An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  Simon pushed the door wide and went in. She didn’t hear him and kept swimming. He went to the lounger and sat down feeling the clothes and the designer bag. Pulling his balaclava off, he stuffed it back into his pocket.

  “Who the hell are you? The guards aren’t allowed in the house.”

  She swam to the side of the pool in an effort to retain some decorum.

  “I’m not a guard.”

  “Oh? Were you sent to check up on me. I know I shouldn’t be in the pool. The old man’s ok. I changed the drip at three.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs. Do you want to see him?”

  “Yes. Who else is in the house?”

  “Only me. I swear it.”

  “Let’s go and see him then.”

  “Do you mind turning round while I get out?”

  “Afraid I do. Some people might hit me over the head when I’m not looking.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Sorry.”

  She scowled at him, and then climbed out.

  “You certainly keep in trim.”

  “You bastard.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mercedes. What’s yours?”

  “Simon. Mercedes is an interesting name.”

  “My dad was saving to buy a car when my mum fell pregnant with me. All the money they had went towards preparing for my birth, clothing and feeding me. Because the money should have gone towards a car, my dad didn’t want me ever to forget.”

  “Seems fair.”

  “Depends on your point of view.”

  “Suppose so.” Simon could see some bruising about her body. “How did you come by the bruises?”

  “Some girls pleasure is other girls pain.”

  Simon could not think of an appropriate riposte.

  Once she was dry and dressed, she led Simon to the stairs and went to the first floor. Then following the corridor which overlaid the ground floor, she walked to the back of the building and into a bedroom complex that spanned from one side of the house to the other. First, they passed by a dressing area that had a couple of chairs and some walk-in wardrobes and then next to a large en suite bathroom. Under a window in the bedroom itself, was a large divan bed with a sole occupant. Next to it was a drip stand and a strange looking pump which were connected via tubes to the wrinkled old man in the bed.

  Mercedes checked that the pump was still operating and that there was still plenty of fluid left in the drip bag.

  “See. He’s ok. I know I should stay with him all night but what’s the point. I’m here for twelve hours. A swim keeps me awake. He comes to no harm.”

  “What’s your role?”

  “What do you mean? I just change the drip and keep the pump working.”

  “How long has he been like this?”

  “I’ve been doing the night work for two years and he had been like it for some time before I started.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “Who are you? Who sent you?”

  “Grigoriev.”

  “Oh. Richard Davies.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why did he send you? The old man’s wife is due back today. She’ll see for herself.”

  “Perhaps he wants to make sure everything is spot on for her arrival.”

  “Please don’t tell him I was swimming. He’ll beat me.”

  “Has he before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you leave?”

  “The money is exceptional.”

  “Do you swim nightly?”

  “Yes. Please don’t tell him, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Nice offer, but I will decline. I won’t tell him. What time do you finish this morning?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  Simon looked closely at the old man in the bed with the tube from the pump attached to a cannula. He was seriously wrinkled and had a deathly pallor. The infrequent whirring of the pump pushed the fluid into his body. To all intents and purposes, the man looked as good as dead. A different whirring started as an electric ripple mattress moved gently beneath him preventing bed sores. It appeared he was being kept alive by machines. It was obviously Richard Davies. The internet had several pictures which Simon had seen. ‘So much for Wikipedia’ When he turned back to where Mercedes had moved, he saw her pointing a small calibre gun at him.

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I came here to ask him some questions. Perhaps you could answer them for me?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I was under the impression that he was trying to take over as the crime lord of Birmingham. Looking at him now, I can see that’s patently wrong. So, who is running his empire for him?”

  “As you are unlikely to leave here alive: I am.”

  131

  Sunday 19th June 2011

  “I don’t understand. He is married, who are you?”

  “I am his first-born daughter as I told you earlier. He hated me, but I watched his violent rise to power and knew one day I would get my revenge. He killed my mother when he tired of her and became more and more powerful. It was just a litany of women one after another. Then he met Jackie and I found a soul mate. She soon saw what he was like and got fed up with his constant philandering. It doesn’t take long to find a compliant doctor if the money is right and you have a little dirt on them.”

  “Why not kill him and have done with it?”

  “I was made to suffer as a child. Now it’s his turn to suffer.”

  She indicated for Simon to sit.

  “Put your hands on your head and don’t move.”

  Backing away from him, she felt in her bag for her mobile. Holding it up in her line of vision so she didn’t miss any movement from him, she tried to call a programmed number. Nothing happened. The mobile was off. Mercedes eyeballed the phone for a split second. That had never happened before. Hitting the power button, it burst back into life. Simon looked blithely about the room. This time the programmed number began to ring. He could faintly hear the acknowledgement.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi it’s me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can you come over? I have an intruder.”

  “How did he get past the security?”

  “Don’t know. He’s under control now.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Take care.”

  “Love you” and she blew a couple of kisses as the phone disconnected.

  Simon said, “I hope that was Grigoriev.”

  “He will take pleasure in killing you.”

  “I really want to meet him again. He ran away from me the last time.”

  With that, he took his hands off his head, stretched and stood up.

  “I’m warning you. I will kill you if I have to.”

  “Not with that pop gun. I unloaded it when I turned your phone off at the pool.”

  Mercedes pulled the trigger and heard a loud click.

  “Now this gun is loaded,” and he pulled out the Lithuanian’s gun that he had fired before.

  “If you are running the show now, you sent people to Sussex to kidnap a girl. Bad move. All bar the coward Grigoriev are dead. This is one of their guns. By the way, I just disabled the outside security and took all their weapons. They should all recover in time.”

  “Don’t give me that. I know you must have had help.”

  “We will wait and see.”

  Within five minutes, Grigoriev arrived and saw the bound man by the security booth. Abandoning his car in the middle of the cul-de-sac, he jumped out of it with a rifle in his hands. He did not hesitate, nor did he walk down the drive. The same tree that Simon used saw him enter the grounds and he ran off in a crouch. He was sure he knew who the intruder was and he wasn’t going to take any chances. At the rear of the building he kept to the perimeter. Arriving behind the summer house he could see the lights burning in the old man’s upstairs b
edroom. He needed to get higher for a better view. Stealing round to the front of the summer house he found another bound security man. It had to be Simon’s handiwork. He should have killed him the first time he met him.

  He couldn’t afford to take any risks. All his men had died in Sussex: or so he thought. If he could kill him from a distance, all the better. Mercedes was no walk-over, but a trap may have been set for him. All his life he had been cautious. Ruthless: but cautious. It was a trait that had saved him before and made him one of the best. The only thing he would never do though was take on someone he wasn’t sure he could beat either by fair means or foul. He believed Simon was on a par with himself and therefore a serious menace.

  There was no time to release the lashed security man as he burst into the summer house itself and sprang up the stairs. The third man was tied up and softly moaning in pain on the bed. Grigoriev silenced him by hitting him hard with the rifle butt. He hated off-putting noise when he was going to take a shot. From the window, he could see he was a few feet lower than the lit room. It wasn’t going to be a problem. Pushing the now unconscious guard callously from the bed, he dragged it to the window. Laying prone on the bed, he lined his rifle up on the lit window. He was ready.

  Putting his mobile phone in front of him, he rang Mercedes number.

  “Feel free to answer.” She tossed her phone towards Simon.

  Catching it left handed, he answered the call.

  “Yes?”

  “If you think I am going to stroll in there, you are not as good as I thought.”

  “I didn’t think you would being a coward.”

  “You can’t provoke me.”

  Mercedes was slowly backing away from Simon and moved in front of a lit standard lamp. The silhouette cast onto the window blind was all he needed. He didn’t care who it was. If it was Simon, he would have a result. If it was Mercedes, it would shut her up and he could always find someone else. There were plenty of other people who would pay well for his services.

  There was very little recoil as the gun fired. Mercedes was thrown forward with a gaping hole in her back and a larger one in her chest as the high velocity bullet ploughed on and lodged in the wall. All the lights in the room were dowsed.

  “I presume you are still breathing.”

  “I’m coming for you.”

  132

  Sunday 19th June 2011

  Grigoriev was off the bed with his rifle in a trice. Running down the stairs and straight out of the summer house. He knew that Simon was alone because he was like him, a lone operator. Instead of running to the perimeter, he ran into the garden and towards the kitchen and dived into a flower bed full of tall ornamental grasses. He drew a bead on the back door. Simon hesitated as he ran into the kitchen. If he had been outside, he would have covered the back door. There was no way he would go through it. It was a portal to death. Grigoriev allowed a few seconds to pass. Then he knew Simon was not going to leave via the door. If he had been inside, there was no way he would come out through it.

  The morning was becoming progressively lighter. There was still over an hour before dawn. Both men knew that movement would attract the other’s attention and could prove fatal.

  Grigoriev considered his options. He was not going to go anywhere near his abandoned car. If he was inside the house he would be watching for movement along the perimeter. A proficient person with the right handgun would have no trouble hitting him. He would have to move soon under the retreating cover of darkness, or become a sitting duck to anyone on the first floor of the building in even partial daylight.

  Simon was searching for an exit from the building. He wanted to be outside where he would be on equal terms. The logic stated that Grigoriev would cover the back door, but he had not proved logical in the past. If he left by any back or side window, he could easily be picked off from the back garden. That left the front door. Simon wasn’t sure. Grigoriev may have predicted that and moved position. He wouldn’t have moved to the front door. Just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean Grigoriev wouldn’t. It was a gamble with his life that he wasn’t willing to take.

  They both had life-threatening problems. Each considered the other their equivalent. Neither was going to take a risk with their own life. Grigoriev knew that he could not afford to wait for the nine o’clock security team’s arrival which would solve all his problems. He would already be dead.

  Simon knew he had to be out and gone quickly in case Grigoriev had called for help. The exiting from the building could result in his death. Using Mercedes mobile, Simon tapped the number and watched the garden from the darkness of the kitchen. It was a forlorn hope that he would spot a small mobile’s light in the breaking mornings gloom, or hear one ringing. Feeling the phone vibrating against his torso, Grigoriev smiled. ‘Clever.’ The phone was tucked in a pocket and on mute.

  Simon saw and heard nothing. Grigoriev waited for it to stop vibrating, and waited another couple of minutes for it to return to standby. Then he took it out of his pocket, pressed redial and stuffed it hastily back into his pocket before the screen lit up. He saw the small glow of the ringing phone in the kitchen and put one round slightly to the left of it and one to the right of it.

  As the second round left his gun, he knew he had been duped. Simon was watching from a room away. He had expected the return call followed by gunshot. The muzzle flash had given his position away. Grigoriev cursed himself. ‘Very clever.’ Now Simon could get out of the front of the building. Time was of the essence for both of them yet again.

  Grigoriev jumped up and ran to the rear of the summer house and the perimeter wall beyond. Fear drove him up and over the wall with little effort. Simon exited the front door after grabbing his bag and ran down the garden and out through the main gate and all the way back to the Audi. He sat in the driver’s seat for ten minutes and let his adrenalin subside as he got his breath back.

  133

  Sunday 19th June 2011

  “Hello John.”

  “Hi Simon. How are you doing?”

  “Long story which I’ll tell you when I get back. What I have found out is that RD has been bedridden for at least a couple of years and totally incapacitated. His empire has apparently been run by his present wife, and a lady called Mercedes. Unfortunately, Mercedes was killed by Grigoriev before I could have a proper chat with her. I had to make a swift exit but I’m going back to wait for RD’s wife. I’ll see what she has to say. Can you update Graham and Ian for me?”

  “Yes, will do. Is there anything you need?”

  “Not at the present, but I’ll keep you or Ian apprised.”

  “OK.”

  Putting the phone back on the side table, John sat in silence adopting Prodow’s praying mantis mode as he considered what had been said. Carol could hold a silence, Alison couldn’t.

  “Well? Come on.”

  John passed the call on as near to verbatim as damn it. Both women took it all in.

  “If RD is a vegetable, who ordered my kidnapping?”

  “He’s still trying to clarify that.”

  *

  Simon looked around. It was still too early for most people, but a few were starting to move about. He left the Audi and cautiously made his way back to the cul-de-sac. Slipping his balaclava back on, he saw Grigoriev’s car was still in the middle of the road but Simon was sure he had left via a different route. The Saab was no longer of use to Grigoriev and obviously abandoned. In his own hasty exit, he had left the front door ajar. The bound security guard by the box watched him curiously as he had watched the arrival of Grigoriev and then Simon’s swift departure.

  “I’ll be back in a little while and I’ll set you free then.”

  The guy on the ground managed a muffled grunt.

  Simon was taking a chance, but he was sure that Grigoriev was well gone. He needed time and he hadn’t got enough of it. With a precautionary gun in his hand, he sprinted to the summer house and sprang up the stairs and to the now fully conscious truss
ed guard who was lying on the floor, and ripped the tape from his mouth. The man’s face had cooled marginally and was no longer burning.

  “What time do you get relieved?”

  “You know you’re a dead man?”

  “I’ll ask you once more. If you do not answer, I may have to kill you.”

  Simon flipped open his butterfly knife and touched the man’s throat with the point. A smidgen of blood appeared and ran onto the blade.

  Showing it to him, Simon said, “When?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  “Who pays you?”

  “It’s a lawyer.”

  “Yusuf?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Wild guess. Who gives the orders on the ground? Grigoriev?”

  “Yes” and then he realised he wanted to rub the fair size lump that was growing by the second on the side of his head.

  “Who supplied the guns to you?”

  “Yusuf.”

  “How do you get away with having them on a British street?”

  “He said there was no problem with the Police and anyhow, some knew we had them.”

  “Have you been inside the house?”

  “Never! We were told that was totally forbidden. Grigoriev would probably kill us. He’s a psychopath. There’s a mad woman who lives in there. She’s his girlfriend.”

  “He killed her earlier.”

  “Shit. You reckon you’re up to dealing with him?”

  “We’ll see soon enough as long as he stops running away from me.”

  Simon wanted to collect his booty.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes then I will free you.”

  Simon ran around and collected all the guns and phones and stuffed them into a Tesco’s jute bag that he had brought from his car. Ian would like the phones and the armourer in Kent would love the guns. He put the bag just inside the front door and out of sight. Running back to the summer house, his knife re appeared in his hand as he freed the guard outside.

  “Follow me.”

  Going back upstairs, his knife flashed again, and the man was free. He stood up determined not to rub his face. His head was killing him thanks to Grigoriev but he was thinking fast.