by J. D. Weston
“Well get him out here, I need to go over tomorrow’s plan with you all.”
Rob and Lenny looked at each other. They were both equals in Terry's mind, but between the two of them, an unofficial rank elevated Lenny, on account him working for Terry for longer and therefore having done more jobs for him. Rob stood to leave the room, "Get me a tea while you're up Rob will you?" said Terry.
"I wouldn't say no to a tea come to think of it, Rob. Cheers mate," said Lenny without looking up from his comfortable position on the couch. Rob left the room with an audible sigh, he returned a moment later with a sheepish looking Shaun in tow.
"Take a seat, Shaun," said Terry. Shaun did as he was told and sat at the desk in the same chair where the older guy had broken him and reduced him to a snivelling wreck. "Not there, let's join Lenny on the couches, I need to talk to you all, and I don't want to shout across the room." Shaun stood once again and walked to the far end of the furthest couch, to be as far from the others as possible. Rob returned carrying a tray with three teas on, and a little plate of biscuits.
“Shaun, do you want a tea, mate?” asked Terry.
“Um,” Shaun hesitated and looked at the tray of steaming teas and cookies.
“Get Shaun a tea will you, Rob, while you’re up.”
“Him?” questioned Rob, “A tea?”
"We're going to have a civilised chat and Shaun's one of us, so he needs a tea. You've got a tea, Lenny's got a tea, I've got a tea. Shaun needs a tea and seeing as you clearly possess the tea making skills in this band of merry men, you have my vote for tea maker of the year, and the man of the hour goes to you. Now go and make Shaun a tea."
Lenny sipped at one of the cups, “Cracking tea, Rob.”
Rob turned and walked away muttering to himself.
“Hold on, Rob. Shaun, how do you like it?”
Shaun looked up, slightly embarrassed, but enjoying the banter, “Like it?”
“Tea, Shaun. Tea.”
“Oh, er, tea, white, please.”
“White,” said Rob.
“You want sugar, Shaun?” asked Terry.
“Have a sugar, Shaun,” said Lenny.
“One please, Rob,” said Shaun, trying not to smirk.
"So let's get this straight. One cup of steaming hot tea, white with one sugar," summarised Terry, "You got that, Rob?"
“It’s not rocket science, boss,” said Rob, trying to sound cheerful and not let the banter get the better of him. He walked off.
"The British Empire was forged on good tea, Rob. Just remember that," called Terry.
"Yeah, I know," said Rob, as he reached the door, "I remember the time Alfred the Great stopped killing all the Vikings and made them tea instead. They all stopped fighting, sat down and had a nice little chat; Alfred made them all tea. Then the big ugly Viking pulled his great big sword out of the big ugly Englishman and produced a packet of bourbons from his pocket."
“That might be taking it a bit too far, Rob,” said Lenny.
“Yeah, a bit far that, Rob,” said Terry. “Vikings used to like custard creams, mate, not chocolate bourbons.” Lenny and Terry chuckled to themselves.
Rob returned shortly with one more cup of tea and put it on the coffee table in front of Shaun. "Thank you, Rob," said Shaun.
“Right, now that we’ve all got tea, finally, can we discuss the job tomorrow?” began Terry. “The meet is at six o’clock, and I trust you’ve been to check the place out?” he looked at Lenny questioningly.
"Yeah, not a problem, boss," replied Lenny.
“Good, you’ll be meeting Cartwright’s boys. I doubt he’ll be there himself, but it’ll be his boys, two of them, maybe more, but I doubt it. Shaun, you are our number one. You will be on your own, son. Lenny and Rob won’t be far away, but you can manage it, you won’t need them.”
“On my own?” blurted Shaun. “But-”
“Don’t worry, Lenny and Rob will be close by to make sure nothing happens.”
“Why me? I don’t know nothing about it, I don’t even know what it is we’re doing.”
"Well, in that garage over there is a big box of guns, Shaun. When we're done talking, you three are going to load them all into the van. Then tomorrow, you're going to take them up to a cosy little spot in the pretty English countryside, sit, wait, and then sell them to the two men that will arrive at six o'clock."
“Guns? You want me to sell guns? But-”
"But what, Shaun? You could go to prison? You could get eaten by pigs too, and you've managed to avoid that so far, by the skin of your balls I might add. It's easy. They rock up. You show them the guns. They nod their head, give you the cash before they put the box in their own van and you drive off."
“This is serious stuff. I don’t know-”
"Shaun, Shaun, Shaun. Calm down," began Terry, "Lenny."
“Boss.”
"What would you rather, given a choice; go to prison for selling guns to villains, or go to prison for letting underage girls lick your lollipop?"
“Selling guns, boss. I imagine I’d have much nicer time.” Lenny continued to dunk his biscuit.
"There you go, Shaun. See, we've given you options, Son. If you were walking free now, waiting for your court date, you would have probably been lynched by the locals, then you would have gone to prison as a nonce, and you'd have more fingers in you than a bucket of KFC. But, now you have options. You could always turn yourself in. Or you can do this job for me, as a thanks. Yes, there is a small risk of getting caught and going to prison, but at least it won't be for dirty sex offences. Failing that, the pigs are hungry, so there's three options on the table, Shaun, three. You, mate, are a very lucky boy."
“What if they want to take the guns before they pay me the money? How am I going to stop them.”
"Just close the van doors, Shaun. Get in and drive off," said Lenny.
"If they want them that bad, and they do, I know they do, they'll soon hand over the cash. Done right, the deal will take fifteen minutes tops," said Terry.
“And do I go free after?”
“Free?” cried Terry, “Free? Shaun, you are free. I just told you. I should mention that you have now skipped bail and are wanted by the police, but you are definitely free to go.” Terry picked his tea up, dunked a biscuit and took a bite.
“After the job, what then?”
“We’ll see, Shaun,” said Terry, swallowing his biscuit, “I could do with another pair of hands, maybe we’ll keep you on.” He popped the other half of the biscuit into his mouth, “Clive on the farm needs help with the pigs, maybe you could be his farm hand if the pigs don’t mind the smell? We’ll talk about that when you get back here.”
“Can I ask one more question please?” Shaun sat forward, put his own tea on the table, and folded his hands, “How come I’m going to be on my own?”
Terry put his tea down, sat forward, and mimicked Shaun by folding his hands, “Lenny and Rob have been with me for years now. We’ve done many jobs together, and I’ve come to like them believe it or not. So if there’s a chance we can do a job, and not put the lives of my friends in danger, then we’ll take it.”
“Danger?”
“These are very serious men we’re dealing with, Shaun. They are the sneakiest, most cunning, and deviant villains I know, and I happen to know a lot of villains. It would not surprise me in the slightest if they shot you dead and just took the guns. That’s why Lenny and Rob will be close by, to make sure Stimson’s lads don’t get away without paying, in one way or another.”
Shaun sat back, “So I’m…”
“Expendable, Shaun. Expendable is what you are.”
13
Tailing the Beast
Harvey took his morning run through the forest and returned home with his mind clear of the dizzying confusion. Chance or good fortune had dealt him a hand he could not refuse. He understood now. He could make plans. All along there had been something not quite right, but now he was able to slot the pieces into the little places in his
mind where he stored these things. He would be able to add the memory of Shaun to his ever-growing list of victims and move on, maybe take a break, head to France again.
France was his go-to place after a target. The emotions that he suppressed during the hunt, the chase and the kill, drained him of clarity. To lay on a beach, listening to the ocean and the birds for a week was all it usually took.
He had been looking at some small properties online that would be ideal for his needs; somewhere to invest the money that he’d saved over the years. He could have a very nice life, simple, but nice.
He wondered if Shaun Tyson would be his last. He wondered if he would ever redeem the memory of Hannah enough to allow him to carry on, to step out of the murky shadows and lead a civilised life in sunshine and light. To be in a place where nobody would come knocking on the door, where he could bin his mobile phone and live in peace.
He took the short ride into Epping, where, in a lane behind the train station, he parked his bike and walked into his favourite coffee shop, a place where everything was just right. The waitress smiled at him as he entered, and allowed him to choose a seat. He sat in the corner by the window with his back to the wall, a habit that would be hard to shake. It was those secure habits that he often wondered if he would ever be able to leave behind when he moved on. Would he ever be able to sit in a public place with his back to the door?
He saw the old Subaru drive past once, then return a moment later to park facing away from town, two houses down from the coffee shop. Constant voyeurism, another habit born from years of looking over a shoulder.
The big man stepped up to the door in his long overcoat, thick pants and boots, and walked in without smiling at the waitress. He sat on the table next to Harvey and faced the door with his back to the wall.
They ordered coffee which was delivered with effortless manners and minimal disturbance. Two menus were placed in front of the two men, but no waitress disturbed them afterwards with a request to place an order for food or offering the special of the day. Instead, the only two customers in the coffee shop talked in near silence. Their gestures filled the gaps in the sparse words that each offered.
“It’s set for Tuesday night, John sent me the location,” said Harvey. Julios nodded and looked at Harvey with one eyebrow raised.
“It’s a safe enough place. In a small grass clearing off a country lane in the sticks.”
Julios continued to look at Harvey, his mouth was a perfect horizontal slit, his eyes focused on Harvey's and his head cocked to one side to hint at more information.
"The space is meant for tractors and farm machinery to turn. It's no bigger than required; enough for two vans to pull up back to back. We'll need to be there first, so we can turn and face the entrance. Otherwise, if it comes on top, we haven't got a hope in hell. Either side of the space are trees, but there’s not much chance of being jumped if we're early enough; you can’t get near the place on the lane without being seen a mile away."
Harvey took a sip of his coffee and stared out of the window. Julios took a sip of his and turned back to Harvey.
“My target,” said Harvey, pausing to choose his words, “my target is involved somehow.”
The door to the coffee shop opened, and a little old lady walked in. She was greeted by the waitress and helped to a seat on the far side of the confined room. Harvey watched as the waitress opened the menu for her, and explained what was on offer, then waited for her to make a choice. The waitress took her order and walked behind the counter, while the old lady sat looking out of the window.
"I did the recce. A few days ago. I saw he was being released on the news, so I rode up there. I found him on a side street, but he got into an unmarked white van. I followed them back to some farm in Cambridgeshire, nice little place. I found a way in around the back. There was some bloke about John's age and two younger guys." Harvey turned to Julios to see his reaction, but he sat unmoved and continued to offer his stare, which meant he was listening.
“They’ve got a crate full of MP5s. It’s the Thomsons.”
Julios’ head cocked a little more, just slight enough to show interest. "I think they plan on bumbling the drop and needed someone dispensable. I've heard what John has to say about Terry Thomson, said he's a sick man but smart. Sick and smart makes evil."
“So what is the concern?” said Julios, his first words in the entire conversation.
“There’s no concern. I’ll take the target out once the deal is done. Be at John’s Monday at noon, we’ll be up there for two o’clock.”
They both stood, placed a five pound note on the table each and walked out of the room, just as the waitress returned with the old lady’s coffee on a tray. The waitress smiled pleasantly and watched them leave. Harvey and Julios nodded and closed the door behind them.
“We need to find a new place to meet,” Julios said, offering no supporting reason.
Harvey was looking through the window at the waitress. He didn't confirm, but Julios was right, they’d used the coffee shop once too many times already.
They didn't say goodbye, they never did. But as Harvey sat on his bike and pulled his helmet down over his head, he raised the visor and watched as Julios lowered his bulk into the old car, fired up the engine, and pulled out precisely as a driving instructor would have him do. His big bald head was touching the ceiling, and his hands completely encircled the steering wheel. He pulled out of the space without glancing at Harvey and drove off. Harvey waited the standard one-minute, then pulled the clutch and kicked into gear. He checked his mirror as he kicked the stand back and took the weight of the bike on his leg, but as he prepared to pull away, five cars back an indicator came on, and the front end of a Volvo estate edged out.
Frank’s contact in the Essex police had found the motorcycle easily enough. The next morning the high street cameras and the police’s ANPR system had picked up the bike, and the flag had been raised, alerting Frank’s contact, who then directed the results to Frank’s mobile phone. Frank had stayed in a small local hotel in nearby Chigwell to be close by when the alert came in; his house in west London would have been too far away to react.
Epping high street being fairly short meant that the bike was easy to locate, and Frank had arrived and parked nearby with his camera. Technology certainly did have its benefits.
While he sat and waited, he made a note to get a bunch of those little trackers from the tech guys that he could stick to a vehicle, or person if need be; then he could sit and piece the puzzle from his desk.
He watched as Harvey Stone stepped from the coffee shop, followed by a large man. The large man muttered something under his breath, then turned and left. There had been no shaking hands, they just went their separate ways, but Frank took a photo of them together anyway. His Nikon DSLR and telescopic lens were a permanent fixture in his car.
He waited for another car to pass before he started his own engine, to muffle the noise. He indicated and pulled out just as the bike nosed out into the road. He knew it was a cock up as soon as he’d done it, he’d not waited long enough, but had to go with it anyway; hesitation would have drawn Stone’s eye even more. So he continued to pull out of his parking space while Stone sat there unmoving, watching discreetly from behind his visor as Frank drove past. He could feel the stare, and as much as Frank tried to turn away to hide his face, he knew he’d been spotted.
Frank accelerated as any normal driver would with a clear path ahead, and he followed the road around a small bend, under a railway bridge and out of sight. He kept one eye on the rearview mirror, but slammed his hand onto the wheel, and cursed loudly. It was when he swore like that, that his thick Scottish accent rang true. He kept to the speed limit and accepted the fact that he'd messed up, luckily nobody on the team was aware of his whereabouts or his objective, so there would be no comeback. But still, maybe it was a sign that he was slipping.
He followed the road into the small village of Stapleford, which if somebody were to look
down from space, formed the third point of a triangle, if Theydon and Epping were the other two points. The lanes opened up, broadening into a wide B-road. He checked behind him before accelerating and saw the bike hanging back in the distance, like a dirty mark on the glass of his mirror.
There were fields either side of the roads, which were devoid of traffic, so Frank slowed a little, just enough to see if the gap closed. It did. He slowed more. Before long, Stone was riding fifty yards behind the Volvo, so Frank moved closer to the curb, a common gesture among drivers to signal that it was okay to pass. Stone didn't pass. He continued to hang back.
The road came to a small roundabout. Frank slowed enough to give Harvey no option but to pass so that Frank could follow him, but still he hung back. If Frank took the wrong turn, and then came up behind him a few minutes later, it would be game over.
Frank entered the empty roundabout as if he were going to the second exit which was straight over, but at the last minute he ignored the second exit and pulled the car full circle to see what Stone would do. Stone had dropped to one knee and taken the first exit, leaving Frank far behind, if Frank went after him, Harvey would be on to him immediately. The game was up, for today at least. It was pointless giving chase, better to stay away for a couple of days.
Frank watched as Harvey made his way onto the long straight; he admired the impressive whine of the motorbike’s engine as it was opened up. By the time Frank had completed the circle and had taken the correct exit, he was looking at Harvey’s back in the distance, like the dirty mark had moved to his windscreen.
Frank pulled over into a small lay-by next to the road. A river ran alongside him, stretching the full length of the road. He picked up his camera from the passenger seat and studied the photo of the other man. He didn't recognise the face as a player but felt like he should know the name; the face had a distant familiarity. He'd have the team carry out some facial recognition when he got back; perhaps he was one of Stimson's guys. Frank openly admitted he wasn't aware of everyone involved in every crime organisation, but only to himself. To others, he lived and breathed it. He pulled out of the lay-by onto the tarmac. The motorbike was long gone, but he lost himself in thoughts of the new face, he had definitely seen it before.