Which was why I was annoyed when the phone rang just after 10.45pm. I was engrossed in my book and did not want to be disturbed as I had another chapter to finish before bedtime. I decided not to answer. I had an answerphone; whoever it was could leave a message. I kept reading.
“Evening, Rob, sorry to disturb you at this late hour but there’s some fun here. Pick up if you’re in.” It was Mickey.
The phrase ‘there’s some fun here’ was code for ‘there’s a situation here and I need your help’. I picked up.
“Mr Corsley, what time do you call this?” I said, mock seriously.
“Apologies, but as I said, there’s some fun here, can you come to the bar?”
“On my way.”
I’d known Mickey for a few years. I knew him when he was a rookie police constable after he’d left the army about seven years ago. I was still based at West End Central, as was he, and he’d been with me on a few occasions when warrants for arrests were being served on reluctant criminals. I’d been sort of, but not completely, surprised when he’d quit after only a few years to open a bar in Bayswater. But we’d kept in touch and were friends.
Mickey’s Bar, as it was unimaginatively named, was just off Inverness Terrace, close to Bayswater Tube station. I could understand his desire to open his own bar but quite why he’d chosen such a tacky location was something I didn’t understand.
I drove to the bar and parked outside. I looked around. The street was dark and there were few people around. Out the corner of my eye I thought I saw a slight movement at the entrance to the alleyway opposite but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t see anything in the dark.
I approached the doors, tried opening them but found them locked. I knocked and stepped back. Mickey opened them. His eyes quickly darted right. I nodded. If there was anyone waiting, that would be the obvious place to hide. I entered.
A man appeared behind me, holding a small handgun as he bolted the door. He looked to be about 18 or 19 and seemed unsure of himself. He was physically unimposing and, had the chance arisen, Mickey could have made a reef knot out of him.
“Search him, Paulie,” a voice called from the other side of the room.
I could see someone sitting on a barstool with a young girl in front of him. Were they partners in whatever was going down? Paulie patted the pockets of my jacket and my jeans. That was the extent of my frisking. I’ve been searched more thoroughly by pets looking for treats.
“He’s clean, Louis,” the man called out to the other one at the bar. I actually was clean but, had I known this clown was here, I’d have hidden a weapon. I could probably have snuck a bazooka in past this idiot. If he was the brains behind whatever was going on here, God help them.
Paulie gestured to Mickey to return to his seat. I saw Sarah sitting in the corner by the pool table. I nodded and smiled. She returned it. Mickey sat next to her and Gunman sat nearby pointing his gun at them.
“Hey you, over here.”
I walked towards the bar. I could see a young girl standing in front of someone sitting on a barstool and, if I’d originally thought they were partners, I was proved wrong. She looked scared and unsure of what to do. She had her arms folded across her breasts as though she was protecting herself.
The man sitting behind her was a wholly different proposition from the man at the door. He looked like the other guy so my guess was they were brothers. He looked to be in his early twenties and, like the guy at the door, looked Mediterranean with a thick shock of black curly hair. But it was his eyes I particularly noticed. Whereas the guy at the door had eyes that showed how scared he was, this guy had almost impenetrably deep eyes, betraying a sense of unfeeling, as though he’d kill without a second’s hesitation. The kind of eyes that suggested he’d put a cat in a microwave just to see what would happen next. That, combined with the nasty looking knife in his left hand, suggested it would be important not to get him too worked up. I didn’t doubt he was a psychopath.
I stood a few feet from him. I looked at the girl and nodded.
“Don’t be scared, lady, he’ll not harm you while I’m here.” I tried to sound reassuring. The man behind her fixed me with what I assumed he thought was a hard stare.
“You the guy he told us about?” He jutted his chin towards Mickey.
My usual response would be some kind of flippancy, something like “No, I’m Hansel, I’m sorry Gretel couldn’t make it,” but I didn’t want to get this guy irate so soon. He probably thought flippancy was the act of using flippers.
“Yeah, I am. Who might you be?”
“Straight down to business. I like that. Your name’s McGraw, isn’t it?”
“It is. DS McGraw, Special Branch. Like I said, who might you be?”
He looked at me for a few moments, sizing me up, wondering whether I was able to help him.
“Name’s Louis Phipps. Okay, here’s the deal. There’s a madman out there trying to kill my brother and I, and I want you to go out there and stop him.”
Brothers. I was right. That might explain the movement I thought I’d seen by the alleyway. Maybe the guy wasn’t as paranoid as I’d thought.
“What, just like that? I’m to go out into a dark street and take on someone I don’t know, in an environment I’m unfamiliar with, and do it whilst unarmed?” I stated flatly. “What do you want me to do exactly, ask him nicely to leave you alone?”
“Don’t be a smartarse, this is serious. There’s someone out there taking shots at me and Paulie and I want you to get rid of him.”
“Look, just calm down. Before I do anything, I want to know exactly what’s happening here, so start at the beginning. In words of one syllable, so I can understand it, tell me what’s going on. If, as you say, there’s someone on your tail, why is this the case?”
“I don’t know, man, we ain’t done nothing.”
“Well, if that’s the case, why not go to the police and report it to them? People firing guns indiscriminately is a serious matter.
“No police, you got that? No fucking police.” He pointed at me with his knifehand and raised his voice, which caused the young girl to scream. “Fucking police have got me in enough trouble already, I don’t want no fucking more.”
“Okay, okay, just calm down.” I made a patting gesture with my hands. I looked at the girl. “Take it easy, you’re safe while I’m here.” She nodded. She looked scared. I took a deep breath. “Right, now I’ve ascertained you and your brother are vestal virgins and free from the stain of original sin, as I just said, start from the beginning. Why is this gentleman outside after you? Did he just pull your names out of a hat or what?”
The man put the knife on the counter of the bar.
“It started just recently. Paulie and I were in a pub the other night—”
“Which one and where?” I interrupted him.
“In Brixton, near where we live, place called the Barn Door.”
I nodded. “Okay, continue.”
“We was just having a drink in this pub when some bloke calmly strolls over to our table and says that we should enjoy our drinks as he’s going to kill us both pretty soon, then he turns and walks away. I jumped up and chased after him as he walked out the door, but he’d vanished, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I didn’t think anyone could disappear that quick. Anyway, I thought he was just some fucking nutjob so I ignored it. Later on, we’re going home and that same person appears the other side of the road and fires at us. We run for it. He shot at us again a couple of nights back, this time near our place in Brixton. We managed to give him the slip, stayed at a friend’s place for a couple of nights, but earlier this evening he appears again as we’re getting into our car and takes a pop at us. We run for it and we end up in this dive.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a fun-filled few nights,” I said alliteratively.
“Fuck fun-filled, I’m sick of this guy shooting at us. I want you to stop him.”
I thought for a few moments. The urge to kill this guy and hi
s dumb brother was understandable but it didn’t make sense as it stood. Whoever was shooting at them was clearly not very proficient, unless there was a more devious agenda involved.
“And you still maintain you’ve no idea why whoever it is is shooting at you?”
“That’s right, I don’t.”
“Okay, take a step back. You’re in the pub and some guy just comes up and announces your impending demise. Who was this person? Had you ever seen him before? Describe him. What does he look like?”
“Probably about your height, six foot or so, sounded American, wore a trilby or some kind of hat and a combat jacket, sort of a military jacket type thing. I think he had a scar by his nose.”
“Left side of his nose?”
“Yeah, it was.”
I was getting an uncomfortable feeling I knew who he was describing.
“Did he say what his name was?”
“Yeah, called himself something like Gant.”
I breathed out. I smiled and shook my head. I looked around at Mickey. He mouthed, “He did say Gant, didn’t he?” I nodded.
“What you two talking about? What’s so funny?” Louis was agitated.
“It’s not so much funny as, ah . . .” I paused. “Do you want to tell him, Mickey?”
He was grinning. “Nah, it’d sound better coming from you.” I turned back to Knifeman.
“It’s not so much funny, just that you don’t seem to pick your enemies particularly well, do you?”
I said this slowly for greater impact. “You have a poor choice of enemy.”
“What, you know this guy?” He sounded almost optimistic.
“I know of him. If it’s the same Gant I know about, he’s a top class contract man.”
“A what?”
“Oh, come on, sonny, it means he’s an assassin, a hired gun. He’s a paid killer, that’s what he is, one of the best in the world. If it’s the same one, I can’t believe you’re still breathing if he’s taken as many shots at you as you say he has.”
Louis appeared unhappy at that comment.
“How do you know this guy? Does he work for you?” he asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “He’s a freelance killer. Works for anyone who can afford his services, and they don’t come cheap either. You know what this suggests? There’s someone out there who wants you dead very much if they’re prepared to pay someone like Gant to come after you. So, you better have a rethink, sonny. Why is Gant after you?
I knew Gant by reputation. He was what was known as a person of interest to the security services and his every visit to the country would be logged and noted. I knew a few things about him. I knew he’d been in the first Iraq war, operating behind enemy lines as a sniper and had left the army to join the CIA and engage in covert activities before going freelance. He was rumoured to have killed a top British industrialist suspected of leaking secret information about germ warfare testing at Porton Down, but this was never conclusively proven. People like Gant were used to do the dirty jobs Government wanted to be able to deny. How did that square with his pursuing people like these two? It didn’t make sense.
Actually, I went on, “I’m wondering what someone like you could have done to get a top notch hitman like him after you. I don’t know Gant but I know the kind of work he does and the kind of people he kills and, frankly, you don’t fit the bill.”
“What might that mean?” He looked annoyed.
“His usual targets are enemies of the state – spies, traitors, people like that. As I said, I know a few things about Gant. You’re right, he is American. You know who the Green Berets are?”
“No.”
“They’re the American equivalent of the SAS, the elite soldiers of their respective armies. Gant was one of the best. He’s an expert with guns, with knives, with his bare hands in unarmed combat. He’s a crack marksman. He can shoot the tits off a queen bee from 500 yards away firing into a head wind. During the first Iraq war, Desert Storm, he was seconded into the CIA and worked as a sniper behind enemy lines taking out key Iraqi military personnel, and he was damn good at it. Afterwards, he left the army and went freelance, and he gets used by governments or others who want someone taken out of the equation but with maximum deniability. As I said, he’s a top class hitman, which is why I can’t understand why you two are still breathing good air.”
Phipps stared at me for about six seconds, wondering about the veracity of what he’d just been told and whether to believe me.
“How do you know all this? You just trying to scare me?” He looked like he’d just heard worse than expected news from the doctor.
“No. When I first heard about this character, I checked him out. He’s known to the security services in this country because of what he does, so that means every time he sets foot in the UK, a watch is kept on him. Trust me, from what I’ve seen, his rep is well earned. I’m not trying to scare you, simply outlining to you who it is who might be outside that door waiting to greet you with a bullet. If it really is Gant out there, you two have chance against him.” The no was emphasised.
If my intent had been to irritate Louis Phipps, I was succeeding. He was looking very uncomfortable at what he’d heard, his brother even more so.
“Oh, God, Louis, we’ve got Rambo after us. We can’t take him on.” Either Paulie had developed a sudden cold or he was trying not to cry. It sounded pitiful.
“Just shut it, Paulie, eh? I’m trying to think.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. I briefly considered jumping him but the presence of his brother behind me, armed and irrational with fear and who might just fire blindly and kill the girl, or, even worse, me, persuaded me not to.
“Look, you want me to get rid of this guy, if he’s out there. Okay, I’ll go outside and see if he’s there. If he is, I’ll try and talk to him, see what this is all about.”
“What, you mean arrest him?”
“Don’t be stupid, pal,” I said flatly. “People like Gant are beyond arrest. They work for national governments. You know what that means? It means he knows where the bodies are buried, so to speak, which is appropriate for Gant as he probably put most of them there.”
I smiled at Mickey. He nodded. “Nice one. You’re a funny guy, Rob.”
Louis Phipps hadn’t seen the joke. He looked as though he wanted to lash out at something or someone. Time to calm him down.
“No, I’m not going to arrest him. What could I arrest him for anyway? I’m simply going to try and find out what this is all about. I couldn’t arrest him even if I wanted to. I’ve no evidence he’s done anything, have I, only the word of two frankly quite unreliable witnesses. So I’m just going to talk to him. Maybe all this can be resolved without anyone dying, though in Gant’s world people often do that.” I grinned at him.
The look on Phipps’ face suggested he didn’t believe me. “I give you my word I’ll just try and talk to this guy. I’ll come straight back in afterwards. I don’t want anyone dying any more than you do.” I turned to Mickey. “You still have the same number on your Blackberry?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call when I’m coming back in. Meanwhile, when I’m outside, keep the doors locked and stay away from the windows. If he is out there and decides he’s fed up with target practice, he may just decide it’s time to play for keeps.”
Phipps looked doubtful at everything I’d just said.
“This is the only choice you got, pal. As things stand, I’m probably the only thing keeping you two from an early grave.”
I turned and walked towards the door.
“This better not be a trick on your part, mate. Don’t forget I’ve got three hostages in here.” Phipps called out as Paulie opened the door for me.
“Yeah,” I replied semi-facetiously, “so you have.”
“Do what you can, mister.” Paulie looked at me almost longingly. He had the expression of someone who’d just been told that potentially life-saving surgery had been cancelled. He shut
the door as I stepped outside and I heard the bolts sliding back into place. They were locked inside with no way out and a triple ‘A’ assassin waiting for them outside. If it was him.
I walked to my car and looked around. The street was almost deserted, with a car passing by and a taxi waiting for a pick-up outside a house further down the road. Most premises along the street were in darkness. Other than Mickey’s bar, all other businesses were shut for the evening.
A pencil-thin red beam hit me in the chest and, for a second, made me jump. I looked across the road to the source of the beam. I could see a shape in the dark holding a gun of some kind and pointing it in my direction.
“Follow the light,” an American voice called out.
The beam dropped down the road and went backwards. I followed it across the road and into an alleyway. About twenty yards along, near to a street light at the end by the road parallel, a man was standing. He switched the beam off.
“You’re Robert McGraw, a Special Branch DS. Am I right?”
I was surprised he knew who I was.
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
“I saw you go into the bar and I gave your description to someone who checked you out. He said, from the description, it was almost certainly you as you’re known to be friends with the guy who runs the place. Someone called Corsley?”
Who might Gant know who knew me well enough to match the description given?
“I know Mickey. You must be Phil Gant.”
“Louis tell you that, did he?” He smirked.
“Amongst other things.”
“Let me guess. You’re here because you want to know why I’m on the trail of those two losers in the bar, the Phipps brothers. That right?”
“Pretty much,” I agreed. “I don’t know you but I know something about the kind of work you do, and I know those two in the bar are nothing like the targets you usually get paid to go after. It just doesn’t make sense that someone like you is after them.”
Gant! Page 2