by Conrad Jones
“He’s coming back,” Robert said confused.
“I can see that much,” Barbara moaned. “Why?”
“Well how do I know?”
“Shush please!” the other officer said in a scolding voice. He waited for his colleague to return, “what’s the matter?”
“The tyres are slashed.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, all four.”
“We need to get you back inside for a few minutes while we wait for plan B.”
“What is plan B?” Simon asked.
“I radioed it in and the sergeant was talking to your brief upstairs.”
“Jacob Graff?”
“That’s him,” the officer nodded as they huddled inside. “He’s given the sergeant the keys to his car. He’s bringing it around, said he’d be five minutes. It might be better for you in the long run; they won’t be looking for his car.”
“He’s a nice fella that is for sure,” Robert said. “He can’t do enough for you can he? How do you know him?”
“We’ve done some work together,” Simon said. A black seven series BMW pulled up and the sergeant climbed out. “Looks like our lift is here,” Simon said opening the back door to let his parents get in. “Thanks for everything,” he said to the policemen.
“Good luck and stay safe,” the sergeant said patting him on the back. Simon thought that that was easy to say and not so easy to do.
*************************************
Louise Grimes finished buffing the hospital corridor and dragged the heavy machine to the cleaner’s cupboard. She punched the access code into the lock and opened the door, wheeling the buffer behind her. It was like groundhog day, twelve hour shift, sleep, eat followed by twelve hour shift. The pay was crap but it was the best job that she could get at the moment. It was supposed to be a temporary fix but three years later she was still polishing the same three corridors every shift, five days a week. The only saving grace was that she didn’t have to clean up puke and shit from the toilets in the accident and emergency department. That was a job saved for the new recruits. She had done her time down there for the first month until a new starter began and she moved up a floor.
“Hey,” a voice startled her from behind. She turned quickly to face a big man in a long dark overcoat. His hair was slicked back with gel and he smelled of expensive aftershave. He read her name badge. “Louise isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she replied nervously.
“I’m a detective,” he smiled warmly. “You have probably seen a lot of us around today.”
“Yes, they’re everywhere,” she said relaxing a little.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you were cleaning the corridor when these two men walked by,” he showed her a picture on his phone. It was Simon Evans and Jacob Graff on their way to see Bryn. “Do you remember them?”
Louise looked at the picture and smiled. “Yes, I remember them. He was nice, he smiled and said hello. Most people walk by like I’m invisible.”
“I can imagine, the world is full of rude people,” he smiled again. “Did you happen to overhear what they were talking about?” Louise frowned. “It is part of our investigation and you could really help me out here.”
“I’m not sure,” she hesitated.
He held up a fifty pound note with a gloved hand. “I would be very grateful.”
She took the money and pushed it into her pocket. “I heard them talking about a house on Anglesey.”
“You have a brilliant memory because that fits in with what I thought.”
“Does it?” Louise seemed pleased with herself.
“Yes. Can you remember any details?”
“One of them said it was for sale in a place beginning with T,” she paused and put her finger to her lips, “something bay I think.”
“Something bay and it begins with T and it is on Anglesey?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “And it is for sale.”
“Brilliant,” he smiled. “You should think about joining the police with a memory like that. Well done.” He turned and walked down the corridor punching numbers into his phone. Louise thought about asking him how she could apply but he was gone before she could get the words out.
CHAPTER 22
The black Nissan Elgrand drove slowly through the night, never stopping, never really aiming to arrive anywhere. Liam Johnson was trussed up, hands behind his back, gagged and blindfolded. He wanted to talk. He wanted to tell Tucker everything because he didn’t want to be hurt and he didn’t want to die. He hadn’t struggled, he hadn’t cursed; he had just remained compliant but they had restrained him nonetheless. Tucker had blindfolded and gagged him to disorientate him, to strike terror into his being. Driving him around in silence gave the terror time to fester and spread into his bones. It worked every time. His captives had usually pissed themselves by the time Tucker was ready to ask questions.
“Take the blindfold off,” Tucker growled. Rough hands grabbed at him catching his hair painfully as they pulled it off. Liam found himself sat between two gorillas on a bench seat facing Tucker who sat opposite. A fourth man had his back to him driving the Nissan. From the layout of the seats, he guessed the vehicle was some kind of people carrier. He also noticed that the windows were covered in reflective plastic making it impossible to see into the back of the vehicle. It was the closest thing to a van without being a van and it accommodated multiple passengers; a great way to transport half a dozen goons into battle without breaking the seatbelt laws and attracting attention from the law. “And the gag,” Tucker ordered. “If you think about screaming you’ll get hurt.” Liam blinked and nodded. “Where is my container?”
Liam thought very carefully about his next words as they could be his last. “What you should be asking me is ‘who has my container’ because it is more likely to help you get it back without dying.”
The goons looked at each other and grinned. Tucker grinned too and shrugged. He pushed his long hair back from his face. “Okay, Liam,” he said affably. “Who has my container?” he tilted his head in question. “Who might kill me if I go and take it back?”
“Your container is in a Mercedes garage that fronts a chop shop in Warrington,” Liam said his throat dry. “It’s owned by Eddie Farrell.”
“Eddie Farrell?” Tucker sounded surprised.
“Yes. He owns the place.”
“You’re sure?”
“I was there a few years back with a stolen Merc. He bought it from me with cash, no questions asked. Eddie runs the legitimate car business, backed by the Karpovs who export all the knock-offs to Eastern Europe.”
“The Karpovs?” Tucker shook his head slowly.
“Yes,” Liam almost smiled at the impact the name had. It took the wind out of Tucker’s sails.
“Those scumbag Russians have stolen my shipment?”
“In a nutshell, yes, with Eddie Farrell’s help.”
“I heard that he was their puppet but he’s crossed the line stealing from one of his own,” Tucker spat. “He’s turned on his own kind. I’m going to kill him.”
“That is easier said than done,” the driver quipped. Tucker ignored him.
“Was he there when you delivered the container?”
“No, I didn’t see Farrell. I drove the truck there and shit myself when I saw Nikolai Karpov. I wasn’t expecting to see him there.”
“Nikolai Karpov was there?”
“Yes. He was running the show, no doubt.”
“Farrell is one thing but Karpov is another. Nobody mentioned fucking about with Nikolai Karpov, Joe,” the driver said over his shoulder. “That is a world that we don’t want to step into, bro.”
“Shut up, Tommy,” Tucker snapped at his brother. “We don’t have any choice. We need that container back.”
“Yes but...”
“But nothing, Tommy,” Tucker interrupted angrily. “This isn’t a fucking game.” Tommy looked at him in the mirror, his face reddening. “We can’t go home
and tell mum that the big kids have nicked our football. Everything we have and more again is in that shipment. We lose that and we lose the lot.”
“I know that but...”
“Shut your face, Tommy!” Tucker snapped. “Do you want to spend the next twenty years hiding from the people we owe money to knowing that we didn’t have the bollocks to go and take back what is ours?”
“No.”
“Good. Then we go and take it back and we carve up anyone who thinks that they can fuck with us.” He looked around the faces of his men. “Anyone not got the stones to go and take back that container needs to say so right now.” No one spoke; no one dared. “Right, now we have that straight, where is this garage?” Tucker’s face seemed to darken in an instant. “I’ll make the Karpovs sorry they messed with us.” Liam felt the goons either side of him tense suddenly at the thought of being on the side opposing the Karpovs. It was a war that no one had won before. They said nothing but their expressions said it all. Mercenaries didn’t knowingly take the losing side and Liam knew that all criminals were mercenary. Tucker would be lucky to keep half of his men when they realised who they were going up against.
“On the canal side of an industrial estate called the Riverside. It’s the last building on the plot before the canal. You keep going until you can’t go any further.”
“And you definitely saw Karpov there?” Tucker frowned.
“Yes,” Liam answered honestly. “I can take you there.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“He has my brother, Ray.”
“Karpov has your brother?”
“Yes.”
“That won’t end well.”
“It could be worse.”
“How do you work that one out?”
“You could have him.”
“What do you mean by that?” Tucker feigned offence.
“If what happened to my cousins is anything to go by, this won’t end well for me either. I think Ray might have the better deal right now.”
Tucker didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. He half smiled and nodded to one of his goons. The goon punched Liam in the nose hard. Bright lights exploded in his brain and bolts of pain scythed through his skull, making his eyes water. He tasted the coppery blood before it began to drip from his nostrils. Tucker flicked his hair back again. “Don’t get lippy with me, Liam. I don’t like cheeky bastards.”
“Sorry,” Liam said choking back blood. “I’m nervous and frightened.”
“Fair enough,” Tucker said. “I can understand that.” He thought about what he had been told, trying to make sense of it. His goons were visibly disturbed by the news of the Karpovs. Liam could see that their arrogance was gone, replaced by concern. The driver kept glancing in the mirror, half listening and half concentrating. “Why has Karpov got your brother?”
“We delivered the container to the address that we were given...”
“How did you get that?” Tucker interrupted.
“It was texted to a prepaid mobile,” Liam explained. “We had no idea who we were delivering it to but once we knew then he couldn’t let us go...”
“Karpov couldn’t let you live in case I found you?”
“Exactly,” Liam nodded. “They pulled guns on us but I made a break for it and escaped. Ray was knocked out in the process.”
“How did Karpov find out about the container in the first place?”
“He knew from the beginning.”
“What?”
“They set you up from day one.”
“What do you mean?” Tucker looked annoyed.
“They were tracking it all the way from Amsterdam.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“Look, I don’t know what is in that container and I don’t care but whatever it is, the Karpovs used you to pay for the load and they used you to get it into the country and then they took it from you.”
“Bullshit,” Tucker said beneath his breath.
“They set you up and they set us up to take the container from you. We had no idea who it belonged to.”
“That would mean that they are working with our suppliers in Amsterdam,” Tommy said from the front seat. His face was dark and angry. “Those bastards set us up and we didn’t have a fucking clue that we were being played.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tucker said pushing his hair back behind his ears. He frowned and looked at his hands while he thought things over. He looked up into Liam’s eyes. “Tell me how you think this was played out.”
Liam shrugged. “Someone made a deal with you and told the Karpovs about it. Simple.”
“Simple?” Tommy said banging his fist against the steering wheel. “It was fucking simple too...”
“Shut up, Tommy!” Tucker turned and slapped his brother hard across the back of the head. “Why didn’t they just take the container themselves?”
“They’re clever,” Liam half smiled.
“What do you mean?” Tucker asked quietly; his voice controlled masking his rising anger.
“They were worried about a doublecross,” Liam shrugged again as if it was easy to understand. Tucker glared in silence. “They wanted to make sure that the law wasn’t tracking the container too. They used us to take it knowing that if they were following it, they would swoop as soon as we took it and we would have been arrested. They watched as it was taken and then switched over to me and Ray. Once it was handed over to us, they knew that they were safe.”
“We have been mugged off,” Tucker nodded, his eyes wide and distant. “Clever, very clever.”
“It was the perfect plan and you financed it. You took all the risks and paid for it too.” Tucker nodded to the goon and he punched Liam again. His huge fist pulverised the fragile bones in his nose with an audible crack. Liam saw blinding light behind his eyes and his senses blacked out for a second. He rocked back violently in the seat. As his sight cleared he shook his head. “I really wasn’t taking the piss. It is exactly what Karpov said to us.”
“He actually said that to you?”
“He was going to kill us, make us vanish. What difference would it make to tell us what happened?”
“Why didn’t your cousins tell me this?” Tucker asked frustrated. His face was angry; the pulse in head visible.
“They didn’t know,” Liam spat blood into his lap. “None of us knew that container was yours until it was too late. We were set up just as much as you were.”
Tucker nodded as if acknowledging that the Johnsons had been pawns in a much bigger game. “How long is it since you dropped the container?”
“Nearly six hours ago.”
“You know that your brother is already dead, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Liam nodded, his stomach twisting at the thought. He had known that he would never see him again as soon as he climbed onto that roof.
“You know you have really caused me a lot of hassle but I’m actually sorry that you all got roped into this.”
“Thanks,” Liam whispered.
“I really am sorry.” Tucker looked at the goon and winked.
The goon grabbed Liam’s forehead forcing it backwards, exposing his throat. Tucker punched him hard in the larynx. Liam began to choke. Tucker punched him again, shattering the larynx and splintering the windpipe then he held Liam tightly against the seat and looked into his eyes as he struggled for breath; his resistance weakened slowly as he drowned on his own blood. Blood bubbles formed on his lips, grew and then burst to be replaced by another, and then another and then slowly but surely they stopped.
CHAPTER 23
Simon looked in the rear view mirror and checked to see if the car was still there. The dark Volvo was close behind them; it had been shadowing them for fifteen minutes. He could see the driver focused on his every turn, watching and waiting for the right time. The atmosphere in the car was tense, the occupants nervous and silent. The tailing car flashed its headlights and the sergeant waved as he put on its blues and t
wos, bringing all the traffic behind them to a sudden standstill. It was the sergeant’s idea to put an unmarked traffic car behind them until they reached the motorway network and then stop everything behind them for a while so that no one could tell which direction they had taken. Simon knew that it would eliminate the chance of being followed from the hospital. It was a good plan as long as he used the limited time to put as much distance as he could between them and any pursuers.
He put his foot down and Jacob’s BMW accelerated at a frightening pace putting a safe distance between them and trouble. He stayed in the fast lane for twenty minutes until they were approaching the junction of the M56 which would take them onto the A55, the road to North Wales. The motorway networks converged outside Warrington, meaning that there was no way that anyone could know if they had travelled north or south, east or west.
“We can relax now,” Simon said checking the mirror. “Are you okay in the back?”
“Fine, son,” Robert answered. “Nice car isn’t it?” Robert said to his wife. She hadn’t spoken since they had left the hospital. Her face was a picture of a mother’s concern, wrinkles deeper than usual, mouth turned down at the edges and eyes frightened and watery. Every mile they travelled away from Bryn, her heart broke a little bit more, her anxiousness became more intense. She didn’t answer the question because she hadn’t heard him. Her mind was still with her youngest son; her thoughts lacerated her brain, torturing her with the worst possible outcomes. Each time she tried to put a positive spin on events her imagination threw up a bunch of negative alternatives.
She still couldn’t get things clear in her mind. Her fourteen year old boy, her baby, had killed a man with a brick. If that wasn’t bad enough, now people wanted to kill him and the rest of her family. Their simple lives had been turned upside down, shaken and sent spinning. It was as if she had woken up in a parallel universe. Her family was in peril and separated. It was her personal hell. “I said, it is a nice car isn’t it, Barbara?”
“What are you going on about,” she mumbled, wanting to be left alone with her thoughts. Her husband had been her rock but her concern was inconsolable. Her pain at leaving Bryn was a very private one. Her youngest child was in danger and she couldn’t explain how it made her feel ill. She felt physically sick and she couldn’t discuss her feelings with him yet. The anxiousness was twisting her insides into knots. Conversation was out of the question; she didn’t think that she could string a sentence together. “I’m tired, Bob,” she sighed. “I need to sleep, love.” She closed her eyes and put her head onto his shoulder knowing that she wouldn’t sleep soundly but that she could doze and hide behind her eyelids where no one could ask her any stupid questions. Robert put his head back and closed his eyes too; mentally and physically exhausted. Although their minds were racing, sleep took them both within minutes.