by Alfie Robins
‘I knew it, I fucking knew it!’ Almost standing up as he banged his fists on the table rattling the glasses.
‘Hang on a minute before you get all uppity on me, I was a police officer, maybe I still am. I’m not quite sure whether I’m a copper or a villain.’
‘After all I’ve done for you and you drop this on me. Wanker.’
‘I thought you just said I was a top bloke?’ he tried hard to smile, not succeeding in keeping things on the light side.
‘Yeah well, like you I’m not sure anymore.’ Jimbo picked up his whisky and knocked it back in one. ‘I took a fucking good hiding for you!’ He sat back folding his arms once more. ‘Wanker,’ he said again bitterly staring Warren in the eye.
The silence settled around them, both waiting for the other to speak.
‘From what they tell me I was a dead ringer for the real Ray Cole, a bloody double, that’s how all this came about.’
Jimbo was quick picking up on the was. ‘Was – what happened to him?’
‘Cole was being held on some trumped up charge in Belmarsh. The escape, my so-called escape was all staged for the media. I didn’t take part and the real Cole didn’t know what was going on. Cole was given the shiv, died in Belmarsh, they told me he was topped by some nonce he’d had a run-in with. If you ask me, it was more than likely a put-up job, I reckon they thought it would clear the way for whatever operation they had in mind for me.’
He picked up a pint and wet his dry throat.
‘The idea was for me to go “deep” undercover. It was supposed to be a long operation, maybe months or more. The plan was for me to infiltrate Conway’s operation at ground level and see where it led. We were hoping it would have led further up the chain. It was supposed to be a long haul, but it wasn’t to be, the diamonds came along and my bosses got too greedy. I think they saw it as too good an opportunity to miss.’
‘Would you have nicked Mick?’
‘Eventually.’
‘And me?’
‘Probably.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Things have changed Jimbo, I’m not the same person. Let’s face it, the people who employed me have disowned me – they want me topped.’
Jimbo was silent; he didn’t know how to handle the situation.
‘I’m listening,’ was all he said.
‘There’s not a lot left to say. The tables have been turned against me. I’ve got Conway on my back wanting his gear, the cops have me down as a terrorist and I’ve got a price on my head, which brings us to Staples who wants to blow my fucking brains out.
What happens next has a lot to do with you. The way I see it you can give Conway a call and drop me in the shit or maybe we could call at the nick on the way home and I could hand myself in. I won’t try and stop you either way, it’s your call.’
‘Fucking hell, you really know how to guilt trip a bloke.’
Jimbo was stuck between a rock and a hard place
‘That wasn’t what I was trying to do, just making your options clear. As I said, it’s up to you what happens next.’
‘Fuck this,’ he stood up almost pushing the table over and walked away, Warren was half expecting him to walk out of the door and was surprised when he went to the bar.
Warren remained sitting at the table. Jimbo turned, looked at him and shook his head in disbelief. He’d had an inkling something wasn’t as it should be; now it was confirmed, only worse than he thought. The bloke who he’d trusted with his life and let sleep on his settee – a copper. Jimbo returned and put down two pints on the table.
‘So what’s it to be?’ Warren asked as Jimbo sat down.
‘Fucked if I know, still thinking about it. If I decide not to drop you in it with Mick what’s the next move?’
‘I genuinely do want to try and get Conway his gear back but right now my priority is keeping alive. Staples missed his chance on the Seabird, but the truth would be more like he was only paid for the two executions; he wasn’t going to give them a freebie.’
Jimbo had got over his initial shock. ‘So, what’s our plan?’
‘Our plan?’
‘Yeah well, for now anyway, I can always change my mind.’
Warren relaxed, picked up his drink and sipped, put down the glass and looked Jimbo directly in the eye.
‘The way I see it is this – we have to turn the tables to our advantage and be proactive. If we – I, sit back and do nothing I’ll end up on the slab like the real Cole.’
‘So what you’re telling me is, we’ve got to top this bloke Staples?’
‘In a nutshell, yes.’
‘Any ideas how we gonna do this? ’Cos if he tops you first I won’t get paid and you owe me a fucking fortune already.’
Warren was quick in noticing the “we” and smiled.
‘Jimbo, if I make it out of this mess I’ll make sure you get paid with a hefty bonus. For now, we’ve got to be patient, its watch and wait time. For once we have the advantage,’ he tapped Jimbo’s iPhone. ‘We’ll be ready when the time comes. In the meantime, while we sit here and get pissed why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?’
‘Not much to tell really.’
‘Mick told me about your mam being in that home.’
‘Yeah well, he had no fucking business. Anyway, what should I be calling you now?’ His life so far hadn’t been much to talk about and for now he preferred to keep it to himself.
Warren turned and smiled. ‘Anything you like as long as it doesn’t rhyme with hunt.’
‘Greg Warren, Raymond Cole, Sergeant – think I’ll stick with Ray, at least until this is over.’
Chapter 30
‘Be careful,’ John remarked as the site security people trudged through the building, making the roof access secure. ‘Very resourceful,’ he said, as he stood looking up at the roof hatch.
‘Who’s resourceful?’
‘The young man Warren’s teamed up with.’ He examined the roof hatch lock tumbler. ‘He appears to be quite capable.’
‘Perhaps we should invite him to join us when this fiasco is over?’
John raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. ‘Have you heard anything from Peter?’
‘Not since our meeting.’
‘Chase him up will you?’
Chapter 31
‘We’ve been stuck in this flat since we got back last night,’ Jimbo looked at his watch, 7pm. ‘Nearly eighteen hours! Any chance we can get out for a while?’
‘It’s not worth the risk, won’t be much longer I’m sure of it,’ Warren called into the kitchen where Jimbo was making fried egg on toast.
Warren had had his eyes glued to the iPhone tracking screen, waiting for Staples vehicle to move.
‘Yeah, says you, you said that hours ago.’
‘Never mind the back chat, how’s the egg coming on?’
Warren was in the need of a proper meal, a proper Sunday roast. For days he had existed on fried food and convenience meals.
‘Here you go Sergeant.’ Warren raised his eyebrows at the comment as Jimbo passed his eggs on toast.
‘What did I tell you?’ All good things come to those who wait, looks like we’ll have to put the eggs on hold. Staples is on the move.’
Jimbo picked up the iPhone. ‘Definitely on the move,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of toast, as he watched the tracking dot flashing on the screen.
Warren was already on his feet, tucking the Sig into the back waistband of his trousers.
‘When they do this on telly they never say how uncomfortable it is. Frying pan turned off?’ Warren asked as he put on his jacket and picked up the car keys. ‘Ready?
Jimbo on the other hand slapped the two eggs between the slices of toast and made a sarnie.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Jimbo said, sarnie in hand as he put on his denim jacket.
The Fiesta was parked out of view around the back of the flat. Seatbelts fastened and ignition turned on, the engine purred.
Warren composed himself. ‘D
on’t bloody lose him,’ he said, as Jimbo signalled and moved away from the kerb. ‘Which way?
Jimbo in the passenger seat had eyes on the iPhone screen. ‘Looks like he’s heading east through the town centre.’
‘Right then, here we go.’ He slipped the car into gear and moved away, turned left heading for the Clive Sullivan Way into the city.
With the aid of the tracker there was no fear of being caught out, they could tail Staples’s BMW from a discreet distance. They watched the BMW travel through the town centre and onto Hedon Road.
‘That’s where we’ll most likely end up,’ Jimbo said as they passed HMP Hull heading towards the Holderness coast. Once past the prison it wasn’t long before they could see the illuminated skyline above the petrochemical plant at Saltend.
‘Where do you think he’s heading?’ asked Warren.
‘Fucked if I know.’ Jimbo had his eyes glued to the satnav. ‘There’s sod all out this way.’ Staples was being careful, sticking to the speed limit. ‘He’s turning off towards Paull.’ Paull was a small village on the River Humber, just outside the city. Its history dated back to the Domesday Book. The stagnating village had recently received good economic news, it had been selected to be the home of the new Siemens Wind Turbine manufacturing factory, but it was short lived, they backed out of the deal. ‘Still moving,’ he said, as they turned right, passing the petrochemical plant. ‘He’s in the village now. He’s stopped, I reckon it could be the pub car park.’
Warren pulled into a secluded gateway on the edge of the village. ‘Think we’d better go on foot. Be glad to stand up, the bloody Sig has worn a hole in my back.’ They climbed out of the vehicle and Warren zipped up his jacket, which offered little protection from the Humber wind. ‘You know the village?’
‘Not real well, been a few times to the boozer. There’s only one pub, the Humber Tavern, on the main street at the far end of the village. They do a good steak on a Thursday night.’
‘I’ll treat you to one when this is all over.’
‘If we’re still in one piece to enjoy it,’ Jimbo had to add.
‘Forever the pessimist aren’t you?’
‘You do have a plan?’ asked Jimbo.
‘Come on, what do you think?’
‘Didn’t think so.’ He pulled the collar of his coat tight. ‘Bloody cold.’
Both men were quiet with their own thoughts as they walked through the narrow main street. Warren thought it strange, Staples wasn’t a native of the area, what the hell was he doing visiting ‘sleepy hollow’ on a dark winter evening? There was only one conclusion he could come up with.
Up to no good.
The village was quiet and dark with very few streetlights. Jimbo stopped them short of the pub.
‘The car park is straight ahead next to the pub, the far end is open to a picnic area. But if we nip down here,’ he pointed to an alleyway by the side of the Humber Tavern, ‘we end up on the riverside path and come out with a bit of cover, close to the pub car park.’
The wind blew straight off the river and whistled down the alley, it was even stronger as they left the shelter of the high walls onto the river front. The sky was clear, offering a sparkling vista of Barton on the other side of the Humber. The navigation lights of a coaster passing down river made the scene look serene, shame we can’t enjoy the night, Warren thought to himself as they made contact with the cinder path of the river front.
Slowly and as quietly as the cinder path allowed, they neared the parking area. A low brick wall ran along the front of the car park separating it from the path, so far so good, there were very few overhead lights. Crouching down they slowly made their way along the path, Warren raised his head above the wall and risked a look. The BMW was parked at the far end beneath the skeleton limbs of the poplar trees. Next to the BMW was parked a dark coloured 4x4, a Range Rover. Even in the dark Warren recognised it.
‘Well that is a piece of luck,’ Warren turned to face Jimbo, ‘all our eggs in one basket, John, Bob and Staples.’
‘Time to put that plan of yours into operation,’ Jimbo said sarcastically in a low voice.
Warren looked at his young partner in crime and shook his head, then removed the Sig from his concealed holster, checked it, slid the breach and took a deep breath.
‘Yeah, but this isn’t quite what I was expecting.’
‘What were you expecting?’
‘No idea, but now I have a chance to take care of Staples, and maybe get Conway’s rocks at the same time. You sure you’re up for this? You can hang back, no probs.’
‘Are you sure? I mean once you pull that trigger there’s no going back…’
‘If there was another way I’d take it,’ he kept his eyes on the BMW as he spoke, not letting Jimbo see the trepidation in his face.
‘Come on Ray you’re not a killer…’ Jimbo protested, not that he himself was afraid, which he was, but because it took a certain kind of person to kill another in cold blood and he wasn’t sure if Warren was that kind of a person. ‘Just think about it for a minute, it’s not just Staples is it? There’s three of ’em. And another thing have you actually fired that thing and I don’t mean on some safe firing range?’
Warren was thinking on his feet.
‘Now that is a question. Put it this way mate, there’s always a first time for everything, right? Before you ask, yeah I’m nervous, but if I don’t do this he will.’ Warren swapped the Sig from hand to hand as he wiped his sweaty palms down his trousers.
‘So what’s the plan now?’
‘We’ll approach from the tree line, you keep behind me until Staples is taken care of.’
‘Then?’
‘If I don’t get the answer I want, we do the unexpected.’
‘And that is?’
‘We take Bob hostage and hold him until John sees sense.’
‘Fucking hell Ray, now we’re going into kidnapping! Well I’m not having him in my bleedin’ flat.’
Warren turned to face Jimbo. ‘Has Conway a lock-up, somewhere we can take him?’
‘He’s got a few, but the small unit on the Dairycoates Industrial Estate sounds favourite, we use it for storing booze.’
‘Why does it sound favourite?’
‘Cos I’ve got the keys!’
‘Nice, so here’s the plan, I shove the Sig in John’s face and give you the nod. You grab Bob, shove him in the boot of the BMW, we go back get the Fiesta and I follow you to the lock-up. You alright with this?’ Jimbo nodded.
‘Ok, let’s go.’ The lad was actually scared stiff. He’d done some serious things for Conway, but nothing as heavy as this.
Warren tucked the Sig back into his waistband, dropped down to his knees and began to ‘commando’ crawl beside the low brick wall.
‘Ouch! For fuck’s sake!’ he heard Jimbo swearing under his breath as the sharp cinders of the path dug into the flesh of his hands.
Fifty metres further on, the path disappeared, creating a ditch-like hole, three feet deep. They were committed; there was no other approach. Warren eased himself over the edge where the path should have been and found himself knee deep in Humber mud. Jimbo continued his blaspheming as he joined Warren in the hole. Side by side they scrabbled up the opposite bank, wasn’t as easy as the drop down had been.
Covered from head to toe in mud they lay side by side in the shadows, no words were spoken as they lay still until their breathing was back to normal. Once again composed, Warren looked to Jimbo and nodded, it was time. He eased himself to his knees and in a low crouched run he headed for the cover of the far tree line. He could hear Jimbo close behind.
Although the car park was devoid of lighting, thanks to a crescent moon they had a clear view of the Range Rover. John and Bob sat in the front seats, Staples was in the rear, leaning forward in the gap between the front seats. The conversation looked animated, with Staples pointing his index finger – a falling out amongst thieves? Warren reached around his back and removed the Sig, then
reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out the suppressing silencer. Without a sound he attached it to the barrel of the weapon.
‘You sure, Greg?’ Jimbo whispered. He needed reassurance.
‘I’m sure. You sure you’re ready for this? I don’t know what’ll happen when I take Staples out, so if things go tits up and the shit hits the fan, don’t hang about, just leg it.’ He took the safety catch off the Sig.
Warren moved off low, with a firm two-handed grip on the Sig, his arms outstretched. Slowly and carefully he edged forward, Jimbo stayed in the security of the trees. Although he had the advantage of surprise on his side, Warren knew he couldn’t take any chances with a man like Staples, he had to act swiftly and deadly. ‘Shit,’ he said under his breath as he heard something crunch loudly underfoot.
He risked a glance over his shoulder, Jimbo was still in the trees, waiting for the gun to fire, then he’d make his move, one way or another. The lad would have his use once Staples was taken care of, a plan was formulating as he stealthily approached.
So far so good, he’d reached the rear of the Range Rover without being seen surprisingly easily. The voices inside the vehicle seemed agitated; the occupants were deep in discussion. Warren stayed low at the rear of the vehicle, he knew what he was about to do was against all his principles; he also knew he had to carry it out regardless.
He readied himself. Remembering his training, he regulated his breathing, then unseen, slowly rose to his feet taking a wide led stance and with a two-handed grip aimed the Sig through the rear windscreen, and pulled the trigger. From such a close proximity the glass erupted into a million sharp shards as the bullet made contact. The silencer did its job, a quiet phut, followed by another – phut. Like the rear screen, the back of Staples head exploded on contact, the 9mm bullet passed straight through the skull, exiting through the forehead along with brain tissue and bone fragments. The second one hadn’t been needed.
The jolt from the second bullet made Staples’s body jar with shock and fall back into a reclining position on the back seat. Instinctively, John and Bob simultaneously ducked their heads down; they stayed down until they realised someone was opening the driver’s side door. Slowly, they raised their heads to see Warren pointing the Sig at John’s head. Their faces were masks of horror and shock, enhanced with blood and brain tissue.