan to trap these drug smuggling thugs. Jeff repeated his offer. ‘Are you sure Steve? These boys can handle it’. ‘No thanks Jeff, it will be fine, I don’t want to drag your family and friends into this, it’s not right’. I touched Catriona’s hand once more and asked her if she was ready. ‘We need to wash and change, then get ourselves up town; let’s get a move on. Its 9am now, and we need to leave at 11am on the dot. And we need to take the car, not the train’. ‘Yes dear!’ I could definitely sense a lighter mood developing. Maybe the idea of meeting our detective police officer was creating a false sense of security. Personally, I am still very aware of the predicament we are in; one slip on our part or shear bad luck that McGovan or his mugs catch up with us and we are in trouble. The life threatening kind of trouble, let’s not kid ourselves.
It’s a cold and dry day when we drive into London, nothing special happens. The traffic is normal, busy and congested, but the Jags auto box is a pleasure for Jeff to manage the traffic, and also creates a delightfully smooth ride for the passengers. All this belies the weight of worry that puts creases of stress across my forehead; and causes Catriona to tense her eyes into small slits, as if fending off a series of bright lights. But it’s not bright and sunny outside; in fact it’s definitely over cast with a thin layer of winter cloud. We are soon passing Victoria train station and heading up Victoria Street towards New Scotland Yard. Take the left and park a little way down by the tube station, there are some parking meters on the left. Don’t bother calling for an e-ticket, we may not be long. It’s only 1330 hrs, let‘s just wait here a few minutes. A good ten minutes pass by and the car is unnervingly quiet; but the silence is broken by a sudden tap on the rear passenger window, jolting us all to the bone. All three of us turn to see who our assailant may be; then sigh with relief as we recognise Tom’s grinning face through the glass, his breath misting the window, his pudgy finger wiping the misted glass. I immediately jump out of the car followed by Catriona; Jeff is still in the driver’s seat. ‘Bloody Hell Tom, you know we’re on edge at the moment’. ‘Sorry old boy; couldn’t help myself’. Catriona just stares at him with contempt. I can see the daggers in Tom’s back as we speak. ‘Well are we going in? Will Jeff get access to the underground car park?’ ‘No’. Catriona immediately jumps in and accuses Tom of a double cross, and is already opening the car door to leave. I grab her arm and Tom is trying not to smile at Catriona when he repeats himself. ‘NO, to the car parking: senior personnel only. You will have to park down the road and then access the building via the front door like any normal visitor. It’s also a Saturday, so don’t worry there will be plenty of spaces and we have a 24/7 security guard at reception.’ I gave Catriona a reassuring look and thanked Tom. It’s bloody freezing and the cold was getting to me. I rubbed my hands together and pulled my skull cap over my ears. ‘Can we get a move on, I’m freezing’. Tom nods at me and instructs me to ask Jeff to park down the street and meet us in reception. I actually start to feel quite excited as we walk across the street towards the entrance of New Scotland Yard. I have quite often felt regret at not joining the force on my release from the Military Police. Now was my chance to enter a new world of intrigue, power and dangerous military style planning to catch world class villains; this was impressive stuff and we would surely reach an agreement to devise a plan of action, to ambush McGovan red handed with the drugs. The automatic doors opened to our approach and we immediately felt the comforting warmth of the above sited air curtain, the hot airflow washing over us. The three of us entered the building and found ourselves in the public enquiries lobby; we sat down and waited for Jeff. During this time I took the opportunity to ask Tom who we were meeting and if he felt they could help us. Tom was in his element: he was needed and could show off. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he told us of his plan. The meeting was not easy to setup, he had to call several ‘brethren’ in his search for a contact, but finally hit the right note with a good friend of his from an adjacent lodge. His colleague had to get agreement from his contact that the Inspector was available. Once the essential background information was passed on and its importance understood, he agreed to the meeting. His name was Detective Inspector Peter Bramley and he had been with the force for fifteen years. He was experienced, respected and would listen to what we had to say.
Jeff ambled up the approach path to the entrance; baggy jeans hanging onto who knows what for support, and incredibly only wearing a T shirt on his upper half. Even though he is my friend, I can only guess that he has enough insulating fat not to feel the cold: The Fat Bastard. It was now that Tom headed for the lift and pushed the call button; Catriona and Jeff spooked him. Something was not quite right with Tom, I had always thought that anyway, but put it down to his complete lack of emotional rapport with anyone or anything. He was like it with his wife, friends, work colleagues and anyone I had seen him interact with; I was quite used to it and took no notice. We were here in New Scotland Yard, so I was sure I had made the right moves and that we would get this situation sorted. Cat and I would then get our lives back in order. Jeff squeezed into the lift, pushing us to the back of the car. Tom pushed the button for the 6th floor. The car gently powered its way up, slowed down and gently locked into position to enable the doors to open. Jeff walked out and we followed, Tom was at the back of the group and pushed his way through to lead the way. We were in a small reception lobby and a young lady of approx 20 yrs of age jumped up from behind her computer screen and smiled. As no obvious police personnel were present, her smile quickly turned to a stern look of concern. ‘Good day how may I help’. Tom declared he had a scheduled meeting with DI Bramley. ‘Oh I see’ she replied in a short, curt manner. ‘Please take a seat’. It took 10 minutes; but then a smart apparition of the classic Victorian brit breezed his way in, briefly smiled at the receptionist and headed straight for Tom and offered his hand. The hand shake was soft and deliberate, and a bit odd. Fingers to the back of the hand were paired and straight. ‘How are you Tom?’ ‘I’m fine Peter it’s good to see you once more’. ‘Are these your friends with an interesting story to tell?’
Cat and I stood up to accept an introduction, but were sorely disappointed as Tom and peter just strolled off; Tom just wagging his finger to instruct us to follow. On following him through the intersecting door I was surprised to see that we were not in an open office clattering with activity, but in a corridor with at least a dozen side office doors. The corridor was painted an off white and had one of those thick, but hard wearing carpets similar to the type you find in a good hotel. Not what I was expecting at all, but it was well lit, nearly glaring to the eyes. Twelve or so paces along the corridor and we filed through the 3rd door on the left. The room was so busy with furniture and personal anecdotes from his personal life and professional achievements that you felt obliged to work through his life history before beginning any business. The guy was your typical high achiever and obviously enjoying living the dream. I was pleasantly surprised to see the office was of some size and had a large window, allowing plenty of light to enter the room and for its occupants to admire the view. Jeff was his usual self and just sat down in the most comfortable chair without being asked, but I must say with Tom and Peter being so ‘buddy buddy’ it was the only course of action to make any sense. Catriona and I just stood to attention in front of his desk as he calmly made himself comfortable; then finally he gestured to us that he was about to speak and we should pay attention. He looked over, smiled and said: ‘How can I be of assistance?’ ‘Where do I start?’ ‘At the beginning: Mr Mitchell, at the beginning’. I could not help but get a little animated, Tom and Peter Bramley just let me carry on. Then Catriona waded in and then we explained about my fallout with Ray, but did not explain any further details as to why we fell out. And then some details about our trip to New York; that was meant to be a holiday, but turned into a mission to survive and how I was beaten to a pulp and left on the sidewalk. We had to move hotels; and how we searched for evidence by watching the hoods
that gave me a beating, and whilst we kept the lodge under surveillance; we spotted Ray mead turn up with McGovan. ‘And how did you know where this so called lodge was?’ ‘We had Ray Mead’s paperwork, which he had left behind at the cafe Costa in London. But to be honest I only starting reading it in some depth after our room was ransacked and I had received a beating. Cat and I wanted to find out what was going on. And what did we find? Ray Mead was a Freemason and was in cahoots with a known UK criminal called McGovan, who had been expelled from his Freemason Lodge and was meeting New York drug dealers in a US Masonic Lodge. Come on! And while we were watching them, they spoke about a UK drop off. They were arguing about Ray Mead and his mistakes and then this big black guy just shot him at point blank range. ‘How do you know they are drug dealers?’ ‘Well it was pretty bloody obvious! We followed the hoods to the lodge and also whilst they collected cash from the street dealers. When we were outside listening in, they were talking about a drop off to the UK team’. ‘Did they mention drugs or any other illegal substance during this argument?’ ‘Well actually, No’. ‘Mr and Mrs Mitchell, It appears you have had a rough time and got yourself into a bit of a mess’. Catriona was infuriated and was all ready shouting at Bramley before I could stop her. ‘A bit of a mess; do you realise we have had our home and hotel room ransacked, our car vandalised and Steve was nearly kicked to death. In addition to that: we have witnessed drug dealers in action and a man shot at point blank range. I was nearly killed as we tried to escape the lodge; that psychopath McGovan tried to chase us down as we headed for the airport. What are you going to do? And they were waiting for us at Heathrow airport; they are organised criminals who will stop at nothing to kill us’. Detective Inspector Bramley calmly replied that he would take our information and discuss a plan of action with his team of detectives. He would update us early on the day of the drop about his plans to set up a sting. If this did pay off, it would be a pat on the back for him and we would be free to live our lives. Tom just sat there and listened to the story throughout the meeting; only know did he sit up and in quite an aloof manner declare. ‘Ok then Steve? Peter will sort the team out, check your facts and mobilise the operation. It’ll be fine’.
I smiled, thanked them both, and offered my hand. Catriona and Jeff stood up and left. I was on my own and feeling awkward; so I backed out of the office with more of a grimace than a smile on my face. Cat and Jeff were already in the lift lobby, nothing was said, even when we were in the lift. It wasn’t until we were in the car that Catriona broke the Ice. It was all too cosy, and no Police protocol was followed at anytime during the meeting. No formal interview, no statements and no official paperwork. I don’t trust them, we need a plan B. ‘And what do you propose’. ‘We use Jeff, his brothers, and their mates’. ‘To do what’ ‘Look. If we let Jeff inform his brothers of what is going on, Jeff can track us, keep an eye on us and let rip if need be’. Jeff looked me in the eye and nodded. ‘Ok by me’. ‘I don’t think we should wait for Tom’s boy Peter Bramley either. We have the Latitude and Longitude coordinates; and we know the drop off could be at any time tomorrow. If we go tonight and stay in a local hotel, we can setup a hide first thing in the morning. The drop will not be until that evening anyway. And we get away from Jeff’s also; by relocating we reduce the risk of McGovan catching up with us. ‘We will need sleeping bags, binoculars, green plastic sheeting and something to eat and drink’. ‘What about something to defend ourselves with; we managed in New York, but here in London?’ ‘Jeff, can you help? What about one of the Cray boys?’ ‘With only eight hours until we travel up north? I can’t promise anything and what condition it will be in, is any ones guess.’ ‘Try Jeff, please’. ‘Look Steve, we are nearly back at the house, I’ll give the lads a call then’. ‘No Jeff, we need an outdoors shop and fast, you can give them a call while we are in the shop. Ok.’