Danger by Association: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3

by Heather Burnside

The buzz of excited chatter died down, and the assembled officers’ eyes shot from John to Inspector Smithson as they awaited the announcement.

  The inspector began by explaining how they were acting on intelligence and had pinpointed several properties that gang members were known to frequent. John tried to pay attention, taking in words like ‘warrants’ and ‘teams’ but he was preoccupied. He had hoped to have a word with Smithson about Jamal. But the emphasis had now shifted, and the inspector had other matters to attend to.

  Smithson organised the teams, allocating specific properties to them. John heard his name called out and moved to stand with the officers assigned to the same address. Tony wasn’t among them.

  John’s concentration drifted again until the words ‘11 Hitchin Street’ focused his mind, and caused a warm rush of blood to surge through his body. His face flushed and he loosened his shirt collar. He recognised the address. That wasn’t surprising; he was there the previous evening.

  John listened more intently as Smithson called out the names of the officers who were to target 11 Hitchin Street. Tony was on the list but he wasn’t. He silently cursed his bad luck. It would have given him the perfect opportunity to check out the rest of the house. He pondered whether he could trust Tony with his secret but then another idea occurred to him.

  When Smithson finished reading the list of names, John jumped in before he could continue. “Sir, I notice you haven’t paired me with Tony. We’re used to working as partners and, if you don’t mind me saying so sir, I think we work well together. Also, I’m very familiar with the area around Hitchin Street. It might come in handy if someone decides to do a runner.”

  “Not much chance of that, we’ll have them surrounded,” sighed Inspector Smithson. “Very well, you can come over to the Hitchin Street team providing somebody’s willing to swap with you.”

  “Makes no difference to me,” said another officer, and John smiled at him in appreciation as he walked over to Tony’s team.

  He knew now that it was best not to report his suspicions to Smithson. Once he was in the property he could check things out for himself. And he wouldn’t have to risk them finding out what he had been up to. ‘Thank God I wore a disguise,’ he thought to himself, which brought a subconscious smile as he recalled Rita’s teasing.

  “Bloody hell, you’ve bucked up,” said Tony. “You know, John, I reckon you get off on the adrenalin buzz as much as I do.”

  “No, it’s not that, Tony. I was just a bit mithered when I came in, that’s all. You know what it’s like when you’re running late.”

  “Ha, you keep tellin’ yourself that. Anyway, I hope your head’s back in the game. You’ll have to be on the ball when we go in.”

  “Don’t worry, I will be.”

  John had mixed feelings. On the one hand he was relieved that he didn’t have to tell Smithson what he knew but, on the other hand, he wasn’t looking forward to this raid. He didn’t know what he might find when he got there.

  The raid wasn’t till dawn so they had a few hours of preparation between now and then. John would try to calm his mind, which wouldn’t be easy. He had a long, tense wait ahead of him.

  ***

  Saturday 22nd June 1996 - Evening

  It was evening, and Rita was feeling increasingly anxious. Although she’d changed her mind at the last minute about visiting the paedophile, she was regretting it. She wanted answers and didn’t have a clue where to look for them.

  Since she’d got back from her visit to the Riverhill Estate, Yansis had hardly spoken to her. He was angry that she’d gone against his advice, but she knew that he was also suffering. Yansis was currently taking his mind off things by playing with Julie’s children who Vinny had brought back from their grandparents.

  Rita wouldn’t get involved with the children though. Every time she looked at them, it reminded her of her missing son.

  To make matters worse, Thomas kept asking where Daniel was, and when he could play with him again. Emily, who was a little older, seemed to have picked up on the tense atmosphere, and was being difficult with her parents. Rita felt bad about that too.

  She was contemplating having another cigarette when Julie walked into the room. Spotting Rita’s strained expression and hunched shoulders, she asked, “Are you alright, Rita?”

  “So, so.”

  Rita tried to smile but felt like screaming. Of course she wasn’t alright! What did Julie expect?

  “I just keep going over everything in my head,” she said.

  “I know; you’re bound to.”

  “It’s driving me mad, thinking what might have happened to him. It’s all just going round and round.”

  She thought about Jamal, the paedophile and Raeni although she took care not to mention them to Julie. However, as soon as Raeni entered her mind, she remembered that she should have rung her. She’d promised to keep her informed, and she’d be wondering what had happened.

  “Julie, you’ll have to excuse me, I need a cig.”

  It was a pretext to go outside so she could ring Raeni out of earshot of Julie, Vinny and the children. Raeni answered the phone straightaway.

  “Raeni, I’m just ringing to bring you up-to-date. There’s nothing to tell really. We didn’t find him.”

  “Oh, OK.”

  Raeni’s response was laconic, forcing Rita to continue the conversation. “It wasn’t you that rang last night by any chance, was it? I got a call from an unknown number with a Longsight code.”

  Raeni sighed, “Yes, I tried to ring you. There was a lot of noise going on, but the call was cut off.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about that. We were in a tricky situation. Some nutcase in a doss house was attacking Yansis, and we had to fight him off. The sound of the phone disturbed him. That’s why I needed to switch it off afterwards.”

  “So no Daniel then?”

  “No.”

  “And no Jamal?”

  Rita hesitated, wondering whether to tell Raeni they had found where Jamal was staying. But then she’d have to tell her why they couldn’t find Daniel. Because the house was full of gun-toting gangsters. Would she want to know that? Did she need to know that? After deliberating, she answered “no”, and Raeni seemed to accept her answer so she didn’t go into further detail.

  “Look, I’ll let you know if we hear anything else. You never know, the police might turn up something.”

  “You do that,” said Raeni. Then she hung up.

  The call had been terse and strained. Rita reflected on it as she broke into her second pack of cigarettes that day. It was a difficult call but she could understand Raeni’s disappointment. When all was said and done, she was missing a son and a grandchild.

  Because of her own situation, Rita found that she empathised with Raeni. She had been through so much, and didn’t seem a bad person. The loss of a son was a horrendous hardship. This line of thought brought Rita back to thoughts of Daniel. She mustn’t think like that; she must try to stay positive. Daniel was out there somewhere and she would find him.

  ***

  Saturday 22nd June 1996 - Night

  Maurice had obtained a second-hand TV set. It looked OK in the shop but, once he brought it home, he noticed how the picture jumped about every so often. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. He couldn’t afford another one yet.

  It had become his evening pastime: watching TV. There wasn’t much else he could do. Because of the mob outside his house, the only time he could go outdoors now was early morning.

  His last afternoon trip out was yesterday when he went to see his probation officer. That hadn’t ended well. When he returned home, crowds of youths were already gathered. He had to pass through them while they jostled him and hurled insults. It was a very frightening experience.

  So he spent a lot of time watching TV, and reading the papers.

  Tonight the mob was worse than ever. And they were getting louder, and older. When the sound reached astounding proportions, he peeped through h
is front curtains to find out what was happening. He daren’t chance one of the downstairs rooms in case they noticed him, so he sneaked upstairs to observe.

  There must have been around twenty of them, maybe more. Their ages ranged from about twelve to twenty, he guessed. And they hung about in pockets of five or six youths. Talking, laughing, joking. Then one would break free from his group and launch something at Maurice’s house, while the others cheered and shouted words of encouragement.

  He noticed some of them carrying cans of spray paint. Then a few of the older lads walked over and spoke to those already gathered. As if leading the way, two of them began to kick and tear at his fence. Another urinated against his front door.

  Oh, how he hated them! He detested mob rule. He’d seen enough of that in his lifetime. What he would like was to get his hands on any one of them. Then he’d teach them a lesson. They’d be sorry!

  He returned to his TV and increased the volume to drown out the noise. But he couldn’t drown it out. It was getting louder. He couldn’t concentrate. His senses were alert to the danger. His ears picking out every sound while he sat perspiring, and subconsciously clenching his abdominal muscles.

  The stress was really upsetting his stomach tonight, and he got up to go to the bathroom again. Upstairs the noise was even louder, and he risked another peek through a minute gap between the curtains. They were throwing bricks towards the top of his house. He ducked in case they spotted him. What were they doing? Trying to smash his upstairs windows?

  Downstairs he felt just as agitated. The TV screen seemed to be reacting to the disturbance, the picture was dancing around haphazardly with increasing frequency. He couldn’t understand it. He turned down the volume, listening out for signs of danger. It was then he realised what was happening. The onscreen visual disturbances coincided with the loud bangs coming from outside. The youths were launching bricks at his TV aerial. They must have heard the increase in volume when he switched it up. And now they were trying to take out his TV.

  They didn’t succeed, and after a while they gave up. He supposed that they had found another way to taunt him, but he switched the volume back up so he couldn’t hear them. It was past twelve o’clock when things quietened down sufficiently for him to go to bed.

  Sleep eluded him. He was still anxious. Watching for shadows in the dark, and alert to any sounds from downstairs. Every rustle. Every creek. Every tick of the clock. It all spelt danger to him. Eventually, when every sinew in his body was so overstretched that it cried out for rest, he dozed off. But his sleep was fitful.

  At five o’clock in the morning he awoke, fearing that he could hear unusual noises inside the house. But this time, it wasn’t his imagination. This time, it was the real thing.

  Chapter 28

  Sunday 23rd June 1996 - Dawn

  They were outside 11 Hitchin Street. Hidden in the shadows. Weapons ready, and waiting for the call from the superior officer. They would make a synchronised advance, hitting the property from the front and rear entrances simultaneously.

  John had been assigned to the back of the building along with several other officers; his friend Tony was with the majority of the team at the front. Advance surveillance established that there was a stairway at the front of the property. Therefore, those entering from the front would cover the upstairs as well as part of the downstairs.

  As he prepared himself for action, John could feel his heart racing. He associated this with the fight or flight response that preceded every operation, and embraced it. He knew that the extra rush of adrenalin would make him alert and perceptive to any hidden dangers inside the building.

  This time his method of entry to the property would be vastly different from that of the previous night. There would be no need to keep quiet. Once they received the call, the most important factor would be speed. They needed to get inside as soon as possible before the inhabitants had a chance to dispose of all the drugs.

  When the call came, John and several other special task force officers shot off. The leading member of the team used a battering ram to force his way through the back door. Within seconds, the door fractured then gave way, and they were inside.

  A hallway ran through the downstairs of the house with a kitchen off to the left and two other rooms further up the hall. Several of those in front of John stormed into the kitchen while others dashed ahead.

  At the same time, officers were breaking through the front door. The bulk of them would swarm the upstairs while the others took the downstairs front room. John glimpsed Tony through the glass pane of the front door, his shock of red hair distinctive through the opaque glass. He didn’t see what room he entered; John had already left the hall.

  It was a room on his right that took John’s interest. He could tell from the door that it was probably a cellar.

  The door was made up of vertical wooden slats and, rather than a doorknob, it had a bolt, which could be fastened from the outside. Sure enough, when he slid the bolt, he encountered a flight of stairs leading downwards. Another officer, on hearing him unbolt the door, joined John as he made his way down to the cellar.

  There was no light switch, either at the top of the stairs, or when they reached the bottom. As John’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a large room. A glimmer of light leaked in through a narrow window but it didn’t provide more than a vague outline.

  His colleague switched on a torch, and shone it around the cellar. He called out, “It’s the police, stay where you are.” John followed the path of the torch’s rays from corner to corner, along stone floors and brick walls. Then, across the room, from side to side, back and forth. There was nobody there. He would have liked to look further; to see if there was any trace of Daniel having been held there. But he didn’t get a chance.

  They had only been in the cellar for a few seconds when the sound of gunfire rang out. John sprinted up the stairs. He saw the backs of officers leading two men out in handcuffs. Instinct told him that the shot came from the room at the front of the house. He ran in. There stood Tony. Gun in hand. Still aimed in the direction of a young man no longer on his feet.

  When he heard John and the other officer approach, Tony turned around. “I had no choice,” he said. “He had a gun. He was about to shoot.”

  John’s eyes switched to the youth on the ground. A bullet hole in his chest. Blood pumping. A scarlet web spreading outwards. Saturating his clothing.

  Tony hadn’t taken any chances. It looked as though the bullet had gone straight through the heart.

  A young woman was on her knees screaming for help, her hands tarnished with her boyfriend’s blood. Officers rushed to surround the body. When they pronounced him dead, she let out an excruciating yell, then screamed her boyfriend’s name, “Jamal!”

  John recognised them as the couple who were in the bedroom the night before. She was too distressed to see through his disguise. He kept quiet. His superior officers must never find out he had visited this property the previous night.

  ***

  Sunday 23rd June 1996 - Dawn

  At first Maurice thought he’d heard the sound of breaking glass. But in his sleep-ridden state he couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it sounded close. Panic seized him. As he came to, he could hear other noises as well. A dense thud. The heavy tread of feet; several pairs of feet. The squeaking of a door. Vague whispers.

  At first he remained still, listening attentively, trying to convince himself it was just the wind. But his heart was pounding in his chest, his brow perspiring. Was his imagination working overtime? A consequence of the evening’s events? Provoked by a bad dream, perhaps.

  But then the stairs began to creak. Those unsteady treads on the stairs. Unmistakeable. And the sound was carrying closer and closer. It was then he knew for sure. They had come for him.

  He dived out of bed and grabbed at the chest of drawers, dragging it towards the bedroom door. He managed to pull it into place before they reached the top of the stairs. T
hen they were at the door. But there were too many of them. It wobbled under the strain as they heaved against the door.

  Maurice raced around the room, frantically grabbing at objects to block the bedroom door. Anything with weight. Throwing them. Some on top of the chest of drawers. Some items behind it. No real plan in mind. Just a vain attempt to stop them getting in.

  When he ran out of things to use, he wedged himself between the chest of drawers and the end of his bed. The men continued to heave, and Maurice felt the strain. The chest of drawers began to slide, raining items on top of him. His legs buckled and his body folded in two.

  When his knees were almost touching his chin, Maurice knew the opening between the door and jamb would be big enough for a man to squeeze through. There was nothing he could do.

  One at a time they invaded his bedroom. In his peripheral vision he could see they were wearing masks to hide their identity. Maurice didn’t look up. He was too frightened of what they would do to him.

  He curled in on himself, hands around knees. Crying, begging for mercy. He felt a thick hand grasp his arm and haul him from the floor.

  “No, no. Please, no! I didn’t do it.”

  “Come here, you fuckin’ wimp!” ordered the first man. “Come and face your punishment.”

  “He’s not here,” cried Maurice. “I already told the other bloke that.”

  “What the fuck you talkin’ about?” asked the man, unaware that Maurice was referring to John’s attack, when he had been searching for Daniel. “We’re not fuckin’ looking for anyone else. We’ve found what we’ve come for. You! You fuckin’ pervert. Unless there’s another paedo hiding around here somewhere.”

  His words told Maurice that, unlike the last attack, these men weren’t looking for the child. They had other things in mind. When the leader removed his mask, Maurice realised that they had disguised themselves so no one recognised them entering or leaving his home. They didn’t have to worry about him recognising them. The implications were terrifying, and the leader looked even more menacing without his mask.