by Conrad Jones
‘It does, you’re right. He’s screwed-up in the head and thinks he’s acting on behalf of this O9A group, but the truth is that he’s just screwed-up.’
‘He’ll be in for a shock when he realises it’s all bullshit.’
‘He’s been brainwashed. Unfortunately, he believes what he is doing is serving some higher power and people who believe in something are difficult to stop.’ He glugged his beer. ‘There’re people all over the planet dying quite happily for what they believe in, right or wrong. Mathew Hudson believes in what O9A are telling him. They encourage members to kill. This guy will have to be stopped for good.’
‘You should shoot him,’ Kris said. ‘I would. A couple of bullets in his thick head will do the job.’
‘We might just do that however, we need to find him to shoot him and at the moment, we haven’t got a clue where he is.’
***
Mathew was bleeding badly when he climbed out of the cellar; he’d lost the vision in one eye, although he didn’t realise how badly damaged it was, and two fingers were cut to the bone. The bitch had got the better of him and made him so angry he couldn’t think straight. She’d pushed his buttons and provoked a reaction, which is what she’d got. If the police hadn’t stormed the building, she’d have been in several pieces by now. She was lucky she got away with a knife in her belly. What he’d had planned for her was far worse. She’d had a lucky escape… for now.
The situation had spiralled out of control very quickly. One minute he was in total control, the next his body was cut badly, and his plans were shattered. He was weak from blood loss; this would be the end of him. It wouldn’t be long before they found him and when they did, he wouldn’t give up. They would have to shoot him. Thankfully, it was dark, and the undergrowth was thick. He could rest and get his breath back for a while. The darkness gave him a respite for a few minutes.
His escape had been frantic. When he’d jumped through the window, he was naked apart from his boxer shorts. In the cellar, he’d climbed into a dusty pair of overalls which were hung behind the door and put on an old pair of work boots. They were three sizes too big but would keep his feet from harm. There was a spider in the right boot, he could feel it crawling between his toes. He’d grabbed some saddle wadding from a shelf and pressed it to his wounded eye; blood soaked into the fibres. He bandaged his fingers with a horse wrap and then dragged a table underneath the window to open the latch. It was more luck than judgment that the police hadn’t looked in the cellar first. They’d assumed he was outside somewhere. He’d struggled through the window and then crawled on his belly through the bushes, trying desperately not to make any noise. A bolt of lightning arced across the sky, illuminating the scene for a split second. The barn loomed against the night sky, but it seemed to be a long way; it was the only place which offered shelter as torrential rain began to pour. He crawled towards it and was saturated within seconds but carried on despite the pain and the chance of being shot; at least it would be quick. Dying was the least of his concerns. His strength was waning, and he thought he was going to pass out. The blood loss was too great. When he moved, he bled faster, but he couldn’t stay put so, he had to keep crawling. Bleeding to death was probably his most desirable option; he could slide into oblivion without any fuss. He didn’t want to be put in a cage surrounded by the mundane for the rest of his life and he didn’t think he had the guts to take his own life. Hanging himself or slashing his own throat didn’t appeal; he was too much of a coward. Bleeding out would be a peaceful enough way to die. If he closed his eyes and went to sleep, he’d be dead by the time they found him. He was contemplating what would be waiting for him on the other side when he heard boots on the grass. The bushes around him parted and suddenly he was staring down the barrel of a Heckler and Koch. He closed his eyes and hoped the Armed Response Unit officer would put a bullet through his brain.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Mathew asked. ‘Shoot me.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ the officer said, whispering. ‘Do not make a sound. Where are you hurt?’
‘What?’
‘Keep your voice down. Whisper or they’ll hear you. Where are you hurt?’
‘My eye and my hand and I think I’ve cut my legs quite badly.’
‘Let me see your eye.’ Mathew took the wadding away. The officer looked at and shook his head. ‘Keep the pressure on that eye,’ he said. ‘Now, listen to me. There’re are armed officers either side of me all around the farmhouse. I’m going to drag you into the trees and hide you until the search is called off. It’s dark and this rain will hamper them. Once it’s done, I’ll come back for you and take you to someone who can help treat your injuries, understand?’
Mathew nodded. ‘Who are you?’
‘A friend of Fabienne. Be quiet.’
‘You’re a Niner.’ Mathew smiled. ‘Who would have thought that?’
‘Yes. I’m O9A. Shush. I need you to be quiet.’
Mathew felt himself being lifted and carried through the trees. He drifted in and out of consciousness and every step sent jolts of pain through his body. The pain in his eye was becoming unbearable and he had a headache that felt like his skull would explode but his journey didn’t stop. The policeman carried him until they reached a hide used by birdwatchers. He placed him on the ground, which was dry.
‘Don’t move under any circumstances,’ the officer said. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. Swallow these.’ He put two tablets into his mouth and gave him water from a hipflask. Mathew didn’t ask what they were. He didn’t care. The officer left and he closed his eyes and drifted into an uncomfortable slumber, plagued by the images of the dead.
***
Joss started the engine of the tow truck and waited for Anwen to open the gates. He waved goodbye and she raised her middle finger in return and smiled. She wasn’t best pleased with him, but she would be happier when he imported the Corvette she wanted. He was grateful for her help. More grateful than she realised. Naz was sitting in the passenger seat, smoking. His face was pale, and his hands had a tremor. Joss could see he was nervous, and he understood why. His own nerves were on the edge. He pulled across the forecourt, past a jet, a tank, and a colourful line of classic cars to the road. The road was narrow with hawthorn hedges on both sides and a ditch on the left. Rainwater had swollen the ditch to the point of flooding. The windscreen wipers were working at full speed and struggling to clear the deluge. To his left, police vehicles had blocked the road between the museum and the farm; blue lights flashed in the dark. To his right, there were marked vehicles parked on the side of the road as far as he could see. Uniformed officers were coming and going, some gathered in groups under the cover of the trees, drinking tea and chatting. They watched with interest as the tow truck drove past, pulling a trailer with a Defender on it. Joss nodded a greeting to them, and they responded in kind.
‘Why are you saying hello to them?’ Naz asked, nervously. He half smiled and saluted to them. None of them saluted back and he put his hand down and blushed a little.
‘I’m trying not to look like I’m nervous because I’m towing a million-pound shipment of cocaine,’ he said. ‘At least I didn’t salute them. What was that about?’
‘I was trying not look guilty.’
‘By saluting?’
‘What’s wrong with saluting?’
‘Everything is wrong with saluting. It makes you look like a dick.’
‘Just drive the truck and get us away from here. I don’t think my nerves can take much more,’ Naz said. They drove on for a while in silence. As they reached Llanfair, the police presence was less prevalent. ‘Have you thought about how we’re going to do this?’
‘Do what exactly?’
‘Exchange the gear for money.’ Naz shrugged and looked at Joss. ‘Surely, you don’t trust them, do you?’
‘Not for one second. I’ve been thinking about it while we were stripping the Landies. They’re mobhanded and armed. We’re neither.’
&nbs
p; ‘We can be armed if we need to be.’
‘No. We can’t carry weapons with all the police on the island. It’s too much of a risk.’
‘How does it normally go down?’
‘Normally, when they take possession of a shipment, they transfer the cash into an account.’
‘There’s no briefcase full of money?’
‘This isn’t the movies, Naz. No one wants cash. It’s too difficult to get rid of. They transfer it electronically to an offshore account; once I see it’s landed, we shake hands and go our separate ways.’
‘Why can’t we do the same?’
‘This one is too big to trust them near the shipment before they’ve paid, so they’re going to have to trust me more.’
‘How do you think that’s going to work?’
‘I think we should park up the tow truck somewhere remote with difficult access, like Paris Mountain or the Quarry Park. I’ll tell them where it is. They can check the vehicle is where I’ve said it is. Once they’re happy it’s there and they’ve paid the money into the account, I’ll tell them where the keys are. We drive the Defender off the trailer and then tow the trailer on the back, back to the unit. They use the tow truck to take the shipment off the island and they can return it to us when they’re done removing it.’ He looked at Naz for approval. Naz shrugged and nodded. ‘Does that sound okay?’
‘Yes. It sounds okay from where I’m sitting but what do I know? A million in cocaine and some seriously connected Russian gangsters. What can possibly go wrong?’
‘Everything,’ Joss said.
‘I was joking.’ He checked his watch. ‘How long have we got?’
‘About two hours. I’ll call him once we get to the other side of Llanfair. There’ll be fewer police around there.’
CHAPTER 41
Igor Karpov was waiting in the bar at the Trearddur Bay Hotel. His patience was wearing thin. A group of elderly locals were sitting near the windows, playing dominoes for money and the volume was going up with every pint they had.
‘Spinning!’ one of them shouted. The others moaned loudly and hurled abuse at him. The game froze when one of them laid a double three and no one could follow.
‘You’ve stitched up the game,’ one moaned, loudly.
‘Of course, I have. He was spinning. That’s how the game is played, you knob.’
‘Don’t call me a knob. Just pay your pound fine.’
‘A pound fine for what?’
‘Being a knob.’
‘What is all this noise?’ Igor asked the manager, James.
‘What noise?’ he joked, grimacing. ‘Have you never seen dominoes?’
‘Of course, I have. I’m from Russia, not the moon. I don’t understand when they shout, spinning?’
‘Oh, I see. They shout spinning when they have one domino left.’
‘Why can’t they say it quietly? Do they have to shout?’
‘It’s all part of the fun, apparently; if dominoes can be described as fun. They seem to enjoy it although the air turns blue sometimes.’
‘I don’t think it’s fun,’ Igor said. ‘It’s not fun for me listening to them. Shouting, shouting, shouting. Why do you let them shout?’
‘They come in here and eat and drink nearly every day, winter and summer,’ James said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they can pretty much do what they want to. The winters are long on the island and they keep the lights on, the doors open, and my staff in jobs.’ James shrugged. ‘The locals are our bread and butter. Business is business.’
‘You’re right, James,’ Igor said. He emptied his glass. ‘Business is business. Not everyone understands that concept.’
He looked at the clock above the bar. Joss Jones was pushing his luck. He appreciated there had been problems, but that was all part and parcel of being in the business. If you wanted to play in the big league, then you had to learn the rules quickly. Trust no one and turn your product over in double-quick time. Drugs were no use to anyone sitting around and the longer they were there, the more of a liability they became. Everyone wanted to steal them for themselves and there was no insurance policy or police protection to fall back on. The island was awash with police and the deal was becoming more precarious with every hour that ticked by. His phone rang and he was relieved to see it was Joss. He raised his empty glass to James. James had ginger hair with a beard to match. He’d been very patient with Igor and his colleagues. Their manner was arrogant and abrupt. He put a double Grey Goose vodka into his glass and put it on his tab. Their bill was running into four figures for their rooms and drink so far.
‘Joss,’ he said. ‘I thought you were dead. Make it good news.’
‘It is good news.’ Joss paused as a police car drove by. He indicated and pulled over to the side of the road. ‘We’ve removed the shipment from the vehicles.’
‘Good. Where is it?’
‘We’ve put it all into another one.’ The line remained quiet. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Although I’m not sure why.’
‘Don’t stress. It’s in a tow truck, so you can drive it back to Manchester without any problems.’
‘Why is that better?’
‘It’s an emergency vehicle. The police don’t stop tow trucks unless they’re towing something stolen.’
‘I’m not convinced.’
‘Listen to me, Igor. I’ll tell you where it is, you transfer the money into my account and once it’s been transferred, you’ll get the keys and I’ll give you the instructions on how to recover the gear.’
‘Are you shitting me, Joss?’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘You’ve taken the shipment from two vehicles and put it into another one?’ Igor said. ‘Where is the sense in that?’
‘It makes sense.’
‘It makes no sense.’
‘Do you have a better idea to get it over the bridges?’ Joss sighed. ‘If you do, I’m all ears.’
‘I don’t think you’re taking me seriously.’
‘I’ve had a tough day, Igor. I’ve never been more serious in all my life. Do you want this shipment or don’t you?’
‘You’re pushing your luck, Joss.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Talking to me like that could get you killed.’
‘I’ve told you before, don’t threaten me, Igor.’ The Russian was silent. Joss could feel the contempt on the line. ‘This is quality product. If you don’t want it, tell me now and I’ll get rid of it somewhere else or you can stop whinging like a bitch, pull up your big-boy pants and do the deal.’
‘A bitch?’ Igor said, annoyed. ‘I’ve been waiting very patiently for you to deliver and now I’m the bitch?’
‘Like I said, it’s been a tough day. Look, we’ve gone to a lot of trouble to accommodate you despite the problems we’ve encountered. I need a bit of flexibility from your side.’
‘Flexibility.’
‘Yes.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m saying, be flexible and listen to me.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Okay. Let’s get this done then.’
‘I’m ignoring your insolence… for now.’
‘Good. Thank you. I’ll ignore your threats to kill me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. I’m not forgetting it entirely. We can discuss it another time.’
‘Okay, Igor.’ Joss was losing his cool.
‘Where is the vehicle?’
‘We can take it to Holyhead; to the quarry at the base of the mountain or we can take it to Cemaes to the copper mine on Paris Mountain?’
‘Why these places?’ Igor asked, suspiciously. He sipped the vodka and contemplated shooting Joss in the face. No one called him a bitch and though he wasn’t sure what big-boy pants were, he was pretty certain he owned a pair already and that they were ‘pulled up’. ‘What is so special about them?’
‘They’re close enough to the ma
in roads to reach them quickly but remote enough for us to leave a vehicle without prying eyes watching us and becoming suspicious. Plus, we can see you coming from a mile away. If you turn up with your army, we can be out of there with the shipment before you’re even close.’
‘Don’t question my integrity,’ Igor said. ‘When have I gone back on a deal with you?’
‘You haven’t,’ Joss said.
‘What are you worried about?’
‘You have put at least four people in the ground that I know of. Who knows how many more there’s been?’ Joss said. ‘This is a big deal, Igor. I need to be sure it goes smoothly, and I’m paid and still breathing at the end of it. It’s not much to ask.’
‘I appreciate your concern,’ Igor said, smiling. He had to hand it to Joss. His reputation for wiping out amateur dealers was not the best. If he saw an opportunity to take the drugs and the money, he took both. ‘How do you want to proceed?’
‘First of all, I want to do this in daylight. It will be light at seven but the traffic on the bridges will be heaviest about eight-thirty. It will be better for you to leave the island when the traffic is heaviest. The police will be waving vehicles through.’
‘It makes sense. We’ve waited this long. Another night isn’t going to make much difference. What do you want to do?’
‘You know how I work. I don’t have dozens of men armed to the teeth like you do. We’re a small outfit who happen to be shit-hot at importing quality product. This is a big shipment for us and I’m not comfortable being up close and personal on this one. I want some distance between us and your muscle.’
‘Okay, go on.’
‘You can turn up with just a driver, check the vehicle, transfer the money, and take the truck without any back-up at all. This is the easiest handover you’ll ever have. If anything is amiss with the shipment, you know where I live.’
‘With a million pounds in the bank, you can live wherever you like.’
‘My family are here, Igor. I’m going nowhere.’
‘How do we get off the island without being searched?’