The Blood Red Line

by Alfie Robins

  ‘So, Bernie, what have you got that’s so interesting?’

  Philips edged forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table as he moved closer.

  ‘I’ve been assigned to a new team …’

  ‘What do you want? Congratulations?’ Powers asked sarcastically.

  ‘Hear me out, you heard about Scabies getting his hand blown off, and that young lad in hospital.’ Now he had Powers attention. ‘I’ve been assigned to the team looking into it.’

  ‘Have you now,’ Powers picked up his glass and sipped at the single malt, ‘tell me more.’

  ‘The team’s been headed up by a DS, goes by the name of Greg Warren.’

  ‘Never heard of him, carry on.’

  ‘Not much more to say really, just thought you’d better know, cos, from what I can make out they’re going hell for leather to find out where these dodgy pistols are coming from.’

  ‘Explain?’

  ‘It seems they’re looking in to arms suppliers in the Hull area.’

  ‘So, what’s this got to do with me?’

  ‘Someone I think you know was pulled in. I was in on the interview.’

  ‘Who would that be?’

  ‘Sebastian London.’

  ‘Not one of my lads, never heard of him,’ denied Powers.

  ‘What’s more your name has been mentioned, more than once.’

  ‘It has, has it?’

  Philips looked like the cat who got the cream.

  ‘And there’s more. Pat Conway, did you know he has a daughter?’

  ‘So, he has a daughter. Look Bernie, where’s all this leading?’ For once it looked like he had the upper hand. Powers again picked up his drink and sipped.

  ‘I have it on good authority his daughter has gone missing, well not really missing, just gone to ground.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Reading between the lines, Conway is just about pulling his hair out.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘One of my colleagues is interested in finding her.’

  ‘Your colleague’s name?’

  ‘Same bloke, DS Warren, but not official, it’s all on the Q.T.’

  ‘Then how do you know about it if it’s all hush, hush?’

  ‘Picked up his phone and took a message from someone in the Met, saying she’d been spotted but gone to ground again.’

  ‘So why does he have an interest in this?’

  ‘No idea, but if it’s all on the quiet, well, there’s something going on, don’t you think? Like, I mean it seems a bit strange to me, a copper and a villain …’

  ‘That scenario seems to ring a bell,’ Powers said, smiling for the first time. ‘‘Why are you bringing this to me?’

  ‘I made some enquiries of my own, seems Conway won’t accept the fact that she could have done a runner, he reckons that she must have been abducted, when all along she’s shacked up with a musician. So, I got to thinking you might find the info useful, even use it as a leverage without having to do anything seriously illegal, just advocate the outcome.’ Philips smiled, and sat back in his chair. ‘That’s about the gist of it. The only thing is we don’t really know how long this will go on for, she might get pissed off and want to see her old man sooner, rather than later.’

  The cogs in Powers head were already ticking over, it could be useful, then again maybe not. He sat back in his chair, took out his wallet and removed two fifty-pound notes and passed them across the table. Philips did a quick skeg around then quickly accepted the money and put it in his pocket.

  ‘Conway’s daughter, you hear anything, anything at all, you get back to me, okay?’

  Philips gave a nod and left the pub, his drink untouched on the table.

  Chapter 21

  It was something Warren had been putting off, but it was time for the inevitable, a face to face meeting with Conway. He was thinking that maybe, he could assure his ‘friend’ there was really nothing untoward going on with Rachell.

  ‘Pat,’ Warren said into the car’s hands free, ‘you at the flat?’

  ‘Yeah, have you found her?’ he asked, his voice agitated.

  ‘I’ve told you, she’s okay.’

  Jimbo sat in the passenger seat, making mouthing gestures with his hands.

  ‘Yeah, according to you.’

  ‘Listen, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Okay if I come around?’

  ‘No, tell me over the phone.’

  ‘Better in person, Pat, I’m not far away, see you in a few minutes,’ he hung the call up.

  Jimbo shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’m going to like this.’

  ‘Oh, give over, it’ll be fine. A very reasonable man is Pat.’

  ‘We are talking about the same bloke, the bloke who let you beat one of his team into a pulp.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he repeated, not believing a word of it. True, he did get along with Conway, but the man could be a right arse when he wanted to.

  ‘Changed my mind,’ said Jimbo. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, you don’t need me tagging along?’

  ‘You’ve got to kiss and make up some time,’ Warren said, as they pulled up at the Argyle Street traffic lights near the Hull Royal Infirmary.

  ‘Maybe, but not this time.’ Not waiting for Warren’s reply, Jimbo opened the car door and stepped out of the stationary vehicle, nearly knocking a bloke off his bike as he did.

  ‘Wanker,’ the wavering cyclist shouted as Jimbo reached the pavement. Jimbo turned and gave both the cyclist and Warren the finger.

  ‘Chicken,’ Warren called out, as the car door slammed shut. He didn’t really blame him, Conway had been the one who looked out for him in the rough times, and during the young man’s life he’d had more than his share, but Warren had been the one responsible for him shifting allegiance.

  Jimbo was only a matter of minutes away from his old mate Lee Etherington’s place and thought he may as well pay him a visit. He was adamant there was no possible way he was going to make amends with Pat Conway, at least not yet. Warren was right, he was chicken.

  Breaking the news that Rachell was shacked up with a musician wasn’t something Warren was looking forward to. It could go either way, he either accepted his little girl was growing up, or, more likely he would blow his fucking top.

  Things hadn’t changed near the Ice House Road flat, same old, same old. He drove into the parking area and duly parked up in front of the high-rise block. He looked around the car’s interior, making sure he hadn’t left anything of value on view as he knew it wouldn’t be there when he came back if he had. He eased himself from the car, locked it, checked again, then walked across the litter strewn concrete.

  As he entered the foyer, a group of wannabes stood blocking the stairwell.

  ‘Well, are you going to shift?’ he asked, making eye contact with the youth he took to be the gang leader.

  ‘You gonna make us?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he took a step closer. ‘Does Mr Conway know you’re making a nuisance of yourselves?’ Warren asked. ‘Because if he doesn’t, he will in a couple of minutes, so move your arses.’ The young guy tried to stand his ground. Warren took another threatening step forward – ‘NOW.’ He moved. The others followed. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Whatever,’ the youth replied and led his small gang out of the building.

  Warren didn’t fancy the lift and took the concrete stairs to the third floor. Took a breath and then hammered on the Conway’s steel plated door. He could sense Conway checking him out through the door viewer. Then the locks turned and bolts slid open.

  ‘So, Rachell …’ Conway started to demand before the door was even fully opened.

  ‘C’mon Pat, give me a chance to get through the door.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he muttered under his breath as he let Warren pass and relocked the door. ‘You’d better have something worthwhile,’ he said as he followed Warren into the living room.

  ‘Not quite that straight forward, m
ate,’ said Warren, dropping down onto the settee.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘What I can tell you is that she’s safe,’ at least Warren hoped to Christ she was. ‘Like my mate in the Smoke said, she’s staying at a flat in Earls Court with a music student.’

  ‘Like hell she is, I want her here, not arsing about with a loser.’

  ‘There’s not much I can do about it, Pat, she’ll get in touch when she’s ready.’

  ‘You got an address? Cos, you need to drag her up here.’

  Warren stood up and put his arms out in protest. ‘Whoa, hold your horses, Pat, I said I’d try and find her and find her I did.’ Warren took a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it over. ‘You’re on your own on this one, I’m not in the abduction business, not any more. Don’t you think I’ve had more than my share of bother with the law?’

  Conway read the address. ‘This is where she is?’ A nod in response. ‘Ray, she’s just a kid, she shouldn’t be arsing about in a city she doesn’t know with a bleedin student.’

  Warren was all set to head for the door, then out of some misguided loyalty he said. ‘Look, Pat, let’s give it a couple of days or so, and if she hasn’t been in touch give me a call. Okay?’

  ‘Don’t have much bleedin choice do I. You want a drink?’ A subdued Conway asked.

  ‘No thanks Pat, I’d better be making a move.’

  Warren felt a twinge of guilt as he left Conway alone with his whiskey. He really did hope Rachell would contact her old man soon - for both their sakes. As for Warren, he had enough on his plate.

  Jimbo walked a little way along Anlaby Road, judged a gap in the traffic and dodged across the road to the sound of blaring car horns.

  ‘How are you doing, matey?’ Jimbo asked his pal as the door to the flat opened. Just like Ice House Road, same old, same old. The place was still damp and smelling of piss and decay. It would eventually change - for the worse.

  ‘I’m not so bad, Jimbo,’ Lee Etherington said just after coughing up a lump of phlegm and swallowing it again.

  Jimbo was no medic, but it was clearly obvious Lee sounded considerably worse since his last visit. ‘You been to see the Quack about that?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, got some antibiotics but they don’t seem to be doing much good.’ Lee dropped into his chair and immediately started to skin up a roach.

  ‘They won’t be doing much good either,’ Jimbo told him, as Lee lit his Jamaican rollie and immediately started to cough his lungs up.

  ‘Anyway, how come you’ve come around so soon, never see you for months, now twice in a week. Reckon it’s not just to ask about my health?’

  ‘Worried about you, mate, no law saying you can’t call on a mate for chat is there?’

  He sat in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Suppose not. You got any weed, not got much left?’

  ‘I have, but not on me, don’t carry since the cops gave me a tug.’

  ‘Just asking.’ Another coughing fit as he took a deep draw on his fag. ‘I heard that a mate of yours gave Mouse a hiding?’

  ‘Yeah well, only got what he was asking for. My mate was looking to do some business, Mouse took the piss out of the wrong bloke that time. He mentioned a bloke named Powers, you reckon he could be the ‘face’ he told you about?’

  ‘Dunno, maybe, like I told you before it could all be a load of crap, you know Mouse - full of shit. There’s a couple of cans in the fridge if you fancy one.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Jimbo went through to the kitchen, opened the fridge door, took out one can of lager. ‘Changed my mind mate,’ he said when he returned to the living room and passed over the can to Lee. Jimbo doubted very much if there were much less bacteria in the wheelie bin than there was in the interior of the refrigerator. Jimbo hesitated and then thought he would chance his hand. ‘So, you hear about the young lad who had his hand blown off, like Scabby Dave?’

  ‘What is it with you and guns, its unhealthy, man’

  ‘Just asking, mean like, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on a shooter, never know when it could come in handy.’ he said, taking out his own tobacco tin and rolling a thin smoke.

  ‘Not my scene, but I heard there’s some gadger in north Hull does a bit of dealing.’

  This was good, heading the way Jimbo wanted without being too obvious. ‘You got a name and number?’

  ‘Na, but leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. Can’t lend me a tenner can you?’ Another one thought Jimbo, he took out his wallet, slipped out a couple of fivers and passed them over. He knew he’d never see the money again. ‘Cheers, pay you back.’ Lee grabbed his chest as the coughing started again.

  ‘Right, I’m off mate. Keep taking the meds,’ he said as he stood up to leave, ‘and try and lay off the fags.’ The door closed. He could hear Lee coughing and retching on the other side.

  Jimbo was glad to be outside in the relatively fresh air, even the fishy odour on the breeze coming from Albert Dock was more welcome than the atmospheric despair emitting from Lee’s flat.

  Lee’s brain might have been drug puddled, but he knew there something different about Jimbo recently. As soon as the coughing fit subsided, he reached for his mobile, scrolled through the contacts and dialled. ‘Mouse …sorry, Seb, I’ve had Jimbo around again …asking a shit load of questions, thought I’d give you the heads up.’

  ‘Cheers mate, thanks for that.’

  Mouse was curious. He wanted some answers of his own, namely who was this guy Ray, and why the sudden interest in shooters, besides he needed to get even and he would, if not with the black guy, Jimbo would make a good substitute.

  Warren closed the open folder in front of him. He had spent the past hour reading up on the illegal firearms trade. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head.

  Jimbo sat head in his hands studying his iPad. ‘Have you checked out the App I put on your phone?’ he asked Warren.

  ‘Not recently, problem?’

  ‘Not so much a problem but Powers seems to make regular visits to a property in Hendon Street.’

  Warren pushed back in his wheeled chair, stood up and stretched. He walked over to Jimbo’s desk.

  ‘See?’ Jimbo tapped the screen with his finger. The flashing blip that representing Power’s BMW, it was stationary. ‘Been there three times in the past two days. Could be worth checking out?’

  ‘On the other hand, it could be completely innocent, maybe visiting his mum?’ Warren replied as he stared at the screen.

  ‘Or there could be something dodgy?’

  Warren gave it some thought, it was quite a possibility. ‘Tell you what mate, why don’t you take some time out of the office and follow it up. But not in your bloody bright red SmartCar, you’ll stand out like - well, a bright red SmartCar. I’ll sort you a pool car.’

  ‘Will it have comms?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Cool,’ Jimbo beamed.

  ‘But the comms are strictly hands-off. I’ll get shot if they know a civilian is driving around in an unmarked police vehicle.’

  ‘Suppose,’ he replied, hiding his disappointment.

  The next morning, Jimbo sat in the driving seat of the pool car, a dark blue Ford Focus, he took out his tobacco tin and rolled himself a skinny smoke, and, going against all laws and regulations he lit up – after all he was undercover, all par for the cause. He opened the car window, blue smoke curled through the gap. He could hardly believe how his life had changed in a few short months. Jimbo, the ex-scally driving around the city in a police vehicle and not cuffed and sat in the back.

  In anticipation of what lay ahead he had been up early, eager to make a start. Sat at the kitchen table nursing a mug of instant coffee he’d watched the tracking screen on his iPad. The BMW was still parked up outside Powers apartment block where it had been since 11.30pm the previous evening. Then the blip moved.

  Now, two hours later with the BMW in view, parke
d outside of a solicitor’s office in the old town, boredom was taking over. After half an hour and two rollups, Powers emerged, climbed in the BMW and pulled away from the kerb.

  Jimbo kept his distance, and discreetly followed the blip on his iPad. Powers crossed the busy Castle Street junction at the traffic lights. The BMW followed the road around and turned onto the A63, heading towards the west, away from the city centre. Jimbo followed. Eventually the BMW turned off at the Liverpool Street junction onto Hessle Road, and over the flyover towards Gypsyville. Jimbo had no need to guess at Powers destination, he was heading for Hendon Street.

  He was proved to be correct. Powers signalled and turned left into Hendon Street, a narrow street comprising of post war housing, some terraced and others semi-detached. Powers pulled into the kerb, Jimbo was close and drove straight past the BMW. At the end of the street he did a turn in the road, facing towards the way he had just come.

  He took out his mobile, went into the contact list and tapped Warren’s number.

  ‘Jimbo, where are you?’

  ‘Keeping tabs on Powers aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes, I know that but where the hell are you?’

  ‘Calm down, Greg, I’ve been on his tail for bloody ages, he eventually found his way to Hendon Street, same place he’s been before, he’s on his mobile. Hang on, he’s getting out, I’ll call you back.’ The line went dead before Warren had a chance to respond.

  ‘Oh bugger,’ Warren dropped his mobile on the desk.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Trish.

  ‘Who bloody knows? Jimbo, he’s only following Powers.’