The white surveillance van was parked amongst vehicles on the road directly across from the Pembridge Estate. It was dirty and dented and one side had scrapes and rust. Barely visible were the spy holes on each side. The back windows were blacked out, but not suspicious as the tint had been made to look old and creased with the corners unstuck. The dashboard and interior front area was covered in old beer cans, newspapers and used takeaway cartons. The two officers in the back of the van had been there for almost fifteen minutes under orders from DCI Bradfield to monitor the Bentley men, but they had not seen them exit the flats before they parked up.
Outside the rented garage David was sitting in the passenger seat of the fake decorator’s van while John changed into some paint-stained but dust-free overalls and some similarly stained working boots. John loaded the van with more wood to support the tunnel then closed the door of the garage. He got into the van, and as he drove off saw his mother in the distance leaving the estate with her wheelie cart.
‘Where the fuck is she going?’ he said in anger.
Instead of turning left John went right and, pulling up beside his mother, told David to open his window.
‘Where the hell are you going?’ he shouted.
Renee turned, startled at first, as she didn’t recognize the voice.
‘I’m goin’ down the launderette wiv the bed sheets, David’s clothes and your dirty overalls.’
David gave a small hand-wave to his mother. John pursed his lips.
‘For Chrissake, you don’t have to go to the launderette any more.’
‘Yes I do. Are you off workin’? Cos David should be in bed as he’s coming down with a cold.’
Leaning right over David, John wound up the window. He couldn’t be bothered to argue with her and angrily crunched the gears as he did a U turn and drove off, not noticing the white surveillance van that was across the road from him.
As the Bentleys drove off, the two officers in the back of the van recognized John from the criminal-record photograph they had with them. One officer in the van, wearing workman’s overalls, slid the concealed panel behind the front seats across and got into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine he followed the Bentley brothers, keeping a good distance. He radioed to another unit, a male and female officer ready and waiting nearby in the back of a fake black cab.
‘Bravo One eyeballed in white decorator’s van, index, Juliet, Whisky, Bravo, One, Seven, Six Charlie. Heading North up Homerton High Street carrying white male passenger unknown.’
Seeing the surveillance cab in his wing mirror the officer driving the van held back.
‘Two Four take over the tail,’ he said over the radio and the cab moved in behind the van.
The surveillance vehicles constantly swapped position behind John Bentley’s van, but always kept a car or two between them wherever possible so as not to be spotted.
In Shoreditch High Street the officer in the van radioed to his colleagues.
‘Target right into Bateman’s Row.’ There was a short pause. ‘Now left into Curtain Road… Two Five take over.’
‘Two Five received,’ the female officer in the cab replied and her colleague driving took up position behind the van.
The female officer continued. ‘Target right into Great Eastern Street and moving slowly… Target now left, left, left into Charlie Papa.’
The other surveillance vehicles knew the code – the target van had gone into the multistorey car park. The surveillance cab parked up nearby. The male and female officer in the back of the cab got out and stood on a nearby corner holding hands, chatting and acting if they were a loving couple out for a stroll.
A few minutes later the target van drove out from the multistorey car park and turned left. From their position the two officers on foot could only see the rear of the van. The female officer got on the radio as she and her colleague dashed back to the cab.
‘Target on move again left out of Charlie Papa, Two Four, you need to follow.’
The surveillance-van driver was parked up nearby and went to move into Great Eastern Street but got stuck behind a learner driver at the junction. By the time he was able to get back onto the main road Bentley’s van was nowhere to be seen, and there were a number of roads he could have turned down.
‘Two Five to Four, target lost,’ he said dejectedly over the radio. Taking a chance he turned down a side road to look for the target vehicle but with no luck.
‘Please tell me you’re joking?’ the now distraught female officer asked over the radio.
‘I’m checking the back streets but no eyeball on target.’
‘Well, you can explain to the boss you screwed up,’ she replied.
‘I knew we should have used more vehicles, and if you two hadn’t got out on foot this wouldn’t have happened.’
