‘I’ll cut him,’ said the Algerian again, but with less conviction now.
‘That’s no skin off my nose, is it?’
‘He’s your boss.’
‘I’ll get another,’ said Hickey. ‘Bosses are easy to find.’
‘Hickey, you are starting to piss me off in a big way,’ said Paxton. ‘Shoot him in the leg.’
‘Peter, best thing you can do right now is to keep quiet. If I shoot him in the leg he’ll cut you. If I shoot, I’ll have to shoot to kill, which means blowing his brains out.’
The Algerian pressed the knife harder against Paxton’s neck. ‘He’s going to cut me,’ said Paxton.
‘No, he’s not,’ said Hickey. ‘He’s stupid, but he’s not that stupid.’ Hickey walked slowly across the kitchen, his eyes locked on Ben’s.
Ben had backed up against the sink so there was nowhere he could go. ‘Stay away!’ he shouted.
‘Stay calm, Ben,’ said Hickey. ‘I just want to talk.’
‘Stop moving!’
Hickey raised the gun and pointed the barrel at the man’s face. ‘I’m just talking, Ben. Just chewing the fat.’
‘If you’re going to shoot him, just shoot him,’ said Paxton.
Hickey ignored him. He continued to hold Ben’s eyes as he moved slowly across the kitchen floor. ‘Listen to me, Ben. Listen to me carefully. We can still stop this without anyone getting really hurt. Vince there will need a couple of stitches but he’ll be okay. Your two friends will wake up with sore heads but they’ll be fine. But if you cut my boss there, everything changes.’
‘I want you out of the house, now.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Hickey. ‘That’s what I want.’ He took two steps towards Ben and placed the barrel of the gun against the man’s forehead. Ben tried to move his head away but Hickey kept the gun pressed to it. ‘Stay calm, Ben,’ he said quietly. ‘Just chill and listen to me.’
‘For fuck’s sake, what are you playing at?’ hissed Paxton.
‘This can go one of three ways, Ben,’ said Hickey. ‘I can pull the trigger and blow your brains over the sink and we’ll all live happily ever after. Except you, of course, because you’ll be dead. Or you can cut my boss’s throat with that knife, he bleeds to death, I pull the trigger and blow your brains over the sink.’
‘Hickey . . .’ warned Paxton.
‘Now, there’s a third way, Ben. You put down the knife, I take a step back, and we do what we came here to do, which is have a chat.’
‘You came here with guns,’ said Ben.
‘Your mate attacked us with a knife,’ said Hickey. ‘He stabbed Vince there. We just came to talk.’
‘You came here with guns,’ repeated Ben, pressing the knife harder to Paxton’s throat.
‘And if we hadn’t, we’d all be sitting in the hallway bleeding,’ said Hickey. ‘Now, drop the knife. I don’t want to do anything melodramatic like counting to three, but trust me, Ben, I will put a bullet in your face.’
Sweat was pouring down Ben’s face and he licked his lips. ‘Maybe I let him go and you still shoot me?’
‘Why?’ said Hickey. ‘I’ve nothing against you. My boss here still wants to talk about his drugs. So drop the knife and we can all go home.’
Ben was breathing shallowly, his chest rising and falling as his mind raced. Hickey waited, his eyes never leaving the man’s face. Eventually the Algerian took the knife away from Paxton’s throat. He held it to the side and dropped it on to the work surface. Paxton staggered across the kitchen, cursing.
Hickey slammed the gun against the side of Ben’s head and grinned as the Algerian slumped to the floor. ‘Twat,’ he said.
Charlotte Button put down her cup of tea. ‘You hit him?’ she said. ‘He did what you wanted and you still hit him?’
Dan Shepherd shrugged. ‘I’m David Hickey, bouncer turned enforcer. It’s what I do. If I hadn’t hit him, I wouldn’t have been in character.’
Button sighed. ‘Spider, even an undercover SOCA agent has to follow some rules. You really can’t go around hitting people willy-nilly.’
Shepherd grinned. ‘Willy-nilly?’
‘You know what I mean. I’m your boss, remember? I’m supposed to ensure that you at least come close to following approved procedure.’
‘I just clipped him,’ said Shepherd. ‘I know what I’m doing.’ He leant back in his chair and stretched. They were sitting in a third-floor office in Soho, one of several where Button met the undercover operatives who worked for the Serious Organised Crime Agency. Spring sunshine streamed in though the two skylights. One wall, to the left of the door, was covered with surveillance photographs of Peter Paxton and his crew. Shepherd featured in several, never far from Paxton’s side.
‘So what happened?’
Shepherd ran a hand over the stubble on his head. He didn’t like cutting his hair so short, but it was part of Hickey’s character. He’d be glad to get rid of the garish jewellery, too. ‘Paxton had us haul them into the kitchen and tie them up. Then he found an iron and switched it on.’
‘Spider, please, don’t tell me you tortured them.’
‘It didn’t come to that,’ said Shepherd. ‘The one called Ben started to cry as soon as the little light went on. The drugs were in the loft. Twelve kilos of Afghan heroin. It was a trial run and it had gone exactly as planned, except they’d decided that as it was so easy they might as well cut out the middle man.’
‘Where’s the heroin now?’
‘Still in the house,’ said Shepherd. He glanced at his watch. ‘Probably being picked up as we speak. Paxton didn’t want to risk driving around with twelve kilos of smack in the Jag so he’s sending some of his boys around to pick it up.’
‘And the Algerians are still tied up in the kitchen?’
‘No, we killed them and buried them in the New Forest.’ Shepherd laughed when he saw the horror on Button’s face. ‘I’m joking, Charlie,’ he said. ‘Paxton’s hard but he’s not a psycho. So far as I know he’s never killed anyone. He just explained how things were going to be and the Algerians agreed to it.’
‘Encouraged by the red-hot iron, I suppose?’
‘They were trying it on. Once Paxton showed them he meant business, they buckled. It won’t happen again.’
‘And Clarke?’
‘Nothing serious,’ said Shepherd. ‘I took him to a tame doctor that works for Paxton and he put a few stitches in the wound and gave him an anti-tetanus shot. I think the injection hurt him more than the stabbing.’ He picked up his cup of Starbucks coffee and sipped.
‘Any idea when the next delivery will be coming over?’
‘Paxton does everything on a need-to-know basis,’ said Shepherd. ‘Last night was the first time he mentioned the Eurostar. Seems that the Algerians in France have one of their guys working security and when he’s on the night shift they can get the heroin into the toilet holding tanks. Getting the gear out of the Temple Mills depot is a piece of cake. All the security is going in. No one expects them to be bringing stuff out. It’s the French end that’s the key. They do their rotas at the end of each month so they have to wait until their man’s working nights before they can arrange a delivery. The twelve kilos was a trial and I figure that the next shipments are going to be much bigger.’
‘If I run the cleaning staff personnel records by you, can you pick out the three guys you roughed up?’ She grinned. ‘Of course you can, you and your total recall. I tell you, Spider, it would make my life so much easier if everyone on my team had a photographic memory.’
‘Sure,’ said Shepherd. ‘And Paxton said they had family at the French end. That could be with Eurostar or the cleaning company, but cross-checking with their personnel records should net everyone.’
‘Job well done,’ said Button.
‘When are you going to move against Paxton?’ asked Shepherd.
‘We’ll give it a month or so,’ said Button. ‘We’ll let you get clear and beef up the surveillance. I’ll liaise with the French so that we can mop up their end, too. Win some Brownie points with Europol.’
‘So I’m done?’
