Page 74 of Crave

Edgar’s eyes lit with bureaucratic excitement. “We do. Operation Auburn.”

My father gestured for him to come in. “Sit, Tristan. Listen. It’ll do you good to hear how this works in practice. Marcus was always fascinated when I let him into my live cases and look at him now.”

I rolled my eyes. But I did what was asked. He was doing me favour; I must do him one. And Bryant set the file on the desk, so I could read the tab upside down: R v Leon Morris & Ors Op. Auburn (Ghost Crew).

The word Ghost niggled at me.

“Outline,” Father said.

Bryant adjusted his glasses, consulting his notes. “Major CPS pre-charge referral. East London. The police are ready to move on the Ghost Crew. Class A supply, large-scale distribution. They’ve submitted a draft indictment with six proposed counts.”

My father uncapped his pen. “Go on.”

“Count One—Conspiracy to Supply Class A Drugs, contrary to section one of the Criminal Law Act 1977. The umbrella charge. Covers the whole operation. The line runs. Storage. The lot.”

I knew that charge. It was a catch-all. You didn’t have to prove who moved the drugs, just that they agreed to. Conspiracy was elegant that way: it punished the thought, not the act.

“Counts Two to Five,” Bryant continued, “Being Concerned in the Supply of a Controlled Drug, section 4(3)(b) of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971. Individual offences for each lieutenant. Each one linked by phone intercepts, surveillance logs, and controlled deliveries.”

Father nodded. “The paper trail?”

“Clean,” Bryant said. “Telecoms data from the main numbers. IPA authorised, two months of messages. Cell-site analysis puts their lead, Leon ‘Ghost’ Morris, at three delivery sites. There’s an undercover exchange scheduled at a Bethnal Green lock-up. The OIC wants to hit the location before Ghost does.”

Bethnal Green.

That also crawled over my skin.

“Count Six,” Bryant went on, “Possession of Criminal Property under section 329 of the Proceeds of Crime Act 2002. One of their cash couriers was caught with thirty grand in vacuum packs. The police want restraint orders ready by tomorrow afternoon. Freeze the bank accounts before the arrests.”

Father leant back. “And your evidential sufficiency?”

“Strong,” Bryant said. “Five test purchases on video, lab confirmation of purity, continuous surveillance since August. They’ve also got an informant embedded through one of Ghost’s sub-dealers. The CHIS flagged a major handover expected by the end of the week. The OIC wants to move before it lands.”

CHIS. Covert Human Intelligence Source. A snitch, in simpler terms. OIC, officer in charge of the investigation. A real live case, like my father said. Catching criminals even before the act. He was trying to get me all excited about this.

“The OIC wants to move on the main indictment by the end of the week,” Bryant said. “Six coordinated arrests. Dawn entries. If the drugs are on-site, the evidence locks the conspiracy. If not, they can still run the case on surveillance and communication data.”

Father took notes in the margin. “And disclosure?”

“Under control,” Bryant said. “Two sensitive CHIS documents will be redacted under PII. They’ll show product but not identity. Everything else, MG6C, logs, continuity, has been audited. No loose ends.”

Father looked satisfied. “Good. Keep it narrow. Conspiracy and concerned-in supply. Don’t dilute with smaller charges. The more focused your indictment, the cleaner the trial. And tell Harland I don’t want the defence claiming ‘overreach’ on the restraint order.”

Bryant nodded, making notes.

Father’s tone shifted into that calm cruelty he used in court. “If they’re clever, they’ll claim abuse of process. Say the CPS are relying too heavily on covert evidence. Make sure your informant is ring-fenced. One slip, and the defence will have the Crown bleeding in open court.”

Bryant smiled. “We’ve covered that, sir. The CHIS will only be referred to as ‘Source Alpha.’ Their statement is paraphrased to remove identifiers. Even the officers handling the intel aren’t named in the MG6.”

“Good.” Father shut the file. “Tell Harland he has my advice. Strike by Friday. Six arrests, one clean indictment. Charge on the conspiracy and keep the rest in reserve. Once Ghost is down, the others will fold.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bryant stood, collecting the file. “Always a pleasure.”

Father’s tone softened to its professional hum. “You’ll have your review back by sixteen hundred. The Home Office is expecting results before quarter-end.”

Bryant nodded to me politely before leaving. “Tristan. Nice seeing you again.”