The Elephant and the Cobra

The Elephant and the Cobra

By Bob Cordery

Copyright © 2017 by Robert George Cordery

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Published by Eglinton Books

84 Eglinton Hill

Shooters Hill

Plumstead

London

SE18 3DY

United Kingdom

First Printing: 2017

Second Edition

PaperbackISBN 978-1-326-86796-6

EBookISBN 978-1-326-87057-7

Dedication

To my lovely wife Susan

Thank you. Without your support, forebearance, and patience, I would have never written this book.

Day One: Thursday

He shuddered again. He hated these early morning operations, and having to lie on the cold and wet ground under the line of bushes did little to improve things.

He shifted the night-vision binoculars from his right to his left hand and flexed the freed fingers. With luck he might be able to get a bit more feeling in them … and at worst it might stop the cold from seeping into them.

Suddenly a voice sounded in his radio earpiece.

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. Have you anything to report? Over.’

He wanted to say that he was bored and cold, and in desperate need to pee … but instead he replied, ‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Nothing to report. Over.’

The first rays of the sun gradually began to appear on the horizon, and he hoped that with it would come some warmth … and then he saw the Judas gate in the barn door open.

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Someone has just exited the barn. Does not appear to be one of the targets. Over.’

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. What are they doing? Over.’

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Just standing there, looking around them. Over.’

***

The man stood looking at the countryside. He knew it … and at the same time it felt strange to him. When he had woken, his mind had felt clear for the first time in what seemed like an age. He knew that he had to get away. The life he had been living – if living was the right word to use – was at an end. He had to go back to his real life. Running away was over.

As the sun gradually began to make its presence felt, a light mist began to form over the fields. He looked around … and was amazed by how flat everything was and how much sky there seemed to be. Other than the odd line of trees and bushes, the land seemed to go on forever.

He heard the door open behind him, and without looking he knew at once it was two of the brothers.

***

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Targets Two and Three have exited the door from the barn. The other man is ignoring them. Over.’

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. What’s hap ... ?’

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command! Target Three just tried to hit the unknown male … and he’s been floored! Target Two has picked up a wooden stake and taken a swing at the unknown … and missed! The unknown male has picked something up. I can’t see what it is …

***

He sensed that the youngest and smallest of the brothers was coming up behind him, and knew from previous experience that he would be punched in the kidneys without warning. He heard the other man’s breath as he breathed in before making his blow, and as it came, he stepped to one side, let the man lunge past him ... and then he chopped him across the throat with the flat of his left hand.

The other older and larger brother grabbed one of the old fence posts that was lying by the barn door and took a step forward, swinging the post as he did. The man was expecting this, and grabbed a spade that was nearby. He parried the blow … and then drove the blade of the spade into his opponent’s throat. The blade of the spade was sharp from digging in the flinty soil, and the force of the blow nearly decapitated the attacker, who was dead by the time his body slumped onto the ground.

The younger brother was trying to sit up, but although he was trying to shout for help, all that came out of his fractured larynx was a strident gurgle. The man turned towards him, flicked his foot forward so that the toe of his boot hit the side of the young man’s chin, breaking his neck. The young man’s body twitched a couple of times and then went limp.

***

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. Say again … and try to calm down! Over.’

‘He’s killed both of them! He’s killed both of them! For Christ’s sake, don’t you understand?’

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. Use proper procedure … and when this is over you can expect to be in trouble for talking to a senior officer like that! Do you understand? Over.’

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Sorry sir, but I’ve never seen something like this before. He just killed them as if they were sick animals. Over.’

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. What’s the unknown male doing now? Over.’

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. He’s gone back in to the barn. Over.’

‘Silver Command to all units. Expect to move in and arrest everyone in the farm on my command. Until then, prepare to move. Over.’

***

The man walked through the barn toward the door that opened out into the farmyard. Around him he saw the sleeping, sack-covered bodies of the other unfortunates the brothers had ‘recruited’ into their labouring gang. He felt sorry for them, but nothing more.

He opened the door into the yard, in the centre of which was the dirty and dilapidated caravan the brothers used to live in. He walked up to the caravan’s door, and as he reached it the oldest of the brothers lurched out, with a cocked and loaded sawn-off shotgun in his hands.

‘What the fuck are you doing? Get back in that barn and just pray that my brothers don’t kill you this time.’

The man looked at him. What he saw would have been laughable had it not been for the shotgun, but the sight of the bellowing, naked, fat, hairy, ape-like form before him made it difficult not to smile.

‘Taking that fucking smirk off your face! I’ll do for you myself you fucking bast ...’

He never finished the sentence. As he raised the shotgun it was wrenched upwards so fast and with such strength that his fingers pulled the triggers inadvertently, and he shot himself under the chin with both barrels. His almost headless corpse collapsed onto the ground, and the man had to step over it to climb into the caravan.

The inside was a mess. On the dirty and foul-smelling bed at the far end of the caravan a semi-naked girl lay with her legs open. The man looked down at her without any feeling, and realised that she could only be thirteen or fourteen. She was covered in bruises and appeared to be in some sort of daze. He shook his head … and then pulled the filthy sheet over her to preserve her modesty and to keep her warm. He then set about searching for some car keys and money.

He found both in an old biscuit tin in what passed for a larder. He did not have time to count what made up the rolls of banknotes, but he guessed that there were several thousand pounds in the tin. He took one of the rolls, the keys to a Land Rover, and tossed the rest of the money onto the bed, hoping that the girl would eventually come round and could take it. It was little compensation for the degradation she had suffered … but it was something.

He left the caravan, walked to the other barn that formed another side of the rectangular farmyard, and opened the big double doors. Inside was an old Land Rover. He pulled open the driver’s door, put the keys in the ignition, and started the engine. He pushed the gear leaver in first gear, and drove out of the farmyard.

***

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Shots fired! Shots fired! Over.’

‘Silver Command to Eyeball One. Can you see anything over?’

‘Eyeball One to Silver Command. Negative. All I heard was the sound of shots. Over.’

‘Silver Command to all units. Attack! Attack! Attack!’

***

PCs Ron Atherton and Harry Smyth had joined the police on the same day, been to the police training college together – where they had shared a room – and served together for almost all of their careers. They even looked alike, and were sometimes mistaken for brothers. They played golf, had married their respective wives in the same year, and had acted as each other’s Best Man. They were good friends and good – if somewhat unimaginative – police officers.

On this particular day PCs Alderton and Smyth had been sitting in their patrol car in a lay-by on the approach road to the farm, trying to keep warm. When they heard the order to attack they drove the car forward so that it blocked the road, and then they got out. Their part in the operation was to stop any inquisitive passers-by from driving towards the farm, which is why they were standing by the side of their car farthest from the farm when they heard the vehicle approaching them.

‘Who’s that Ron? I don’t remember being told at the briefing that anyone would be coming this way.’

‘Better stop them, just in case,’ replied Harry Smyth. ‘You can be sure that if we don’t we shall get into trouble.’

As Ron walked around the front of the patrol car and Harry walked around the back, a battered Land Rover appeared around the bend. It was going very fast, and Ron ran forward, with his had raised, to stop it.

It didn’t stop.

The Land Rover drove straight at the front end of the patrol car, and Ron Alderton only just dived out of its way before the Land Rover hit the patrol car. The latter swung around so that it was parallel with the road, just missing Harry Smyth as it did so. The Land Rover then continued on its journey as if nothing had happened.

‘Jesus Christ! Did you get the reg Harry?’

PC Smyth didn’t answer his partner. He was already using his personal radio to contact the Force Control Room to report what had happened and to give them the Land Rover’s registration number. When asked if they could pursue the Land Rover he looked over at Ron Alderton, who was examining the front of the dented patrol car.

‘No chance, Harry. The rads leaking and it looks as if the steering is bent to buggery.’

‘Control from Charlie Nine Five. No chance I’m afraid. The car’s suffered too much damage.’

He listened to the instructions he was given, replied that he understood them, and ruefully mentioned to his partner that he had the impression that they were not in management’s good books.

PCs Alderton and Smyth were just pushing the patrol car back towards the lay-by when a police Range Rover appeared from the direction of the farm. It screeched to a halt alongside them, and a very irate-looking man wound down the window and shouted at them.

‘Are you the two clowns who failed to stop that Land Rover?’

In unison the two PCs said, ‘Yes, sir.’ Experience told them to say nothing more. Chief Inspector Townsend had a reputation for having a fearsome temper when he was annoyed, and it was obvious to them that he was very, very annoyed.

‘Well stay here and don’t let anyone in or out unless they are from the Force Murder Squad, Immigration, or Forensics. Understand? You can just about manage that, can you?’

‘Yes sir!’

The Chief Inspector shouted ‘Drive on’ to his driver, and the Range Rover sped off down the road.

***

The three men sat around the large table in the office of the Assistant Chief Constable (Ops). Coffee had just been brought in by the ACC’s secretary, and when she had closed the door the ACC turned to the Superintendent and spoke.

‘So what happened, John? I thought that this was a small-scale anti-trafficking, anti-slavery operation. How come the three targets ended up dead?’

The balding CID Superintendent shifted a little in his seat before he spoke.

‘It was sir. Chief Inspector Townsend (he nodded towards the third man at the table) had had the Jameson brothers under covert surveillance for some weeks, and had identified a number of people who were being used by them as pickers on local farmers. The Jameson brothers were the gang-masters, and the people they were using were the usual mixture of down-and-outs, drunks, and Illegals. The operation was mounted on my orders to put an end to it by arresting the brothers and handing over the people they were using to local Social Services and Immigration.’

Townsend broke in. ‘There was nothing from the surveillance that pointed to there being any serious problems with arresting the Jameson brothers and dealing with the people they were using. We had two dog units standing by as well as one of the Force’s Firearm Teams. We thought that they might have a shotgun, but that we did not expect them to use it to resist their arrest. After all, sir, they have been arrested in the past for similar offences and never caused us too much of a problem when they were.’

‘So who is this unknown man?’

‘The officer doing the close surveillance yesterday had not seen him before, but one of the officers involved in the earlier surveillance did. The man was one of the down-and-outs the brother had been using. The officer who identified him had seen the man being punched and kicked by one or more of the brothers during the surveillance, but the man had never reacted to it in any way whatsoever … but today he did … and with a degree of measured violence that seemed to indicate that he knew what he was doing.’

‘Who’s the girl that you found?’

Superintendent Collins shifted somewhat awkwardly in his seat again before answering. ‘She’s a runaway from a children’s home in the next county. She was reported missing about six weeks ago, but we had no idea that she been picked up and was being used by the Jameson brothers. She is in a right state, and the doctors say that she cannot be interviewed for at least a couple of days. It would appear that the brothers drugged her and then sexually abused her on a frequent and regular basis.’

‘And we had no idea about this?’

‘No sir.’

‘Dear God! What about the people you found in the barn?’

Chief Inspector Townsend looked at his notebook before speaking. ‘Forty two people in all, thirty six men and six women. They are being checked over and dealt with as I speak. Most of them were illegal immigrants, and they have been handed over to Immigration to process. Of the rest, all but one is in the hands of Social Services. The other is in hospital suffering from what the doctors think is pneumonia and malnutrition, and they are not expected to survive.’

‘Any chance that they might know anything about our murderer?’

Superintendent Collins replied, ‘The indications are not good so far sir … and I doubt that they are going to be of much help to us on that front. Those that speak English are not saying much about what happened to them whilst they were controlled by the Jameson brothers, and they don’t seem to know anything about the people they had to work with.’

The ACC then asked the most pressing question on his agenda. ‘How is the search for the murderer going? Although we have managed to keep the lid on news about this operation and the death of the Jameson brothers, the Press Office has already been contacted by a couple of the dailies and one of the news channels. The Chief Constable would like to be able to tell the Press what has happened and that the murderer has been caught.’

The two CID officers glanced at each other before the Superintendent spoke. ‘We have circulated the Land Rover’s registration number and a rough description of the man to all officers, and they have been told to check car parks etc. to see if they can find the vehicle. We hope that CCTV will also be of help, but as we don’t know where the car went after it drove through the roadblock, it is going to take time to sift through it all. The lab is working on some of the surveillance video footage that was taken in the hope that we can get a half-decent photo of the murderer. I know that it not what you and the Chief want to hear sir, but at the moment finding the murderer is all down to normal police work and a dose of good luck.’

***

After ramming the police car, the driver of the Land Rover drove in what he hoped was the direction of a major road. Some two miles further on he came to a junction with what looked like a main road. The direction signs pointed to nearby towns, and the driver turned towards the closest of them. He knew that he needed to stop as soon as he could so that he could clean himself up, buy some new clothes, and – if possible – eat a decent meal.

He found exactly what he needed on the ring-road around the first town he reached. The big, new out-of-town retail park contained a large supermarket, a filling station, a couple of fast-food restaurants, and a budget hotel. He parked the Land Rover in the centre of the large car park, locked it, and entered the supermarket.

Ignoring the glances of the other shoppers he got close to (he realised that he smelt unpleasant, but he intended to remedy that as soon as possible), he first visited the aisles where men’s clothing was on sale. He selected underwear, socks, several shirts, and pair of jeans in what he thought was a size that would fit him He also picked up a pair of brown leather shoes, and these were added to his basket.

His next stop was in the aisle where men’s toiletries were on display. Deodorant, shaving foam, a razor, a comb, some shampoo, soap, and a manicure set were all added to the basket. A short walk took him to the bakery section, where he bought a bag of ring doughnuts.

Once he had paid for his purchases at one of the tills using some of the money he had taken from the biscuit tin in the caravan, he walked over to the small hotel. After some difficulty in persuading the check-in clerk that he was a genuine potential client (payment in cash up-front seemed to assuage her doubts), he was given a key to a room on the second floor.

Once inside the room he stripped off all his old clothing and had a long and very hot shower. He enjoyed the feeling of getting clean after being dirty for so long, and luxuriated in the sensation of having hot water running down his body. The act of washing his dirty and matted hair had a similar effect upon him, and once he had shaved for the first time in an age, he began to feel like a new man. The memory of what he had done only a few hours before seemed more like a dream than reality.

He sat on the bed, wrapped in a large bathroom towel, and cut his finger and toe nails. Once that was done, he ravenously devoured