Joe nodded. ‘Yeah, but we’ve got to be very careful who else we bring in on this. We don’t want to talk to anyone who then turns round and says they’re not interested, because that’ll compromise everything and probably land me on the same target list you’re on.’
‘I agree, but I can’t think of anyone offhand. A week ago I’d have said Tony. He was the sort of bloke who’d have gone for this.’
‘When are you hoping to make the snatch?’
‘As soon as we’ve got everything organized. The place where we’re going to hold him, the cars, and obviously the people. It’ll be a few days yet, but that’s all.’
‘And who’s doing the organizing?’
‘I’ll do all that, if you can get the other people. I think you’re right, perhaps we should have four gunmen. So, are you going to come in on it?’
Joe finished his beer and sighed. ‘All my instincts tell me I’m an idiot for it, and if it was anyone else I’d run a hundred miles in the other direction, but I guess I could do with the money. Yeah, count me in, and give me a couple of days to come up with other possible men. In the meantime, you get things moving. Are you going to use the cash I gave you to cover the costs?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, that should be plenty.’ I offered him another beer, thinking I could probably do with the company, but he said he had to go.
After he’d left, I poured myself one anyway and relaxed in my seat. In the end, I’d always known that Joe would be up for it because, like all people who’d worked the mercenary game, he longed for excitement and had been shot at enough times not to worry too much about the danger involved in what even I had to admit was not exactly a fool-proof plan. The rewards, though, were not to be sniffed at.
All I had to do now was make sure the basics were in place, and then we’d be ready to go.
Wednesday, eleven days ago
Gallan
When I arrived at the restaurant, Malik — I assumed it was him — was already there, sat at a table at the far end. I could see why he’d picked this place: he was the only customer in it, which didn’t bode too well. I don’t usually get an opportunity to sample restaurant fare while I’m on duty, so I hoped Malik knew something the rest of the West End’s lunchtime trade didn’t.
He stood up as I approached and we introduced ourselves and shook hands. He was a young guy, thirty tops, with a friendly smile and the air of someone with a lot of self-confidence. He was dressed in a dark grey suit that looked more expensive than a copper’s wage would allow, and a natty-looking red tie. A bit formal for an eighty- degree day with high humidity, but he carried it well. I thought he looked more like an up-and-coming executive than a copper, but there was something genuine about him. A sense that you could trust what he had to say. If he’d been selling, I’d have definitely been in the marketplace, and it’s not often I say that.
A waiter appeared almost as soon as I’d sat down and asked if I’d like a drink. I saw that Malik was on orange juice, but since the Met were paying and I had a pack of peppermints in my pocket, I opted for a beer. I’m not a man who has any problem drinking alone.
‘So, this case you’re working on,’ said Malik as my drink arrived. ‘What’s it all about?’
I gave him a brief rundown of the Matthews inquiry. ‘It’s going nowhere fast. There’s still been no sign of Jean Tanner — it’s like she’s vanished into thin air — and the preliminary autopsy on Craig McBride showed he died of a heroin overdose, of all things. Again, no signs of a struggle. Other than that, we’ve got nothing. No new leads, and no joy with any of the old ones. My hunch is that someone from the Holtz organization is definitely involved, because of the way everyone either ends up dead or disappears, but I’m not in a position to do anything about it.’
Malik nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure how much help I can be, John.’
I took another sip from my drink. ‘I don’t know either, but I’m beginning to run out of options and, you never know, you might have something that’ll move us forward. Basically, I want as much information as you can give me on the Holtzes and Neil Vamen. I know a little bit, but it’s very patchy.’
‘Let’s order first,’ he said. He picked up a menu from the table and handed it to me. ‘I particularly recommend the saltimbocca.’
‘What the hell’s that?’
‘Escalopes of veal and parma ham cooked in a marsala sauce and served with veg of the day and sauteed potatoes. Bellissima!’
‘It sounds like you’re part-owner of the place.’ I gave the menu a cursory scan but nothing else leapt out at me. ‘OK, I’ll go with the escalopes. In honour of my ex-wife.’
‘She used to like them, did she?’
I allowed myself a malicious smile. ‘No, she was a strict vegetarian.’
‘Clearly not an amicable separation.’ He laughed.
‘Are they ever?’
‘Maybe more amicable than that. But who am I to judge?’ He waved the waiter over and gave our order. ‘Anyway,’ he said when the waiter had gone, ‘the Holtzes. I’ve been part of a team that’s been investigating them for getting close to eighteen months now, and let me tell you, they are no easy target. It’s like trying to penetrate concrete.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘A couple of reasons. One is they’ve been around as an organization of sorts for getting close to thirty years so they’re very well established. The old man Stefan’s the lynchpin. He started out as a nasty little thug and amateur boxer who got into debt collecting on behalf of various scumbags before deciding he’d be better off branching out on his own. What differentiated young Stefan from a thousand other lowlifes was that he had a brain, and a very sharp one at that. He was, and is, a very good businessman. I’d say he was wasted in crime but he probably earns ten times more through that than he would do by being legit, and he’s expanded majorly over the years. Moved into gambling, counterfeiting, armed robbery for a while, though of course never getting his hands dirty himself. He organized everything but he made sure he only surrounded himself with people he could really trust. That’s why in many ways it’s always been a family outfit. His two brothers were heavily involved with him in the early days, and then, when they got old enough, his sons got into it as well. They probably never would have been a massive outfit, though, if it hadn’t been for drugs.’
I allowed myself a wry chuckle. ‘Same old story.’
‘Always the same old story. Everyone’s made big cash out of drugs, no doubt about it, but for an outfit like the Holtzes, with an infrastructure and good underworld contacts already in place, the opportunities have been huge. And they’ve taken them. You know, the word is Stefan Holtz can’t stand drugs. Won’t let any of his family touch them, although of course they all do. But as an organization they were into them from the outset. Dope, amphetamines, coke particularly, even heroin. Over the years they’ve forged alliances with numerous other crime organizations both here and abroad and now they’re one of the biggest importers in Britain. They also supply a lot of the gear, particularly Ecstasy and coke, to Ibiza for the summer season. So, if your nice middle-class teenage kid goes over and drops a tab or snorts a line, the chances are that some of the profits on that are heading straight back to the Holtzes, and we’re not talking about small quantities here. Thousands of people are taking millions of pounds’ worth of gear every night between May and October. And that’s just one part of their smuggling activities.
‘But what sets them apart is their levels of sophistication and the seniority of their contacts in the criminal world. These days they get their cocaine straight out of Cali in Colombia, no middle men at all. And we believe they’ve set up a major smuggling route through Bosnia and into western Europe, not only for heroin from Pakistan and Afghanistan but also for illegal immigrants, particularly now the Mehmet Illan/Raymond Keen operation’s out of business. They even smuggle in ancient artefacts. There’s nothing they won’t touch. If it makes money, they’ll be there. And the sort of money that comes their way is incredible. We don’t know exactly how much it is for sure, there are so many front companies and money-laundering operations, and Holtz employs an army of accountants, but we reckon as a group they turn over in excess of forty million sterling per year.’
