Hunting for Crows

Hunting for Crows by Iain Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Hunting for Crows by Iain Cameron Read Free Book Online
Authors: Iain Cameron
reasons,’ Henderson continued. ‘One, a nark with his nose close to the drugs business says there is, and he’s been reliable in the past. Two, EDF, the local electricity supply company, identified a high infra-red signature when they made a pass over the premises in a helicopter equipped with a thermal imaging camera.’
    ‘No chance it could be something more exotic, sir,’ one of the coppers said. ‘Like Aloe Vera or some new tea?’
    ‘Need something smooth for your rough skin, do you Alex?’ said another.
    They all laughed.
    ‘I can’t think it might be something else, because if it is a legitimate business, why would they need to by-pass the electricity meter?’
    ‘True.’
    Henderson spent the next few minutes discussing door entry, covering the exits, and chasing down and arresting everyone there, including the owner, Tristan Hunt. He and Walters would interview him at the site and make an assessment of his culpability, but if tenants were growing dope on his property he would need either to be a saint or a cabinet minister to escape arrest.
    ‘I think I’ve covered everything. Are there any questions?’
    The raid team travelled to the farm in an unmarked blue van, and to ensure everyone arrived at the same time Henderson told them to follow his car. It was a grey morning, thick clouds blanketing much of Sussex with no sign of the sun lurking behind. Last night, heavy rain pounded the seafront and they’d got soaked coming out of the curry restaurant, now it left the leafless trees all around looking damp and feeling sorry for themselves, dreich, as his father in Fort William would say.
    Twenty minutes later, Henderson turned into the farm, the unmarked van following close behind. His fear in approaching a place like this was not in discovering it was empty, or that the people inside were growing something else, as he believed the intel to be sound, but in not finding anyone at home. He didn’t know a lot about cultivating cannabis but he assumed most plants could look after themselves, so he was steeling himself just in case this time they were unlucky.
    He needn’t have worried as three vans were parked close to the large, brick-built building. After the raid he would take a closer look in each of them, as it was likely they were used for carrying seeds and fertiliser, and to find something else would only strengthen the case against them. The police vehicles came to a halt and everyone got out and ran towards the entrance. One of the team disappeared around the back to look for and cover any other exits.
    The door appeared to be locked from the inside and without waiting to knock and give the occupants time to scarper, the door banger rushed up to the front. Two bangs later and the door swung loose. Henderson piled in behind the running officers and once through the heavy PVC curtain, his senses were assailed by the intense brightness and the heat and the humidity of the heavy, moisture-soaked air.
    He had seen several cannabis nurseries before but this one took top prize for the scale of operation. The walls of the massive warehouse were insulated with acres of plastic sheeting draped all the way round and in front of him, a sea of luxuriant green plants.
    They were all sprouting from their own big plastic pots, like you could see in any garden centre, and resting on more plastic sheeting. He could see ten rows of pots but had no idea how many were in each row as they disappeared into the mist created by the irrigation system, and bathed in the ghostly yellow light from radiating heat lamps.
    If the plant growing system looked elaborate, the electrics above their heads seemed equally so. It was a dull morning outside, but inside was like standing under the floodlights at the Amex Stadium. It was also hot, and mixed with the amount of water around the place, Henderson’s shirt clung to his body and his face perspired as if at the end of a long run along Brighton seafront.
    He heard much scuffling

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