by Tony Jenkins
One unsuspecting security man had been an easy target, but two helmeted security men wielding batons was something else. It was also payback time for the cowardly attacks on their colleagues. The exchange was short, but ended with four attackers unconscious and laid out on the ground. Jack and Graham taped their hands and feet together and Jack called his police contact to come and collect four intruders, who had burgled the building and attacked them. Once the intruders were helpless, Jack went through their pockets to check identities for future use, but none of the men carried any papers. The police van arrived within twenty minutes and collected the four, but they remained stubbornly silent.
Jack stayed with Graham until he had completed his visits and then left to return home to his wife, who was not happy about his arrival in the early morning. He was satisfied that the change of routine and preparation had been successful, but was concerned that all four assailants had remained totally silent, before and after the police arrested them. Most felons would either have protested their innocence, or screamed for a solicitor as soon as the police arrested them.
Next morning, he learned that Greg and his companion had completed their night checks without incident, but his friend had already heard about Jack’s clash with intruders from Graham. As they were speaking, the telephone rang and Jack spoke to his squash partner and ex-best man, Detective Inspector Peter Kilshaw.
“Hi Jack. I see you wasted no time after getting back from Hungary to attack more of our local citizens. Still none of them were shot this time. You must be losing your touch.”
“And good morning to you too, Peter. Always willing to lend a helping hand to our local constabulary. Have they said anything yet?”
“Not a word Jack, and I expect you already know that they carried no identification, which makes me think they are foreign and decided to go into business in Liverpool. I remember the last foreign tourists you and Greg attacked in that car park and I hope that there is not going to be another run of killings. Can you drop in and let me know what you know and think is going on? My superintendent is already worried that you are starting another crime wave.”
“Tell him he has nothing to worry about and as usual, I will take care of everything. Be there within the hour.”
Chapter 5
Retribution
Commissar Dalca had cleverly managed to improve his position as the old communist regime crumbled, and the new ‘free’ government took power. Like many other officials, he had previously worked for the communists, but his change of loyalties and past behaviour had not proved a hindrance. He now held an important position, which gave him more advantages than ever and he welcomed democracy as long as it mainly benefitted him. It was Friday and as he finished his working week before driving home, he took an admiring look around his comfortable office with views over Bucharest. He enjoyed the warm glow of satisfaction in having yet again fallen on his feet. His newly purchased large house was near a forest and over the weekend he would again be taking his gun to enjoy himself hunting. His wife had been complaining that a brown bear was raiding her garden and waste bins and he would enjoy killing the animal to prevent any further rampages.
His dinner was delicious and he complimented his wife on her cooking before they settled down for the evening to watch foreign programmes on their new television. Dalca thought how lucky they were and how they could now look forward to enjoying a comfortable future together after the turmoil suffered by their country. Unfortunately, his beautiful dream would soon be shattered.
Outside his home at the edge of the forest, a hooded figure wearing bulky dark clothing, shaded his eyes against the setting sun, after spending another day watching the house. Satisfied that his target would remain indoors for the night, he opened his sleeping bag and wrapped himself up to settle down under the trees and sleep. He was looking forward to his meeting with Commissar Dalca the next morning, and having studied his movements over the past week, he had already picked out a number of suitable spots where he could attack him.
After enjoying a good breakfast, Dalca put on his expensive, new hunting clothes and strapped a leather cartridge belt around his ample waist, then kissed his wife and left the house. It was a bright and sunny morning with a blue almost cloudless sky as he walked off to look for the persistent bear targeting his home. It was an ideal day for hunting and as there were no other houses nearby, Dalca had become accustomed to having the forest to himself. There were many other wild animals in the forest, including wolves, deer, chamois, lynx, wild boar, foxes and pheasants. It was a hunter’s paradise and not more than a twenty-minute walk from his house.
After waking at dawn to begin watching the Dalca house, a figure in crumpled clothes and with a mask covering his face, carefully followed Dalca as he walked towards the dense part of the extensive forested area. Unaware of the stalker behind, Dalca began looking for bear droppings and claw marks on the tree bark to locate the animal’s usual route to his house. After walking backwards and forwards through the trees for over an hour, he finally found scattered droppings and chewed bone fragments, which showed that he had located likely bear tracks at last. He loaded his gun, switched on the safety catch and began to move more carefully through the rough grass as he looked around for his prey.
The masked figure made his way carefully around Dalca and then threw a large stone into a thickly wooded patch to Dalca’s right to draw his attention. Hearing the noise in the bushes, the commissar switched off the safety catch and raised his rifle as he stood still. He waited, hoping that the bear would come out of the trees and give him a clear shot. Suddenly, he heard a gunshot from behind him and felt a hammer blow to his right leg. Crying out with the pain, he dropped his rifle and clutched at the wound, as blood streamed down his trouser leg. He did not see the figure approaching him until he was thrown forward on his face and felt his arms being bound behind him with some sort of tape. Although his face was pressed down into the coarse grass, he managed to scream at his attacker.
“Who are you and what are you doing. Do you know who I am?”
He received no answer and instead, tape was wound across his eyes so that he could no longer see what was happening around him. Then Dalca felt his clothes being cut from his body and shivered at the sudden chill of the forest air on his skin. He was horrified to realise that he was naked, apart from his hunting boots and socks. He cried out again.
“Stop this. What do you think you are doing?”
Again, there was no answer and he felt a heavy blow to the side of his head, which left him dazed. Then his legs were tied together so that he was completely helpless with a rope wound around his ankles. The other end of the rope was flung over a thick tree branch and although Dalca was quite a heavy man, his captor had no trouble hauling him into the air until he hung from the branch, with his head only eighteen inches above the grass below. His captor spoke to him.
“Why did you send soldiers to Budestin?”
“The Hungarians wrote to me that someone called Renko had been crucified and killed and I sent a man to investigate, but he failed to contact me.”
“How did the Hungarians know what happened to Renko?”
“They told me that two Hungarians were at Budestin when Renko was killed.”
“What was the name of the soldier-leader who killed the old woman?”
“It was Sergeant Major Dinescu, but the old woman tried to stab him with a big knife and he had to defend himself.”
Nodding his head after getting the information he wanted, the man then wound tape around Dalca’s mouth to make sure that he could no longer speak. With Dalca swinging slowly from the branch, the man then used his knife to make small cuts in the victim’s forehead and chest so that blood began to drip down to the grass below. Satisfied that any passing animals would smell the blood and investigate before beginning to enjoy a meal from Dalca, the man walked away. He did not want Dalca to bleed out before feeling himself eaten by forest animals. He had killed the marauding bear the
previous day, and moved its body deep into the forest. It would have made short work of a helpless Dalca and the man was determined that instead, his victim would die slowly and painfully for his crimes.
Left alone with his body slowly swinging on the rope end, Dalca strained his ears to identify the sounds around him. Why had the man done this to him? He had never shown any concern for those he had sent to their death, or prison and finally he began to experience what a helpless victim feels. Eventually, he heard a rustling noise and sensed that something was standing near him. A cold nose brushed his face as an animal sniffed at him and Dalca frantically twisted his body to try to get away from the inquisitive beast. Hearing sounds of quick movement, he hoped that he had frightened it away from him. Minutes passed and then he felt a burning pain in his face as something bit and tore away part of his cheek. Unable to cry out, or defend himself, he desperately tried to swing his body away from the animal and once more, the movement drove it away. Tense and desperate and listening for any movement, he hoped that it would now leave him alone, until he felt his nose gripped with sharp teeth and torn away from his face.
The horror of his predicament and his inability to see, or cry out was putting unbearable pressure on his sanity. This combined with the aching pain from his wounded leg and the increasing agony from the bites to his flesh, tipped his mind into an escape from reality.
Walking back to collect his sleeping bag and other equipment, the man saw Madame Dalca busily working in her vegetable garden, but he had no quarrel with the woman and carried on walking back to the bus stop for his return journey to Bucharest.
When her husband did not return for his lunch, his wife became worried that he had been injured by the bear and telephoned his office. Saturday afternoon was a time when many were off duty, but a search team of six men was finally assembled by late afternoon. By the time darkness prevented further searching, the team had failed to find any sign of Dalca, although they did find the carcass of an old brown bear, which had been shot recently. They made their way back to the Dalca house and reassured the distraught wife that they would resume the search the next morning.
A group of twenty men arrived early the next morning and Dalca was finally found, suspended from the tree branch. Although unconscious, the man was still alive, but only just. He was carried back to his home and then rushed to hospital. Animals had been chewing at his face and chest for hours and the sheer horror of what was happening must have turned his mind. Most of his nose and cheeks had been eaten away and his wife was shocked by his appearance. At his bedside, she watched as her husband regained consciousness and began twitching and sobbing, before muttering nonstop gibberish. The body lived, but the Dalca she had married was gone forever. She wondered if it might have been better if he had died rather than have him live on in such a state.
Details of the cowardly attack on a respected public official were headline news for some days, but the police view was that it had probably been a revenge attack by someone Dalca had harmed under the previous communist regime, which had shown no respect for human rights. After seven days in hospital, the doctors could do no more and Dalca was sent home to be cared for by his wife. The newspapers reported that the commissar had received hospital treatment for his wounds and would now be at home recuperating on sick leave.
It was a sunny day and Madame Dalca decided to work in her vegetable garden. She placed a sun lounger on the front porch for her husband to relax his wounded leg and rest in the sun, where she could keep watch on him. After an hour battling with weeds and making regular checks on her husband, she decided to take a break and make coffee. She stretched her aching back and then walked slowly back to the house. Glancing towards the porch, she was horrified to see a large knife protruding from her husband’s chest and after finding no pulse, she knew he was dead.
She recognised one of her own kitchen knives and could not believe that the killer had first entered her house and then callously stabbed her husband when she was working close by. After every five or six minutes bent over weeding, she had been straightening up to ease her back and check on her husband at the same time. The murderer would only have needed seconds to kill her man and she shuddered as she realised that if she had turned round and seen him, she would certainly have been killed as well.
Although she rarely drank alcohol, she poured herself a half glass of brandy to settle her nerves before calling the police. After describing the killing, she then locked herself in the bathroom and stayed until she heard the police arrive. Once again, she watched as her husband was taken away in an ambulance, but this time there would be no return.
Balaclava man had passed a death sentence on Dalca and after reading the newspaper item, he was not prepared to have his victim live on for many years. Taking a bus to the outskirts of Bucharest, he walked to the Dalca house and after watching the woman in the garden, he chose a long-bladed knife from the kitchen. Waiting until the wife had made her regular check on her husband, he calmly moved up beside him, put a hand over his mouth and drove the knife down deep into the chest of the sleeping man, who died instantly. The knife pierced the heart and Dalca died without waking from his heavily drugged sleep.
With no evidence as to who had killed Dalca, or why and no obvious suspects, the police assured his wife that they would continue their investigations, but she knew that they had little hope of finding the assassin. His killer had already returned to Bucharest and was now planning how he would execute his next victim. Once again, he wanted to make it a long and excruciating death.
Chapter 6
Intrusion
Superintendent Larry James was speaking with Peter when Jack was shown into his office and as they shook hands, he expressed his opinion of the night incident.
“Morning, Jack, and congratulations on capturing those felons. Their clothes are new and my guess is they were bought locally and they could well be illegal immigrants. All four seem totally unconcerned about being arrested. Peter has already told you that none of them have spoken a word, nor did they speak when you tied them up I gather. I hope that there is not going to be another run of killings by maverick Hungarians.”
“Good morning, Superintendent. I certainly hope this does not lead to more innocent deaths. Our last foreign visitors came armed and were quick to use their guns. These four beat my men, but did not want to kill them, probably because that would have brought an immediate police response. I think they were targeting me, or my business. So far, we have no idea why, since no-one has yet been making offers to take over our customers.”
“We can charge them with assault and breaking and entering Jack, but since they don’t seem to be UK citizens, they will eventually be handed over to the immigration authorities. Assault may be tricky to prove, since you knocked them down and tied them up, but there was the previous attack on your staff. My guess is that this is the beginning of something and we shall just have to be on our guard until we know who, or what we are dealing with. Our cities offer rich pickings to criminals and ex-military men from some of the Balkan states. What do you think, Peter?”
“Well, sir, we can take their mug shots and prints and if they do come back to Liverpool, we will know them and depending on any offence they may commit, we will charge them. Other than that Jack, we can’t do much to help you.”
Jack shook hands with both policemen and drove to the hospital to check on his two injured security men. Although bruised and in pain, they were glad to see him and accepted the attacks as part of their work risk. They welcomed the issue of helmets and working in pairs. He made no mention of his idea of issuing pepper sprays, since Greg would be responsible for briefings and training. Returning to his office, he telephoned his Trade Councils contact in Germany and spoke to him about pepper sprays. He was told that they used two types, one for use against brown bears in southern Germany and a more powerful version for humans, as used by the police and military. The first was legal and the second was not.
When he told Gr
eg about the German pepper sprays, his friend explained what he had learned from his own research. The sprays were banned in the UK and although they had good relations with the police and any thugs, they sprayed were unlikely to complain, he had an alternative.
“You can buy a product called Farb-Gel in a can and when this is sprayed at face-level it should disorient the attacker, who will certainly have to wipe it from his eyes and then find his hands are blood red. The momentary shock should allow our men time to floor them and slip self-locking plastic handcuffs over their wrists. The handcuffs are made by Mil-Tec and are quite cheap. We can get both items together for around a tenner. The red dye on their faces and hands will last for seven days and make these guys easy to spot even if they do get away.”
“I like it, Greg. It will give our boys an extra option and we stay within the law. Just go ahead and order what you need. What about asking Joe Devine to use his network of informers to check if there are any new crime gangs who have arrived in the city recently. They could be just beginning to make approaches and if they are migrants, they should stand out with their accents, especially if they are using muscle. The place is booming and most city centre businesses are doing well and would make tempting targets for some sort of local protection racket. I still can’t understand why our men and sites were picked out, unless there is some sort of major assault planned to take over, or control major companies. We may be top of their list and will have to convince them that it won’t work.”
The next Hun-Al board meeting was due in Budapest in four weeks’ time and Jack hoped that by then the construction of the rail link would be progressing well, provided that there were no unexpected problems with materials, or the local Roma people. He was in regular contact with Demeter on various company issues and knew he would soon learn about any threats to the mine, or new rail track.