The Ice Crew: Foxy Fowler, #2

By Lee Richards

THE CHASE IS ON.

This is the second book in the 'Foxy Fowler' series. 

A realistic and gritty story of a London detective and his adversaries.

London's top detective Lawrence 'Foxy' Fowler has to put a stop to a serious firm of East End diamond thieves, known as 'The Ice Crew'.

They are seemingly invisible to the Met Police.

Now a member of the infamous 'Flying Squad', Lawrence must prevail.

Another page-turner from Lee Richards.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Richards
• Release date: Jul 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393178309

Lee Richards

Lee Richards is 55 years old. He spent his career in sales and marketing and has taken early retirement. A reading fan from the age of 12, when his mother presented him with the full collection of Agatha Christie novels. That was it. He was hooked, a fan of the written word for life. In the main, his interests in reading are within the crime, thriller, action and suspense genres. Lee was born and bred in the East End of London. After traveling the world with his career he has now settled in the English countryside with his wife and two dogs. To my American readers as I am English, some of the language used is in my native tongue. I apologize in advance if this causes some confusion, I hope you understand. Thank you Email  [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

LONDON 1972

The lads were sitting around a table in a light industrial unit they had leased that week, as soon as they had arrived back in the East End.

The boys had leased the unit for a year, in an industrial estate in Hackney, East London.

The time was approaching 9 pm and they could not be overheard by anybody as all the units were empty. Everyone working at the light industrial estate had completed their day's work and gone home. The place was like a graveyard at night. You could hear a pin drop. But, the lads were very conscious of making any sound, that was how they operated, under the radar and silently.

Even so, they were whispering to each other as this particular group of lads had never been caught or gone to prison for any of their criminal activities. And they weren't about to break that habit.

Be quiet, don't flash the cash, was their motto and they lived by it.

Just back from Spain where they had all resided for the past year or so, they did stick out back home in London because of their suntans. But as they all had various legitimate business fronts in the East End, this would deflect any attention from the police.

If needed the tans could be explained away by the fronts doing well, this meant the average copper would take that as explanation enough, if they owned good business’s why not have holidays?

Their accountants and lawyers would answer any questions for them, and all of the lad’s businesses paid all their taxes due, they were straight.

Christ, lads, it's absolutely bloody freezing announced Chris.

Amazing, Chris is that the best you can come up with? Of course, it's freezing, it's November isn't it? responded Andy. We've just come back from Spain you twat, what did you expect?

Effing nut-job as he shook his head in amazement of his pal.

The four members of the gang were Chris Richardson, Andy Burns, Henry Savage and John Duggan. All the lads were 23 to 24 years old. They all came from the Hackney area in the East End of London.

All had gone to school with each other and as young as six, immediately became mates, and because of this, they had naturally created a bond of trust between them all the way through to adulthood.

This bond could never and would never be broken. This was their strength, and always would be. The longer they were together the deeper the bond became.

These lads came from criminal families, and they knew the score about the lifestyle they had started to live.

At eighteen they were already building themselves a solid reputation on the streets.

They were respectful to the old villains.

By equal measure, they demanded respect from their peers on the streets. To earn this they did it the old fashioned way, and the first was never grass to the filth, an unforgivable sin of the streets. The second was loyalty and the third was to have and show no fear.

Between them, they had a propensity for violence that basically scared the living shit out of anyone who either heard the rumours of the four lads or, unfortunately, crossed them.

A lot of young males bore the scars, that proved the rep the four lads had on the streets of the East End.

This energy they had, and the codes they lived by meant that their reputations preceded them wherever they went or whoever they met.

As they said, We don't make threats, what's the point? We just fucking do it. And do it they did.

The old villains loved this attitude and watched them progress, pleased they were carrying on old school traditions, in the heart of the East End.

In fact, their names were well known in the underworld, by this time on both sides of the Thames.

In fact all of London, North, South, East and West. Great progress in a short time frame.

But these lads were unique, they were special.

The lads all agreed at an early age, to create this group and let nobody else come into the crew under any circumstances.

Any work that had to be 'outsourced', they did, provided that whoever was used, came with the highest of recommendations.

Obviously, the relevant pressure was applied to make sure, that whoever the lads decide to use was 'sound', even though they would have come with serious assurances and would have been vouched for.

The four had started their criminal careers at the bottom and through hard graft had arrived at their current position.

They had started at the bottom of their criminal career path and in a relatively short time span, had moved quickly up the ladder in the crime life. Earning the badly needed respect needed to survive, making fast money, and lots of it.

The lads now specialised in one thing and one thing only. Diamonds. Known on the streets of London as Ice.

The four members had built up a formidable list of contacts within the underworld, to give information on the movement and location of diamonds.

They had sourced themselves serious men who would 'fence', any jewels they obtained. The four lads only used 'fences', who would give them at least 40p plus on the pound. These fences would operate in London, Birmingham, Newcastle, Manchester and Liverpool.

They frequently changed their contacts so the cops would always find it harder to pin anything on them, through the filth’s network of grasses.

After a really good run on smash and grab jobs in jewellery stores around London, which netted the lad’s a nice pile of the green stuff, they decided that some time away from home was a way to secure themselves being fingered for any job.

Then a bigger job than normal was theirs. It went well. A break was needed.

So Spain it was.

Now they were back for some more work, very profitable work. They loved lifting Ice, just loved it.

Back inside the lock-up, the boys were seriously beginning to feel the cold. Even Henry who normally didn't moan was whingeing about the temperature. Come on lads, as there is no real business going to be done tonight because it is too fucking cold, let's meet up and resume tomorrow when it will be warmer because it ain't going to warm up tonight, it’s brass monkeys. I tell you what let's meet up at the pie and mash shop in Shoreditch and we can talk in the warmth and have a decent bit of grub for once. I don't know about you but I'm sick to death of that Spanish crap we have to eat.

All the lads had a quiet giggle at that, because secretly even though they all loved the sun, they missed the food of the East End, and a proper pint, in a proper boozer.

No one knew they were the gang who had carried out one of the biggest heists to date.

The boys were never going to tell anyone.

They still had the Ice and were not prepared to risk their liberty by suddenly offloading that amount of diamonds through their contacts and 'fences'. It would bring the grasses out in force, once word got leaked it was them, that was moving that amount of tom.

The 'fences' they used, quietly admired them but kept their thoughts to themselves, one, they were all on a good thing and two, everyone liked their body parts where God intended them to be.

The move to Spain raised some eyebrows, but the boys never uttered a word to another human on the planet, other than that they all fancied a break, 'They were only young once', etc.

They were watertight and in the future years to come, that would prove to be their strength and power.

To relocate for a while (they didn't know exactly how long for), was a good move because the police had been all over everybody they suspected like a rash, pulling in known villains, ex-cons, grasses and paid informants as well as any civilian who liked to be seen with the 'faces' of the East End.

As the lads all agreed on the plane as they flew out, if they were not there it stood to reason they would be out of the firing line.

The police, after all their activity had come up with nothing and because the lads were not on their radar, and the fact that they had gone to Spain, and therefore 'out of sight, out of mind', they were of no concern to the boys in blue.

The lads knew this, and patted each other on the back, on making such a shrewd move, at the right time.

Now, however, all four of them were back in town as they had been given some amazing information.

This info could be worth a fortune, a game changer, so the lads had come back home, to London. They had only flown into Heathrow Airport five days ago.

The tight crew had been told through their network of reliable and discreet contacts they had, that an even bigger score was available to be taken, and with the right preparation and planning the job was a real earner. These boys were born for this, it was so natural for them.

They had just started to talk that evening in the lock-up but the change in weather had got to the lads.

With Chris and Henry whingeing like old ladies, Andy and John just couldn't cope with listening to them moaning and crying any more. So they decided quietly amongst themselves to leave the lock-up and resume conversations the next day at their favourite gaff, the pie and mash shop.

At least no-one would bitch about being cold.

Chapter 2

Mr Lawrence Fowler.

Where to begin?

To his friends and family, he was known as Laurie. As it happens he absolutely couldn't stand it, but then who of us really love our name given to us by parents at birth, not many.

To his workmates, all detectives, of all grades, his nickname and therefore what he went by at work was 'Foxy Fowler.'

This he secretly loved but he did not admit it to anybody. Like most people, he had an ego. This nickname fed his.

To London's criminal underworld, he was also known as 'Foxy Fowler', and as they all agreed amongst themselves he was a 'right royal pain in the arse'.

Fowler was now 36 years old. He continued playing rugby until he was 32 and it was his real passion. At the age of 32, he retired from playing competitively as the pains from many battles on the pitch, had finally caught up with him.

So now he spent his time at the club training the younger youth teams. In his own way, it gave him great satisfaction.

He was a big man, blonde hair, blue eyes and muscles in all the right places. His appearance, had attracted over the years plenty of female interest. And he wasted no time in any female opportunity that came his way.

But in the last six months one lady, in particular, he had fallen head over heels in love with. Her name was Rosemary Lincoln, she had dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, she was tall and slender and two years younger than 'Foxy Fowler'.

The feeling was mutual, they met at a rugby social club dance, and as corny as it sounds, as soon as their eyes met they instantly fell in love with each other.

Rosemary was a good Catholic girl and she made it quite clear from the beginning, that if her Lawrence was to be the one, then they would have to steer clear of any lovemaking until the night of their honeymoon.

This seriously frustrated Lawrence as he had sown his seeds for a good few years now. To be fair he wanted more, but there was no way he was going to lose his girl. He told Rosemary this. She now loved him even more, if that was at all possible.

Every time they saw each other, their hearts would literally melt as they looked into each other's eyes. He declared that he would never be unfaithful to her, and she believed him as he was so sincere when he said it.

Rosemary was a teacher of infants. She loved her job and the career prospects it held. Lawrence admired her work ethics, as his own were exemplary. Rosemary absolutely loved it that her fellow was an admired and respected police officer in the Metropolitan police force.

Both sets of parents could not wait for 'The Big Day'. The mothers loved the idea of the couple settling down.

To this end of their much-discussed future, even though they had only been together for six months, they planned to save as fast as possible so they could get married.

Then after their lovely honeymoon in Portugal, they would move into Fowler's flat whilst they saved to buy their own house in Finchley, North London.

Neither one of them had been abroad before so their honeymoon was already spoken about often. They were a perfect couple and many people in the area that they lived commented on how perfect they were.

Work-wise, 'Foxy Fowler' had just taken his sergeant's exams and was awaiting the result. He had an inkling that if he passed his sergeant's exams he would possibly be transferred to another department. As he intended to climb the ladder of promotion he relished the thought of fresh challenges all the time.

Since solving the Wembley killer case he had progressed nicely within the Murder Squad at West End Central police station.

Over the past two and a half years, he had been involved as a detective constable in many murders. Some of these were shocking, and others were murders or killings between spouses. Within the Murder Squad, these grave offences were considered to be bread-and-butter type cases.

Fowler had also been lent out to different departments. This was under orders from the top. They wanted to see how he performed. The way he behaved, and results he bought in really pleased the top brass.

Fowler had gained within the last two and a half years a serious reputation amongst the criminal fraternity across the whole of London. In particular the East End and Soho, his pet hates. He openly despised ‘The Spivs’ as he called all well dressed villains.

The East End of London in particular was a hotbed of crime as it had been for a couple of hundred years at least.

DC Fowler loved dealing