Lynda Plante - Tennison

‘Jesus Christ, this is a fuckin’ joke, how the hell are we gonna get the van out?’ John whispered in disbelief through gritted teeth.

‘Can’t we get them to move?’ Clifford whispered back, sweating profusely as he had so many clothes on.

‘Oh yeah, that’s very bright, Dad. They all watch us drivin’ out in a van with false logos and copied number plates — that’s just what we need. We got no option but to bloody wait.’

Renee turned and saw them both whispering. ‘I thought you two were going fishing?’

‘We were, darlin’, but Dad thought we should pay our respects to Ma Phillips and her grandson,’ John said lamely, unable to think of a better excuse.

‘You’ve changed your tune — the lad was a waste of space not five minutes ago,’ Renee said, knowing they were up to something.

John and Clifford had no way of contacting Silas as he didn’t have a phone in the café and it was too far for a walkie-talkie to work. All they could do was stand and watch impatiently as mourners began to gather around the waiting funeral cars. Nancy Phillips, dressed in a black-lace dress with matching black hat, directed who should go into which car. It all suddenly became too much for her and she broke down in floods of tears. Renee put an arm round Nancy to comfort her and she asked if Renee would accompany her in the Daimler behind the hearse. It was something of a relief for John and Clifford when Renee agreed and said she’d see them at the church.

Jane was in the incident room with Kath, who had decided to say nothing to her about Bradfield until Operation Hawk was over. Bradfield was in his office, but had lifted the mood by supplying bacon-and-egg rolls as well as teas and coffees. DS Gibbs was briefing the detectives who formed the outside arrest teams. He told them that for now it was a waiting game, but it was more than likely that the arrests would be made tonight and they would be called into position when the time was right.

‘DCI Bradfield will be making the arrests inside the vault with a couple of you as backup. Team One will take out Clifford Bentley on the car-park rooftop. It’s likely he’ll try and sling the walkie-talkie over the top, so if anyone has a good pair of hands stand down at the bottom and try and catch it before it breaks into hundreds of pieces.’

They all smiled. One of the officers said he played a bit of cricket and would be the catcher.

‘Teams Two and Three will cover the back alley in case any of the suspects try and do a runner. The Greek’s a fat bastard so he should be easy to nab, but Danny Mitcham is likely to be quick on his toes and so is John Bentley. You have Bradfield’s authority to use any force required to take them out should they resist arrest, but do not draw a firearm unless absolutely necessary,’ Gibbs said, and placed a map on the wall before continuing.

‘These are the positions you will take up when DCI Bradfield tells you to, and you will only move from them as and when he gives the order. Is that clear?’

They all nodded and Jane could see the excitement on their faces. Even though she was not part of the arrest team she could feel the buzz.

Kath had a forlorn look on her face as she raised her hand in the air and Gibbs nodded at her.

‘I assumed I’d be on the arrest team.’

‘Why’s that, Morgan?’

‘Well, I did a good job on the Collins murder and...’

Gibbs smiled, ‘Course you did, Kath, and that’s why DCI Bradfield’s taking you with him as part of his arrest team.’

Kath’s face lit up. Others in the room were happy for her, but one or two had envious looks on their faces.

Gibbs had just finished when DC Stanley radioed in about the funeral. Two detectives laughed and made derogatory comments about Eddie and his gran which upset Kath.

‘Grandma Phillips must have spent all her savings on her Eddie’s funeral. It’s always the way round here: live a rotten life but get buried in style. I’ve seen processions with horse-drawn hearses and bands, all for a two-bit criminal. Maybe its cathartic tears for a wretched existence, but that kid didn’t deserve to die so young and he was all she had to live for.’

Gibbs went to Bradfield’s office and he could see from the look on Spence’s face that it wasn’t good news. He explained to him that it seemed the Bentleys, apart from David, were going to Eddie Phillips’ funeral, which meant they wouldn’t be going near the bank, especially if there was the usual piss-up afterwards.

‘Christ, that’s all I need! I’ve got a team of officers costing a fortune in overtime and tomorrow the bank holiday will be double pay for them all. A shedload of money and they could end sitting with their thumbs up their backsides watching nothing for God knows how long.’

‘There’s still Silas and Danny at the café. They might start work on their own and then the Bentleys join them later.’

‘You don’t know that for certain, and if they do start work and get in the vault without the Bentleys, what then!’ Bradfield snapped, infuriated by the situation.

‘Do you want a surveillance unit to tail the Bentleys to the funeral?’

‘Yes, but tell them to keep their distance behind the procession.’

The funeral procession turned left out of the garages onto the street and moved off slowly, led by the funeral director who was walking in front of the hearse. The two Daimlers and the mourners in their own cars followed on behind. Stanley and his colleague watched as the cortège travelled along the side of the estate.

Bradfield went to the incident room and listened to the radio with Gibbs. They heard Stanley telling the surveillance vehicles that the procession was on the move and the targets had got into someone’s car to accompany it. On hearing this Bradfield contacted the two ops down at the bank and asked if there was any movement in the café or any walkie-talkie transmissions, but they both responded with a negative causing him to slam the phone down.

‘Listen, guv, should we maybe save a few quid in overtime and stand everyone down for today?’ Gibbs asked.

Bradfield, deep in thought, said nothing.

‘What are you going to tell DCS Metcalf?’ Gibbs asked.

‘Nothing. He’ll be that livid over the waste of manpower and money he might pull the plug on us and I’m not going to let that happen, not when I’m this close,’ he said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

‘So what’s the next step?’ Gibbs asked.

Jane and Kath could see Bradfield’s increasing frustration and the two male detectives present left the room fearing he was about to go ballistic.

‘If I knew I’d be taking it, Spence, so stop asking stupid questions! Get down to the op at the old lady’s and await my orders.’

‘Are you not going there?’

Bradfield glared at him, but before he could answer DC Stanley’s voice came over the radio again.

Victor One to Gold, over.

‘Yeah, go ahead,’ Bradfield said.

There was silence in the room as they waited for an update.

Stanley sounded subdued. ‘We can’t see the two male targets anywhere, looks like we’ve lost them.’

Bradfield was fuming and slammed his hand down on the table. ‘How can you bloody well lose them in a funeral procession that’s travelling at a snail’s pace?’

‘I don’t know, guv... but somehow we did.’

The office phone rang and Bradfield nodded to Gibbs to answer it as he spoke with Stanley on the radio.

‘Well, you’d better find them again and fast.’ He threw the radio mike onto the desk and noticed Gibbs waving a hand trying to get his attention.

‘What now?’ he asked in a raised voice.

‘It’s the officers at the old lady’s. John Bentley just dropped his dad off at the multistorey.’