by Peter Bates
Terry laughed. “There sure is, there’s never a quiet day in the holiday season. How can I help you?”
“Well, I know that you were concerned about those child killings a few days ago, so I thought I’d just give you a quick off the record update on what we’ve got so far.”
Pendleton paused for a few seconds before continuing.
“We’ve not locked anyone up so far,” he went on, “and we certainly still don’t know yet who did it, but we have unearthed some information which could well be connected to the crimes. It turns out, Terry, that both the dead kids were directly related to two members of the Mel Harrison gang. You may remember or have heard something of his outfit from your time in the office or out on the job.”
“Well, Norman, I know that Mel Harrison was taken by my men several times when he was a juvenile, but I didn’t realise that he’d gone on to make a career of it.”
“Yes, pal. He’s never looked back from his borstal days, and has operated a local gang for the last few years. Since then, he’s certainly learned a lot and although we know that he’s always up to no good, he is a very hard man to nail down. As you will know, there are never any voluntary witnesses where the gangs are concerned. They are all frightened to death and won’t ever speak. The fact that two of his gang members’ close relatives were killed at the same time and in a similar way makes it look like some sort of reprisal, but currently there is no evidence to say who that could be or even if that really was the case.”
“Too much of a coincidence, I’d say, Norman,” muttered Terry, “and I don’t think it would be ordinary folk that killed the kids anyway. Something, somewhere, would have stood out like a sore thumb, and any amateurs would surely have left some scraps of evidence behind.”
“I agree,” said Norman simply.
“So, we’re looking at professional criminals, aren’t we?”
“I think so, mate. It sure looks that way.”
“Any really obvious ones about at the moment?” asked Terry.
“There are always a few. You know what it’s like around here. They’ve always been here, and I guess they always will be in some shape or form. The most likely and biggest ones in terms of bad trouble and dodgy activity are Harrison himself, Jed Thomas, and Bill Edwards. Bill Edwards is small fry really though, compared to the other two gangs. There’s also another nasty outfit in Fleetwood run by a guy called Michel Cahill, but I’m not sure whether he would risk moving out of his own territory, and into a new one, bearing in mind exactly what he would be facing if he did. There are a few individual idiots around as well, but it’s very unlikely that anyone other than the very biggest outfits would risk doing this.”
“It’s a very short list at the moment,” murmured Terry, scratching an ear. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Not at the moment, my friend. If anything useful comes up I’ll give you another call.”
“Cheers, Norman. Thanks a million for the update.”
Terry quickly clicked off his mobile and read through the scribbled notes that he had made on his notepad during the call. He’d been somewhat out of touch for several years now, but the names that Norman Pendleton had given him were still at least vaguely familiar. Whether they would reach low enough to kill a couple of kids, he couldn’t possibly know. Gang feuds were very common in the area, and always had been. Either way, Terry now had plenty of time on his hands, and could also move around without being seen as any sort of threat to any local gang members. First though, he would again update Frank, Roy and Reg. Four minds were certainly better than one, and smiling for the first time in days, he picked up his mobile and began to press the buttons. The Dog and Sparrow was beckoning — and another meeting — maybe even some sort of fresh start for all of them.
*
Although the day was pleasant and reasonably warm, the Rose and Crown outside garden area was still reasonably quiet. In another hour or so, it would become busier, but with a little luck Mel Harrison would be done by then and well on his way. Within two minutes of sitting at the same table that he had used on his previous visit, Alan and Kenny arrived together, closely followed by Bob, and then Gary a few minutes later.
“Sit yourselves down, lads,” beckoned Mel, pointing a hand to the four adjacent chairs.
Mel waited patiently until each gang member was seated, looked quickly around the other tables, and after checking that the nearby area was totally clear of any visitors, he leaned forward across the table top and spoke in a low voice. “Have any of you guys heard anything on the grapevine about Jed Thomas and his team of pillocks?”
“It’s surprisingly quiet,” offered Gary. “They’ve not been bragging about the killings if they did do it. I know some handy lads in town that would almost certainly know about it if they had done, and none of them seem to know a thing, which is really quite unusual.”
“What about you three?”
“Pretty much the same,” answered Kenny. “I’ve done some sniffing about in town as well, and nobody seems to know anything. I even offered a sizeable wad of cash for good information, and that usually works a treat, but it’s brought absolutely nothing in. I take it that Thomas hasn’t been in direct touch with you, boss.”
“No,” admitted Mel. “I must say that surprises me a little. Knowing him as we do, I expected him to be broadcasting it everywhere. If the plan was to scare us out of the town, that’s what we would certainly be doing if the roles were reversed. The only thing I can think of right now is that they are deliberately protecting their own backs, and keeping quiet at least for a while. The coppers will be definitely be turning over every stone at the moment, and more than likely be looking closely at them. Even we don’t know for certain that it was them, though it sure as hell looks like it and they have been threatening us lately. If it wasn’t them, then who was it? Lancashire’s a big place, and there are many other gangs scattered around within fifty miles of here that could have pulled off something like this, but I’m fairly sure that any other gangs that operated outside of the local area wouldn’t really be aware of our close family connections.”
“I suppose,” added Kenny, “that it could be others that were a little closer, maybe Preston, Morecambe or Southport. But if it was, we would surely have heard from one of them by now as well. They would be making demands of some sort, that’s for certain, even if they didn’t admit who they were, or where they were operating from.”
“I’m still thinking that it was Jed Thomas’ crew. They did make threats after all, and they are the most likely gang to benefit immediately if we dropped out of the game. It’s just odd that if it was them that did it, why have they gone so very quiet? What do you lads think we should do? Have any of you got any ideas?”
Alan joined in for the first time. “Two of our families’ kids have been murdered, Mel. Someone’s going to pay for that. I’d really like to know what the coppers think and what they have dug up. They must have something, photos, forensic, sightings, etcetera. Have we still got any useful inside contacts at the local nick?”
Mel shifted his head slightly, stared thoughtfully at the ground for a few seconds, and then spoke in a low tone.
“We’ve got a guy at Central who might tell us. He’s not high up in the rankings, but he should really know if anything important has come to light. Maybe I should pay him a quick visit. I can’t phone him — that would be far too dodgy, and I wouldn’t get a result online, but I can call on him. I know where he lives; I’ll pay him a quick visit at his home tomorrow, and if it turns out that he’s not in but out working, I’ll try to sort out another visit between his shifts. I wouldn’t hold out much hope though. The bloke’s as thick as two planks and probably doesn’t know a thing. If it turns out that he does know something, it will just be a real bonus.”
CHAPTER 8
The Dog and Sparrow wasn’t too busy, and Terry Reid easily found an empty table outside where he, Frank, Roy and Reg could sit comfortably without being in any way overheard by
other visitors. All three of his friends arrived exactly on time — a lifetime habit of doing just that was very hard to break — and Terry smiled as each of the lads made themselves comfortable, and then smiled again as a young waiter promptly arrived and took their orders. Terry waited patiently for the drinks to arrive, and the waiter to leave, before finally addressing the other three men.
“Look lads,” he began, “I don’t know at all whether we can be of any use in any way with the case of the murdered boys, but you never know. We don’t have all the specialist equipment that the working lads have got, but we do have brains and we do have a shed load of experience. We can also be relatively unseen, and best of all, we don’t appear to be a threat to anyone.”
Terry paused for a moment, taking some time to look into the eyes of each one of his friends, and after gratefully seeing their heads nod briefly in agreement, continued to speak in a low voice.
“I’ve learned a little more since our last meeting, and if you don’t mind, lads, I wanted to put what I now know in front of you all. Before that, I need to tell you that there is absolutely no pressure whatsoever on any of you to continue with this. If you want to pull out right now, just say so.”
“Go ahead, mate,” murmured Reg in a low voice, as he glanced around the other faces. “I think I can speak for all of us, and we are all certainly with you on this, Terry.”
“Great,” grinned Terry, “I thought that you would be. By the way, the information that I’ll give you now has come off the record from Central Office, so it’s definitely not for circulation. It was for my ears only, so please remember that, whatever we might do in the days ahead.”
Terry took a moment to again look around the adjoining tables and then swallowed a deep swallow from his beer glass before continuing in a low voice. “Both the lads that were killed were directly related to two members of the Mel Harrison gang.”
Terry halted for a moment, taking in the reaction of his three friends. After ten seconds of shocked silence, Reg spoke up first. Surprisingly, and despite Terry’s statement, the man had a half smile on his weathered face as he quietly began to speak.
“In a perverse way, Terry, that information, although horrible, comes as a slight relief to me. It tells me that somehow the killings weren’t random, and that my own grandson is certainly OK, and he will be in the future.”
“I agree, mate. That’s exactly what I thought about my own two, Philip and Jacob,” added Terry. “I don’t think that these killings were in any way random, so you’ve now got to look at exactly why and who would deliberately kill two kids that were directly related to members of the Harrison gang.”
“It’s just got to be another gang,” commented Roy. “Probably one of their rivals, and almost certainly local,” he added.
“Well, it’s not definite, but it probably looks that way, Roy,” agreed Terry. “That was my immediate thought too. Pretty much one hundred percent of the public would not do anything like that, and to actually do it twice means we are dealing with people who are not in any shape or form anything like normal.”
“Do you think that the police will have come to the same conclusion?” asked Frank.
“I don’t honestly know,” answered Terry. “They and our contact probably wouldn’t tell me if they had, so there’s no point in me asking that particular question.”
“Have we any idea who the main rivals of the Harrison gang are?” asked Roy.
“These days, I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think it would take us very long to find out. I think we should maybe call into a few seaside pubs and see what we can unearth in them. We need to do it very carefully though, and I suggest that maybe we do it in nothing less than groups of two, but I’m sure there are plenty of people around some of the heavy-duty bars that will know the main players in and around the town. Whatever we do, we don’t want those bastards knowing that we are chasing them. We could then easily find ourselves next on the hit list.”
“Let’s have a go,” said Reg enthusiastically. “We could possibly find out more than the police might do, as we will be relatively invisible. We’ve all got cameras on our phones, and we can record sound if we need to. There are only so many places that these sorts of blokes go to, and I’m sure that most of them will be at the same bars that they used to frequent in our time. We don’t look like much of a threat to anybody these days, so you never know what might turn up, with the odd little casual question thrown about here and there as we go along.”
*
“What’s new, Mel?”
Mel Harrison stretched out his legs on the newly laid turf outside the ‘Rose and Crown’, and leaning forward, dropped two elbows onto the edge of the table. As usual, he cast his broody eyes around the other tables and at the pub’s entrance door before responding.
“Nothing yet, Gary. My contact at the ‘nick’ knows nothing. He knows what happened, but it seems that the coppers don’t have a clue about who did either of the two attacks. He seems to think that there are no forensic clues, no witnesses, and nothing on any of the closest cameras. It’s not as though the bloke would know so much anyway, to be honest. He’s very low down in the pecking order, so he would normally only get to learn something if news was about to break. Even so, I think that he would tell me if he had seen or heard of anything, and he knows that it would be very bad news for him if he didn’t speak up, but so far there’s nothing.”
Mel picked up and took a large drink from his lager glass, and then continued quietly. “For the time being, then, it’s business as usual for us lads, and life must go on as normal, at least for now. Haven’t we got a pick up due in today, Alan?”
“We have, mate. There’s a load of powder due to arrive from Bradford later this afternoon.”
“Where’s the drop?”
“There’s a small and very quiet grocery store on the edge of town. It has just two shopping aisles and some very tall food stands in between them. There are no cameras in or anywhere near it and it’s not a place that we’ve ever used before. I’ll park the car up out of sight and around the corner, wait until the place is empty and for the drop man to go in, then we’ll swap identical ruck sacks, inside and unseen at the back of the store. I’ll then buy a loaf and a few groceries, pay for them at the till, then put them in the top of the bag, and that’ll be that.”
“Brilliant, Alan. Good thinking.”
Alan grinned back at Mel. “Yeah, boss. And if the stuff’s half as good as the last lot was, we’ll make another shed load of dosh.”
CHAPTER 9
The Edwardian wasn’t a bad pub, as far as central Blackpool pubs went, and Terry Reid had decided that it was as good a place as any to make a start with his idea. He didn’t have a definite plan — he would simply fill in the detail as he went along. He certainly needed to generate useful conversation, and it would have to appear to be very low key and extremely casual. At some stage, he would try his best to nudge it along in the right direction without seeming to be too inquisitive. Most people wouldn’t even have the answers that he needed, but he also knew that this type of work sometimes paid very big dividends if he hit upon the ideal sort of bloke or blokes with the right sort of information. He really needed someone who wasn’t into the heavy-duty gang operation itself, but was possibly on the fringes, or maybe simply had a good idea of what went on locally. Terry would really just try to act like an inquisitive visitor, staying in the town for a week or two’s holiday, and just showing some genuine interest in the activity of the locals.
At seven thirty, the Edwardian was filling up, and as he ordered a beer at the bar, he casually looked around the many busy tables for a likely target. He was glad to see that all of the tables were occupied, and that there were several of them with only one or two occupants. Terry was also pleased to note that none of the customers were already known to him. If they had been, he would have had to abort the plan, at least as far as the Edwardian was concerned. Neither would he be choosing any persons surround
ed by an obvious family, or a large group. It would have to be one lad sat on his own or a group of two at the most. He paid for his beer and turned again, his eyes nonchalantly scanning the tables, until they finally settled on one in the far corner, occupied by two lads in their early twenties. They didn’t look like holidaymakers from a distance, and their dress more or less confirmed it. Both wore jeans, tangerine T-shirts, and one wore a Blackpool F.C. scarf draped around his shoulders. Both lads were around the six-foot mark, but neither of the two looked in any way aggressive or particularly loud. It was as good a place as any to start, and Terry, looking casually around the tables as he walked, carried his drink slowly up alongside theirs, leaned towards them, and spoke in a low voice.
“Sorry lads, but is it OK if I sit down here?”
The taller of the two young men looked up in surprise at the interruption, then nodded and beckoned to a chair.
“Of course, it is, mate. Help yourself, no problem at all.”
“Thanks, lads. I really appreciate it. The old legs are getting a bit tired by now, and this place is really quite busy.” Terry sat down with a loud sigh, and casually crossed his legs.
Edging into some sort of conversation wasn’t as difficult as Terry thought it could have been. The lads were mainly talking football, and evidently weren’t pleased with the local team’s performances. Luckily, Terry had been a supporter himself for many years, and although he didn’t often go to Bloomfield Road these days, he kept up with the team’s progress on a regular basis through the newspapers, the local radio, and the very occasional T.V. coverage.
“Are you two lads B.F.C supporters then?” He asked the question quietly, as they both slowly sipped at their drinks.
“Yes, mate. You could say that. We’re not very happy, though.”
Terry laughed. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “I’ve certainly seen ’em do a lot better over the years.”