Police hit Soho's crack dealers

A team of 40 uniformed and plainclothes officers gather at West End Central Police Station, Savile Row, for an operation targeted at 24 Jamaican criminals dealing crack cocaine in Soho. The arrest phase of Operation Outlet is about to commence.

Snatch squads of officers will be sent into the area surrounding London's theatreland to detain the dealers pedalling drugs.

The officers are handed arrest packs containing mugshots of the suspects, their names and dates of birth, and colourful nicknames such as Cain Rows and Polo Cap. They will be stopped and brought in for questioning.

The operation follows a two-month covert surveillance operation by detectives who mingled in Soho crowds to gather evidence. They followed the suspects, and officers believe they have amassed sufficient evidence to arrest the dealers.

Their targets are young Jamaicans plucked from the streets of Kingston and sent over by gangsters on an almost weekly basis to trade in drugs.

Police say they are criminals unable to survive on the tough streets of Kingston, and arrive illegally in Britain looking for easier pickings.

But they are considered expendable by their bosses. If convicted, dealers can expect six years in prison and immediate deportation.

On the streets of Soho the dealers speak in a Caribbean patois. They can store up to 40 crack "rocks" in their mouths, which they are prepared to swallow at any time. Detectives believe they can earn up to £3,000 a day. Police intelligence suggests most of the money is sent back to crime bosses in the Caribbean. What they retain funds a lifestyle of girls, jewellery, flashy cars and drugs.

Many set up homes in small flats in Brixton and Streatham where they make contact with other criminals. Their everyday lives follow the pattern of sleeping during the day and dealing throughout the night.

At the briefing, Detective Inspector Neil Wilson says the evidence against the men and women is "watertight" but warns that "pandemonium will reign at some point this evening".

During the arrests, he instructs, one officer will take the head, another rugby tackle at the legs, and one more will cushion the suspect's fall.

Officers are told to take the "moral high ground and not to use threats or swear in front of a prisoner".

Mr Wilson adds: "There will be no injuries during the operation and the safety of us, members of the public and prisoners - in that order - is paramount.

"There will be no mavericks and this will be a team performance. Officers will be seen to be acting in nothing other than a totally professional manner." A few minutes later Mr Wilson confesses that "this is the most nervewracking time".

7.30pm: Although it is not believed the suspects will be carrying weapons, officers wear body armour - because, as one officer says "anybody on crack is an unknown quantity" - and arm themselves with CS spray, batons and handcuffs. Their most powerful weapon will be the element of surprise.

Following some technical difficulties with the dated Metropolitan Police radios, the squad is ready to go. Four unmarked cars, carrying three officers in each, two police vans, including medics, and a smattering of roaming undercover officers are despatched to points either side of Shaftesbury Avenue around Wardour Street and Chinatown, the main dealing areas.

8.50pm: The officers are in position and the waiting game begins. To pass the time they joke about the ban on swearing: "Excuse me, you bounder, I'm arresting you for possession of Class A drugs, now come along quietly."

But after an hour the radio earpieces begin to crackle with the descriptions of two prime targets. One is in a blue hooded top and jeans, the other in a cream-coloured jacket. The officer with the "eye" - the one who recognises the suspects - takes the lead as other plainclothes officers move into position and the police vans circle.

Unaware they are targets, the suspects are followed by officers for 500 yards before being swooped upon. This time there is little drama and they are picked up outside a Kentucky Fried Chicken without the need to be dragged away. Pleased with the smooth arrests the team go back to their positions.

10.05pm: Two suspects, a man and a woman, are located in Rupert Street. The same pursuit operation swings into action and undercover officers pounce on one suspect outside Waxy O'Connor's bar as uniformed colleagues in a van screech to a halt and haul another to the floor.

One arm pinned behind his back, the suspect is held down by an officer while another tells him, in a controlled manner, to open his mouth so he can check for any rocks of crack he may be hiding.

Onlookers question the police tactic, which has led to disturbances in Brixton, because it can look like the prisoner is being choked.

His pockets are searched but he is not concealing any drugs and is put in the van to be taken to Charing Cross or West End Central police stations.

Drinkers and diners, told to stay inside the bar, are allowed out after the arrests are completed. One doorman says to an officer: "The cleanup squad have arrived." The woman suspect has carried on walking, apparently oblivious to the commotion going on a few yards behind her, but she is quickly picked up.

11.10pm: After pulling a parking ticket off his windscreen, Sgt Tony Brown of the City Intelligence Unit explains how the dealers moved into Chinatown selling drugs to addicts who travel from all over London.

Residents are constantly complaining to police about Soho's reputation and the violence that accompanies the trade. Tourists and workers, many now falling out of pubs, rub shoulders with muggers looking for victims and drug dealers.

This is the time the crack trade begins to boom. The £10 rocks are discreetly handed to punters who quickly walk away from the scene to smoke in a nearby alleyway. Many dealers also dupe addicts into buying "skank" - a worthless mixture of glass, paper and stone.

A description of another suspect is circulated over the airwaves and one of the officers with the "eye" says he is "one big horrible subject".

Three officers grapple with a man and bring him to the ground outside a Chinese restaurant while a young woman protests that officers won't find anything incriminating.

Almost immediately the arrest is executed, another suspect is located. During the chase he passes a horde of screaming teenage girls eagerly awaiting the exit from the Sound Club of the band Blue - predicted to be number one in the charts this weekend.

Back up Rupert Street he is apprehended outside the Gielgud Theatre. Officers try and handcuff him but it then becomes apparent he only has one arm. The other was believed to have been hacked off with a machete - many of the suspects have numerous scars inflicted during fights in Jamaica, police say.

Midnight: As Mr Wilson predicted, pandemonium has broken out - but it is back at Charing Cross police station. As more alleged crack dealers are brought back to be processed and detained, Scotland Yard's Clubs and Vice Unit has raided a brothel and a number of Eastern European prostitutes are creating a backlog.

Every time an arrest is made two officers go back with the prisoner, who is stripsearched. The suspect is held "incommunicado", meaning he or she can only make a phone call to their solicitor and not a family member or friend until police give permission, while their homes are searched.

All the prisoners will be questioned by a separate team of detectives in the morning.

1.50am: Police pick up the ninth suspect of the night but despite officers working through to 5am there are no more arrests.

Another senior officer said he would have been ecstatic if the team had reached double figures but is "very pleased" with the results of the £40,000 operation. Despite the speed of the operation no drugs were recovered. Police remain confident charges will follow due to evidence already gathered in the surveillance operation.

"One way or another the remainder will gradually come in because Soho is such a lucrative market and demand is so high, but we hope this will help suppress the market for at least six months," he said.

Growing trade to affluent addicts