by Jim McGrath
‘That’s for Tony. You damn near bust every tooth in his head.’
Turning to Collins, he repeated the process – but instead of trying to knee him, he pushed Collins in the direction of the office. ‘Move.’
After retrieving the shotgun, the guards marched their prisoners down the 100 yards or so to the office. Both kept a safe distance from Clark. Neither wanted to join Shepard and Co in the hospital.
On each side of the road were huge mounds of junk. Several of the largest piles were made up of old cars. Others mounds were comprised entirely of copper boilers, rods and wires. Two huge piles were given over to yesterday’s household appliances, including boilers, zinc baths, mangles and pre-war mowers. One low-lying but widespread pile was made up of huge factory presses and pumps that would have taken days to move.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Collins thought he’d seen a movement off to his right but he wasn’t sure. He hoped to God it had been Jock. In one clearing, a long hydraulic crusher lay open. A tall crane, used exclusively to feed its cavernous jaws, stood sentry beside it. For a fear-filled instant, he wondered if that was where he and his friends would end up. However, a quick look at the little man beside him was all the reassurance he needed. He was going to get out of this alive.
Much of the scrap was covered with a thin layer of fresh snow from that afternoon’s flurry. Underfoot, the snow had long since become mixed with the black cinder track to make a filthy slush. Collins stumbled and nearly fell as he stepped in a pothole. ‘Feck,’ he said, as his boot filled with freezing black muck and water.
The guard who’d hung back at the gate laughed, ‘Don’t worry about it, mate. A wet foot’s the least of your problems.’
As they drew close to the office, the road opened out into an apron around which four cars were parked. Collins recognised Hollis’ Ford Cortina. They stopped and one of the guards shouted ‘I got ‘em Boss’, as if he personally had hunted and captured the two men single-handedly.
Another guard appeared from the back of the shed to have a look at the coppers who’d put Shepard in hospital. They didn’t look so tough now.
Only three, thought Collins. Good.
The door of the brick shed opened and Tobin and Hollis emerged. No Benny or Brian, thought Collins. Maybe I will get out of here in one piece. However, no sooner had his hopes been raised than the brothers appeared from the darkness. Feck, this is not going at all well.
‘Inside,’ said Benny, a revolver aimed at Clark’s spine.
Where’s me wife?’
‘Inside,’ said Brian.
Collins wasn’t sure if it was an answer to Clark’s question or an order. Either way he stepped forward.
The shed consisted of two rooms. The first was used as an office; a glass hatch with a sliding window had been cut into the gable end, so that men could present their chits and get paid for their deliveries without the need to traipse into the office. On the right was a second room. Brian opened it and pushed Clark in.
The room was used for brewing up. There were a couple of small tables and several cheap chairs. Bishop was waiting for them, his hand resting on Ruth’s shoulder. Keel sat in the corner, cleaning his fingernails with a Swiss Army knife.
Ruth was still tied to the same chair that Clark had seen in the photo. Whether to humiliate her or to enrage Clark, her dress had been pushed up to her waist.
‘Yoe alright, love?’
Ruth just had time to say ‘Yes’, before Benny smashed his forearm into the back of Clark’s head.
‘Naughty, naughty,’ said Bishop. ‘No talking unless I say so.’ Bending down, he ran the back of his hand along the inside of Ruth’s exposed thigh. His fingers lingered on the naked flesh between the top of her stockings and panties. All the time, he held Clark’s eyes. If he’d expected threats and curses from the little man, he was disappointed. Clark was silent. Impassive. Waiting. ‘String ‘em up,’ he said.
Ruth reacted automatically to the command, ‘No, please.’
Bishop laughed, ‘Don’t worry, you little Jewish bitch. I didn’t mean it that way. Anyway, what did I say about talking without permission?’ The slap across Ruth’s face wasn’t particularly hard, but the sound bounced off the concrete floor and brick walls like the ricochet of a rifle bullet.
Brian gave Bishop the revolver before undoing one of Clark’s cuffs. ‘Raise your arms, short arse.’ Clark did as he was told and Brian looped the handcuffs over a pipe that ran the width of the room, before snapping the cuff over Clark’s wrist for the second time. After checking Clark was secure, he did the same with Collins.
Moments later, Hollis and Tobin entered. It was the first time that Collins had seen Tobin in the flesh. He was exactly as you’d expect a successful politician to look. A little under 6 feet, he was solidly built with well-defined features, neatly trimmed hair and moustache, and brown eyes that proclaimed he was a man you could trust. His trustworthy image was enhanced by a dark blue Crombe overcoat and a grey, three-piece suit from Savile Row that screamed good taste and dependability. In his hand, he carried a large pilot’s briefcase.
‘I warned you pair to lay off, didn’t I? But you had to play the bloody heroes,’ said Hollis. ‘Well, from here on in, it’s going to get really painful for the three of you.’ Hollis nodded and, without warning, Benny hit Collins with a sharp right just below the ribcage.
Unprepared, Collins had no time to tense his stomach muscles before the blow landed. He doubled over as far as the handcuffs would allow and tried desperately to suck some air into his empty lungs.
Ruth cried out. ‘No.’
Before Ruth’s cry had died out, Brian hit Collins with a straight jab to the kidneys. This was worse for Collins. He felt his back arch and a sick, nauseous pain spread swiftly across his stomach. Feck, he thought, I’ll be pissing blood for a week.
Holding his hand up, Hollis walked over to Clark. Standing just inches from his face, he said, ‘Now that we understand each other, Constable Clark, I want you to tell me who you’ve discussed this case with and what you told them? If I don’t like your answers, Benny and Brian are going to keep hitting that sack of Irish shit until he’s either a vegetable or dead. Then we’ll start on that pretty little wife of yours. Understand? You know that you’re going to talk in the end. You’ve seen enough of these things to know that people always do. So, save your friends and yourself a whole load of pain and talk now.’
‘And then what? Yoe’ll let us go?’
‘You know I can’t do that. You knew it when you walked in here. However, I’ll make sure it’s quick and painless and that Eddie and his friends don’t get to enjoy the undoubted pleasures of Mrs Clark.’
‘Yoes going to swear that on your honour as a police officer?’
‘Don’t get smart with me, Clark. It’ll only make things worse for you.’
Collins had regained his breath by now and said, ‘I don’t see how they can get much worse from where I’m hanging.’
‘The brave little soldier willing to risk his life for his friend’s wife. Is it friendship, honour, loyalty or the chance to get into Mrs Clark’s knickers down the line that motivates you, Constable Collins?’ asked Hollis.
‘Fuck you,’ said Collins and he spat at Hollis, the saliva coming to rest on his shoe.
Hollis’s open backhand caught Collins flush on the cheekbone. Collins felt his head snap back and a light show suddenly erupted in his brain with reds, pinks and yellows projecting onto his closed eyelids. A buzzing sound set up home in his left ear, liked it’s new accommodation and decided to stay.
Returning to Clark, Hollis asked, ‘What’s it going to be – more pain or quick oblivion?’
Clark looked past Hollis and latched onto Ruth’s terrified face. ‘It’ll be alright, love. Just remember the first time we met.’
Holl
is stepped back and nodded for Benny and Brian to go to work on Collins.
Watching from behind a huge copper urn, Jock saw Clark and Collins disappear into the office. As expected, the outside guards had all appeared to see the men who had taken out Shepard and friends. Jock was pleased to note that there were only three of them.
As soon as the door was closed, the two guards who’d escorted Clark and Collins headed back to the front gate. The other one returned to his position at the side of the office, from where he could see most of the front and back of the building.
Jock worked his way around to a position where he was behind the side guard. Unfortunately, the guard was standing with his back to an old Ford Poplar. There was no way that Jock could take him from behind. Stepping into the path that separated cars from household junk, Jock looked for a place to hide. He found it behind a metal cabinet.
Finding a wheel rim, he threw it at a household junk pile that was 2 or 3 yards away. The guard heard it, stepped out of his improvised sentry box and looked down the path. Seeing and hearing nothing more, he returned to his cubby hole content that it had been a stray cat or a fox.
Lazy bastard, thought Jock, before flinging a nearby tyre high up into the mound of household junk. It landed with a soft thud and started to roll down the mound, creating a series of satisfying noises in its wake. This time, the guard did investigate. Two yards past Jock, he stopped and shone his torch down the path. Nothing. As he began to turn, a huge arm caught him around the neck and squeezed. Even before his brain could register what had happened, Jock drove his knife into the man’s back in an upward motion and then pulled it sideways, rupturing the man’s heart and lungs. Unable to breathe or cry out the man’s death was quick and silent.
Checking his watch, Jock saw that three minutes had elapsed since Collins and Clark had entered the office. He must hurry.
Brian and Benny were working Collins over slowly and methodically, with a professional care to detail. They knew it was no good concentrating on just one area at a time. The pain had to be spread around with a brief respite between each blow, so as to allow Collins time to experience the hurt and for Clark to reflect on what his silence was doing to his friend.
Ruth was crying. Her head rested on her chest as she tried to blot out the dull thud as fist met stomach or face.
Collins tried to pray. To beg for help, for the strength to hold out, but the only image that came to his semi-conscious mind was one of Agnes standing in the garden. It was the day of the snowball fight and she was laughing as Collins and Clark were rolled in the snow by Jamie and the women. The weak winter sun bathe her in a golden glow that took Collins breath away. Unable to smile, Collins concentrated on remembering every tiny detail of the image.
Holding his hand up, Hollis waved Benny and Brian aside and approached Collins. ‘Listen, lad, I admire your courage, but you’re wasting your time and your looks. Once we start in on his missus, your mate is going to tell us everything. So why not save yourself a whole load of grief and tell us what we want to know?’
Collins raised his head. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could take, but he was damned if he was going to show any weakness in front of Hollis. ‘Sure, Superintendent, what’s the point of being the best looking corpse in the graveyard?’
‘OK, have it your way.’ Stepping back he nodded at Trevor. ‘Start with the left hand.’
Trevor smiled and, stepping forward, took a pair of electrical pliers from his inside pocket. Waving them in front of Collins’ eyes, he said, ‘I brought these with me as I thought they might come in handy.’
Bishop laughed and Tobin said, ‘Get on with it; we don’t have all night.’
Reaching up, Trevor took the little finger on Collins’ left hand. The nail had been cut short and it took several seconds for him to work the pliers far enough under the nail to give him the purchase required. Leaning into Collins, he said, ‘Shall we count? Five, four…’
Collins’ scream was deafening in the enclosed space. His whole body shook with pain and he wriggled on his handcuffs like a pike on a hook as the nail was pulled off.
‘You fucking bastard. I’m going to kill yoe for that, so help me God,’ shouted Clark.
‘Save me the histrionics. If you truly cared about your friend, you’d tell us what we want to know,’ said Hollis.
Jock found the remaining two guards easily enough. They were enjoying a cigarette out of the wind and out of sight of anyone passing the front gates. At a little over 20 yards, with the tops of their cigarettes burning brightly, he couldn’t miss them. The difficulty was in getting both of them before the second target dived for cover. He’d have to be quick.
Jock moved closer. With each step, he checked that there was nothing on the floor between him and his targets. If he did miss the second man, he wanted to be on him as quickly as possible.
Raising his silenced revolver Jock lined up his first shot. There was only a yard gap between the two men. He was confident that he could get both of them. Taking aim, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. As the last of the air left his body, he fired. Without looking to see if the first man was down, he adjusted slightly and fired again. He heard both bodies hit the ground, followed by a low moan. One of the guards was still alive. He approached the figures on the floor cautiously. The man was keening softly, holding what was left of his shattered jaw in his hands, blood and teeth slipping through his fingers. He saw Jock at the last moment and there was just enough time for a pleading, beseeching look to appear in his eyes before Jock put him out of his misery.
Jock checked his watch. Five and half minutes had elapsed. He had to hurry. Unhooking his backpack, he selected three sticks of dynamite. They were already set to go off. Flicking the switch on the first, he left it beside the bodies and inches from the bottom of a pile of household junk. He threw the second stick on top of another junk pile fifty yards on and positioned the final one just outside the pool of light provided by the office lights.
Keeping in the shadows, he ran around to the back of the office. The quarter stick of dynamite he had hidden earlier was still in the overturned zinc bucket. From his very quick survey of the office earlier, he estimated that it should be enough to do the job and hopefully not kill everyone in the building. He had no way of being sure, but there was no turning back now.
Benny hit Collins with another right jab to the face. Collins felt his head snap back and heard his nose break. Blood, snot and mucus spread across his face.
Tobin approached him and said gently, ‘Constable Collins, it seems your friend doesn’t give a fiddler’s fuck about you. Why not save yourself any more pain? Who have you talked to?’
With blood and sweat in his eyes, and the buzzing in his ears getting worse, Collins was unsure who was talking. His head fell backwards and he mumbled something. Tobin moved in closer, ‘What was that?’
Collins’ head snapped forward and caught the MP flush on the nose with his forehead. ‘Up yours…’ said Collins, before Benny landed a combination of head punches. A straight right closed his left eye and a left hook broke a back molar, which he promptly swallowed. Another punch in the stomach made his head sink to his chest. He was exhausted. He was finished and he knew it. Although, if he could just give Jock another thirty seconds.
‘Stop it,’ screamed Ruth.
‘You heard the lady, lads. Step back.’ Bishop stood up and casually placed his hands on Ruth’s shoulders. Bending down he cupped Ruth’s right breast in his hand and grinned at Clark before he said, ‘You know, Michael – can I call you Michael? – you’re a good-looking lad, but another few minutes of this and no woman is ever going to look at you again.’ Releasing Ruth’s breast he produced a flick knife from his pocket and snapped it open. ‘Especially when I slice your dick off and shove it down this bitch’s throat.’
Bishop’s laugh was cut short when a loud e
xplosion seemed to lift the office off the ground, shake it and then drop it back in place. The initial sound was followed by an avalanche of metal tumbling to the ground. Two more explosions quickly followed before the wall behind Bishop billowed inwards, exploding in a shower of bricks, dust and rubble over the gangster. Half-conscious, Bishop fell against Ruth, protecting her from the worst of the blast.
Swirling smoke and dust filled the room. In those few precious seconds of confusion, Clark pressed the barrel of the lock on one cuff and they snapped open. He twisted the cuff and released a curved 3-inch piece of steel with a sharpened spike. It fitted snugly into his clenched fist, the spike extending out between his first and second fingers.
Clark lunged at the closest brother in the chaos, stabbing him four times in the neck within two seconds. Benny or Brian was dead before he hit the ground. Clark really didn’t care which it was.
The second brother lunged for Clark, but was cut down by a short burst of Sten gun fire before he had moved 4 feet. Jock appeared through the hole in the wall and fired into the ceiling, sending anyone with any sense running for the door. Tobin grabbed his briefcase while Hollis pushed Bishop out the door.
Jock tossed the Sten and a revolver to Clark, picked up Ruth and disappeared into the night. Even in his pain, Collins grinned. Jock might not look like it, but he made one hell of a guardian angel. Clark checked for the cuff keys in Collins’ breast pocket and undid the lock. Once released, Collins started to slip to the floor. Clark caught him and held him upright.
Two more explosions went off down the road, followed by the sound of more falling metal. No one would be leaving by the front door, which meant that Hollis, Tobin, Bishop and Keel were all somewhere in the yard.
‘Are you alright, Mickey?’
‘We got Ruth?’
‘That we did.’
‘That’s all that matters. I reckon we’ve got them bottled up.’
‘Oh yes, wi got the bastards.’