Bringing Hell

by Larry Igbon

  Bringing Hell

  Larry Igbon

  For Adam.

  With thanks for your invaluable support.

  BRINGING HELL

  It’s good for you to realise the damage you’ve done to others.

  You think being sorry now will save you. You need to understand that you must suffer the same torment you inflict on those upon whom you prey.

  That’s why I’m here, so you may learn this.

  But I am not like you, I am only your teacher.

  Karma, my friend. Karma has found you.

  Larry Igbon.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  With Thanks

  Also by Larry Igbon

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  After arriving in London from Nicosia, Tom Ramsay got off the plane and hurried to the baggage claim.

  The carousel was empty. The chute had not disgorged the luggage. This was an ideal opportunity to agitate the man he had come to kill and leave him feeling uneasy. He opened his contacts file and called the number.

  The well-dressed guy picked the phone off the desk in his office. “Hello.”

  “Morning, Grant, my name is Tom Ramsay. Mean anything to you?”

  “Nothing at all. What do you want?”

  “Craig Ramsay was my kid brother. You put him through misery because he refused to be your stooge. I’m sure you remember him. You tortured and murdered him a few weeks ago, and you think you got away with it.”

  “Yes, I recall the kid. But there was no charge against me. You know this.”

  “Not yet. The cops are still investigating. Either way, you won’t escape justice. You did the deed, and I intend to see you punished.”

  “Do you have a death wish? I’ve had men killed for much less than that.”

  “That may sound frightening inside your head, but you’ll pay for murdering Craig. The Force have nothing to go on—you’ve seen to that—so I’ll take care of this matter myself.”

  “You’re the soldier who lives in Turkey, right? It’d be a good idea for you to stay there and don’t bother me again. You might end up the same way as your brother.”

  “Wrong. The marine, and I live in Cyprus.”

  “So what?”

  “Expect me in London soon, bringing you hell.” He switched off the phone and threw it into a rubbish bin.

  * * *

  A former Royal Marine, Ramsay had served in many foreign theatres of war. After being wounded in action, he’d left the service a year ago, two years ahead of his scheduled discharge. A long period of convalescence followed in a property he owned in Cyprus. Luckily, he’d made a complete recovery.

  Seeking a new direction, he opened his own gym in Nicosia. At thirty-two, he felt a new optimism in his life.

  Then, a month ago, he was back in England attending the funeral of his brother, Craig. Known gangsters had tortured and murdered him. The police found his mutilated body in the River Thames two days later.

  Detective Chief Inspector Paul Sykes was leading the police investigation. No evidence had emerged as to a suspect. There was a statement alleging threats made against Craig. Threats made by Gerry Grant.

  Two years earlier, Craig and his partner had entered a business association with a prestige car company. What neither of them knew was that the company was one of Grant’s enterprises.

  The car company imported its vehicles for display in Craig’s showroom at Elite Automobiles. The organisation did the advertising and marketing for the products ahead of time, which resulted in immediate sales once they were received. Craig and his partner handled the sales and pocketed a handsome commission for little effort.

  Five weeks previously the associate from the prestige car outlet had come in to pick up the latest import. A routine check by one of Elite’s mechanics caused Craig to examine a faulty door panel. He found a bag of diamonds hidden in the door. The driver said he would take the matter up with his boss and drove away with the gems.

  After discussing the matter with his partner, Craig reported the incident to the police. Grant’s subordinates apprised him of the situation, and he took immediate control. He confronted Craig in his office at Elite Automobiles and tried to convince him he had made a mistake. If he let the police know about his error, Grant offered, he could pocket a large bonus. Then it would be business as usual. Craig’s partner heard the exchange, which culminated in him telling Grant to get out and remove his remaining cars. She also heard the gang boss threaten him several times. There was no one to corroborate the statement, made by the partner, Julia Parry.

  Ramsay had given Sykes an ultimatum. If the Inspector could not find evidence against Grant, then he would.

  Sykes warned him that Grant was a violent thug and not a man to cross. However, danger was commonplace for Tom Ramsay. He had faced, and survived, many perils.

  At 8:43 am, he entered the arrivals lounge where he saw his friend, Phil Wallace, waiting for him.

  “Good to see you, Phil.” Ramsay clasped his right hand and threw his left arm around Wallace’s shoulder.

  “Same here, pal.” Wallace returned the embrace, then picked up Ramsay’s suitcase. “We’ll go straight to the place and I’ll fill you in. What’s your time frame?”

  “Forty-eight hours, sixty tops.”

  “Excellent.”

  * * *

  Gerry Grant was one of London’s most powerful gang bosses. Once an illegal arms dealer, he had made a fortune, which he used to further his criminal empire. He was a prolific racketeer who owned several clubs and businesses. With his charisma and confidence, he came off as a successful entrepreneur. In fact, he was a vicious bully who had forced many competitors out of business. When legal methods failed, he resorted to bribery or violence.

  His henchmen were notorious among the criminal underworld. Some of them were ex-convicts. The police held records of all. Although often arrested and questioned about various crimes, his mobsters seldom served time. Thanks to the gang’s lawyers, most charges disappeared due to lack of evidence.

  He replaced his office telephone on its cradle and stared at it in silence for several seconds. A vein throbbed in his temple; his neck burned, and he clenched and unclenched the fingers of his right hand. He did not like what he had heard. Nor did he care to receive threats on his own manor, his piece of London. Most of all he did not care for the tone of the caller, which had left him feeling disquieted.

  His forehead glistened as he snatched up the phone and punched one number on the console. He picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk with an urgent staccato rhythm. Scowling, he counted the rings: four, five, and after six he snapped the pencil with his left hand and cursed.

  “Gerry, hello. What’s up?” said Alan Holmes.

  “What’s bloody well up is you need to answer your phone, pal. In my office, now.”

  Holmes was the person closest to Grant. Their friendship and mutual trust went back to their schooldays. Both men were intelligent, violent, career criminals.

  “Morning, Gerry. Do you want to tell me what’s got you so agitated? Have I done something?”

  “No. Sorry about that, Al.”

  “It’s OK, mate, tell me what’s happened.”

  “You remember that kid with the car showroom, who crossed us?”

  “Craig Ramsay, you mean?”

  “
That’s right, well his brother’s been on the phone.”

  “Isn’t he the soldier who lives in Turkey? What does he want?”

  “Correction, he’s a marine and he lives in Cyprus. What he wants is to come home and settle with us for killing his brother. He’s on his way.”

  “So, he’s on his way. We’ll deal with him when he gets here.”

  “I don’t want him anywhere near here. If that copper, Sykes, gets wind of it, he’ll be all over our business again, and we don’t need that.”

  “OK. I understand. You got any ideas?”

  “First off, we need to give that cop something to do, something to keep him busy. We can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “How so?”

  “That Parry girl will want to talk to Ramsay; we need to show her she’s still on our agenda. I’ll get to that later. Right now, we concentrate on this other business.”

  “OK. What do you have in mind?”

  Grant paced back and forth, rubbing his chin. “I want him stopped as soon as he leaves the airport, so get the boys on it. Check all incoming flights from all the airports in Cyprus.”

  “That won’t be easy, there are only a handful of us who’ve ever seen him. The best we can do is have him paged by name.”

  “No one said it would be easy, but there’s a lot at stake here and I want everybody focussed on this. Get one of our taxi drivers to hold up a sign with his name on it and find out where they drop him.”

  “Not bad, it might work if he’s expecting a cab. Other than that, we look for some hard-case travelling alone and carrying a kit-bag. Right?”

  “That’s about right.” Grant rose from his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the street. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and spoke without turning around. “Right, Al, how do we narrow this down so as not to waste our time and resources?”

  “Usual procedure, I guess. We use what we know he is, and what we know he isn’t.”

  “Right, but bearing in mind he’s a career killer, we must use what we can assume.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he’s got a lifetime’s experience of not getting found, and we’ve got a bunch of highly paid goons. We don’t want them steaming in and trying to collar every civilian over six feet tall with tattoos, now do we?”

  Holmes laughed, “Blimey, Gerry, you’re dead right there, mate. OK, I’ll make sure they don’t mark family men or couples. Also, no accountant types—I’ll sort it don’t worry. They’ll be looking for someone big enough and tough enough to kick their arses.”

  “That’s the idea. Get Bunny, and Enty on it, make sure you tell them no guns. I want him captured and brought to the Tombs, OK?”

  Among his many enterprises, Grant owned a haulage business. It covered eighty thousand square feet of operating space. There was a large area for storage, left vacant for his personal use. Well insulated and soundproofed, it was ideal for storing goods—and people. Excellent for extracting information, or breaking bones. The Tombs, the name given to the site by Grant’s gang, was notorious. Many more people had walked in than had walked out.

  “You don’t think we can make him see the error of his ways and convert him?”

  “You saw his kid brother. We could have killed him twice and he still wouldn’t have given in. I want this one fixed so well we don’t have to expect a cousin or uncle to appear one day.”

  “Fair enough. You’d better have the chaps over to guard your place tonight.”

  “OK, but don’t overdo it. Four should be enough, two pairs working in shifts.”

  “Do you want me there?”

  “No, you need to be here with Lorimer. Look after him, it’s collection day.”

  Alfred Lorimer was the accountant dealing with Grant’s businesses. His offices were in the Bryant building, which Grant owned outright.

  “No problem. I love that guy.”

  “Me too, when he tells us how much richer we are each month.” They laughed. “I’m expecting no bother tonight anyway Ramsay isn’t here yet.”

  Chapter 2

  Wallace eased the car into New Temple Street and came to a halt in front of a large apartment block.

  “I got a great place, here opposite the Bryant building. I’ve been using it to watch Grant’s movements. Full details are on this flash drive. Every inch of his house is on it.”

  “Oh, you’ve been inside then?”

  “A few times. I had to plant a few bugs in case you need to visit him at home.”

  “Chances are he’ll come looking for me.” Both men laughed. “Did you get a memento?”

  “Here,” Wallace said, handing over a gold wristwatch. “I liberated this yesterday. It was on his nightstand and he was in bed with a redhead. She’s been a regular for weeks, in case you want to mess with him.”

  “Yes, that guy needs upsetting. Nice work, mate.”

  “I also visited the gang’s ‘interrogation suite’.”

  “Ah. The infamous Tombs?”

  “Correct, where they tortured your brother.”

  Ramsay clenched his fists for a moment. “What am I up against here?”

  “It’s a secure storage chamber attached to the main area. I entered it from there, through a small window near the top of the wall. Reaching it from inside the Tombs is not so easy, but no problem for trained combatants. An energetic climb, but it only takes a few seconds. I’ve left things that’ll be useful. If you’re captured, so to speak.”

  They both laughed, and Ramsay made the thumbs up sign. “I’m sure Grant’ll invite me to sample the treatment Craig suffered. He’ll never have a more hostile guest.”

  Wallace shared full details of the items he had hidden at the Tombs, assuring Ramsay that they were easily accessible. “That’s everything,” he said, spreading his hands. “The rest is up to you. Questions?”

  “What about Craig’s business and his partner?”

  “Grant still has two high-end cars in the showroom. He might try to keep the original agreement going.”

  “Damn. He’s bound to have a solid contract slanted in his favour. I’ll ask Julia if there’s a problem.”

  “Good idea, no reason to let that slug think he’s untouchable. Everything you need is in the apartment. Remember, I’m available. After all, you’ve had months of downtime, and I’d love to give these monkeys a workout.”

  “No, Phil, if this goes wobble-side up I don’t want you anywhere in sight. Besides, you’ve already gone beyond the call of duty on this one.”

  “The planning put into this caper is as cunning as any op we performed on in the Corps. These guys have no clue about the punishment that’s coming. Remember, Grant and Holmes are the ones to watch. A pair of vicious hyenas. Don’t take any chances.”

  “Don’t worry about me. They’ve given me grief, and reason for anger and hatred. I dislike those feelings and I intend to make them pay.”

  “Speaking of which, when should I plunder the gang’s accounts?”

  “Tomorrow after banking hours. We can’t have their accountant finding out too soon. I’m the guy telling Grant. I’ll see how he squirms when he learns where the money went. OK, that’s all. I have to meet with DCI Sykes.”

  “Everything will be ready at Blackfriars Bridge. Unless you need to change the plan?” Ramsay tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “No judgements here, Tom, but it sounds extreme. Don’t you agree?” He knew of the deep vein of cruel violence within his pal. He had only seen it unleashed against the most evil antagonists in battle zones.

  “Oh, that thing again? Look, Phil, he put Craig through agony and terror, then slaughtered him like an animal. Now I intend to let that maggot experience dread before he dies. I’m not an insane fiend, but under the circumstances, shooting him at dawn is not the way.”

  “So, no changes then? Good to know.” Wallace chuckled. “Whoever said you were a fiend? I like ‘Ramsay the Reaper’, that’s the guy who saved my life. You’re dead right, the ba
stard has to suffer. So long, pal, stay frosty.”

  “Cheers, Phil.” He held out his fist, which Wallace touched with his own, before heading for the door.

  The two had enjoyed service together as Royal Marine Commandos. Both had seen action many times on foreign soil. Ramsay had saved Wallace’s life twice in hostile territory. Wallace would do anything for his friend.

  * * *

  Ramsay sat across the desk from DCI Sykes, in a hot, sticky interview room. “Tell me, Inspector, what progress have you made on bringing my brother’s murderers to justice?”

  “We’re unable to close the case for lack of evidence.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” His clenched fists were resting on the desk.

  “It means the matter isn’t closed.”

  “Does it mean you’re following leads?” Ramsay asked, drumming the desk with the fingers of his right hand. “Or are you examining forensic evidence?”

  “We are reviewing everything, including forensics.”

  “And witness statements? What about the diamonds Craig and Julia found?”

  “Look, Mr Ramsay, only your brother and Miss Parry saw any gems. Nobody else has corroborated their existence. CCTV didn’t show the stones, or anyone suspicious.”

  “Do you believe they were never there?”

  Sykes stood and opened a window to circulate the air, then sat back down and loosened his tie. “No, but we can’t prove they exist. Sorry I can’t help you any further.”

  Ramsay thumped the top of the desk with both hands, as he got up. “Not good enough. Grant has a place called the Tombs, where he takes his victims. You heard of it?”