‘Bit crackly in places, but I heard the tail end clearly and it’s on tape.’
Frank was about to rewind the tape and play it but Bradfield told him not to in case they started a conversation on the walkie-talkie again and he missed recording it. ‘It’s OK, I’ve written it down in shorthand,’ said Frank.
‘John Bentley, Target One, said “It won’t be tonight”, so I assume he was talking to Clifford, Target Two. They still aren’t into the vault.’
‘Was that it?’ Bradfield asked, alert now.
‘No. Target Two said there’s someone in a van pulling up outside the tailor’s shop.’
‘It’ll be fucking Mannie!’ Bradfield exclaimed, and hurried over to the front window.
He could see Mannie under the street light unloading suits from the van and taking them into the shop. ‘Shit, how long’s he been there?’ He turned to the surveillance officer who had earlier played the part of the tramp and was now watching what was happening from the window.
‘Just arrived, sir. I was waiting to see what he did before I disturbed you, but Frank got to you first.’
Frank had removed the headphones so the CB was now on loudspeaker for Bradfield to hear what the suspects were saying. He recognized John Bentley’s voice.
Tell us what’s happening, Dad.
The driver’s alone and gone into the shop.
Is it the shoe-shop woman? Is she back again? John was wondering if Hebe had returned because she was suspicious.
No, it’s a little geezer gone into the tailor’s shop.
Bradfield was pulling his hair out wondering what the hell Mannie was doing there so late at night. He watched him return to the van for a third time and carry another armful of plastic-covered garments into the shop. When he closed the van’s back doors Bradfield thought he was going to leave, but he went into the shop shutting the door behind him. Bradfield phoned Gibbs.
Seeing the light flashing on the silent phone they had installed in the shoe shop Gibbs answered it and Bradfield updated him on Mannie Charles’s movements.
‘What you going to do?’ Gibbs asked.
‘There’s nothing I can do. If I send anyone over to the front of the shop then Clifford will see them from the rooftop and get suspicious. We’ll just have to sit it out like our targets are. So make sure you don’t make a sound in your op.’
Bradfield sat down in the armchair again and shut his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. It was the frustration and the underlying fear that the whole job would go wrong and they’d have no result for all their efforts.
It was nearly 2 a.m. by the time Mannie Charles eventually turned off the lights and locked up his premises.
‘The tailor has come out the shop, guv,’ Frank said, and Bradfield got up and went over to the window.
As Bradfield stood back and watched Mannie drive off in his van he heard Clifford and John’s voices over the radio.
The coast is clear now, but can we pack up soon as my bollocks are almost frozen?
OK, I’ll pick you up in thirty.
Bradfield knew it would still be at least half an hour before John and Danny were on the move as they would have to replace the plasterboard to conceal the hole in the wall and tidy up.
Unaware he was being watched Silas stood in the yard hosing his and Danny’s boots down. John drove out from the alley and then across the main road to the car park where he pulled up outside and Clifford, who was already waiting, jumped in.
Bradfield told the mobile surveillance units to keep well back as there would be little traffic on the road. He reckoned the targets would be returning to their home addresses anyway, where the other officers waiting in observation vans would pick them up again. It seemed that Danny Mitcham was still at the café, and as there was no drilling sound Bradfield assumed he was sleeping there. Once John Bentley was well away from the area, and all the lights were out in the café, Bradfield gave the coded signal over the radio that everyone in Ops Three and Four could stand down. He instructed them to meet him in half an hour in the canteen at City Road, the nearest local police station, for a quick debrief. Those watching the suspects’ home addresses were to remain in situ and take it in turns to get some sleep.
Returned to Hackney Station after the debrief, Bradfield and Spencer went to the incident room.
‘At least we know they’re coming back later. They must be close to getting into the vault and when they do we pounce,’ Gibbs said, yawning.
‘I hope so because these all-nighters do my head in.’
Bradfield went over to the board with the array of mug shots and tapped the photograph of David Bentley.
‘I hope we get him as well. Maybe they’ll use him tomorrow. Be nice to bang up all the Bentleys at the same time.’
‘What about Renee their mother?’
‘Arrest her as well if she’s involved,’ he said. Tapping the mug shot of Clifford Bentley he continued, ‘He didn’t wait long, only out the nick a few minutes and gonna be back for the rest of his natural any time soon.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t all turn to rat shit,’ Gibbs said, yawning again.
Bradfield glared at him. ‘Why are you being negative again? If everyone does their job properly nothing will go wrong and we’ll catch them red-handed on the plot. That’s what the DCS wants and that’s what he’s gonna get, right?’
‘Right, but I was just playing devil’s advocate because what if they come back and it doesn’t go down for some reason?’
Bradfield lit a cigarette, took a long drag and inhaled deeply.
‘We just wait. Besides, it’s a bank holiday weekend so it gives them an extra day to work. I bet they’re planning to get it done before everything opens again on Tuesday.’
‘Come on, Len, how long can Operation Hawk go on for? I mean, we don’t actually know how close they are to the vault. What if it’s another week? You then run a greater risk of them sussing out a surveillance unit, and if that happens they’ll fuck off out the country, leaving us with egg on our faces. Why not take them out when they go back tomorrow night, while they’re in the tunnel?’
Bradfield inhaled again, letting the smoke drift from his nose.
‘No, I want them with the goods in their greedy little mitts. It’s my career on the line here, Spence, not yours. And if this goes belly up I won’t have one.’
They were interrupted by a deep groggy voice. Kath’s head popped up from behind a desk in the far corner where she had been trying to sleep, using her coat as a makeshift blanket.
‘Good to hear you both sounding so confident. You got a cracking team working for you, guv, and every single one of us are behind you one hundred per cent.’
Gibbs laughed. ‘You’ve only been in the CID two minutes so what do you know about how everyone feels?’
‘The guv’s right, Spence, you are negative. But I’m not. I got you Julie Ann Collins’ killer so I deserve to be at the bank when you open the vault to nick Bentley’s gang. And if you try and move me aside, I swear I won’t go away quietly.’
Gibbs ignored her, and said he was going to see if there was an empty cell so he could try to get a few hours’ kip.
Bradfield smiled at Kath. ‘I like your positive attitude,’ he said as he stubbed out his cigarette.
‘You mind if I say something personal, guv?’
‘When have you ever held back, Kath?’
‘Well, you can go off like a rocket sometimes if anyone gets too personal.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Come on, spit it out.’