by Jac Wright
Darren flipped open his laptop and passed it to Jeremy. The slide show of the B&B and the pub was very clear. Very high resolution, Jeremy thought. He didn’t think that Skipper’s tiny miniature digital camera he had shown him in the car could do such a good job. He flipped through the pictures, taking everything in.
‘You said Skull lives in the flat above The Rock & Oar “most of the time”. Where else does he hang out?’
“Skull’s got a woman, Catalina, a Spanish sénorita who lives on the south side of the city with their two boys. He spends two or three nights a week there. She takes care of the housekeeping and the cleaning at the B&B and the pub. This woman has a setup hiring illegal or cheap immigrants from Spain, Italy, Prague, Romania, Lithuania . . . you name it. Pays them cash-in-hand. She runs this cheap hostel on the east side of the city in which she rents out rooms to them, sardine packed, a couple of bunk beds in each room; but very clean because she gives them odd jobs as cleaners, paying them a few bucks for it. I think Skull owns that building too, but he leaves that business to Catalina. There is potential for him to hide out there if the police come looking for him.’
Jeremy nodded and flipped through the images.
‘So Skull does his business from this pub, ha?’
‘Most of the time. They say he is McAllen’s main “trouble-shooter,” big part of the McAllen entourage, and part of “the crew” holding the fort for McAllen right now while he is dealing with more pressing matters down south.’
Darren took a blank pad of paper provided by the hotel. ‘Here, lemme sketch this out for you. The Rock & Oar has four distinctive areas separated out by arches or walls. This room at the far left corner as you step in through the main entrance on Regent Quay is Skull’s hangout.’
Skipper leaned over, flipped through the slides to a picture of the pub interior, and tapped the screen with his forefinger. ‘These are Skull’s sidekicks, this Spaniard, Hosé, and this Scotsman, Heineken, honoured by the moniker on account of his remarkable ability to guzzle down gallons of his favourite drink by the same name. They run the pub and the B&B and God only knows what else. It is in this room, “The Fireside,” that Skull, Hosé, and Heineken hang out with their gang. Skull disappears in there for hours with his men and his clients sometimes, locking and bolting both doors to the rest of the pub behind them.’
They looked like thugs and were built like wrestlers. Jeremy felt the same fear he had felt in Cossack’s den raising fine hair at the back of his neck.
‘You said “most of the time.”’
‘Sometimes he takes them up to his flat. The only entrance to the flat is up these metal stairs from the backyard to the metal ramp or balcony, from which there is the only door into the flat.’
‘Where are all the exits from the pub? If we are going to send in the police, we have to give them as much information as we can. If an arrest attempt goes wrong then evidence will be destroyed before the police can get a search warrant again.’
He was sure he would have to get the police involved for this one at some point.
‘The pub is in the corner of Regent Quay and Sugarhouse Lane. The main door exits to Regent Quay, and the secondary door, out to Sugarhouse Lane. The pub grounds run all the way to Mearns Street off Sugarhouse. There are two metal gates to the backyard, one from Sugarhouse Lane, and the wide entrance on the Mearns street at the back. The massive steel sliding gates are shut most of the time except for loading and unloading lorries and an eight-foot high wall runs along the perimeter of the backyard. These gates are like prison gates. There is a door within the back gate that can opens to allow people through without opening the whole of it, heavily bolted.’
‘No easy way to get into that backyard from the gates then.’ The bloody place looked impenetrable. They would have ample warning to destroy any evidence during the time the police took to get in from the outside.
‘Nope, none at all. Now the B&B has been extended into its part of the backyard, all the way to the back street. It has a front exit to the Regent Quay, a back exit to Mearns Street, and another back exit out to the pub’s yard. From the yard there is a ramp running down to the basement where the cellar is and the metal stairs running up to Skull’s flat on the first floor.’
‘What’s out here along the rear hallway?’
‘The rear hallway runs back between the bar and The Fireside all the way to the back exit into the yard. Now let me think . . . The first door to the left as you enter the hallway from the front of the pub is a massive storage room, right behind the Fireside. The next door to the left lets you into the customer toilets. The next and final door to the left is into the staff toilets. On the right, as you enter from the pub is a massive pair of swinging doors into the kitchen. Then at the end of the hallway the stairs to the cellar run down to your right. The hallway exits to the backyard. The entrance to the flat on the floor above is right above this one. Heineken has a Staffordshire Bull Terrier very imaginatively named Bull. Bull runs free in the backyard all day till about one in the morning. Nobody gets past Bull through that yard.’
Jeremy studied the sketch and the photographs intently while Darren sipped a beer from the bottle.
‘Where are we going with this, Jeremy? We are not going to rob the pub, are we?’ He laughed.
‘Nope, but we are going to break into the flat.’
Jeremy sat back and raised his eyebrows up and down twice.
Darren raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
‘No, no, no, no, no. Are you crazy?’
‘What are they going to do, call the police on us?’
‘That’ll be the least of your problems. Skull, Hosé, Heineken, and Bull will simply kill and bury us. Besides nobody gets past Bull up to that flat.’
‘They are not going to know we will have been there. Check me out of this hotel, Darren, and get ready to check me into The Sugarhouse Hotel. We’re gonna case out that joint and break into Skull’s flat. I shall tell you how when we get there.’
CHAPTER 34
Friday, October 29 — Fourteen Days Later
They approached The Sugarhouse Hotel along the Regent Quay on the same side of the road as the pub, Darren driving his BMW rental. They took the corner around the pub and the next left again into Mearns Street.
‘Skull and his men park their vehicles along Mearns, just behind their backyard. They pull in some of the vehicles into the backyard before they close up at night, but mostly they just leave them parked along the street here. Everybody around here knows not to mess with Skull and his men; they won’t even touch the parking spaces, let alone their vehicles.’
Darren slowed down after turning into Mearns.
‘Those cars and the white vans along here are all Skull’s, Hosé’s, or Heineken’s.’
They drove past the vehicles and found a parking spot a block down from the pub.
‘This is a good spot if you need to follow Skull,’ Jeremy pointed to it. ‘Let’s take it.’
Jeremy took his case and the overnight bag he had packed, and he walked around to the front of the hotel, taking the next street up from Sugarhouse Lane. Darren had made enquiries in advance and the manager expecting their arrival greeted them at the door. They had decided that Darren would take the lead, posing as a businessman recently assigned to an Oil & Gas project in Aberdeen. Jeremy had once again put on Otter’s disguise, adding Annie’s extra make up on top, to avoid being recognized from the TV news reports.
‘Good evening. Mr. Skipper, I believe. I am Eric Tanner, the assistant manager of The Sugarhouse Hotel.’
‘Yes, I’m Darren Skipper. This is my engineer Charles Brown. We need a quiet room for Charles for three nights please, Friday through Sunday.’
‘Of course, that won’t be a problem. Hope you had a good flight sir.’
Tanner led them to the reception.
‘Can’t complain.’ Jeremy smiled politely.
‘Are you here on business?’ Tanner enquired.
‘Yes
, I’m a civil engineer from London. I have to do a survey and compile some reports and estimates for Darren. I should like your quietest double en suite at the back of the hotel please. This seems to be a busy road. Is the one at the back of the hotel on the first floor available?’
‘The Champagne Executive. Unfortunately that one is taken till Sunday morning. I have the room right above it on the second floor, The Wine Executive. Everything is the same except the décor is in a different colour scheme. The Master Suite at the front of the hotel on the second floor has also become vacant. It has stunning sea views over the bay, but it will cost you £35 more per night.’
Jeremy winked at Darren.
‘It will be hard for me to justify the expense to the directors, Brown. You will be all right with the Wine Executive, won’t you?’
‘Yes, that should be fine.’
‘Do you need a room for yourself, Mr. Skipper?’
‘I’m going to be in Aberdeen long term, Mr. Tanner. I have a flat on Holburn Street. I shall, however, need a room for my electronics engineer I’m flying out here at some point. I shall be in and out of Brown’s room because we are going to be doing a lot of work together. Is that okay?’
‘Of course. I shall issue a second key for you at no extra cost.’
Check-in completed, they found themselves in The Wine Executive a few minutes later. Darren closed the door after Tanner, listened to his footsteps retreating, and turned around.
‘What the hell are we doing here, Jeremy? I guessed that you wanted the room downstairs so that we can keep an eye on the entrance to the flat and the backyard from the window. We have the same view from here, so I guessed you wanted this one. I shouldn’t have to guess. You should tell me.’
Jeremy walked to the window and looked down on the backyard of The Rock & Oar.
‘Yes this one will do. The angle is a little awkward, but I can manage. I’m going to break into Skull’s flat when he is out—when Skull is at Catalina’s and while you keep an eye on him.’
‘That yard is guarded by a score of men and Bull running free. You will never get up there.’
‘Think Mission Impossible, Darren.’ Jeremy patted him on the back.
CHAPTER 35
Friday, October 29 — Fourteen Days Later
They went down to a late Friday dinner about twenty past seven, walking into The Rock & Oar through the direct entrance from The Sugarhouse. It was apparent that the visitors through the direct hotel entrance used the pub as a restaurant, for with no delay a waiter approached them, menus in hand.
‘Welcome to The Rock & Oar, sir. Please select a table. The room to your left is The Fireside, which is a smoking room. There’s more relaxed dining in the Games Room ahead of you past the arch. We have more tables around the corner past a second arch in a room we call The Library on account of its popularity with university students and business customers which has a more coffeehouse-like atmosphere. You can order your drinks at the bar. Please select a table and I shall be with you shortly for your food order.’
This guy had given this introduction a few hundred times before, Jeremy thought. He sounded so rehearsed.
He looked around. The pub must be one of the biggest he had ever seen, but the way it was sectioned out into small spaces gave the illusion of the intimacy of a small village local. The classic look with the ceiling held up by large wood beams and the walls painted a dark wine colour was pleasing and easy on the eye. The Fireside was a separate room to their left, with its wide doors opening out to the main room in which they were standing.
‘Don’t look directly, but the lad in the red T-shirt serving beer at the bar is Hosé, Catalina’s brother,’ Skipper whispered.
Straight ahead, the bar, shaped like a horseshoe, ran parallel to the Fireside, curved around in the Main Room and the Game Room, and ran straight into the Library. From where Jeremy was standing, he could see over the bar and through the many wooden pillars holding up the ceiling into the Library-its walls lined with bookcases and its small wooden tables with chessboards drawn on them.
Hosé was standing bang in the middle of his line of sight at the near bend of the horseshoe. He was a tall, broad lad with a full frame just a pound or two under the weight that would have Jeremy describing him as “chubby.” Full. That was the word. He was a big, full young lad, about thirty, with a ruddy-olive complexion and dark brown, straight, floppy hair parted sideways.
Jeremy followed Skipper to the bar where the investigator ordered a pint of lager for himself. Hmm. They were here to get a feel for the lay of the land and to size up the enemy tonight. He had had enough drunken nights already. This weekend he had to have his wits about him and he needed to keep Skipper focused.
‘Hey, boss. We’ve gotta work tonight and be up early tomorrow. So how about we share that pint? Gimme a pint of coke and an extra empty glass.’ He passed a tenner across the bar to Hosé. He felt brown Spanish eyes sizing him up with a sullen expression as the lad took his order, boyish brown eyes too harsh for his age and his pretty-boy good looks.
The bar and the wall of the Fireside formed a three-foot wide passageway that turned into the rear hallway from the door with a “WC” sign on it. He was going to need a long visit to the loo that way later on.
They took their drinks and made their way into the Fireside through the second side doors parallel to the bar, also propped open fully by brass hooks latched to matching brass hoops fixed to the floor by the wall. Straight ahead on the opposite wall was a beautiful old fireplace set ablaze by a crackling log fire, burning so luxuriously that Jeremy could feel the heat on his cheeks right across the room. The Fireside. This was what gave the room its name. Dim, shaded lights hung low over the tables, adding some localized lighting for the food. Two high-back armchairs were set in front of the fire, angled towards each other.
Jeremy looked around. More than half of the wall on their right was covered with a bookcase similar to those Jeremy had seen across the bar in the Library. The walls of the pub in the Fireside, as in the main pub, were adorned with beautiful black and white photographs of the north seas in all its wanton moods. On the wall above the fireplace, a pair of long wooden oar crossed and rested at an angle over two protruding rocks cemented to the wall, the rocks’ surfaces apparently covered with seaweed with a stuffed seagull perched on one. Of course, the Rock and the Oar.
Along the perimeter of the wall ran the deep green leather upholstered benches built onto the walls of the pub. In the seat at the far right corner at this table sat a man facing Jeremy as they entered the room, a man who could be mistaken for the Skull he had seen in those pictures, except he did not have those trademark tattoos. A Staffordshire Bull Terrier lay licking and biting on a bone at his feet under the table. Jeremy turned left and walked out the second door into the main room, followed by Darren, and put his drink down on the table immediately to the left of the doorway from the Fireside. With a slight turn of his head he could see the man drinking at his table over his left shoulder.
‘Heineken.’ Darren gestured with his head as he took the seat opposite Jeremy from the table.
It didn’t take long for Skull to appear from the hallway. Jeremy smiled at Skipper upon seeing the apparition that had long evaded them, with the bald head, the build of a stocky wrestler, and the famed tattoos on his hand and his thick neck. Skull walked up to the bar to speak to Hosé briefly and then joined Heineken.
‘Unmistakably brothers,’ Jeremy leaned forward and whispered to Skipper.
‘Uh, huh. Or cousins at least.’ Darren nodded with food in his mouth.
Their dinner was here. This steak was perfect, he thought, medium to well done, just the way he liked it. The fat chips were perfectly crispy on the outside and the middle melted on his tongue with the cream of the peppercorn sauce. So good. Skull owned and ran a superb establishment. He could see why Caitlin loved the place.
‘Do you reckon McAllen has a stake in this setup?’ Jeremy asked in a lowered tone.
Jeremy raided his eyebrows. A truly unholy alliance here.
Halfway through his dinner, Hosé joined the men at the Fireside table. After an involved discussion he returned to the bar and sent in a waiter who cleared the empty tables and put “Reserved” signs on them. As soon as the only other diners in the room had finished their dinners they were encouraged to leave the room.
‘We have a reservation for this room for a private party in a few minutes. You are welcome to have a drink in the Main room, which has a big flat screen TV. My boss over there sends his compliments; this bottle of wine is on the house.’
The waiter pointed to Heineken who raised his beer and nodded his head. ‘We have bridge and poker tables in the Game room going well into the night which you are welcome to join. The Library around the corner has more comfortable seating with Internet access and a café style atmosphere to relax in.’
Seconds after the couple left the room the two sets of Fireside doors were shut, locked, and bolted from the inside and “Reserved” signs hung on the doors. Shortly two men, both speaking heavily Scottish accented English, entered the pub and were greeted at the main entrance by Hosé in person. They were led into the Fireside through the door behind Jeremy. Both Hosé and Heineken exited the room and a waiter took dinner in for Skull and his guests a few minutes later.
‘Don’t let anybody bother us for the next three hours me lads, alright?’ Skull peered through the door behind Jeremy and said in a Scottish accented hoarse, gruff voice, before locking and bolting the door from the inside.
The music in the pub, a mix of classic American rock and Scottish folk song, was turned a couple of notches up.