The Blood Red Line (A Warren & Jimbo novel)

by Alfie Robins

  ‘Don’t suppose you know anything about the bullets they took out of him?’

  ‘Not a clue, way above my level of expertise,’ she said, jotting down notes on Dooley’s chart.

  ‘His belongings?’ asked Warren.

  ‘His wife asked for them. I told her we had to keep them for the police to examine.’ She went over to the bedside locker and retrieved a green polythene bag with the NHS logo all over it and passed it across. ‘That’s everything.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He checked his watch, looked toward Trish and then back to the nurse. ‘Don’t suppose there would be any chance of us seeing another patient, in the Children’s section?’

  ‘Look out the window,’ she said.

  Warren crossed the room, lifted the blind and looked outside. ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Flying pigs,’ she relied humorously.

  ‘Point taken,’ he dropped the blind back in place. Although he’d checked the time two minutes ago subconsciously Warren checked his watch again. ‘It’s getting late, we’ll give the wife a visit first thing in the morning and then come back and see if we can have a word with the lad.’ Warren thanked the nurse once more and left her tending Dooley. Back in the corridor, Mrs Dooley still sat in the same position, head in her hands clutching a paper tissue. ‘Do you know what he does to earn a crust?’ he asked Trish.

  She referred to her notes. ‘Self-employed, some kind of engineer.’

  ‘Interesting.’ The word engineer triggered Warren’s thoughts. ‘Don’t suppose you got the address for his workshop?’

  ‘Funnily enough the word engineer struck a chord with me, so I asked the question. It’s a lock-up garage, five minutes walk from his home,’ she scribbled the address down and passed it over. ‘According to Mrs Dooley, he does anything and everything mechanical that people want fixing.’

  ‘Fancy taking a look?’ he asked.

  ‘We can hardly ask his missus for the keys, can we? Look at the state she’s in,’ she said nodding over her shoulder.

  Warren gave her a quick glance. ‘Maybe not, but I know a man who can open it up for us,’ he took out his mobile and dialled.

  Trish shook her head as she listened to the short telephone conversation.

  ‘Right, Jimbo, what you up to, mate?’ Warren asked when the call was answered.

  ‘Watching telly, why?’

  ‘We could do with your expertise.’

  ‘This is more like it, the ‘A Team’ on the case.’

  Warren had to smile at the comment, he could sense Jimbo’s excitement. He gave him the address and added. ‘Don’t forget your lock picks.’

  ‘Lock picks?’ said Trish, ‘I don’t think I should be involved in this - no, I’m positive …’

  ‘C’mon Trish, this is what it’s all about, live a little.’

  ‘Breaking and entering?’ Warren was half way down the corridor before she finished the sentence. ‘Hang on, wait for me.’ She was up for it, Warren knew she would be, just needed a little encouragement.

  Jimbo was already at the location when they arrived. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here Trish?’

  ‘I didn’t expect to be here, but someone’s got to keep you two in check.’

  The garage block housed sixteen prefabricated adjoined garages arranged in a courtyard style with only one entrance and exit.

  ‘Which one?’ asked Jimbo, taking the picks from his pocket.

  ‘This one,’ said Warren as he walked across the block and placed his hand on the door. Jimbo stepped forward, in less than two minutes he was sliding the door open. The smell of machine oil and cooling fluid attacked their senses immediately the door was opened.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mr Boland,’ said Trish, ‘I’m impressed.’

  Jimbo took a faux bow as he stood aside. ‘Easy peasey when you know how, now you should see some of the locks I’ve opened up for Greg here …’

  ‘Enough mate,’ Warren cut him short, ‘save it for another time,’ he said as he stepped in the workshop and fumbled for a light switch. ‘Hell fire,’ said Warren as the room lit up like Blackpool Illuminations. ‘Close the door, mate.’

  Jimbo stepped inside and slid the door shut behind him.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, be careful, don’t touch anything, we don’t want any cross contamination of possible evidence!’

  ‘Trish,’ said Warren, ‘I have done this before,’ and fished a pair of nitrile gloves from his pocket and snapped them over his hands.

  Dooley kept a tidy workshop, it may have been a single lock-up garage but well equipped. There was a small compact high-tec lathe he thought easily capable of firearm conversion, surface grinder, a shiny newish free-standing bench drill and a variety of hand tools. Warren wondered if all the machinery came from his ex-employer, he guessed so, and for rock bottom price at that.

  Jimbo and Trish stood aside as Warren rummaged his way through the equipment looking for anything that may have a significance.

  ‘Jimbo, over here mate,’ said Warren studying the heavy metal filing cabinet tucked away in a corner next to what looked to be a pile of scrap. The top three drawers didn’t warrant being locked, they just contained paperwork, however the large bottom drawer was protected with a heavy security padlock.

  ‘Just make way and let my fingers do the talking,’ Jimbo said, as he made a pretence of flexing his knuckles. Warren stepped back while the Civilian Advisor crouched in front of the cabinet and worked his magic, the lock proved to be a little more difficult, taking Jimbo all of three minutes. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Don’t know what I’d do without you,’ said Warren as he put a gloved hand in the drawer. ‘What have we here,’ he said producing an Eastern European pistol, checking it was safe before showing his colleagues. ‘There’s another four in here beside this one.’ Warren never mentioned the brand-new, Walther PPQ, 9mm automatic. Unseen, he slipped the Walther into his jacket pocket, along with the silencing suppressor and box of ammo. He had a feeling a little further down the line it might come in useful. It wasn’t as if Dooley would report it missing to the police.

  ‘So, we can assume it was the opposition that tried to knock him off?’ Trish said as she moved in closer for a look.

  ‘That would be my guess. During my meeting with Powers he agreed it was bad for business all round and already had it in hand.’

  ‘Do you think it was Dooley who’s responsible for the exploding pistols?’

  ‘Dooley, very likely, but if you’re asking are these dodgy, I’m not qualified to answer, but I’m sure we have some expert or another who can. Okay, I’ll put this back, and in the morning, it can be done all over again with a search warrant.’

  The weapon was returned to the drawer with the others and the cabinet duly locked. ‘Everything as we found it?’ They both nodded in response. ‘Okay Jimbo, sort the locks.’ Jimbo only took a matter of seconds to relock the cabinet. Warren took one last look around and turned off the lights. Once outside, Jimbo closed the exterior door and secured the lock. To all intents no one had ever been in the place.

  ‘Now we’re aware of the firearms, best get uniform to keep an eye on the place, just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Couldn’t agree more, Trish.’

  ‘Do you need a lift home?’ Jimbo asked.

  ‘You can drop me at the Infirmary to collect my car if that’s okay,’ Trish replied, as she fastened her jacket.

  ‘No probs.’

  ‘Right then, I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘That you will, goodnight.’

  Warren settled himself into the low seat of his motor, dropped his mobile onto the passenger seat and was just about to buckle up the seatbelt when his phone sang out. He picked it up and pressed the accept key without checking the caller ID

  ‘Yep,’ he said into the receiver, he was surprised, it was Powers.

  ‘That you, Cole?’ Powers was the last person he was expecting to call at that hour of the night.

  ‘Good of you t
o call, Mr Powers, I take it you want to talk business?’ Warren spoke confidently as if it was a done deal.

  ‘Talk yes, we’ll discuss the other when we meet.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  As they were speaking a second call came through on Powers phone, he checked the caller as he spoke. ‘Very soon, I have an important call on hold. I’ll give you a bell later in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ The call ended and Warren dropped the phone back on the passenger seat. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said to himself as he drove away from the workshop. Progress was being made.

  Powers still had his mobile in his hand when it rang. ‘Speak,’ he said immediately. It was Mouse.

  ‘Don’t like having to tell you this boss…’

  ‘Spit it out, Mouse.’

  Mouse wanted to correct Powers, he knew he wanted to be called Seb, but held his tongue. ‘Boss, he’s still alive.’

  Silence followed, Powers wanted to blow his top but managed to keep things civilised. ‘Alive, what do you mean he’s still alive? You and that dead-headed friend of yours were paid to make sure he was finished, how the hell is he still alive, how many shots did you put into him?’

  ‘Two, right in his chest, he went down like a bag of shit.’

  ‘Did he see you?’

  ‘No boss.’

  ‘Can the pistol be traced back to us?’

  No, I made sure of that, if anything does come of it, it won’t lead back to us.’

  ‘Well that’s one good thing. Listen, what’s done is done, but let’s not take any chances. I want you to find out all you can, and if you can finish the job I’ll give you a bonus.’

  ‘It’s as good as done, Mr Powers.’

  ‘One proviso, no tossers, you do the job yourself, right?’

  ‘Right, I’ll be in touch…’ Powers ended the call before Mouse could go any further.

  ‘Fucking imbeciles,’ Powers said, as he dropped his mobile to the floor. ‘Fucking imbeciles.’

  Chapter 16

  ‘Have you had any dealings with this Robert Dooley,’ Trish asked Jimbo, who sat dunking his herbal tea bag up and down in his mug.

  ‘Nope, not until you told me, died has he?’

  ‘No, he was bloody lucky, he’s still in a bad way but they said he’ll pull through.’

  Jimbo dropped the teabag in the bin. ‘Any idea who the shooter was?’

  ‘You know as much as I do.’

  ‘Two hits in less than a week, that’s high by any standard never mind in Hull.’

  The office door opened. ‘What are you two chin wagging about?’ Warren asked as he set down a tray with three hot drinks on it.

  ‘Dooley. One of those for me?’ Trish asked.

  ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘Got one thanks,’ Jimbo said as he held up his mug.

  ‘What about Dooley, any developments?’ questioned Warren.

  ‘Nothing to tell barring he’s come around, but still in intensive care.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll have our drinks and then see if we can have a word with him.’

  ‘Might be an idea to hear what Joey has to say first,’ suggested Trish.

  ‘Jane, the nurse in charge said she would give us a call when he could talk to us.’

  ‘What about Dooley’s lock-up?’

  ‘I’ve given uniform the nod and the CSIs, we know what they’re going to find, so no rush there. What have you got planned, Jimbo?’

  Before Jimbo had a chance to respond there was a brief knock on the door and a smart looking bloke walked in. ‘You want something?’ Warren said to the newcomer he didn’t recognise.

  The stranger was taken aback by the abrupt greeting. He was a good six feet, two inches tall, short cropped blonde hair, built like a brick shit house, wearing jeans, Chelsea boots and a casual jacket over his collarless granddad shirt. ‘PC Philips,’ he said as he walked toward Warren with an outstretched hand.

  At that moment, Trish turned around. ‘Bernie, prompt as usual.’

  ‘Ah, I get it, this is Elvis,’ Warren said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Wrong,’ said Trish.

  ‘Nothing mate, my mistake, no quiff.’ Philips looked puzzled.

  Warren accepted the hand and shook. ‘DS Warren - Greg, good to meet you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him, Bernie, he might be a DS but he’s as daft as a brush.’

  Warren shot her a look. ‘Thank you for that, DC James, keep your opinions to yourself. Now, Bernie tell me, have you done a stint in CID before?’

  ‘Yes, Sarge, three months on secondment when they were shorthanded at the Hessle station.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Did you enjoy it? They sling you out on your arse? How did you find it?’ Warren asked, genuinely interested, he needed to be sure now not a couple of months down the road.

  Bernie was put on the defensive by Warren’s questions. ‘First off, Sarge, no I didn’t get turfed out - as far as I know they were pleased with my work. The secondment came to an end, and if you can call long hours and challenging work enjoyable, then yes I did enjoy my time in CID.’

  ‘Bernie, pull up a chair,’ Warren told him. ‘What do you know about us?’

  ‘Only what Trish said, a new sort of independent team.’

  ‘Well that’s one way to describe us I suppose.’

  Before Warren had a chance to elaborate further, there was another knock at the door and a tall slim casually dressed chap walked in. This one did have a quiff.

  He nodded to Trish and smiled. ‘Trish’. She responded by inclining her head towards Warren. ‘DS Warren,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘DC Edward Dixon …’

  ‘Don’t tell me, Elvis?’

  ‘Uh huh,’ he replied jokingly to everyone’s amusement.

  ‘Good to meet you, first off a couple of questions, how long have you been a DC and what’s your current role?’

  ‘Right, straight to the point, I’ve been a DC for nearly two years now and been working with the Neighbourhood Community Team for the past three months.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I’m ready for a change, Trish told me a bit about your team and it sounded right up my street.’

  ‘Glad to hear it, park your arse over there.’ DC Dixon sat at the DIs desk. ‘Okay, first off we do need a new team member - maybe two, so, this is - what shall we say a trial period to see how we all get along? Are you both okay with that? If not this is the time to say so.’ No response. ‘I’ll take it that you agree?’ They both nodded.

  Warren carried on. ‘The guy who was previously running the team was DI Bill Grimes, unfortunately Bill suffered a stroke, there’s no telling when or if he’ll be coming back to work. Although a lowly DS, I’ve been put in charge. Now, what we’re all about is undercover, well, not strictly undercover work but if the job warrants it, we’ll do it. You might be involved in what shall I say, things that are a little unorthodox, working outside of normal police procedures. Is that something you’re prepared to do?’

  Elvis smiled his acceptance.

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ Bernie said, with a slight trepidation in his voice.

  ‘What’s said in this office goes no further, it stays within the team, right?’

  ‘This could suit me down to the ground,’ Elvis replied.

  ‘Good, I hoped you’d say that. Okay, interview over, welcome to the team. I’ll give both your bosses a call and get it sorted.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What can I say? You both came highly recommended,’ Warren looked toward Trish and smiled, then offered his hand to each in turn.

  ‘So, when do we start with the team?’ asked Elvis.

  ‘You just have. Bernie.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Oh, and that fella over there is the fifth team member, our Civilian Advisor, James Boland.’

  ‘Jimbo, everybody calls me Jimbo,’ Boland corrected, as he stood up and s
hook hands.

  ‘Don’t let appearances put you off,’ Trish added, ‘he doesn’t usually dress like a dosser.’

  ‘I’m doing a bit of undercover work,’ Jimbo said proudly, touching the side of his nose and winking as if it was a secret gesture.

  ‘One more thing,’ said Warren, ‘is it Edward, Eddie or Elvis?’

  ‘Whatever you want, you’re the boss.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Warren replied with a smile, attempting an Elvis impression.

  ‘Trish, will you bring Bernie and Elvis up to date on where we’re at?’ said Warren, as he shuffled a pile of files around his desk for no particular reason.

  ‘For now, you’ll have to share the DI’s desk, until we get a bit more organised,’ Trish nodded towards the desk where Elvis had already established himself. Then her desk phone rang out. ‘DC James,’ she said into the receiver.

  ‘Hi, it’s Jane, the Charge Nurse at the HRI, you wanted to know when Joey Smale could talk?’

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Pretty good, for a lad with half an arm. He’s still a bit drowsy but I think he’s up to a few questions now.’

  ‘Great, Jane, thanks, we’ll see you shortly.’ The DC turned toward Warren. ‘You get the gist of that? Seems we can have a word with Joey.’

  ‘No time like the present.’ Files shuffled and restacked in no particular order, Warren stood, put on his jacket and picked up his mobile. ‘You ready?’

  Trish already beat him to it, jacket on and bag over her shoulder. ‘Ready when you are.’

  Sitting on the edge of his seat, Bernie asked. ‘What about us, what do you need us to do?’

  ‘For now, not a lot, get acquainted with Jimbo here,’ he turned to Jimbo. ‘Jimbo’s not a copper, but he is an important part of the team and I’m sure he will do his best to try to fill any gaps you’re not sure about. You okay with that, Jimbo?’

  Jimbo had a proud look on his face. ‘I’m in charge?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Warren replied, immediately regretting the words.

  ‘Great.’

  ‘You’ll regret telling him that,’ Trish said as they headed out of the door.

  Warren laughed. ‘I already have.’

  The hospital car park was a damn sight busier than it had been the previous evening. Warren gave up looking for a space and manoeuvred the pool car into the taxi parking area. ‘I don’t know why the hell they can’t put up a multi-storey, it’s not rocket science.’