The back doors of a van were opened and the carpet roll was unceremoniously thrown in. The thugs climbed in and it drove away. Jedson stood in the doorway waving at the van. He looked up and down to see there was no-one about, not that he particularly cared, closed the door and walked off.
Chapter 23
Gunnymede parked the bike in a residential street and switched off the engine. Narrow terraced houses lined both sides of the street. A couple of kids were kicking a ball about. An old man cycled past with a basket of groceries hanging off his handlebars. The light was fading. It would be dark in less than an hour.
Gunnymede walked a short distance along the pavement to a house and studied the front door. A most familiar door. In his mind’s eye, he saw it open and a beautiful girl with a broad smile stand in the doorway, anxious to hug him.
Poor Megan.
He rang the doorbell. A light came on in the hallway and a figure could be seen through the thick smoked glass panels marching along it from the back of the house. The door opened and Jack Henderson stood there. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘We need to talk, Jack.’
‘This isn’t a good time.’ Jack was distracted. ‘Can you come back tomorrow?’
‘It’s important.’
‘Surely it can wait a day.’
‘It can’t.’
‘It will have to. Sorry Devon. I’m really busy.’ Jack started to close the door.
‘It’s about the Becket Approval,’ Gunnymede said.
Jack froze. A moment later he opened the door. ‘Where did you hear those words?’
‘The first time was from Megan.’
‘Megan?’
‘You didn’t think you could keep secrets from her living in the same house, did you?’
Jack had to concede that point.
‘She told me because she was worried for you. She thought it would lead to serious trouble for you.’
‘I see ... can we meet up later? I’ll be free in a couple of hours.’
‘Jack. The secret’s out.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I came here to warn you.’
A couple walked past the house making Jack suddenly conscious of how public their conversation was. ‘Come in.’
Jack closed the door but remained beside it.
‘The police know,’ Gunnymede said.
‘How?’
‘The organisation has been busy lately ... It was only a matter of time.’
‘What do they know?’
‘Enough to take a lot of cases off the unsolved shelf and start taking a closer look at them.’
Jack was vexed. ‘How do you know this?’
‘I’ve been working with Scotland Yard.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t believe they have anything we need to worry about.’
‘A dozen Albanian border guards ... Mustafa Lamardi in Macedonia. A couple of lawyers in London last week ... The police are talking about them.’
The cases clearly meant something to Jack. He sighed deeply as he looked down the hallway towards the other end, his mind churning. He finally came to a decision. ‘You’d better come with me.’
Jack led the way down the hallway to the back of the house and into a large kitchen. Half a dozen men were gathered, all waiting silently for Jack to return. They were surprised to see Gunnymede, as much as he was to see them. Peters the farmer, Charlie, Boris the Bull, three other hard looking men and a woman Gunnymede didn’t recognise.
‘What’s ’e doin’ ’ere?’ Boris asked angrily.
‘Easy, Boris,’ Jack said.
‘This is a surprise, Gunny,’ Charlie said.
‘He’s a police officer,’ Peters said.
‘He’s MI6,’ Charlie explained.
‘He came round my farm with a female copper,’ Peters chimed.
‘Calm down, everyone,’ Jack said. ‘He’s got something to say I think we all need to hear.’
‘I don’t care what ’e’s got to say,’ Boris said, his tone aggressive.
‘Shut it!’ Jack interrupted in a raised voice, glaring at Boris. ‘He came here with something important to say and it will be said. Go on, Devon.’
They all looked at Gunnymede with suspicion.
‘I’ve been working with the police as a consultant,’ Gunnymede said. ‘Peters was one case. The two lawyers killed in London. Another was in Albania. A dozen border guards killed by a sniper.’ Gunnymede didn’t miss that one of the men he didn’t know reacted ever so slightly to the comment. ‘Mustafa Lamardi was killed in Macedonia, by the same sniper.’ The same man blinked again in a way that Gunnymede couldn’t ignore. ‘You a sniper?’ he asked the man.
Charlie looked between the man and Gunnymede. ‘Sidney was “M” Squadron’s best,’ he said. ‘But so what?’
‘M’ Squadron was SBS. ‘Nice shooting,’ Gunnymede said.
Sidney looked away sheepishly.
‘The police are working on the premise they were the work of a single organisation,’ Gunnymede continued. ‘A group of revengers made up of special forces and military intelligence.’
‘What’s that got to do with us?’ Peters said.
‘Yeah, why you tellin’ us?’ Boris asked.
‘No reason. I just thought I’d drive all the way down here and mention it,’ Gunnymede said.
‘Okay. So just because you think you know where to come, it doesn’t mean the police do,’ Charlie said. ‘Or does it?’
‘I don’t believe they do right now,’ Gunnymede said.
‘How do they know?’ Peters interrupted. ‘Someone must’ve said something.’
‘Good detective work,’ Gunnymede replied.
‘Bollocks,’ Boris said.
‘Does it really matter?’ Gunnymede argued.
‘They got any names?’ Charlie asked.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘So no one knows it’s anything to do with us, except you,’ Charlie said.
‘I believe so.’
There was a long silence as they considered the implications.
‘I’ll do ’im in if no one else wants to,’ Boris said.
‘Shut up,’ Jack said scornfully to Boris, treating him like a fool. More important things were on his mind. ‘I’m not so concerned about the past as I am the future.’
‘Why should we worry?’ Charlie asked. ‘Okay, so they’ve figured out it’s soldiers doing the hits. That’s not such a genius conclusion to be fair, is it? I would’ve expected someone to figure that out by now.’
‘He’s right,’ one of the others said. ‘Knowing it’s soldiers doesn’t point the finger at anyone specific.’
‘There’s hundreds of possible suspects,’ Charlie said. ‘Thousands.’
‘Why do you trust ’im?’ Boris asked Jack. ‘He’s a thief.’
‘So are you,’ Jack said.
‘I didn’t take twenty kilos of heroin.’
‘Because you’re not smart enough to,’ Gunnymede said.
Boris moved to lunge at Gunnymede but Charlie and another stopped him.
‘Easy, Boris,’ Charlie said.
‘Shut it. Everyone,’ Jack snarled. ‘Let’s calm this down. Maybe we should thank him for coming to us. He could’ve said nothing.’
‘I did what I came here to do. You do what you want with it,’ Gunnymede said before walking out of the room. Jack followed.
As Gunnymede reached for the front door, Jack put his hand on it. ‘Thanks, Devon. I appreciate it.’
Gunnymede took a moment to look at Jack, into his eyes. ‘There is something else ... Milo Krilov.’
The name had an immediate impact on Jack.
‘You knew about him before he kidnapped Megan.’
Jack looked immediately guilty.
‘Why were you doing a recce on him?’
‘He killed two SBS lads in their mini-sub in a Swedish Fjord ten years ago. There was no threat to him on the task. It was cold blooded murder. We wanted r
evenge.’
Gunnymede understood. ‘He suspected you were targeting him so he punished Megan as a warning to you.’
Jack hated to hear it from Gunnymede. ‘I know ... How do you know all this?’
‘I met Krilov last night.’
‘What? You talked to him?’
‘It wasn’t exactly a social.’
Jack was racked by his own guilt. ‘I wake up every day knowing what he did to Megan was my fault. That’s when I can get to sleep ... I didn’t know he saw me. I did the recce. Got what I wanted. Then a week later, he took Megan.’
‘Megan is dead because you chose to play judge and jury. You don’t deserve to sleep.’
‘I won’t apologise for what we do.’
Gunnymede opened the door and paused as something occurred to him. ‘How’d you know Krilov was in the UK?’
Jack was deep inside himself.
‘Jack?’
Jack shook his head, refusing to say.
‘You don’t run the Becket Approval, do you?’
Jack didn’t answer.
‘Who’s above you?’
Jack looked him in the eyes. ‘You’ll find out one day. I’m sure of it.’
Jack walked away down the corridor.
Gunnymede could only wonder what the man meant as he left the house and headed back towards his bike. He didn’t see three men climb from a parked van further down the street. Only when they were closing in did he notice them and that one was carrying an iron bar by his side. Gunnymede kept on walking as his mind flipped to crisis mode.
He arrived at his bike. A car door slammed behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see two more men walking towards him. Jesus! Five. This was a serious situation.
Gunnymede stepped between his bike and a car, onto the road, crossing to the other side. The men followed, stepping between vehicles in a pincer movement to keep Gunnymede contained. As Gunnymede reached the opposite pavement he grabbed a bottle from a bin.
The group of three formed a single file to pass between the tightly parked vehicles. The other two were still crossing the road. Gunnymede went for the three, launching the bottle at the leading thug hitting his hands which he’d brought up to protect his face causing him to drop his iron bar. As the others backed out to take another route, Gunnymede carried on forward, grabbed the iron bar and slammed it into the side of the thug’s head. The man went down and Gunnymede hurried to intercept another.
The next thug to step between cars was wielding a hand axe which he raised to engage. Gunnymede ran at him and jabbed the bar as if it was a sword, catching the thug in the mouth, breaking several teeth. The thug behind drew a pistol and as he reached out to shoot, having to lean around his colleague, Gunnymede managed to knock the barrel with the bar as the gun fired. The bullet missed Gunnymede’s head by inches, ricocheting off a wall and smashing through the window of a house. The thug lost grip of the gun when it fired and it fell between the cars. The situation was getting even more desperate. Gunnymede dropped the bar and went for the gun but before he could reach it he was grabbed by one of the men, brutally thrown back to the ground and punched and kicked repeatedly. Gunnymede swung his feet and fists wildly but others joined in, their combined boots and fists raining down. A machete was raised. Gunnymede saw it in time to move his head to one side as the blade struck the pavement. A thug held Gunnymede’s head steady while the machete was raised for another blow. As it came down towards the centre of Gunnymede’s skull the man was grabbed from behind, his head yanked back by his hair with great force. Boris the bull savagely illustrated his nickname by pounding the man’s head against a lamppost cracking it loudly. Charlie kicked a thug in the testicles hard enough to drop him to his knees, raised a brick he’d carried across the road and brought it down onto the man’s head making a cracking sound that could be heard up the street. Jack swung the edge of a cricket bat into a face. Other members of the kitchen meeting joined the melee with vigour and within seconds all five thugs were laid out. It was carnage.
Gunnymede got to his feet feeling his bruised face and cut lip having fared well considering. People stepped from front doors or looked through windows, wondering what had happened. Jack picked up the pistol in a handkerchief.
‘Krilov’s people,’ Gunnymede said.
‘They come for me?’ Jack asked. ‘Or you?’
A thug rolled onto his back, unable to get to his feet, moaning in pain. Gunnymede crouched over him. ‘What are you doing here?’
The thug shook his head.
‘I asked you what you’re doing here.’
‘Come for you,’ the thug said in a Slavic accent.
‘You came to kill me?’
‘No kill. Take you.’
‘Take me where?’
The thug looked away.
‘Boris is very good at getting answers out of people,’ Charlie offered.
Indeed, Boris looked enthusiastic at the mere suggestion. The thug recovered enough to sit up and wipe blood from his nose. The only other conscious colleague said something in Russian which the one sitting up found amusing.
‘What’s so funny?’ Charlie asked him.
‘He said we should’ve got girl. Much easier job than this one.’
They chuckled in pain. Hard bastards.
‘What girl?’ Gunnymede asked. ‘What girl?’
The thug continued to chuckle. Gunnymede dug out his phone and brought up Bethan’s number.
The phone rang. And rang.
Gunnymede grabbed the thug by his hair. ‘What girl?’
‘Police girl,’ he said.
‘Where is she?’
The thug’s response was to stare coldly at him.
‘Who’s he talking about?’ Jack asked.
‘A police officer I was working with. She helped me find Krilov. He’s kidnapped her.’
‘He’ll tell Boris,’ Charlie said.
Gunnymede took the thug around the throat. ‘Tell me where she is.’
The thug simply stared at him as if enjoying the attention.
‘Shots were fired,’ Jack said. ‘The police’ll be here any minute. Get him in the house. Sid, Billy. Keep the police happy. Show them the gun,’ he said, handing it to them. ‘Keep them away from the house.’
Charlie and Boris hauled up the thug and helped him across the road. Gunnymede and Jack followed. They guided him into Jack’s house, along the corridor and into the kitchen.
‘Clear the table,’ Boris said.
Charlie moved the mugs and plates away. Boris took the thug by his hair and pulled him onto the table, laying him flat on his back.
Gunnymede leaned over the thug. ‘Where is she?’
‘We need to prep ’im,’ Boris interrupted. ‘’Old ’im down.’
They held the thug down by his arms while Boris searched through Jack’s kitchen drawers. Boris returned holding a meat hammer and a fork.
The thug nervously eyed Boris and his tools but remained defiant. ‘I tell you nothing,’ he said.
‘I ain’t asked you nothin’ yet ’ave I?’ Boris replied testily.
Boris took a firm hold of the thug’s head, positioned the hammer above his mouth and hit his front teeth. The thug wriggled hard.
‘Hold ’im,’ Boris ordered.
They pinned the thug down and Boris set to with the hammer, tapping away until he’d broken several of teeth. The thug struggled in excruciating pain, blood and mucus spurting from his mouth as the others kept a firm hold of him.
Gunnymede leaned over to say something to the thug but Boris interrupted him again. ‘’E’s not ready.’
Boris took the fork, bent one of prongs to isolate it, grabbed the thug’s jaw to hold it steady and placed the tip of the prong into a broken teeth shoving it brutally inside and deep into the nerve. The thug screamed so loudly he could be heard beyond the walls of the house.
Boris removed the bloody fork and looked into the thug’s eyes. The thug was shaking with pain. ‘You don’t answer t
he questions, you get this all day.’
Boris stepped back. ‘’E’s ready for the first question.’
Gunnymede was impressed with the simplistic brutality of it all and leaned over the shaking thug. ‘Where is she?’
The thug hesitated.
Boris leaned in with the fork. ‘It can sometimes take several nerves to get them going?’
The thug shook his head and did his best to talk with his smashed teeth. ‘Nietsiperigon zavod.’
‘What’d he say?’ Charlie asked.
‘Dunno,’ Boris said. ‘Where is she?’ Boris shouted.
‘Re ... refin ... nery,’ the thug said.
‘Say it again,’ Charlie asked him.
‘Re ... finery.’
‘Refinery,’ Charlie said.
‘Refinery?’ Boris echoed.
The thug nodded.
‘Mean anything?’ Jack asked.
Gunnymede needed more. ‘What refinery?’ he asked.
‘Masla,’ the thug said. ‘Oil,’ he translated, keen for them to understand.
‘Oil refinery,’ Charlie said.
Gunnymede took out his phone and brought up the shots of the map and chart from Krilov’s man cave. The oil refinery was circled on both. ‘Where is the refinery?’ he asked. ‘Where?’
‘Sooth ... oom ... toon,’ he said.
‘Southampton?’ Gunnymede clarified.
The thug nodded enthusiastically. ‘Da. Da.’
‘Why? Why is she at the refinery?’
The thug shook his head.
‘Tell me why she’s at the refinery.’
‘Not know.’
Boris pushed through, shoving the fork deep inside a freshly broken tooth and wiggling it around for good measure while the thug wriggled and screamed frantically.
‘’E asked you why?’ Boris shouted after removing the prong.
‘Not know,’ the thug shouted back. ‘Not know! Not know!’
‘I don’t think he knows,’ Charlie said.
The Becket Approval Page 22