“Well, I hope they hurry up. I’m dying for a pee,” Derek yelled back.
“Use the portaloo in your cab.”
“I would if I could stop this bloody thing long enough!”
Suddenly, a mud-splattered 4 x 4 appeared in the distance and careered towards them down the bumpy cart track. It stopped at the side of the gate. A figure, huddled inside a parka, pointed a remote control and the gates swung open. From the build and stance, Bill knew it was a woman.
Staying in the 4 x 4, she waved the trucks inside, one by one, and gestured for them to stop on the track. Bill heard the faint click as the gates locked into place. Funny kind of farm, he thought. I know they have to keep the gates locked to stop animals getting out, but this seems a bit over the top. Expertly, she made a three-point turn and signalled for them to follow her along the road.
The trucks bumped over a mile down the track until they reached a shallow valley clustered with buildings. An old farmhouse, stables, cowsheds and three huge barns stacked with winter feed. The woman in the 4 x 4 drove towards the barns and slewed to a halt throwing up mud and slushy snow. She held up a hand when she saw Bill’s cab door open slightly. Derek poked his head out through the driver’s window.
“Hey, miss! Is there a loo round here?”
While they were waiting he had relieved himself in the portable loo, a necessity for long-distance drivers, but he was hoping the farmer’s wife would call them in out of the cold for a mug of tea. They might even get some food. He salivated at the thought of a succulent farm fry-up.
The woman didn’t answer. She marched into the nearest barn closing the Judas door behind her. Within seconds the large doors swung outwards. A forklift truck nosed out followed by two more. They drove alongside the trucks and motioned Bill out of his cab.
“Open them up,” a gruff voice ordered. He had a scarf pulled up covering most of his face. “No, just you,” he added when Bill motioned to his brother and sons to get out of their vehicles.
“But it will take twice as long doing it that way,” Bill complained. He jumped down from his cab. “Surly sod,” he muttered under his breath.
By the time he had unlocked the vehicles his fingers were stiff with cold. The man waved him back into his cab.
“After they’ve been unloaded reverse over there and drive back out the way you came in. She will open the gates for you,” he said, indicating the woman.
“Any chance of a cuppa?” Derek yelled through his window.
The man turned away, but a shout from inside the barn brought him up short. He hurried inside while the drivers started to reverse their trucks. He reappeared just as the first truck straightened up ready for the return journey.
“All right, when you’ve finished unloading go to the farmhouse. You’ll be given tea and some hot food. Go on, it will be waiting for you.”
Inside the barn a man watched the men jump out of their trucks and head for the farmhouse. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of lorry drivers moaning when they reached the nearest transport cafe. It would soon circulate amongst the driving fraternity how they had driven hundreds of miles, in terrible conditions, without even being offered a hot drink from the farmer’s wife.
The four men trudged towards the stone-built farmhouse and knocked on the door. There was no response. Derek tried the door. It was open. Giving it a gentle push he looked round the door into a flagstone hall. The only decoration was a stag’s head on the wall and a threadbare rug in the centre of the floor. Smells of bacon and frying reached their nostrils.
“Just what I need,” Derek grinned, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
They followed the smell of cooking into the kitchen. Plates of bacon, eggs and sausages lay on the table. A steaming pot of tea sat on the Aga cooking range. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Hello, missis!” Bill shouted. Complete silence then a woman’s voice called from upstairs.
“I’m busy with my work. Help yourselves!”
“Thanks, missus,” Bill replied, sitting down at the table.
The men finished their meal, gratefully sinking two mugs of steaming hot tea.
“I need the loo again before I go back out,” Derek stated. “The cold plays hell with my bladder.”
There was no lavatory on the ground floor. Cautiously, Derek crept up the stairs. Halfway along the landing a dim light showed through an open door. He cursed as a floorboard creaked underneath him. Fortunately, the howling of the wind outside muffled the sound. He was bursting now. His bladder felt like an inflated beach ball.
Tiptoeing to the door, he pressed himself against the wall and peered inside. A black-clad figure wearing a balaclava, obviously a woman, stood looking through the window. Startled, he stepped back, his heart in his mouth. She had a gun in her hand. For a fleeting second he thought she must be in fancy dress. Turning slightly away from the window, she emptied a box of bullets onto the bed and reloaded the weapon.
He stood frozen to the spot, his mind a whirl of uncertainty. He didn’t dare reveal his presence. His breathing was so shallow he thought he would pass out. He had to get a grip. When she turned her back to look out of the window, he crept back along the landing and down the stairs, expecting at any moment to feel the prod of a gun in his back. The others were waiting in the hallway.
“Come on, let’s get out of here!” he urged.
“What’s the matter?” Bill asked, staring at his brother’s ashen face.
“Don’t ask questions. Just get the hell out of here.”
“If this is one of your pranks again I’ll knock your bloody block off!”
They followed Derek across the frozen farmyard to where their trucks were parked near the barn. Bill tugged at his arm.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Keep walking. Just look as natural as possible!”
The gruff-voiced man was watching their progress from just inside the barn door.
“Thanks, mate!” Derek shouted. “That grub’s set me up for the day!”
The man huddled inside his parka and pointed to the farm track. The woman with the 4 x 4 was waiting to escort them back to the main gate. From the farmhouse bedroom, the other woman studied their departure as they bumped through the gate and drove away. She smiled to herself. The man with the big mouth would have to be silenced before he could pass information on to others.
Bill peered through the windscreen. It had stopped snowing, although the sky was still heavy with dark clouds. They had almost reached the crossroads when his two-way radio crackled.
“Bill,” Derek yelled. “There’s something funny going on up there in the farm. I saw a woman dressed from head to toe in black. I couldn’t see her face. She was wearing a balaclava and she had a gun!”
“Come off it, Derek. This is you and your practical jokes again.”
“I swear on my boy’s life, this is no scam.”
Bill stared ahead. There was no way his brother would swear on his son’s life. She must have scared the hell out of him.
“Do you think it may be that armed gang they mentioned on the news?”
“I admit it does seem a bit odd,” Bill replied. “Come to think of it, nobody showed their faces and why have electronic gates?”
Suddenly, Derek’s vehicle slewed from side to side. Instinctively, Bill touched the brakes, momentarily losing control of his vehicle. Ahead of him, his brother’s truck careered from side to side then ploughed into the hedgerow. The vehicle jack-knifed, turning the cab upside down, its wheels spinning furiously in the air. Bill righted his truck just as it reached the crashed vehicle. Skidding to a halt, he jumped out of the cab and slithered over the ice. Derek was slumped at a crazy angle over the steering wheel, blood oozing from his mouth and nose.
Between them they yanked at the mangled cab door, but it wouldn’t budge. Suddenly, it gave way, sending his son sprawling into the icy ditch. Bill felt for a pulse. “Thank God, he’s aliv
e! Ring 999!”
They were still waiting for the emergency services when the drone of an aircraft approaching caught their attention. Squinting against the light they watched it battling the wind as it flew towards them.
“It looks like a police chopper,” Chris said.
“No. It hasn’t got any markings.”
The helicopter flew overhead. Inside the cockpit, Ivan stared down at the stricken vehicle through his binoculars. He could see Derek’s slumped body, the blood over his face. He couldn’t be sure he was dead, but he was obviously unconscious. They had fixed his brakes while he walked back from the farmhouse. It would look like another accident on the icy roads.
Bill waved frantically, trying to catch the attention of the pilot. He must be able to see the crash. Suddenly, it circled overhead and flew away quickly disappearing into the murk. It seemed like an eternity before the wail of a siren filled the air.
“Thank God!” Bill exclaimed. A police 4 x 4 and a paramedic vehicle slewed to a halt.
“What’s his name?” the emergency doctor shouted.
“Derek Fuller; he’s my brother,” Bill answered, his bowels churning with fear.
“Derek, can you hear me? We’re going to give you an injection to stop the pain then we’ll fit a neck brace.” He turned to the policeman. “An air ambulance is on its way. Once Fire and Rescue get him out, he can be winched up from here. Luckily, there are few trees, just open fields.”
As soon as the firemen had cut off the truck door, the doctor checked Derek’s vital signs then moved aside while they eased him from the cabin. His eyelids flickered and opened for a few seconds. Bill grabbed his hand. “You’ll be okay, bro, you’ll be okay.”
The drone of the air ambulance cut off his words as it flew into sight. Bill breathed a sigh of relief when Derek was winched aboard. He watched the helicopter circle and fly off towards Shrewsbury.
“What happened here?” the young constable asked.
“His truck just slewed over the road. He must have lost control of it,” Bill answered. “I’d like to go to the hospital with him. My sons will give you as much information as they can.”
“Well, these trucks are stuck until we get a recovery vehicle to lift that one out. There’s no point trying to reverse back into the farm entrance. The road comes to a dead end about half a mile beyond it. We’ll take you all to the hospital, but we’ll need to question you as soon as possible.”
“My brother thought there was something odd going on at the farmhouse where we delivered the equipment. He said something about a masked woman with a gun.”
“A gun?”
“Yes, he was scared stiff. Could it be that armed gang on the run?”
Looking thoughtful, the policeman returned to his car and reported what he had been told.
“Unlikely, but I’ll patch it through to DCI Wallace,” the duty sergeant said.
*
Wallace paced to and fro in the incident room, his face haggard from lack of sleep. His frustration was evident for all to see. He perched on the edge of Butler’s desk impatiently devil-drumming. It was getting on his nerves, but he dared not complain, not when the Guv was in a mood.
“Damn it, Butler! We have to get a lead on this case! If we don’t… ”
He was interrupted by the telephone shrilling in his office. Leaving the words hanging in the air, he marched back to his room with Butler at his heels.
“Wallace,” he said curtly.
“Sir, duty sergeant. There’s been a road traffic accident about twenty miles from Shrewsbury.”
“I think you’ve got the wrong department,” Wallace answered sarcastically.
“PC Perkins insists on speaking to you. He says he’s got important information regarding the armed gang.”
Wallace sighed. “Okay, patch him through.” This had better be good. “What have you got, Perkins?”
“Sir, Bill Fuller, the driver of one of the trucks, seemed to think there was something funny going on in the farm where they delivered some equipment. His brother was injured in the accident, but he told him just before that he saw a masked woman with a gun. He thought it may be the armed gang on the loose. He didn’t say any more than that.”
“Did they question the brother?”
“No, sir. He’s still unconscious: probably serious head injuries. He may not come out of it.”
“Whatever you do, don’t go near that farmhouse and keep quiet about this. We don’t want to stir up the local community. The last thing we want is a bunch of vigilante farmers toting shotguns. Is that clear?”
Butler was all ears now, leaning forward in his seat like a cat waiting to pounce. Wallace replaced the receiver and looked at Butler without saying a word. Could it be where the Generalissimo had set up his new camp?
“Get this Bill Fuller in for questioning. I want undercover officers and an armed response team on standby.”
“The Super’s not going to like this, sir?”
Wallace didn’t care what Payne thought. The Chief Constable would give the go-ahead for whatever he needed. His officers would have to keep a low profile. He didn’t want to put the wind up the ‘gang’ and give them a chance to disappear again.
“Get as many men into the area as possible. I want the farm and its surroundings completely covered. For now, this is a covert operation. No heroics, otherwise it could all blow up in our faces and I don’t mean just figuratively. Then I want you back here ready for when Fuller comes in for questioning.”
“I’m already on it!” Butler replied, heading for the door.
*
Bill Fuller sat opposite Wallace and Butler, his face drawn and anxious, waiting for one of them to speak.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Mr Fuller. Everything possible will be done for him.”
“Thank you,” Bill replied nervously.
“Mr Fuller, can you relate to us exactly what your brother told you when you were at the farmhouse?”
“I’ve already told the officer when he came to the scene.”
“I appreciate that, Mr Fuller, but I’d like you to tell me again. What exactly did he say?”
“We’d had two big mugs of tea. Derek went upstairs to find the loo. When he came back down he seemed scared. He said he saw a woman loading a gun.”
“He was sure it was a real gun? Not a replica or a child’s toy?”
“Derek was in the army before he joined the business. He’d know if it wasn’t a real gun. He said she was dressed in black, from head to toe, and wearing a balaclava.”
“Can you describe the person who put in the order for equipment?”
“No, the whole business was a bit strange. I dealt with the orders and delivery schedules. Everything was done by e-mail, but I could only reply to queries. I couldn’t contact anyone myself.”
“Do you have the e-mail address?”
“No, it changed every time they sent one. It’s not how we usually do business, but it was too lucrative a contract to turn down. The business has been struggling a bit lately.”
“Did you see anyone else or anything that seemed a bit odd?”
“When we got to the farm a woman met us at the gates. We only saw one other guy. I don’t know what they looked like, but they were dressed in black. Both of them had their hoods zipped up over their faces. There was nobody in the kitchen either. The food had been left on the table. It just seemed a bit peculiar, that’s all.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful to our enquiries. DI Butler, get someone to take Mr Fuller back to the hospital.”
“Bingo!” Wallace slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. It had to be the Generalissimo’s men hiding out in the farmhouse.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Los Angeles, California
Baranski was tired after the long train journey. He was bored with inane small talk every mealtime, but he had to act as normally as possible. Twice they had collided with cattle walking across the tracks as they trundled acr
oss the Mojave Desert. He watched a string of cars snaking around the Cajun Pass in the receding light. The train was already hours late after hitting a cow on the track.
By the time they reached Los Angeles, Baranski was stressed out. Fuming inwardly, he called a cab to take him to the Hertz rental. Using his false name and passport he picked up the keys to a Pontiac.
Following the instructions he had been given, he drove to the end of Canyon Drive and parked up. This wouldn’t be easy. His target was under surveillance twenty-four hours a day. It was almost dark when the last few stragglers wandered down to their parked cars and drove away. Baranski trudged up the wide trail, dodging piles of horse dung, until he came to a paved road. Making a left turn, he laboured up the last hundred yards to where his target loomed over the city.
Thanks to local residents threatening lawsuits, it wasn’t lit up at night. His first task was to disable the high-tech alarm systems. He fished out a small object, similar to a garage remote control, and pointed it at the security gate until he heard a faint click. Tentatively, he pushed it open. He waited a few seconds expecting the alarms to kick in. Nothing happened. Cautiously, he climbed up the hill until he was right underneath the target. He placed plastic explosives at three points along the base, set the charges and scrambled back down.
He jumped into the car and shot off in a cloud of dust, along Mulholland Drive onto Cahuenga Boulevard. This would give him a clear view of his handiwork. There were only three other empty cars parked up at the viewing point. Baranski mounted the steps and stood at the edge of a group of sightseers admiring the city spread out below them.
“Wow, what a spectacular view!” exclaimed a young woman staring out across the Los Angeles Basin.
Baranski smiled. It would be even more spectacular in a few seconds. Suddenly, a loud explosion filled the air. The famous HOLLYWOOD sign exploded like matchwood sending debris shooting into the night sky. Another blast, then another, quickly followed. The group stared in disbelief as debris fell to the ground. A huge cloud of dust temporarily clouded their view. When it cleared all that was left of the sign was a single spar of the letter ‘H’. From a distance sirens wailed; the drone of a helicopter came closer. It flew through the dust circling the empty space where the sign had stood. Baranski exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. Soon his work would be done.
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