A Duty of Revenge

by Quentin Dowse

  ‘We’ll get them, Matt – I can feel it.’

  I knew we would. But at what cost?

  Thirty-Four

  22:50 That Night

  Holland was at the wheel of a Ford Mondeo. Somewhat of a comedown as a getaway car for Frame, but by now the only vehicle to which he had access. The ex-army officer sat at his side, directing him through the Newcastle streets to their target – the Belmont Casino. Frame’s succinct and clear briefing had taken place in Stella’s bedroom after their steak dinner, while Stella, much to Holland’s relief, washed all the pots, thereby removing his fingerprints. Photographs and plans of the premises were studied and precise timings discussed – Frame wanting them in and out within ten minutes, with each man having a precise role. While Holland had absorbed Frame’s instructions without comment, Keegan had kept interrupting, asking questions and at times quite obviously disagreeing with the plan. Frame had grown increasingly abrupt, obviously struggling to maintain his temper.

  The building tension between the two criminals was having a positive effect on Russ Holland. He now accepted he was on his own and would get no chance to alert Darnley. It would be down to him to disrupt the robbery in some way – and save his own life. He knew Frame had no intention of letting him drive away with five grand. He had no idea how he would extricate himself from this mess but it would certainly be easier with the other two men not acting as a cohesive team. Divide and rule – a tactic he had not used for over twenty years, but one he had once been adept at.

  He knew he would not be allocated the sawn-off and sure enough, Frame himself had claimed the weapon, a point clearly not lost on Keegan, who had argued vehemently that he should tote the gun. Russ had little doubt which of the two had executed their other Hull-based driver and decided the fate of Billy Pike. He now knew that Keegan was starting to worry that he too would be facing the same end.

  As they pulled into Nun Street and saw the neon sign of the casino a few hundred yards ahead, the flashing blue lights of a police car came into view, moving rapidly towards them. From the rear of the car, Keegan’s gasp of fear angered Frame.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, calm down.’ Gone was the calm, cultured voice.

  As the police car sped past, Keegan was almost hyperventilating.

  The obvious rift and growing tension between the two ex-mates was widening at the same time that Holland’s icy calm was deepening. As he drove, he marvelled at how the intervening years since he had last found himself in such fraught situations were evaporating. The Para’s motto Utrinque Paratus – Ready For Anything ran through his head. He felt the buzz of exhilaration.

  As planned, he pulled into the car park of the Wilko store opposite the casino, from where they could clearly see the main entrance. They each pulled on their gloves. As expected, two security men were in place outside the main doors and luckily there were no queuing customers, allowing an immediate approach. Twenty yards from the front doors, they each pulled down their balaclavas, Frame raised the sawn-off across his chest while Holland and Keegan hefted their baseball bats. The two burly doormen realised far too late what was about to happen and the three robbers bundled them both into the foyer of the building with the threat of the shotgun. Holland strode across the foyer and behind the reception desk, instructing the terrified female employee to lie on the floor. Within thirty seconds, he had taped over her mouth, rolled her onto her stomach and bound her hands to her feet with strong black cable ties. Meanwhile, Frame and Keegan had forced the two guards behind the counter and out of sight of the main doors, and were busy putting them in the same position. His guard silenced and immobilised, Frame hurried to the front doors and locked them using the guards’ keys, which he left in the lock. While Keegan finished securing his man, Holland slipped the mobile he had found in the receptionist’s pocket into his own.

  ‘Right. Upstairs,’ instructed Frame, pushing Keegan ahead of him as he cast a last eye around stage one of his plan.

  When Frame had started to outline his plan of robbing a casino while it was in full operation, Holland had been dubious as to how the clientele, let alone the staff, could be controlled. But Frame had done his homework and knew that a wealthy local businessman was hosting his sixtieth birthday party – with his equally wealthy friends – in a private room. This smaller room was well away from the main area and thus the bulk of staff and customers. It was also adjacent to the manager’s office and the safe, access to which had been assured. Frame had explained how he had bought off the casino’s head of security, an appropriately named Daniel Bent, who would be on duty at the party. As Bent’s role was revealed at the briefing, Keegan had exploded in fury, demanding to know what this extra pair of hands was likely to cost them. But almost as the words left his lips, Holland saw that Keegan had realised that this man was to join the list of “disposable assets”. Frame had made no comment; just stared at Keegan with almost open contempt.

  Holland knew that this final robbery already had a planned death toll of three.

  He checked his watch. Less than two minutes had elapsed since they had entered the building as Frame led the way into the party room. He saw a middle-aged man in a smart dark suit nod almost imperceptibly to Frame before striding between the gaming tables towards them.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ he demanded.

  Frame moved to meet him and smashed the butt of the shotgun into the man’s forehead. Bent played his part by slumping to the ground, apparently unconscious. Holland and Keegan were prepared for this staged event – as was Bent. This would be his alibi during the subsequent investigation and also serve to immediately subdue the guests with an initial show of violence.

  It worked a treat. Some of the male guests made as if to move forward and there were a few female gasps, whimpers and tears, but as Frame moved towards them with his sawn-off swinging, no one screamed, shouted or even spoke.

  Stage two completed.

  ‘Everyone… face down on the floor… now. If I see a mobile phone, I will shoot you.’ Quietly, but firmly delivered as an order.

  He used the sawn-off for emphasis and every single person obeyed, although at different speeds, looking around to see how their friends were complying.

  Stage three completed. Less than four minutes elapsed.

  Frame turned and nodded towards the manager’s office, the instruction to Keegan and Holland to start stage four. Holland moved decisively towards the office and pushed open the door to find the casino manager behind his desk – and using the landline. He swung the baseball bat, knocking the phone base off the desktop, which ripped the handset from the man’s grip. If he had been trying to summon help, Holland was confident that he had not had enough time. As he focussed on disabling the portly manager with cable ties, he realised Keegan had not followed him into the office as planned. He turned back to the gaming room and could see and hear him and Frame arguing.

  Stage four was falling apart.

  As he rolled the manager to the side, so as to gain access to the safe door, he was amazed to see Frame hand the shotgun to Keegan. Holland’s senses kicked into overdrive, as serious fault lines appeared in the plan. Keegan no doubt felt a touch safer with his own finger on the trigger but he was a loose cannon and Frame’s focus must now be diverted.

  Divide and rule.

  Taking on Frame’s planned role, Keegan waved a black holdall and screamed, ‘Watches, jewellery, wallets and all cash. In the bag.’

  He moved towards the first victim.

  Frame joined Holland at the safe, using the keys and combination provided by Bent.

  Stage four, as amended, back on track with five minutes elapsed.

  As he heard Keegan rapidly getting more and more irate with the birthday guests, harrying them to be quicker, Holland fell into role – his old role of twenty years ago. Icily calm and prepared, he remembered his unit’s mantra – Innovate. Adapt. Overcome. Opportuni
ty was knocking.

  Access to the safe was gained quickly and Frame began loading bundles of cash into the holdall that Holland had brought. As he zipped it closed, they could hear a commotion from the gaming room. They re-entered the room and saw Keegan on his knees, struggling to wrest a bracelet from a woman’s wrist. The man lying next to her had used the opportunity to try and grab the sawn-off and now all three were engaged in a struggle. Keegan, screaming obscenities, abandoned the quest for the bracelet, desperate to keep control of the firearm. As Frame and Holland moved towards the melee, the shotgun discharged and both instinctively dived for the floor. The noise was deafening in the confined space as shot peppered the ceiling. The two guests ceased their struggle immediately and clasped their arms around their heads in an almost childlike exhibition of terror. Disorientated, Keegan was thrust aside and the sawn-off fell to the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

  Opportunity.

  Holland quickly rose to his feet and swung his baseball bat at Keegan’s head, knocking him sideways, and apparently unconscious, across the woman who had resisted the theft of her diamond bracelet.

  But equally quickly, Frame dived for the sawn-off. In a fluid movement, he rolled onto his side and aimed at Holland, who swung the baseball bat, hitting the short barrel as it discharged. Shot peppered Holland’s right arm and the baseball bat, which clattered to the floor. Before Frame could react, Holland kicked him in the chest and he fell onto his back, the shotgun now useless. With barely a pause, Holland stamped onto Frame’s left leg just below the knee. The snap of the bone was clearly audible. He then repeated the move on his right leg with a similar result. The pursuant screams as he wrestled the gang leader into the position to secure him with cable ties seemed to rouse Keegan.

  ‘You bastard, Long. You’re going to get the same as Emmerson and Billy. You are dead!’

  He made no effort to even move towards Holland, who stood above Frame, his right arm pouring blood.

  Holland realised the adrenaline that had allowed him to use his damaged arm to secure Frame was no longer sufficient, but he needed to ensure Keegan could not escape. In seconds, he came up with a solution that he knew witnesses would describe to the police, enhancing the role he now intended to play. He addressed two of the male guests, who were observing unfolding events.

  ‘You two, sit on this dickhead… citizen’s arrest… you’ll be heroes.’

  Confused by what they were actually witnessing and with obvious trepidation, the two did as he suggested, quickly warming to the task of subduing their earlier tormentor. Two others quickly joined them.

  Holland then picked up the holdall of money with his working hand and placed it next to the one partly filled by Keegan.

  ‘I don’t want the money or your stuff. Tell the cops that I did this for my mate Billy.’

  He walked across the room, pausing in front of Bent, who following the blow to his head had had no trouble remaining slumped against the wall, as he had agreed beforehand with Frame. More of the guests had begun to realise their ordeal was over and were rising from their prone positions.

  ‘Two more volunteers needed over here. This chap was in on the robbery. Tell the cops he supplied the inside information and the safe keys.’

  As three men crossed towards Bent, he pulled Keegan’s balaclava from off his head and used it to remove any fingerprints from the shotgun he may have left when he had handled it at Stella’s. He broke the weapon, placed it back on the floor and then left the room. Downstairs, he removed an overcoat from the cloakroom next to reception and struggled into it, thus hiding his damaged arm and bloodstained overalls. He unlocked the doors and walked off.

  Stage five completed – admittedly an improvised version.

  Innovate. Adapt. Overcome.

  Frame’s stage six had not been in his briefing. But it was not going to happen anyway. That would have been the torching of the Mondeo after he had been forced onto The Blaydon Races, prior to his execution. Holland wanted the Ford found by the police. It contained the plans and photographs removed from Stella’s, along with the potential for fingerprints. Not his of course.

  He’d only walked a hundred yards when he heard the approaching sirens.

  The birthday party was getting into full swing.

  Thirty-Five

  Two Days Later

  21:30 Friday, 12th February 1999

  I sat back in the old and battered, but very comfortable, armchair in the lounge of the Bell in Driffield, contemplating what had been a shattering and stressful, but extremely rewarding, couple of days. All around me, staff from the incident were chatting animatedly, raising random toasts and generally enjoying the successful conclusion of our inquiry. In reality, there was still a hell of a long way to go but tradition dictates that on a major incident at the point of charging someone with the crimes you are investigating, a celebration ensues. Normally, I too would have been in a state of high excitement at this stage, enjoying the vindication of my leadership, but the many loose ends remained personal threats.

  Grantmore was still adrift, albeit now tracked by Interpol as entering Spain. Everyone felt positive about finding him – but what would he say when we did?

  Morley was still missing. I looked across at Pete Granger, who at this moment seemed as ebullient as the rest, raising his pint towards me as he registered my gaze. Yet only yesterday we had had a heated exchange about when I would find the space to focus the inquiry upon that particular loose end.

  But by far my biggest worry was Russ Holland. What a job he had done. He had quite literally delivered Frame and Keegan at the crime scene – on his own. His half of our bargain was way beyond anything I dared hope. But I was now torn between elation that I had planted him with the gang resulting in this success, and dread that his involvement would be discovered because I couldn’t deliver my side of the deal – Grantmore.

  Minutes after he must have fled the Belmont Casino and I was on my way to the scene with Tom Corrigan, he had rung me. He had uttered only two sentences.

  ‘Three bodies for you, Detective Superintendent. Our business is concluded.’

  He gave me no time to respond – which I couldn’t have done in any case with Corrigan sat next to me.

  Bodies? And three? My blood ran cold – as I’m sure he intended.

  Over the next couple of days, I had tried to contact him several times without success. I knew he would be assuming that Grantmore would be facing charges along with Frame and Keegan and that at last his quest for revenge for Lisa was over. What was his reaction going to be when the media failed to mention Grantmore, other than that he was wanted by the police? My initial overwhelming sense of relief that Frame and Keegan had no idea about who Steve Long really was had evaporated. I was incredulous at the ability of the man to act and think on his feet. How he had disabled Frame and Keegan and then planted the notion of him being a friend of Billy Pike’s, extracting retribution for his murder. Of course, it didn’t fit the scenario of Grantmore providing the driver, and no one apart from me could figure out how to make sense of it all, although Granger must have smelled a rat. There was now an active line of inquiry to TIE (Trace, Implicate or Eliminate) ex-army colleagues of Billy. A total waste of time and resources but what else could I do? To a huge extent, the subterfuge planted by Holland eased the biggest threat to me, but I needed to get hold of him and reassure him we would get Grantmore.

  I was interrupted in my reverie as Tony Ride plonked another pint in front of me, sat down and said, ‘Sorry I’m late to the party, boss.’

  I inwardly groaned. I knew he would not just sit and enjoy a pint but would want to discuss the future direction of the inquiry – checking he was fully on top of things and able to keep his MIR running smoothly. Admirable. Dedicated. But at this precise moment, bloody annoying. I just wanted to continue mulling over the remaining threats to yours truly. However, I knew there’d be
no stopping him, so concluded I might find his synopsis useful in my personal deliberations.

  Off he went.

  ‘As you know, boss, we had to interview Keegan first, while Frame was in hospital getting potted up.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Well, he has not shut up. Let’s look at the murders first. He says he saw Frame shoot Emmerson. Pike shot Harrod, and Frame forced him to help murder Pike at sea… but he’s admitted wielding the murder weapon… a mallet… himself. They threw Pike overboard… along with the gun used to kill Emmerson and Harrod.’

  The recovery of that weapon would have been excellent evidence to corroborate Keegan’s account, but we still had the strong possibility of proving the bullets recovered from Emmerson and Harrod came from the same gun.

  ‘And what about “Hop-along”?’ I asked, grinning.

  ‘Not a single word… not even “no comment”.’

  ‘We’ve got blood spatters on the deck of The Blaydon Races, that corroborate Keegan’s account. We’re hoping they match Pike’s DNA… we can use hair samples found in his brush at Debbie Pike’s. Then there’s her evidence of Frame summoning him to the trawler, seeing him board it… and never seeing him again.’

  ‘How’s she holding up… have we heard?’

  ‘They’ve finished with her for now, but they’ve put her somewhere safe with her kids. I think they’re a bit worried in case Frame’s got any mates.’

  Tom Corrigan and I had discussed that possibility, so I was glad he was taking this cautious approach. We didn’t want anything happening to our star witness.

  Ridey kept moving on. ‘Now, the robberies… our job first. Keegan fully admits that with Frame and Emmerson. Billy was ill apparently, so Grantmore provided Emmerson as the driver, poor bastard. He describes why Frame shot Emmerson… just as we suspected… the blood. Then we have Beedham’s and Cooper’s accounts and the Noel Priestley connection… the inside man. And we should get more from Grantmore when we get him… It’s all hanging together.’