A Death in Winter

by Jim McGrath

  ‘No, it was summut I taught them. Of course, some other wanker tried to take the credit for it.’

  ‘So all we can do is wait?’

  ‘No. There’s a couple of things we need to do. First we’re going to have a drink with an old army mate. You’ll like him. He’s another mad Celt but from this side of the water, Jock Cronin. Then we’ll pay a visit to Mr Bishop’s offices. I doubt we’ll find anyone there. They’ll all have gone to ground until this thing is finished. However, we might find something useful. First, though, I need to phone Jock.’

  Clark went into the hall and Collins started to read the various notes and lists, trying to work out their individual and combined significance.

  Once connected, Clark put on his poshest accent. ‘Good morning. I’d like to speak to Mr Cronin, please. Yes, the Chief Engineer. Yes, I know he’s a busy man, but if you tell him it’s Mr Clive Clark calling he’ll take my call.’ There was a pause of about forty seconds before Clark heard the familiar Scottish burr. ‘Well, if it isn’t the wee shit from the Black Country. How are they hanging?’

  Clark gave the expected response, ‘Around me ankles’, and heard Jock’s familiar high pitched giggle that was so out of keeping with the man he knew and loved like a brother.

  ‘To what do I owe this great honour?’

  ‘I need your help. It’s Ruth and it’s serious.’

  The response was instantaneous. During the war, the unit had developed its own code for describing events and situations. Serious meant life or death. No one used it unless they meant it. ‘Tell me what you need.’

  ‘Thanks, Jock.’

  ‘Fuck that, laddie. Just tell me what you want.’

  ‘Four sticks of explosives. Anything you’ve got will do. I can cut them in half if it’s a problem, but I want to make as big a bang as I can. Detonators for each stick, plus a few spares and some sort of timing device for each.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Not unless you’ve got some spare ammo lying about that I could throw on the fire.’

  ‘OK. It’s 11.20 now. I’ll see you in the Garden Gate at 1. Is that soon enough?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Clark, and hung up.

  Handsworth, 13.00hrs.

  Jock was not difficult to pick out in a crowd. He stood a full head taller than anyone else in the bar, and his wild red hair and bushy beard marked him out as a Scot from 100 yards.

  When he shook Collins’ hand, the grip was vice-like but surprisingly gentle. This was a man with nothing to prove, least of all to himself. Collins liked him on sight. Picking up the four drinks he’d already bought, Jock led the way to the small lounge behind the bar. Closing the door, he slipped the bolt. ‘Barry will see that we’re no disturbed. So, who’s this?’

  ‘That’s me mate, Michael Collins. Wem in this together.’

  ‘Fair enough, but what is this?’

  ‘Wi don’t have time to explain everything, but me and Mickey have been investigating the death of that little half-caste girl found on Hill Top.’

  ‘I read about that in the Mail.’

  ‘It turns out that a lot of important people were involved in her killing one way or another. Some of ‘em are coppers and they’ve been trying to close us down.’

  ‘But you’d na backed-off and now they’ve taken Ruth. Is that it?’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘When do you think they’ll call you?’

  ‘Probably late tonight. They’ll want to do it under cover of darkness and get rid of us before first light. That’s how I’d do it.’

  Jock took a sip of his pint. ‘Well, you can count me in. In fact, I can probably get one or two of the lads to join us by 6.’

  ‘I appreciate the offer, Jock, but these fuckers are going home in a box. As coppers on the case, we stand some chance of claiming that we got involved in an unexpected fight and I were able to grab a gun. That wouldn’t hold water if half me old Unit were there backing me up.’

  ‘OK. How many do you reckon will be there?

  ‘Maybe seven or eight,’ said Collins.

  ‘Seven or eight! Are you out your minds? There’s no way you can get them and get Ruth out of there unharmed. I’m coming.’

  ‘Jock, I can’t ask—’

  ‘Ask? You’re not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll play guardian angel.’

  Clark considered what Jock had just said. He was right. With an angel on board, Ruth’s chances of getting out of there unharmed had just soared by about 50% ‘OK. Wi can use you.’

  ‘Right, now that’s settled, let’s have a pint. Here, lad, have one of Clark’s pints. I didn’t know he was bringing a friend.’

  ‘He doesn’t drink.’

  ‘A name like Michael Collins and he doesn’t drink?’

  Collins shrugged his shoulders and smiled. ‘What can I say? I’m the black sheep of the family.’

  Even without Collins’ help, the four pints disappeared within twenty minutes. Clark wanted to keep a clear head, so Jock was forced to consume three. He didn’t seem to mind.

  Before they left the pub, Jock called his secretary and told her he was taking the rest of the day off. Outside, they climbed into Jock’s new Land Rover and drove to Clark’s house. Jock lifted a wooden crate from the back and strode up the path. Inside, he placed the box gently on the kitchen floor. Removing the straw on top, he started to unpack the contents.

  Collins had trouble keeping his mouth from falling open as Jock placed a dozen sticks of dynamite, detonators and timers on the table. There was also a carton of .303 shells, one Sten gun with five ammunition clips, two .455 Webley handguns and a pair of limpet mines.

  It was all too much for Collins, ‘How the feck did you manage to get all this stuff together in less than two hours?’

  With a straight face, Jock replied, ‘Did I no mention it? I’m the Chief Engineer at Hampstead Colliery. It means I’m in charge of all explosives.’

  ‘Since when did coalminers need sten guns and limpet mines?’

  ‘Them? Simple. Me and a few lads do a bit of charity work in Africa every now and then they come in handy.’ With that, he winked at Collins.

  ‘This stuff is bostin. Just what wi need. Me and Mickey need to go and check out Eddie Bishop’s Office. Wi won’t be long. Can yoe sort this stuff out and have a quick decca at me lists and ideas. Yoe’ll find them on the dining room table. See what I’ve missed?’

  Collins was still thinking about African charities and limpet mines when he and Clark pulled away in the Land Rover.

  Birmingham, 16.00hrs.

  Clark had been right. Bishop’s office was deserted and was locked up as tight as a miser’s last pound. Every door and window that could be locked was locked. Working their way to the rear of the building, Collins drew his baton and broke a small window, which provided light to the ground floor corridor. Reaching in he released the clasp and climbed through.

  Once inside, both men stood and listened to the building. There was plenty of noise from outside and the structure itself creaked, groaned and whispered incessantly. But, there was no one in the building. Collins was sure of that. However, that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be any nasty surprises.

  ‘OK, we’ll start with Bishop’s office and work our way down,’ said Clark.

  The secretary’s office was exactly as Collins remembered it. Nothing seemed out of place and the filing cabinets were still full. Bishop’s office was different. There wasn’t a single sheet of paper on or in his desk. Even the few reference books that had sat behind his desk were gone.

  ‘Mickey, see if you can find a safe.’

  A quick but through search of both the walls and floor failed to reveal any safe.

  ‘He’s got to have a safe somewhere.’

  ‘I do
n’t think it’s here,’ said Collins.

  ‘OK, let’s try downstairs.’

  This time, neither man worried about picking the locks to the bedrooms or bar. They just kicked the doors in. It was the first time Collins had ever actually kicked his way into a room and it gave him a momentary sense of power and pleasure as he did what he’d previously only seen his heroes do on screen. He smiled at his own childishness and laid into the door to the blue room with real enthusiasm. The door gave way on the second kick and there was a satisfying bang as it bounced off the wall. The room was exactly as Collins remembered it. He started in the most obvious place and checked behind the picture. Nothing. The floor also revealed nothing. He sat on the bed. Somewhere in this building, there had to be a safe. His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Clark. ‘I think I’ve got something, Mickey.’

  Collins joined Clark at the open door to the storeroom. ‘Do you see what I see?’

  Collins scanned the room. ‘Fresh scuffmarks on the floor. Someone’s been in here recently. It looks like they were moving that filing cabinet.’

  ‘Yoes know, Mickey, I’m beginning to think yoe ain’t just another ugly face. Come on, give us a hand.’

  Rocking the cabinet to and fro, they were able to pitch it onto one corner and walk it away from the wall to reveal an unlocked safe. Collins was about to pull the door wide open when Clark grabbed his hand. ‘Steady lad.’ Taking his torch, Clark wriggled behind the cabinet until he was lying flat on the floor. Shining his torch through the 2-inch gap, he was able to confirm that there were no wires attached to the door or any object sitting on either of its shelves. The safe’s only contents was a brown paper envelope, which was identical to the one he’d received on Tuesday night.

  Clark ripped the envelope open. There was a single sheet of paper and a picture of Ruth. She was sitting on a chair with her hands tied behind her back and her ankles tied to the chair legs. Her skirt had been rolled up to reveal the top of her stocking and panties. Clark felt the blood rush to his face. Anger rising he fought for control and handed the picture to Collins and started reading the note.

  Surprise, you little piece of shit,

  Not a bad piece of pussy your misses. Nice legs and I like her pink knickers. She wouldn’t be out of place in Spick and Span. Mind you I don’t think I could shag it. I mean, my standards would have to be below rock bottom to fuck a kike. Pity Hitler didn’t finish the job he started.

  Nothing has happened to your little Jew bitch yet and nothing will as long as you play ball. We’ll exchange her for you and that Irish fucker. Be at H & T Scrap Metal Merchants, off Kirby Road tonight at 11.

  Don’t bring any friends or she dies.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Clark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The tension and anger visibly drained from his face as he did so – or so it seemed to Collins. ‘I’m fine. Bishop’s just trying to wind me up. Hoping it will throw me off me game and I’ll make a mistake.’

  ‘Do you still think she’s safe?’

  ‘Oh yeah. She’s too valuable to harm just yet.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘They need to find out what wi know and who we’ve told before they kill us all. The best way to do that is tie me to a chair and make me watch as they do you and Ruth. They’ll want her looking her best for me. That way, when Bishop, or one of the brothers, punches her in the face for the first time, the results will have maximum effect on me.’

  ‘How the hell do you know all this?’

  ‘Cos that’s what I’d do.’ Clark looked down at his boots and, keeping his eyes averted, said, ‘They’ll soften me up by starting with you and, if what I have in mind is going to work, you’ll have to take a beating.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘I can’t be certain. Maybe five or ten minutes.’

  ‘I’d be grateful if you could make it five.’

  ‘I’ll do me best.’

  ‘Good enough. Let’s get out of here. With my skin and bones on the line, I think you need to discuss your master plan with Jock. You do have a master plan, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I got a great plan. Trouble is it’ll probably fall apart in the first five minutes.’

  ‘Now he tells me.’

  As they drove home, Clark took a quick detour and drove past H & T Scrap Merchants.

  Handsworth, 18.20hrs.

  By the time Collins and Clark returned, Jock had attached a detonator and timer to every stick of dynamite, stripped and cleaned each gun, and checked that the handcuffs Clark had left on the table were working properly. He’d also found time to review Clark’s ideas and add a few thoughts of his own.

  ‘How did it go?’

  Clark handed him the note and said, ‘There were a picture of Ruth with it.’

  Jock didn’t ask to see the photo. Instead, he said, ‘OK. Now that you know where the bun fight is going to be, we can firm up your plan. What do you have in mind?’

  Clark told him and, for the next three hours, the men went over each detail. Checking, assessing, changing. All agreed that Bishop would draft in some additional heavies to protect the office and that these would have to be taken out before any rescue could be made.

  ‘How many do you think he’ll use?’ asked Jock.

  ‘Can’t say for sure. Outside, he’ll probably go for three or four. Inside, he’ll want Benny and Brian for the dirty work and I’d be surprised if Hollis wasn’t there. Wi may also have Keel to contend with.’

  ‘Why him and not Carver or Spencer?’ asked Collins.

  ‘He’s got experience of this. It ain’t going to worry him. Carver and Morrison have probably never seen it before.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘If there are four goons outside that will slow things down a bit’ said Jock.

  ‘Yeah, I know. How long will yoe need to deal with ‘em?’

  ‘Difficult to say. Five or ten minutes. It’ll depend on how dispersed they are.’

  Collins tried to imagine what it would be like if he had to take a ten-minute beating. He wasn’t sure he would be able to resist for that length of time. He wasn’t even sure if he could survive such a beating – not if Benny and Brian were set loose on him. He tried to put such thoughts out of his head and concentrate on what Clark and Jock were saying.

  As the discussion went on, Collins realised that a lot of what was being said was for his benefit. Both men in their own way were trying to prepare him mentally for what was to come. However, he accepted that he would never know how he’d react until the firing actually started. He offered up a silent prayer to St Michael that he wouldn’t freeze.

  Jock used the last half-hour to show Collins how to use the Sten gun. ‘OK, Mickey. If you forget everything else, what are the four things you have to remember about the Sten?’

  ‘Safety off, point and fire, and additional clips will be near your cap.’

  ‘Yoe forgot one thing,’ said Clark.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t shoot me.’

  At 9.15pm, Clark looked at Collins and Jock. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  Hockley, 21.40hrs.

  Jock parked the Land Rover in the Ice Rink’s half empty car park. From there, they were able to look down on the huge mounds of metal that were H & T Scrap Merchants. The yard was bordered on two sides by darkened factories. No nightshift – good. To the rear, the frozen canal ran the full length of the yard. With travel on the canals impossible, there were no barges in sight. The only road in and out of the yard reminded Collins of a hangman’s noose. Drivers had to loop around the yard’s office before heading back to the gate. Collins hoped it was a good sign. He wanted it to say: “We’re going to close the noose on you”. But he realised it might also be saying:
“You’re going to get strung up by your balls”.

  Clark broke into his reflection. ‘OK, me and Mickey will do a quick recce of the place and sort the canal fence out. Jock?’

  ‘I’ll do a full recce and try and identify the number and location of all the guards. You’ll know when I’ve taken them out.’ Turning to Collins, he held his hand out, ‘I’m going to do me best to keep the time down. You hang in there for as long as you can, laddie, but don’t be a hero. Drip-feed them stuff if you have to, OK?’

  Collins remained silent and just nodded, afraid that if he spoke both men would hear the fear in his voice.

  At 11pm exactly, Collins and Clark walked up to the locked junkyard gates. A single floodlight illuminated the men and gates, throwing the area beyond its glow into total darkness. Almost immediately, Collins heard the footsteps of two men approaching from off to his left. As they stepped into the light, he could see they each carried a sawn-off shotgun.

  Without speaking, the shorter of the two guards placed his gun on the floor. The second guard moved to his friend’s left to ensure that his field of fire remained clear. As he approached the gates, the shorter man said, ‘Stand back. Hands up where I can see them.’ Only when Collins and Clark had complied did he open the gates. Backing off, he said, ‘Come in, close the gate and place your hands on it, legs spread. No messing or I’ll have you.’

  Collins and Clark did as they were told. The man started with Clark and immediately found his baton, which he lobbed into the darkness. Seconds later, he found his handcuffs. He was about to sling them too when his mate said, ‘Use the cuffs. It’ll save tying the bastards up.’ After cuffing Clark, hands behind his back, he spun him around and tried to knee him in the groin. But he was only partially successful, as Clark had seen it coming and had moved his thigh just enough to block the worst of the attack. Even so, he collapsed on the ground, giving a very good impression of a man in desperate pain.