by Ian Jones
But even better was the fingerprint. Forensics hadn’t given up and had continued with the rifle and had discovered a thumbprint on the base of the stock. One hundred percent Anthony Collis’s right hand thumb. The assumption was that the gun had been meticulously wiped and put back in the case. Then later Collis had gone to close everything up but the rifle had not been seated properly in the foam, so automatically he had pushed it in with his thumb. Ballistics were matched with those from Germany, France and Italy and also were identical, the bullets recovered were on their way over right now in readiness for court.
They had everything.
As soon as the interview started Fairhead laid it all on the line, one piece of confirmed evidence after the other, and then he sat back, staring at Collis silently.
Collis sat there shell-shocked. He said nothing, just gaped at Fairhead. He closed his eyes and sat back, then gave a bitter smile and leaned over to the microphone set at the edge of the table.
‘Er … Houston? We have a problem,’ was all he said.
The team were celebrating. Collis now wanted an attorney but insisted on his own, so asked to make another phone call. Fairhead happily told him that he had already made one, but they would call on his behalf. This totally flummoxed Collis, who in the end gave a number to call, which was the same as the previous day.
The phone was answered by a man called Paul Hunter, whom Collis claimed was an ‘associate’. Hunter was clearly unhappy with receiving the call from the FBI and would only confirm that an attorney would be sent.
John wondered if Paul Hunter was one of the old guys that Clancy had seen, and he was found out to be a former soldier living close to Gray Rock, had no criminal record other than a complaint of harassment from an ex-wife and was a few years older than John.
The wheels were in motion, Collis was guilty and they had more than they needed, so John booked his flight and set off for home.
Chapter Eight
The three wise men sat around the table having breakfast. They were in the Country Club, which was the latest addition to their empire. Abel and Cane had finished their meals, and Abel was watching Barlow still eating methodically, small mouthfuls, chewing carefully and precisely. Cane was staring out the window pensively, looking at the golf course that was under construction. Nobody was working yet as it was still early. The contractor, who had been chosen due to some wonder turf that would apparently grow anywhere, had told them it would take two years, but they were four months in already and barely seemed to have started yet. He would probably get the blame for that too. He shook his head slowly and pushed the remains of a sausage around his plate.
This was their regular meeting. Originally, it had been every morning, often including Saturdays and Sundays but now the town had grown and they were on top of everything it had been reduced to twice a week. They used to meet in Barlow’s house, but had switched to the Country Club once it opened. As usual, they were the only people in the restaurant. Membership numbers were low, very low, but they had anticipated that, currently there really wasn’t a lot here for the guests to do. But the swimming pool would be finished within six months, and the tennis and squash courts were well on their way too. And once the golf course was completed people would fall over themselves to join. Abel and Barlow were very confident of that. They were always confident of everything, but they could afford to be, and so far, they had largely been proved right.
Finally, Barlow finished eating and sat back. He looked around the room, and a young girl came scurrying over. She cleared the table and Abel ordered another pot of coffee, then produced his agenda. There was always an agenda, Abel liked them. These days, it was at best a couple of neatly handwritten lines, Barlow believed it to be a waste of time but allowed it, in deference to Abel he let it be, he supposed there was no harm in it.
They went through the two items, not much to say really, the prison contract was agreed, land had been acquired and they should begin breaking the ground within the next few months. There was an offer on one of the remaining grand houses and the hopeful buyer had passed all the initial checks. Barlow added that the big project that he insisted should not be written down anywhere and as usual they opted not to discuss openly would soon be agreed. Abel wrote some ambiguous comments neatly on the sheet of paper then cleared his throat.
‘Now, any other business?’ he asked, staring at Cane.
Barlow immediately turned and looked the same way.
Cane reddened and bristled indignantly, he had known it would be his fault, everything always was. But as ever, he would just sit there, taking it.
‘Look,’ he started but Barlow interrupted.
‘No dammit, you look. This is a mess. It’s one man, and he’s laughing at us.’
‘I don’t think he knows who we are actually,’ Abel commented mildly.
‘Well that’s one good thing, at least make sure it stays that way,’ Barlow retorted, shaking his head. Then he sat upright angrily. ‘No, actually, that’s wrong, he should know exactly who we are, who the hell he is dealing with. So, who wants to explain this to me?’ He continued staring at Cane.
Abel poured out three cups of coffee carefully.
‘Firstly, I did what I was asked to do. Abel called me and then I called Hunter. This is what I always do. I only found out there was a problem this morning,’ Cane said, attempting to sound forceful.
‘A problem? I don’t think it was just one,’ Abel said, as calm as ever.
‘That’s not what I meant. We sat here and you told me that Carter would deal with it, I wasn’t involved in that decision, and then you rang me when that failed and I spoke to Hunter. That’s it.’
Barlow rubbed his face with his hand.
‘Well maybe you should get Hunter here to explain then,’ he retorted.
‘I already did that. He’s on his way,’ Cane replied.
Abel took out his mobile phone and laid it on the table, positioning it carefully in line with his sheet of notepaper.
‘I think I have an idea,’ he said.
‘Good,’ Barlow said, and took a drink of coffee.
Abel picked up the phone with a flourish and swiped the screen up and down and then selected a number. He sat back in his chair staring up at the ceiling. It was a while before it was answered, but Abel had expected that. He listened and then spoke quietly and deliberately.
‘We need something done. As much time as you can give us, but it has to be this morning and it is important.’
He listened again.
‘I am aware of that. We have been let down by a local resource, and unfortunately our resultant attempts at resolution have also failed. Which is why I am calling you.’
The voice on the end of the phone became louder. Abel raised his own in return.
‘Of course, of course. You will be well compensated.’
Pause.
‘Thank you, I will expect a call back very soon.’
He hung up the phone and placed it back on the table.
A middle-aged man walked into the restaurant wearing a green bomber jacket and black jeans. He was stocky, solid, with a shaved head. He came stalking over to the table and didn’t look at all happy to be there.
‘Good morning Mister Hunter, care for some coffee?’ Abel asked him.
Hunter pulled out a chair and sat down without being invited. He was the only one who would act this way with the three wise men. He reached across to the empty table next to them and picked up a cup and pushed it across to Abel, who poured out the coffee.
‘Care to tell me what went wrong Hunter?’ Barlow asked, cleaning a finger nail with a fork.
Hunter looked at Cane, who immediately resumed staring out of the window. Hunter scared him.
‘Firstly, it would have made everybody’s life easier if I had been given some useful intel on this guy, because I got next to nothing at all, and that’s not right,’ he stated angrily.
Barlow raised a hand.
‘Well, in fair
ness, when we discussed this last week, we told you what we knew.’
‘Yeah, and you told me that Carter would deal with it. And I told you that the fat useless ass could barely issue a fucking parking ticket. And I was right.’
Abel nodded patiently.
‘Yes, you were. And it has been noted. But you are normally so reliable.’
‘It seems to me like I was given a job to do at short notice, that I had to arrange quickly without being told any proper information. Now my guys are all good, but they went in blind also and got sucker punched, and I ain’t happy about it. I’m down three fucking guys here, thanks to this bullshit.’
‘What? Three?’ Barlow asked, beaky nose quivering indignantly.
‘Yeah, three,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘I sent Gary first, because, as you know he ain’t someone who fucks around. He always gets the job done. But the English guy cold-cocked him when he wasn’t expecting it; Gary said he had just asked to speak to him and he got taken out. I had to go pick him up. He was a mess, I knew straight away we had more of a problem than anyone had told me, so I had a think about it and I got Stevie and Rimmer to go knock on the target’s door. I ain’t got much out of Rimmer but Stevie says the guy was waiting for them. Expecting them, he says. He made a whole bunch of threats at the end apparently.’
‘Gary and Rimmer? Are they hurt?’ Abel asked.
Hunter stared across the table.
‘Oh yeah. They are fucked up. Out of action. Arms broken, hands all busted up. That goes for all three of them. This guy knows what he is doing. Like I said it would have been avoided if I had known what I was dealing with.’
‘He made threats? What threats? Against who?’ Barlow was even more annoyed to hear that.
‘Yeah, he said he would take on everyone and will make sure he finds out who’s driving. Basically that’s what the motherfucker said, anyways,’ Hunter explained.
Barlow and Abel looked at each other. Nobody threatened them, and this was bad news, Gary was a genuine hard case; the most professional of all the Regulators, and Rimmer was a big, useful man, two men they used a lot and would leave a hole behind.
‘Are we going to have enough now? Should we get outside help?’ Barlow asked.
Hunter shook his head.
‘This close? No, it will just get outta hand if we do that. I don’t want to have to deal with a whole load of fresh unknowns. No, I still got seven guys, plus me. Ok, so losing Rimmer and Gary is gonna look bad to the others but I will have to deal with that. Meantime you better find out just who the fuck this guy is, we can’t have any more surprises.’
‘Yes, you are right. I will deal with that,’ said Abel.
‘And there’s another thing I guess you don’t know,’ Hunter announced.
‘What?’ asked Barlow.
‘He took Rimmer and Stevie’s guns.’
Barlow visibly blanched and Abel grimaced.
‘Right Paul, we need a new plan and quick,’ he said urgently.
‘Well, I got an idea, but it will mean he leaves town permanently. Back to basics.’
Barlow shook his head vehemently.
‘No. We said all along that this is a bad idea, it will bring the FBI down here in droves and we can’t have them anywhere near us right now. It’s not long to go. In less than a week they can do what they want and not get near us but now I can’t risk it.’
Hunter nodded slowly.
‘If you are sure about this then I hear you. Ok. But I just want to say right now I don’t agree, it would be the simplest solution. I guess maybe there are other ways. I’m watching him.’
‘Good. I have given this matter a lot of thought, it is my decision. We trust you, you know that.’
At that moment Abel’s mobile phone rang, loud and shrill in the silent room. He glanced at the number calling and swept it up, then listened carefully, head cocked on one side.
‘Good, thank you,’ was all he said and then hung up looking pleased with himself.
‘I’ve got us twenty-four hours, hopefully more.’
Barlow nodded and then sat back in his chair, pointing his long fingers under his chin.
‘You find out what you can about him, and I think we should invite him to come and have a chat, let him see who he is dealing with,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘What?’ asked Cane, but Barlow ignored him.
‘I got to say that sounds like a bad idea,’ Hunter countered. ‘Better he doesn’t know about you at all.’
‘I disagree, and we know who he has been talking to, right? People will be telling him about us anyway. Once Mr Abel has got the information we will be forewarned, and what better way to get an understanding than to speak face to face?’
Hunter looked annoyed but said nothing further.
‘Meet here?’ Abel asked, surprised by the decision.
‘No, let’s invite him to the office. This morning. Please get that done now Mr Cane.’
Hunter stood up to leave, but Barlow stopped him.
‘Mr Hunter please ask Jamie to stop by the office, say in a couple of hours,’ he asked.
‘Jamie? He ain’t on the team.’
‘I know that, but he has been useful in the past, and it means that we aren’t putting any more of your people at risk.’
‘Fine,’ Hunter said abruptly and left the room.
‘I better make some calls,’ Abel told the other two and picked up his mobile.
Chapter Nine
John slept later than usual, the journey the day before and the night activities had taken its toll so it was after nine in the morning when he woke. He sat up and stretched, and then padded across to the door and pulled it open. As expected there was no sign of the two men on the ground below. He closed the door and then had a long, hot shower. He cleaned his teeth thoroughly then got dressed, and decided to go for breakfast.
As he went to leave the room he spotted something on the floor and looked down in surprise, there was a white card that had been pushed under his door. He was sure it hadn’t been there when he had looked out earlier. He picked it up, there was just a simple message printed neatly in capital letters:
‘WELCOME TO GRAY ROCK! THE COUNCIL WOULD LIKE TO MEET YOU!’
Underneath there was an address and a time written; 11 am, presumably today. He tapped the card on his teeth and considered. What the hell was this about? It would be tight; he would need to leave here no later than twelve to drive out to the prison. But did he want to go to meet this council anyway? Why would he be interested in meeting anyone? He put it down to it being a reaction to the sheriff’s pointless activities yesterday and decided not to bother going, he wasn’t interested.
He had a thought and looked at the two Berettas, both new. He didn’t want to leave them in the room. He picked them up and walked out and down the steps into the square area at the bottom. There wasn’t much to see, the high wall in front and a lower one to his left, the motel to his right and then the car park behind. Under the landing to his room door was an overhead light for the room below. It was bolted to a wide board that was fixed to the metal edge of the framework, and open at the sides. He glanced around, then reached up and slid the guns on top of the board until they were out of sight. Perfect hiding place.
He jogged back upstairs and locked his room, then walked down the hill to the diner, and sat in a booth by the window. The breakfast rush was nearly over now, but there were still a few people in there. There were two waitresses, one middle-aged and one older, wearing the same light blue smocks. Behind the counter were a couple of short order cooks; one old and one young. He ordered the American classic breakfast and a milky coffee from the ever smiling waitress and then looked out the window. From his position he looked up the hill and could see the motel, and beyond it the plant towering up, gleaming in the sunlight. The place was huge, he wondered how many people worked there. It would be a lot, there was the office block too.
His phone rang. Patrick.
‘Hey Patrick,’ he said
cheerily, he wanted to speak to him anyway for any last minute advice on how he should go about the meeting at the prison. He still had no idea what he would say to Collis or if he would even get to see him.
‘Hey John, listen I got some news I hope this isn’t a massive pain in the ass.’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘The visit is off, I just got a call. The prison is in lockdown, they’ve lost one.’
‘Ah.’
‘It happens. He won’t have got out, he’ll be hiding someplace, but they have to find him, so no visits today.’
‘Ok.’
‘I’m sorry John, can you stay one more night?’
‘Yeah, why not? It’s no problem.’
‘So how is it down there?’
John told him about the men from the night before. Patrick whistled.
‘Who the hell are these guys I wonder?’ Patrick asked.
‘No idea, but listen this place has changed. I mean really changed, in the last ten years there’s a whole new town sprung up in the north. And there’s a huge factory here, BRP Pharmaceuticals.’
‘BRP? Those guys are massive. Pretty much the biggest in the world. You go buy a packet of aspirin and it’s probably made by them.’
‘I thought I knew the name, it may be worth checking out, what do you think?’
‘Sure, let me look into it. Probably nothing.’
‘Yeah.’
They rang off, and John’s breakfast arrived. Outside there was a loud rumble and the Harley pulled into the car park, ridden by the big man, Gilbey. He climbed off, pulled the helmet from his head and laid it on the seat, then walked up the steps into the diner. The older waitress went straight over and planted a kiss on his cheek, he had to bend down low to get it. He gave a smile and looked around, and then to John’s surprise he dropped into the seat opposite. He was wearing the same beaten up old brown leather jacket, which he took off revealing an old faded Whitesnake t-shirt. He was tanned and his arms were thick and strong, as John had thought the previous night he had to be in his seventies but was in amazing shape.