by Ted Tayler
Colleen thought of pouring herself a drink. No, she told herself, wait. You’ve got champagne on ice, ready to celebrate. If everything went to plan she’s be rid of Tommy for good. He’d be on the other side of the world, with no way of getting back.
The DJ said it was ten forty-five. Colleen looked at her watch. When did time ever move this slow? She consoled herself with the thought that if there had been a problem, Sean would have called. What if the police knew he was involved? Maybe Sean had been arrested?
After what seemed an hour, the DJ announced it was eleven o’clock. Time for a news update. ‘Police say long tailbacks are causing delays on the M25 Northbound after an earlier accident. One person had been killed, and several left with serious injuries. More on this at noon.’
The phone rang. Colleen answered.
“Sean, is that you?”
“No, Colleen, it’s Hugo Hanigan. I must commend your brother on his escape plan for Tommy. That was ingenious. Sean’s not answering his phone. Is he with you?”
Colleen couldn’t stand the smarmy Hanigan. She wanted to talk to her brother, to find news on Tommy. Had he been injured in the accident, or even killed? If they fled the scene of the accident where was the team now?
“I couldn’t trust Sean to plan this on his own. I added a few of the finer touches. Tommy should be on his way to the coast by now. The others will be on trains heading into whichever part of the country takes their fancy.”
“I wish him well, Colleen,” said Hugo. “The police have sealed off the spot on the motorway where the accidents occurred. I doubt they realised until ten minutes ago that the prison transport was the target, and the prisoners have been released. The manhunt will begin in earnest within the hour. Every station, port and airport will be alerted. I hope your husband is quick enough to get away before they close the net.”
“You couldn’t care less whether he escapes or not,” Colleen snarled. “You washed your hands of him weeks ago. As for Sean, you made sure he didn’t taint your precious reputation. No matter what happened today, you planned to come up smelling of roses.”
“My, how bitter you are Colleen,” said Hugo. “I called to congratulate you, and this is the thanks I get. If you speak with Tommy before he leaves the country, be sure to tell him to take care. There’s much that can go wrong between here and his final destination.”
Hugo ended the call, avoiding the abuse Colleen screamed down the phone at him.
Colleen tried Sean again. He picked up at last.
“Sean, where have you been? Have you heard from Tommy? Is he alright?”
Sean Walsh was drunk. He sat slumped in a chair, staring out of his lounge window.
“Tony Simms texted me before eleven to say they had reached Rayleigh. They’ll be in Harwich at half-past twelve. Tommy’s on his way, sis.”
“Sean, are you pissed again?”
“It’s been a stressful morning. I needed a drink. Another couple of hours and we can celebrate.”
“The news said someone was killed, what happened?”
“The JCB hit the cab, not the main body of the van as was intended. The front-seat passenger was killed. The driver was seriously hurt. Michelle, the woman I hired for the accident has been hurt too. She’s a stunt-driver, so she’ll heal, you’ll probably see her at work on the next Bond movie. It couldn’t have gone better, sis. Tony said the lads got in and out of the van with Tommy and the others inside two minutes.”
“Bleeding Hanigan called to say, ‘well done’, but he couldn’t resist a dig. He warned me Tommy had a long way to go before he was safe.”
Sean’s brain was befuddled by drink, but the memory of what Hugo had said drifted to the surface.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to stop Tommy himself,” he muttered.
“What do you mean, Sean?” said Colleen.
“When I saw him in the week, he said Tommy was a marked man and might be in danger from someone I picked for the team. He said the beating Tommy received in Belmarsh could have been arranged by someone on the outside. I had my suspicions it was him. Hugo might have been behind everything. Hugo may want Tommy dead, sis.”
“Tommy’s with Tony Simms then?” asked Colleen. “Can you trust him, Sean?”
“A hundred per cent. He’s a diamond geezer. A rough diamond, but he’s not Hugo Hanigan’s man.”
“Let me know when you hear more, Sean,” said Colleen. “When he’s on that boat I can open my bottle of champagne. I wish twelve o’clock would hurry up, and I can listen to the next update.”
“Turn on the telly, Colleen. They’ll have a helicopter over the motorway by now. I’m not sure how the police will play it. They might keep a lid on the breakout and try to intercept the prisoners without informing people dangerous men are on the loose. The shit will hit the fan in time, but the longer they have to put things right before that happens, the less fall-out they’ll need to handle.”
“OK, Sean, we’ll talk later,” said Colleen. “Oh, and Sean, stay off the booze for crying out loud.”
Sean looked at the bottle in his hand. When had he stopped pouring it into a glass? He couldn’t remember.
*****
At two minutes past eleven in the ice-house, Giles and Artemis coordinated the teams homing in on the stations at Rainham, and Dagenham. The grey-topped prisoners stood on the platforms, waiting for the next train. The getaway cars they had been delivered in were turning around to head home. Olympus shadow team cars tracked them.
Artemis was in touch with Olympus cells across London. She issued the same orders as Phoenix. Wherever the cars went, they should never arrive. The drivers and gang members must disappear. Andy Walters and his crew would then disperse, ready to be called into action on Olympus missions whenever the need arose.
Giles made another of his regular anonymous phone calls. He rang the Metropolitan Police and asked whether it was true three Category A prisoners were at large after this morning’s crash on the M25. They declined to comment or to confirm that fact.
Giles suggested they check for passengers wearing light grey hooded jackets, blue jeans and white trainers, travelling from Essex railway stations. The seeds had been sown. Olympus could only hope the police worked the rest out for themselves.
*****
Outside Rayleigh, Rusty had waited until the car drew alongside. It had to slow for the ninety-degree bend in the road. Phoenix had convinced him to park on the apron of the side road. He guessed the getaway car had plenty of horsepower under the bonnet. Rusty knew the car he drove could never hope to match it on a straight run, but in a short sprint, they had a chance. For their plan to work, he had to get this right, first time.
As the gangsters’ car made the slow turn, Rusty accelerated hard, wheels spinning, and shot from his hiding place. He drew alongside, and before the driver was able to react, Rusty had edged by and narrowed the gap between his bonnet and the dry-stone wall on the edge of the road.
There was no way through. The car collided with the wall, and the nearside scraped along it until it was forced to come to rest. The driver tried to reverse away from trouble.
Phoenix appeared above the wall and opened fire with his MP5K. The driver and front-seat passenger Jeff Melvin were killed. Inside the back of the car, Tony Simms tried in vain to get out. His door had jammed and was too close to the wall to kick open.
Tommy O’Riordan struggled to get out of the car, fighting the pain from his injuries. It was no contest. Rusty waited for him, already braced in his firing position. He had aimed his Browning HP before Tommy cleared his gun from the towel in which it was wrapped. Rusty fired twice. Tommy sprawled back against the car door and slid to the ground. Tony Simms was stuck inside the car and in no position to find a target. He fired wildly, expecting death at any moment.
Rusty ducked back behind his steering wheel and eased away from the stricken vehicle. Phoenix vaulted over the wall and jumped into the moving car.
“Three out of four,” he said,
“and O’Riordan was on the run for Harwich, just as I predicted.”
“I only caught a glimpse of the guy in the back, but it must have been Simms,” said Rusty. “Why didn’t we finish him?”
“We can pop back if you want?” said Phoenix, “but he can’t identify us. From where he sat he wouldn’t know if we were the police or a rival mob. The car isn’t driveable, so he has a long walk. They must have fixed O’Riordan up with hand luggage, papers, and cash for the next leg of his journey. The locals will have phoned in to report gunfire in the area. Simms runs the risk of being picked up on the grass verge somewhere with a heavy bag and plenty of explaining to do.”
“Where to now, Phoenix?”
“I’m hungry, shall we find a country pub, and take time out for lunch?”
“It’s not even ten past eleven, there won’t be anywhere serving food yet.”
“I’ll find out how Giles and the others are doing,” said Phoenix. “You choose the road home, but we’re stopping somewhere, even if it’s only for a bacon roll.”
Rusty checked their exact position and continued towards Chelmsford.
“If we stay on the motorways from here, and there are no accidents, we can be home by two,” he said.
“Happy days,” said Phoenix.
He called Giles at Larcombe.
“Progress report please, Giles?”
“All being taken care of, Phoenix,” replied Giles. “Did you stop O’Riordan from boarding his boat?”
“Rusty did. I played a supporting role. Simms is still alive, but it might pay us to have someone to tell the senior bosses of the Grid they’re facing a formidable enemy.”
“Even if they don’t have a clue who they are or where they come from,” added Rusty.
“Are you on your way back?” asked Giles.
“Yes,” said Phoenix, crossing his fingers. “Traffic’s heavier on Friday afternoons, we may be delayed.”
“Don’t kid me, Phoenix,” said Giles. “I’m looking at data from the CCTV feeds around the south of the country. There’s nothing out of the ordinary today.”
“Ah, but it’s Friday, the thirteenth, so you never know what might happen.”
*****
Colleen had another agonising wait for news. The local radio didn’t break into their music schedule to update the eleven o’clock bulletin. The TV news channels concentrated on the M25 incidents, and how they may be related. So far, they hadn’t released information on the breakout. She hoped that twelve o’clock brought her the good news she craved.
Sean Walsh stirred. He must have nodded off for five minutes. The clock on the mantelpiece told him it was closer to fifty minutes. It was nearly twelve o’clock. He levered himself up from his chair and lurched into the kitchen. Time for a strong, black coffee.
Hugo Hanigan didn’t do agonising, anxious, or drunk. He wanted to get Tommy O’Riordan out of the way, metaphorically speaking but that was it.
He was keener on the bigger picture. If a fellow-countryman and his team had pulled off one of the most audacious prison escapes in history, he would use that to his advantage. Hugo intended to stress it had been a man from the seven streets in Dublin where he had grown up who organised the breakout. A man Hugo had known all his life. It showed members of the Grid they had joined a winning team and those who still opposed them that resistance was futile.
Hugo, Sean, and Colleen watched the news channel at twelve noon. After a brief summary of what was coming up, the newsreader handed over to a reporter outside New Scotland Yard. He stood beside a high-ranking police officer.
“Assistant Commissioner, what can you tell us about incidents that have occurred this morning on the M25 and surrounding areas?”
“At around ten forty this morning a prison van containing four prisoners and their escorts was involved in a serious incident. The van was en route from HMP Belmarsh to HMP Durham. This was the last of five trips planned for this week. We believe fake accidents were involved to slow or stop traffic at a specific point. A stolen truck then rammed the prison van killing an escort. Armed men stormed the van and released the prisoners. They escaped in fast cars. The driver and escorts are receiving treatment in hospital. None of their injuries appears to be life-threatening.”
“This was a well-organised attack then? Who do you think was responsible? Are the public in any danger from the men on the run?”
“It’s too early to speculate. We are still gathering evidence at the scene.”
“We’re getting reports from nearby towns of high-speed chases, and gunfire. Are you closing in on the men who did this?
“We are hopeful of early arrests. We can assure your viewers we take the safety of the public very seriously. Every available officer has been committed to the hunt for the criminals who carried out this attack and our aim is to recapture the prisoners involved as soon as possible.”
“Can you tell us who travelled in the van, Assistant Commissioner? Am I right in thinking these men were Category A prisoners and included murderers and rapists?”
“No comment. I repeat, the investigation is at an early stage. We will release a fresh statement when we have more information.”
High-speed chases, gunfire, thought Colleen. Where had these reports come from? Was Tommy involved? Did Sean have news? She called him.
“What have you heard, Sean?” she asked.
“Nothing, sis,” he replied, “I’ve just this minute texted Tony Simms. They should be thirty minutes from Harwich. The boat is waiting for them in the harbour. Tommy will be in Holland by nine tonight, at the latest.”
The news channel had moved on to other matter in the background.
“Give me a shout when you hear from Simms,” said Colleen.
“I will,” said Sean.
The weather girl predicted a weekend of sunshine and showers. It was time for the rolling news feed to start again from the top.
“The time is now twelve-thirty pm, on Friday, the thirteenth of June. Breaking news…
Sean’s phone pinged. It was from Tony Simms.
“Sean? I’m sorry, mate. Tommy and the others have been shot dead. We were ambushed by two blokes outside Rayleigh. Christ knows who. I’m on foot, trying to get back to civilisation. I’ve phoned the other lads, for a lift, but I can’t raise anybody. Can you get someone to give me a lift?”
Sean wasn’t listening. The only thing he had heard was his brother-in-law had been shot dead. He had to tell Colleen. Hugo had got rid of him, just as he feared.
“Do you need picking up?” asked Sean.
“Yeah, you better sort it out, and quick. I never signed up for this crap.”
“Tell me exactly where you are, and I’ll send a driver to fetch you.”
Simms looked for landmarks or road signs, but he was in the middle of nowhere, as far as he was concerned.
“Not a clue. I’m walking back the way we came. The nearest town is Rayleigh.”
“I’ll send out a search party,” said Sean and ended the call.
He paused before ringing Colleen. There was a new report on the breakout.
On TV, he saw pictures of a wall running along the side of a road. Whatever lay behind the police screen erected ten yards away must have been too horrific to show. A crashed car perhaps? He listened to the commentary.
“Police say the three men were shot at close range. They refused to comment at this stage whether this incident is related to the prison van ambush this morning.”
His phone rang. It was Colleen. “He’s dead? My Tommy’s dead?”
“Yes, sis, I’m sorry. Simms just called. Two gunmen killed Tommy, and another two men I hired for this job.”
“It was Hanigan wasn’t it?”
“It looks that way,” said Sean, “but let me make sure first.”
“He’s a dead man walking,” muttered Colleen.
*****
Phoenix and Rusty arrived back at Larcombe Manor at a few minutes after three. Rusty returned the damaged c
ar to the transport section. He had some explaining to do.
“Sorry, chief,” he said to the senior mechanic, “it was him or me.”
“I’m sure the other guy’s car is in a worse state, don’t worry, we’ll fix it up and get it back into the pool in time. Was the mission a success?”
“There were a few sticky moments, but yeah, it went well in the end.”
“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
Rusty headed for the ice-house to see Artemis. She finished at four, and it would be good to hear what had happened to the other getaway cars.
Phoenix dropped in to see Athena in the administration office to let her know they had arrived home safe and sound.
“I’ve been kept up to date by Giles,” she told him. “Earlier this morning I wondered whether you had made a massive miscalculation. The shadow team got separated by the accident and were ineffective until they joined the chase after the gang had made their escape. You and Rusty were miles away from the action.”
“The scale of the accidents caught us unawares, I admit,” said Phoenix, “but everything panned out in the way I predicted after that. Andy Walters wasn’t at fault. He did the right thing at the time. The gang maintained total focus on their target of releasing the prisoners. Andy and his team were well-placed to protect innocent motorists if the gang had turned on them. We both believed the vehicles we had identified were there to box in the prison van and bring it to a standstill on the motorway. The JCB wasn’t something we anticipated.”
“That poor young woman in the van,” said Athena.
“Why was she there?” asked Phoenix, “they had a male escort crew every other day. That’s a mystery, but when we stopped for a bite to eat Rusty said something strange.”