A Price Too High, Chapter Three

SAC Tim Laurence/MOD, OGL 3 https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/version/3/

It was a struggle to get up, neither of them wanted to leave the warmth of the bed. The need to pee forced Dave out of bed first, it was 11:15. He brought two cups of coffee up from the kitchen. It was 12:00 when Sally finally got out of bed and into the bathroom. “Bloody Hell, I didn’t think my bladder could hold that much. The heating was off and it was cool in the bedroom. Both had quick showers before dressing and going downstairs. The kitchen wasn’t as bad as Sally thought it would be, there was enough room on the table to eat breakfast, she had toast and orange juice. Dave had the remains of the crumble with ice cream. “You do what ever you had planned, I will clean up here and in the dining room.”

In the spare bedroom he fired up his laptop, there was an email to be written, he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. Staring at a blank email template, he began by putting in the recipients. Brigadier James Storey, his contact at the MOD, Jane Goodley, Head of MI5, both of them paid him a retainer to be ready to carry out work that, if it went pear shaped, could be denied. Sally was part of the package, she had the same security clearance as Dave, they complimented each other, she was very good at creating reports and making sense of Dave’s findings. The cursor was still flashing, waiting for Dave to start. In the subject line he typed ‘Upcoming trouble on the UK streets’. He thought again before starting on the text.

‘I have been made aware of a threat to the internal security of the UK. This involves both the MOD and MI5. I request a meeting as soon as possible, preferably at a safe house, either the one in St. Albans or Watford. The meeting should take no longer than two – three hours. No aides or assistants to be present. Proof of the threat will be given at the meeting. Please contact me to arrange time and place’.

He signed the email and pressed send. The Brigadier wouldn’t respond until Monday, he wasn’t sure if Jane Goodley looked at her emails at the weekend, they didn’t like each other, she didn’t like the way he worked and the methods he used, however she respected him for the speed in which he produced results. The Brigadier on the other hand liked Dave, especially the way he didn’t care who he upset or his lack of respect for authority.

Jane Goodley did work at weekends, she was on the phone within an hour. Dave wouldn’t elaborate any further on the threat. “I have the proof here with me, I cannot bring it into London, hence the meeting in a safe house.” “It had better be important, I will call the Brigadier at home then phone you back.” “Be at the Watford house at 12:00 tomorrow, Mrs. Gregory will be there.” “I will be there at 11:30, I have some preparation to do first.”

It had taken nearly two hours to send one simple email and make arrangements for the next day. Sally brought him a coffee, “It’s all back to normal downstairs. How did you get on?” “I have to be in Watford for a meeting tomorrow.” “Why Watford?” “I think I might get some funny looks if I took the rifle and the Glock into central London on the tube. There is a safe house in Watford.”

Sally wanted to go for a walk, both had coats, gloves and hats on as they left the house. Very few people were out and about, the park in the middle of Loughborough was almost deserted. They walked straight through and made for Costa. Most of the customers were students, using the free wifi. Sally sat at a table away from everyone else. “What will happen after tomorrow’s meeting?” “I’m not sure, MI5 may want to take it over themselves, at the same time, I cannot see the MOD letting anyone from outside investigate them. I am certain we will be involved in some way.” With their coffees drunk, they took a different route back. They had very little to eat that evening, the meal from last night was still having an effect.

In the morning they were both in the bathroom together, Sally had to be at work, Dave wanted to shave before setting off. They both left at the same time. Sally was off to the university where she worked as a receptionist on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, Dave was heading for the M1. At the address in Watford, he was expected. It was a three bed 1950’s built detached house on a busy road. No one noticed the comings and goings at number forty seven. In the kitchen, Mrs. Gregory watched him as he made coffee, he asked her if she wanted one. “No, do you need me for anything?” “Two things, will you switch off the audio recording while we are here, and do you have a thick cloth I can put over the dining table, I don’t want to scratch it. Oh, I need another cloth to cover the items on the table.” She went off to find the cloths he wanted, she returned with two thick towels and a tablecloth. “I will have to speak to Miss Goodley regarding the recordings, she organised this, it’s her meeting.” Dave brought in the cardboard boxes and laid the contents on the towels. He covered them with the tablecloth. He waited in the living room for the others to arrive. The Brigadier was first, “What the Hell is going on, that woman rang me up yesterday afternoon.” “It’s my fault, sorry about that.” Dave put his finger up to his lips to indicate to the Brigadier not to say anything. It was just after midday when Jane Goodley arrived. Her arrival signalled Mrs. Gregory to bring in coffee and biscuits. Dave loved a biscuit, as he ate, he asked for the audio recording to be switched off. There was a nod and Mrs. Gregory left them. “What’s all this about?” Dave stood up and asked them to follow him, in the dining room, he pulled back the table cloth. “I bought these in Birmingham last week. There clear, you can pick them up. The Brigadier picked up the rifle, “this is standard issue, the odd one will go missing, it’s nothing major.” Jane Goodley was holding the Glock. “I’ve come here to see some army weapons?” “No, you’ve come here to see a piece of paper I have in my briefcase.” Dave opened up his case and handed them each a copy of the price list Marius had given him. “Bloody Hell, someone could start a war with this lot.” The Brigadier was staring at the list. “We need you to tell us how you came about these weapons. Dave went back into the living room. “I have a friend in Birmingham who helps me out with supplies from time to time. We had a meeting where he passed me the original price list, I asked him to buy what you see next door.” Dave explained the buying and delivery process, and how it was untraceable. “The sellers are from Liverpool or the surrounding area, my friend is worried his livelihood is in danger, he will only do business with people he trusts, these people will sell to anyone with the money. He thinks it will be drugs next. The weapons are old shit, way past their best, but if someone is pointing a gun at you, it doesn’t matter. All the serial numbers have been ground off, however I have an acquaintance who works in forensics do his magic and I have the serial numbers from the two next door.”

“What’s your theory?” “I’m not sure, but this is my best guess. A gang from the north west wants to expand, they have a supply of ex army weapons which they are using to destabilise the Birmingham gang network. Mostly they tolerate each other with only the odd skirmish, with loads of weapons on the streets, anarchy will reign. The gang supplying the weapons will wait and pounce when they see weakness, taking over new territory without too much trouble, they would then use their own enforcers to kill anyone left still with weapons. Control of drugs and prostitution transferred to themselves. They would then move on to the next city. This is all conjecture and rumour, I have no hard evidence to offer.” The Brigadier asked what the next move should be. “As far as the army is concerned, it has to find out where the weapons are coming from and stop it. For MI5, they will have to deal with the shit on the ground. I’m not sure the police in Liverpool would be very good. Who knows if the people behind this, don’t have a bent copper inside, feeding them intel. I have a plan, it’s risky and expensive, but if it comes off would solve the problem.” “How expensive, and how risky?” It was the Head of MI5 this time. “Between £100k and £150k, it depends, “what do you need that money for?” “I may need specialist assistance, plus I might need to hire some additional equipment.” “I don’t like the sound of all that, not the money, it’s the specialist assistance bit I don’t like.” “Fine, you have the information, let the police investigate, see how long it takes them and how expensive it will be for them to get nowhere. My method would be quick and clinical.”  “I think the Home Secretary needs to be involved in this. I cannot make that decision on my own.” No one said anything for a while, the Brigadier and Jane Goodley were deep in thought, the only sound was Dave eating biscuits. It was the Brigadier who broke the silence, “I don’t think anything further will be achieved here today. David, if you give me the serial numbers, I will get on to it this afternoon.” Jane Goodley said she would be in touch. The weapons were put into the Brigadier’s car.

Dave drove for a few minutes before he stopped, he took out a note book from an inside pocket and called a number. “Taff? David Stretton, I did six months of training with you in Hereford, Military Intelligence, you remember, yes, I’m fine, I might have a little bit of work for you, would you be interested? Can I come and see you? I’m in Watford just now, it will probably take me three hours to get to Cardiff.” Dave wrote down the agreed meeting place. “See you then.” He sent Sally a message saying he was on his way to see someone and would be late home, possibly after midnight.

Dave found George Evans, commonly known as Taff standing at the bar, he was shorter than Dave, but wider, he had a face that said, ‘don’t mess with me unless you want to spend some time in hospital’. They greeted each other with a hug. The bar was busy so they stood out on the street with their drinks. Each said how they came to be out the army, they swapped stories and talked about people they both knew. “You haven’t come down here to talk about old times, you want something?” “Not here, can we walk until we find a quieter place. They sat on a bench in the station concourse. It was less cold, there were very few people about. Dave told him as little as possible, “I may need a team to carry out some work, would you be interested in leading it and do you know of any possible recruits.” “Where, when, how many, how long?” “Where, I’m not sure, when, I don’t know, how many, no more than eight, how long, a day, at most.” “How much?” “£10k per man, obviously more for you.” “I might know of some who are available.” “Will they need kit?” “No, they all have everything they need.”

Dave headed home, happy in the knowledge he had made a start.
 

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