interview at the station. Mrs. Brandon may of course request you to accompany her.'Fagan glared and returned to his Mercedes. He backed out into the road to allow Anna to drive past. His presence made Anna even more suspicious; she reckoned that Julia had put a call in to him as soon as she believed Anna had left. Fagan had certainly got to the property fast; she would have liked to have been a fly on the wall to overhear their conversation.Anna drove into Wimbledon village, parked in a pub car park, and went to get a coffee and a sandwich. Sitting outside, in front of the pub, she had only just taken a bite when she saw Simon Fagan s Mercedes pass, only a few feet from her. Julia Brandon was in the passenger seat, obviously crying: she had a handkerchief to her face, wiping her eyes. She had shown no emotion while being questioned by Anna, which made her wonder just what the woman had learned from Fagan that had upset her so much. Anna could see the silver Mercedes at the traffic lights. They were waiting as four horses and riders passed, heading toward Wimbledon Common.Anna grabbed her sandwich and, ramming the lid on her coffee, ran to her Mini. She drove out of the car park, turning right onto High Street; she could still see, four cars ahead, the Mercedes. She tailed them about a mile up the road before she saw they had turned left onto Old Windmill Lane. Still keeping her distance, afraid that Fagan would recognize her car, she drove slowly up the lane. The lane branched out into a large car park. Worried she would easily be seen, she quickly parked between two stationary cars, and used her wing mirror to look for Fagan's car.He was parked at the far side of the car park; both he and Julia remained inside the car. Heading into the car park, and passing Anna, was a navy-blue Range Rover. She could clearly see the two burly occupants looking around; then Fagan got out of his Mercedes and waved toward them.The Range Rover parked alongside Fagan's car. He bent inside to talk to Julia, as the two men got out of the Range Rover and joined him. Fagan was clearly introducing the two men, Julia leaning across the driver seat to acknowledge them. They wore cheap gray suits and ties; both were muscle-bound and looked like ex-army. Anna jotted down their license-plate number and then had to duck down as Fagan appeared to look directly toward her, but she was mistaken; instead he walked around to the passenger side and helped Julia get out. The two men shook her hand, and one guided her to the passenger seat of the Range Rover. She got in; the two men talked for a few more moments to Fagan, before they got back into the Range Rover. Fagan drove out, passing Anna, as did, shortly afterward, Julia and the two men in the Range Rover.Anna waited awhile before she left the car park and drove past Julia Brandon's house. The Range Rover was already parked outside. The men beside Julia took a covert look around before they stepped inside her house. Their presence confirmed to Anna that Julia might well have hired Frank, and now these two goons, for protection. The question was
CHAPTER 14
Anna waited in a small outer office for over twenty minutes. A rather scruffy officer, wearing denim jeans and bomber jacket, eventually joined her. Sam Power was an undercover officer, and one with quite a reputation; he had busted a very big cocaine ring in 2002, so, for his own protection, he was 'paperworking' until the heat of the trial died down. They were up to their ears, he explained, and having spent some time with Phil Markham that morning, the officers didn't want to cover the same ground again.'So you got me.' He grinned. He was rather good- looking, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes, and a very confident manner.Anna thanked him for seeing her. She then came straight out with it. 'I have this gut feeling that Alexander Fitzpatrick is back in the UK. I'm sure you know who I'm talking about.''Of course I do—he's the one that got away. But we don't act on gut feelings. To be honest, he's been dormant for so many years, we've kind of dismissed him as having any hand in trafficking big-time anymore. He made a lot of money; he's probably lying low and enjoying the proceeds of his ill-gotten gains.''How dangerous was he?'Sam shifted his weight in the hard-backed chair. 'Well, you can't compare him with Howard Marks, not the same animal. Marks was never violent; never, to our knowledge, killed anyone. He's kind of a hero to the pot-smoking oldies who still maintain a hippy attitude to soft drugs. I don't agree with any kind of leniency regarding hash or marijuana—I've seen too many kids fall into the trap of moving up the scale to use heroin—and nowadays, Christ only knows what they mix up with so-called class-C drugs.'Anna nodded, letting him expound his personal theories with regard to drug taking, and flushing as she recalled her time with Pete the other evening. She waited for the opportunity to bring the conversation back to Fitzpatrick. It took a while; Sam seemed to like the sound of his own voice.'Did you ever meet him?''No, he was before my time. He's at pension age now; no one's heard a dickie bird from him for at least fifteen, twenty years. The guy made millions. He is either living a life of luxury, or he could even have been topped—he was known to mix with the Colombian cartels and the Mafia, and you don't mess with those types. In the mideighties, they reckoned he mobilized the law enforcement agencies in fourteen or fifteen different countries. That's the U.S., UK, Spain, the Philippines, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Thailand, Pakistan, Germany ...''Good heavens,' Anna inteijected.'Yeah, good heavens. He also shipped to the Netherlands, Canada, Switzerland, Australia, and Austria—a lot of dope, and a lot of money. He was rumored to have something like twenty homes around the world.''And boats?''Yeah, Christ knows how many yachts—maybe as many as his different identities. After he'd flooded the market here and skipped bail, he went on to bigger deals, trafficking cocaine and heroin into the U.S. They couldn't capture him either; he's still on their Most Wanted list.'Anna tried not to sound as if her supposition regarding Fitzpatrick was implausible. 'His ex-partner, a very beautiful woman, lives here. She has two children. Whether they are fathered by him or not, I don't know.'Sam tapped her knee. 'He had beautiful women all over the world; with his money and his drugs, he could get any woman he wanted.'Anna continued, even though she could feel Sam almost laughing at her insinuation that Fitzpatrick would want to be with this woman or her children. 'He possibly has close friends here?''No way would he risk it. No one was his close friend; he couldn't afford the risk that they would give him up! There are rewards out for him in the States ...'Nothing Anna said appeared to dent Sam's overconfident attitude that she was wrong about Fitzpatrick. In fact, he made her feel almost foolish in suggesting it.
When she brought up the yacht and the fact that it had been docked in Southampton, he shrugged. 'Listen, whether or not he had speedboats, yachts, and Christ knows what else, any boat would have to be registered. If it came into UK waters, we'd have nabbed him.'
'What if you didn't know the boat? What if it was chartered to someone else?'
Sam agreed that it was possible, but he was dismissive of whatever she said. In his opinion, Fitzpatrick had no good reason to be in the UK.
'So he was very dangerous?' Anna prompted.
Sam did another of his shrugs. He conceded that, in his prime, Fitzpatrick took no prisoners; to maintain his drug trafficking in the U.S., he would have had to have an army to protect him, or kill for him. 'Nowadays, I don't think he would be any threat. We've not had so much as a rumor that he's still active—he's an old-age pensioner, for Chrissakes!' Sam stood and hitched up his jeans. 'If you want to leave me with the details you've got on this yacht, I can check it out for you, see if we have anything on it, but we're up to our ears with Yardies and gang wars; they've got weapons nowadays that'd make your hair stand on end.'
Anna wanted to discuss the drug squat in Chalk Farm but, by now, she sensed that Sam was eager for her to leave. She gave him the information she'd gained from Gordon that morning, but didn't mention the Oxfordshire farm or even Julia Brandon.
By the time Anna was back in her office, it was after four. Phil was waiting in the corridor.
'Can I have a word?' he said.
'Sure, just let me get my breath; I've only just walked in.' She could feel his animosity as she put her briefcase onto her desk.
'I've just had the fucking guy I spent half the morning with at the Drug Unit calling me. What is it with you?'
'I don't understand the question.'
'I was checking them out, then you turn up. Now they've got back to me about a fucking yacht. You know these guys don't like to be messed around.' 'Yes, well, I only just got the details this morning and we are still
