by Lee Wood
“Oh, you’re that Roger Maynard. You probably don’t recall, but about twenty years ago you came and repaired one of the cells at the police station when that circus strongman we arrested nearly broke the door down.”
“Josh, yes I remember now. One of the officers told me he was the strongest man they had ever seen. He said it took six of your biggest men and a dart full of tranquiliser to overpower him. Yes, we must have met back then. Anyway, Mr Jones, thank you for the details and I’ll send a payment through to you.
“Thank you, Mr Maynard. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, but please think about what I have said otherwise you’ll endure months of court procedure with no closure at the end. If Kevin O’Connor has been found not guilty, even if the witness lied it might not go back to court. The Crown Prosecution Service would prefer not to get involved in cases like this. In my experience, they will try to bury it in red tape. But it’s your money.”
23
Saverland
The next day Roger Maynard received a phone call from Phil Jones.
“Good morning, Mr Maynard. I’ve just sent you a file with the details you requested plus a little more. In my experience, if you decide to approach Will Gleeson, then I would try to talk to him as he leaves work and invite him for a drink. He might not appreciate you turning up on his doorstep and he might just slam the door in your face. People can be very defensive if they are at home. It’s their familiar domain, and they feel stronger. After work, he might be in the mood for a drink and a chance to put across his side of things. If you do approach him my advice would be to smile, put out your hand to shake his as you introduce yourself and don’t raise your voice or look angry. Think of yourself as a priest taking confession. If you catch him right, he’ll open up to you. I hope that helps. The file I’ve sent over tells you where he works and what time he usually leaves. Good luck.”
Five minutes later, Roger Maynard checked his emails and found the one from Phil Jones and opened the attachment.
The file contained a lot more information than he expected.
The details saying Will Gleeson was a security guard at a wholesale warehouse called Saverland. It said he finished work at 9 p.m. The file also included a photo of him leaving work, obviously taken the previous evening, and the registration number of his blue Nissan Micra. A map showed where the staff member’s car park was and even the access code for the barrier. Phil had done a good job. There was also a note telling Roger that the wholesale warehouse was closing down at the end of the week and so he wasn’t sure where Will Gleeson would be working in the future. From what he could find out in the time, he was due to move out of the area. Better to see him as quickly as possible.
“Hello, Mr O’Connor. It’s Will Gleeson. I did a favour for you in court.”
O’Connor’s voice was harsh. “What are you calling me for? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s not a trap. I’m not recording this. The thing is, the place where I work is closing down this week. I need some money to move down to Poole to be near my son. Look, £4,000 and I’ll be out of your hair once and for all.”
“When and where shall we meet?”
“Same place as last time. Tonight at nine o’clock.”
The line went dead. Will was surprised the man had agreed so easily but at the same time relieved. He was desperate for the cash.
The company he worked for was closing down the local branch, but they had other branches and one of them was in Poole, only a few miles from Bournemouth and if he wanted to move there he’d been told they had a vacancy for him. He didn’t really want to move there but at least that way he’d be near his son. But he needed some money for the move and a rent deposit on a flat. Paying half of his wages to his ex-wife for their son’s upkeep wasn’t easy. The cash from O’Connor would come in handy.
At eight fifteen, Roger pressed the remote control to open the garage door and put the gear on his Range Rover into drive. He was heading across town to try to speak with the witness in his daughter’s court case who had seemingly changed his mind about the events. Roger wanted to get to the bottom of it. He was hoping the man would be receptive. He wouldn’t lose his temper or make threats. He just wanted to find the truth and get justice for his daughter and her friend.
It was 8.32 p.m., when Roger Maynard’s Range Rover glided into the staff car park of the Saverland wholesale warehouse and reversed into a space against the wall, hidden in shadow and about ten yards from the blue Nissan. From this position, Roger could see both the vehicle and the staff exit that Phil Jones had marked on the map. “Wow. That Phil Jones sure thinks of everything,” Roger murmured.
24
The Chase
The traffic had been lighter than he expected so Roger had arrived earlier than he planned. He parked the car in a corner of the car park of the staff car park of the wholesale warehouse where Will Gleeson worked as a security officer. Roger touched a button to recline his seat and put the CD player on low volume.
Five minutes later, lying back in his seat listening to a Lene Marlin album, he failed to notice the black BMW make its way into the car park and come to a halt on the opposite side, close to the staff exit.
As the fifth track faded out, the alarm he had set on his phone timer beeped. He turned off the CD and waited.
After a few minutes, he noticed the man as the witness he had seen in court and also from the photo supplied by Phil Jones. The man was walking towards the Nissan Micra. It was the same registration number Phil Jones had written in his report.
Roger switched off the music and was about to get out of his car when he noticed two men approaching Will Gleeson. Roger recognised both men. Kevin O’Connor and one of his sons who had been in the courtroom and was pointed out to him by one of the police officers as someone to avoid contact with. What did they want with Will Gleeson?
Roger decided to stay in his vehicle and wait and see what would happen. The words of Phil Jones went through his mind. Not a nice character to get involved with.
Roger watched as Kevin O’Connor looked around the car park. Not a soul in sight. The floodlight set high in the car park shone down bouncing off the windscreen of Roger’s Range Rover at the wrong angle and with his seat still in the reclining position, the reflection making it appear no one was in the vehicle.
Roger watched as Kevin O’Connor’s son Tyson reached into his coat pocket, and suddenly he saw him draw out a gun. Will Gleeson noticed it and turned to run, but it was too late. The bullet found its mark, and he fell instantly. Tyson walked over until he was towering above the figure looking up at him with his left arm raised in a vain attempt to stop what was about to happen. Tyson took aim and delivered one more gunshot to the head. As Will lay there lifeless, the two men walked away.
Roger was shaking. He jumped forward in his seat. Did he really just witness a cold-blooded murder?
His elbow accidentally touched the car hooter.
The two men looked round. The light was still reflecting off the windscreen. Kevin O’Connor crouched down and looked towards the vehicle. Roger couldn’t hear what he said to his son, but he guessed it wasn’t good. Both walked towards the Range Rover.
Roger pressed the reset button to adjust his seat and then hit the start button and put the vehicle into drive. The headlights came on automatically and for a second, blinded the two approaching figures directly in front. Roger floored the accelerator and drove at both men who jumped out of the way.
As he approached the exit barrier, in his rear view mirror, Roger could see them run towards a dark-coloured BMW parked in the opposite corner of the car park. That gave him a few seconds start on them.
Getting to the barrier, Roger keyed in the exit code. The barrier seemed to take forever to rise and with every second it took he felt his heart would jump out of his chest. Once he was sure it was clear, he drove off at speed.
As he reached the corner of Turner Street, he could see the BMW’s headlights. It wouldn’t take long before th
ey caught up with him.
His mind was racing. He’d just seen a man shot down in cold blood. Now the two men responsible were in a car that was right behind. He knew they wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill him. He had to think. What could he do? He needed to get away, but they had an equally powerful car, no chance of outrunning them. He needed to think fast. Maybe he could head for the police station, but from visiting at the time of his daughter’s death, he knew the entrance door was on a buzzer system. By the time he’d pressed the button and spoken to the person inside, the chances were he’d be dead.
And he couldn’t go home.
“Quick, think, think of something. Or you’re a dead man.”
25
The Phone Call
Roger clicked the voice command function on the dashboard.
“Call Phil Jones.”
The phone rang six times. Roger silently prayed for it to be answered.
“Hello, this is Phil Jones.”
“Phil. It’s Roger Maynard. I’m in really deep shit. I went to visit Will Gleeson, but O’Connor and his son Tyson were there. They killed him in cold blood. Shot him right in front of me. I was sitting in my car. They spotted me. Now they’re chasing me. What do I do?”
“Okay. Look. Listen carefully. You mean you’re in a vehicle, and they are behind you in another vehicle. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you? Tell me exactly.”
“I’m on Hills Road just past the railway station and heading towards the hospital. I might fucking need it if they catch me.”
“Listen carefully. Carry on along Hills Road. When you get to the hospital, instead of turning right at the roundabout go straight over. Then after about a mile, there’s a turning on the right towards Cherrywood old town.”
“Yes, I know the one.”
“Good. Take it, and then after a few yards get in the middle of the road so they can’t overtake you and slow right down to about ten miles an hour. Make them think you’re going to stop but just keep going at low speed.”
“What good will that do?”
“Trust me. It should take you about three or four minutes to get there. Don’t stop for anything. Keep this line open and tell me when you get to the roundabout at the hospital. Make sure whatever you do you stay on the line. If the phone cuts out, call me back, okay?”
“Whatever you say. Get me out of this mess, and I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”
“Don’t worry about the money. Let’s just make sure you’re safe.”
“Phil, I’m coming up to the hospital roundabout. Go straight over you said?”
“Yeah. Head straight over and then take the turn. Whatever you do don’t miss the turn. That’s important.”
What seemed like a lifetime but was only four minutes later, Roger turned right down Granhams Lane.
“Okay, Phil. I’ve turned right into the lane. What next?”
“Move to the centre of the road so they can’t pass you and slow right down to about ten miles an hour. Trust me. In a few seconds, I’m going to ask you to floor it. When I do whatever happens just go full speed. Are you in the Range Rover?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“They’re right behind me. What do I do?”
“Keep your nerve. Keep to the centre of the road and slow down.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Trust me. Do you have sports mode?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, engage it. Just a few more yards and then I want you to really floor it. Get ready. Three, two, one, NOW!”
As Roger’s right foot hit the accelerator, he felt sure he saw a small gap in the hedgerow on his left and a car parked there, but he wasn’t hanging around to find out. The Range Rover responded immediately, opening up a gap between the cars. The BMW seemed to have been caught by surprise, but it only took a second for the driver to respond.
Kevin O’Connor sped up to give chase then heard a large thud from under his vehicle. As he sped up to chase the Range Rover, it seemed like the steering had gone and the car was swaying from side to side. Something was wrong. As he tried to accelerate the car became more unresponsive and wouldn’t steer straight. He needed to stop and check what was wrong. As he slowed down, he noticed what looked like car headlights appear from a gap in the hedgerow of a field a few yards behind. Then a vehicle roared out from the gap and sped away in the direction he had just come from. He couldn’t see the registration number; it had been covered.
As Kevin examined the tyres of the BMW, he could see small hollow spikes. The car that had been hidden in the hedgerow gap. Someone in it must have had a police stinger.
“The bastard had help. How the fuck did he manage to arrange that?”
Kevin made a call to Joey’s garage on Fen Road. Someone would be there in fifteen minutes with a tow truck.
Tyson had managed to get the registration number of the Range Rover. As they waited, Kevin made a quick phone call to a contact who ran a private car parking company and had access to the DVLA database and would be able to obtain the details of the registered owner of the vehicle.
They needed to find out who had been in the Range Rover and what the game was. Then they could arrange a night-time visit and deal with the problem.
Roger was still on his mobile to Phil Jones.
“Wow! What just happened? They slowed down. Was that you I noticed in the hedgerow? What did you do?”
“Glad you’re safe. Let’s just say you were lucky I live nearby and I find it handy to keep a couple of police issue items in the boot.”
“I’m extremely grateful. They would have killed me.”
“And they still might if you go home. We need to ensure you’re safe. Is there anyone at your house?”
“No. With my daughter gone, I live alone.”
“Okay. Now whatever you do don’t go back there. I have a friend who runs a hotel. You might be best going there for tonight. Do you know the Milton Motel?”
“Yes. I’ve seen it.”
“Go there. Drive into the car park on the right-hand side of the hotel and go round to the back. On the left, you’ll see a silver metal door garage. Drive past it and park on the far side. Go into the hotel and ask for Gerry Payne. Tell him I sent you. I’ll phone him and explain the situation. He’ll look after you.”
“Oh, God. I just thought. Will Gleeson. He’s lying there. Some poor sod will discover his body. What if it’s someone with a weak heart.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all been taken care of. An anonymous call was made to the police just after you called me. Go and get some sleep, and I’ll come and join you after you’ve had some breakfast. You can’t say I didn’t warn you about Kevin O’Connor and his family. He’ll have an alibi for tonight. And the BMW is almost certainly stolen. It’ll most likely have been torched by now. Get a good night’s rest, and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Twenty minutes later, the Range Rover pulled in alongside the garage at the rear of the Milton Motel, and Roger Maynard made his way round to the hotel reception desk to be greeted by Gerry Payne.
26
The Milton Motel
“Hello, you must be Roger Maynard,” said a friendly voice.
“How on earth did you know that?”
“I was a detective until I retired and bought this place. I can see the fear in your face and Phil told me to expect someone with that look. Don’t worry. A good night’s rest and it will all seem much better tomorrow. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
The reason Phil Jones had sent him to the Milton Motel was that Gerry Payne was a former colleague. Over recent years as the police force had become more political, a lot of the best people had decided to take early retirement and start their own businesses.
Nowadays it was more about management services and people from university. People with the right qualifications, but no real e
xperience of what the job entails, were being fast tracked up the ladder.
The College of Policing was offering fast track and direct entry programmes. Their website offered university educated graduates the opportunity to become a Superintendent within two years, rather than work their way through the ranks by their effort and on-the-job experience.
Their website offered:
The Direct Entry at Superintendent programme supports the National Policing Vision in helping to bring existing exceptional leaders into the police service to make an immediate impact on culture, efficiency and effectiveness. This will be achieved by opening up entry to the service to proven leaders who will join policing directly at the rank of superintendent rather than having to work their way up from the rank of constable.
Programme members will be trained over eighteen months and given coaching and mentoring, to equip them with the skills required to perform as a superintendent, inspiring confidence in officers, staff and the public. This will create a cohort that has the potential to further develop and acquire the skills and experience to progress to the chief officer ranks.
It meant the police were losing highly experienced officers who could see their future career opportunities limited if they hadn’t attended a prestige university.
The lower ranks would be expected to work long hours; fourteen-hour shifts were becoming the norm, as paying overtime was seen as being cheaper than recruiting new raw recruits. Of course, the fast trackers, once they reached superintendent, would probably only work normal office hours.
The local golf club had seen its membership grow as these new fast trackers made every effort to spend their time in the company of their superiors. Members of the club not associated with the police called them the arse licker brigade.