‘All units from OP2, Target 1 has left premises in gold Mercedes 450SL convertible, index plate X-ray Papa Echo 264 Sierra. Vehicle has turned left towards junction with Abridge Road.’
‘OP1 from Central five two, we have eyeball on Target 1 vehicle and ready to follow,’ the detective said.
There was another period of radio silence, until one of the CO11 officers watching Aidan O’Reilly’s flat piped up.
‘All units from OP5, Target 3 has left premises and is waiting at bus stop on north side of the road. Officers on foot have eyeball and are following.’
It wasn’t long before Stanley, in an OBO van at Chingford, came on the air.
‘Target 2 in red Mini, X-ray Lima Oscar 67 Romeo, being driven by IC1 female. Now in Hatch Lane heading towards roundabout.’
‘Central solo six four has eyeball,’ the plain clothes motorcycle officer said as he started to follow the Mini.
‘OP 4 to Gold, receiving, over?’ Teflon said.
‘Go ahead, OP 4,’ Cam replied.
‘IC1 male matching Target 4’s description opening garage at premises opposite OP 4. His vehicle is a dark blue Mark 3 Capri Ghia, plate Victor Hotel Kilo 499 Tango.’
He started to take some photographs with a zoom lens camera. Cam did a vehicle check on the PNC as he listened.
‘Vehicle’s shown as registered to Target 4,’ he told Teflon.
Murphy was standing next to Cam.
‘Good, all our main targets are on the move. Looks like Maria Fernandez is driving Tommy Ripley to work.’
‘The Mini is registered to her at Tommy’s Hatch Lane address. Jane said a witness at Edgar House saw a man matching George Ripley’s description driving a gold Mercedes,’ Cam reminded him.
Murphy picked up the radio. ‘All units from Gold... Female driving mini will be Target 7.’ He turned to Cam. ‘Let’s hope the Ripley brothers are going to the Bluebird.’
Nearly half an hour passed before Bax spoke on the radio and Dabs started taking photographs.
‘All units from OP1, the Mini has parked around the back of the snooker hall and Targets 2, 3 and 7 have just gone in... Stand by...’ He paused as the gold Mercedes drove around the back of the hall. ‘Target 1 has just turned up and driven into the car park.’ He waited, then watched as George Ripley appeared. ‘All units, Target 1 has entered the hall.’
As soon as Bax had finished, Teflon had an update from OP4 regarding the suspect Carl.
‘An IC1 male matching Target 5’s description has just turned up at garage driving a white Ford Transit van, plate Oscar Mike Echo 547 November.’
Cam did a PNC check and spoke to Teflon.
‘The vehicle is registered to the garage — Gold said to assume the driver is Target 5 for now.’
‘Received,’ Teflon replied.
Jane had just finished clearing and wiping down a table when Rachel came in and sat down.
Nick gave her a wave and whispered to Jane, ‘She a sordomuto — you have to give her the pad and she write down what she want.’
Jane thought it was funny that he was whispering, then went over to Rachel and handed her the pen and notepad. Rachel wrote down what she wanted and handed the pad back to Jane, who, without thinking, started to read out her order of a bacon and egg sandwich for Rachel to lip-read it was correct. Rachel looked at her, wide-eyed, and started to tap her ears and mouth, indicating she couldn’t hear or speak. Jane tore the order off the pad and handed it to Nick, who shook his head.
‘I just tell you she deaf and you talk to her when she no can understand what you a say.’
Jane felt herself reddening. ‘Sorry, I won’t do it again.’
As Jane gave Rachel her cup of tea, the cafe door opened and the Ripley brothers walked in. Glancing around, she was instantly struck by the likeness to the drawings Rachel had done of them. George was wearing a green waxed Barbour jacket just like the one Rita Brown had described, and a blue open-neck shirt with gray slacks. Tommy was dressed in a black turtleneck jumper, black trousers and wearing the gold boxing gloves pendant Rachel had spoken about. Jane was surprised how normal they looked. It was hard to imagine them carrying shotguns and threatening people, though George did walk with a confident swagger. Tommy, by contrast, shuffled along meekly behind him.
A young man sitting at their usual table by the wall moved when he saw them. Jane felt nervous but, knowing she had to appear calm and natural, took a deep breath and went to take their order.
‘Good morning, gentleman, what can I get you?’
‘Bloody hell, makes a change to see a pretty face serving up in here, darlin’,’ Tommy said.
She smiled. ‘Thanks... darlin’.’
Tommy winked. ‘My pleasure.’
George laughed. ‘A bit of sass as well. You having the full English?’ His brother nodded. ‘Same for me, and two coffees.’
‘Cappuccinos, latte or—’
‘None of that shit — just normal with milk.’
As Jane took their order over to Nick, she thought George was ill-mannered as he never once said ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’ She noted that, like the Securicor guard had mentioned, George had a gravelly voice and brown eyes.
While making their coffees she glanced over and could see them leaning towards each other, as if discussing something in private. She looked over at Rachel, who had a hardback novel open on the tabletop and was writing in a notebook as if making notes for an essay, while looking out of the corner of her eye to try and lip-read what George was saying.
When the Ripleys’ full Englishes were ready she took the food over to them.
‘I like your boxing gloves pendant,’ she said as she put the plate down in front of Tommy.
‘It’s eighteen carat gold and worth a few bob,’ he boasted.
‘Did you win it in a fight?’
He laughed. ‘No, me girlfriend Maria bought it for me. We just won tin cups or a belt when I was boxing.’
‘My dad did a bit of boxing.’
‘Where was his club?’ Tommy asked.
‘Above the Thomas A Becket pub in the Old Kent Road,’ she said, remembering it from when she worked in the CID at Peckham.
He looked impressed. ‘That’s a well-known club — it’s produced some famous boxers. Henry Cooper trained there six days a week for fourteen years, and Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier sparred there.’
‘My dad wasn’t that good. He told me he spent more time on the canvas than on his feet.’
Tommy laughed. ‘I know the feeling. My old club produced a few amateur champions, but I wasn’t one of them.’
‘Where was your club?’ she asked.
‘Chingford, at the TA drill hall.’
She felt her stomach churn as she remembered the photograph of Kingston in his office, with CHINGFORD AMATEUR BOXING CLUB 1958 on it, and him telling her the club was at the Territorial Army drill hall.
‘Get us some more brown sauce, darlin’, this ’un’s empty,’ George said, handing her the bottle.
Teflon watched as Carl got in the Transit van and a plume of black smoke spluttered out of the exhaust as he started the engine.
‘All units from OP 4, Target 5 is on the move in white Transit van.’
‘Received by Central five six, we will follow with a solo.’
A few minutes later Bax was on the radio.
‘Target 5 parking Transit outside hall and out on foot towards cafe.’
George looked out of the window and spoke with a mouthful of sausage.
‘We better change the subject. Carl’s on his way.’
‘Have you never thought about getting him on a job?’ Tommy asked.
‘Nah, he’s a fucking mummy’s boy.’
George took a mouthful of coffee to wash his food down.
‘Why you always so hard on him?’