Stitched

by Taylor, Peter

  ‘Be a good wee boy, Charlie, and go and get it for me.’

  Bridge stood up, sucked in his cheeks, resentment written in his features and body movements. Taking a wide arc to keep away from the shotgun, he crossed the room. Alex followed behind him as he stepped into the hall and pushed a light-switch.

  ‘In there,’ Bridge grunted. He pointed to a small cupboard no more than two feet high under the stair. ‘It’s in a suitcase.’

  ‘So do the honours.’

  Bridge got down, opened the cupboard, reached in as far as his arm would go and hauled out a brown suitcase. He glared up at Alex.

  ‘Open it,’ Alex commanded. ‘But be very careful about it.’

  Still on his knees, Bridge undid the clasps. Alex was thinking that so far this had been easy, perhaps too easy. It proved no idle presentiment. Bridge opened the case, reached in and his hand emerged holding a gun. The barrel started to rise.

  In a reflex action, Alex kicked out, connected with the gangster’s wrist, diverted his aim. He followed that up with a swipe at the gangster’s head with the shotgun barrel, heard him groan as the steel impacted on his jaw. The blow knocked Bridge off balance. He toppled, sprawled on the floor but survival instinct made him hold on to the gun. Without giving him a chance to use it Alex loomed over him and stamped down on his hand. Yelling in pain, he released his grip and Alex kicked the weapon away. Covering Bridge with the shotgun, he bent down, picked it up and slid it into his pocket.

  For a moment the only sound was the two men breathing hard. Bridge was still on the floor, holding his jaw with his undamaged hand. Alex was staring down at him, his nearness to death a moment ago sinking in now. But he wasn’t going to let the gangster know how shaken he was.

  ‘Warned you,’ he said. He hauled the suitcase away from Bridge, noticing the gangster’s jaw was swelling.

  Bridge watched helplessly as Alex opened the suitcase himself. When he saw it was full of money, he gave a low whistle.

  ‘Small change to you,’ he said, glancing at Bridge as he closed the case. ‘But it’ll do for me.’

  Bridge was holding his jaw and looking at his bruised fingers.

  ‘I’ll find out what hole you crawled out of,’ he moaned, spitting a cascade of blood and teeth on to the carpet.

  ‘There’s nae chance of that,’ Alex told him. ‘It’s a far cry to Scotland and I’ll be amongst my own there.’

  The shotgun in one hand, the suitcase in the other, he backed down the hallway to the front door. Bridge just watched from the floor. At the end of the hallway Alex paused and called out to him.

  ‘Stay where you are. Stick your head out and I’ll blow that jaw away altogether.’

  He stepped outside, removed the balaclava, hid the shotgun under his coat and walked briskly down the street. Half-away back, a car passed him, its headlights catching him in their glare. He lowered his head as a precaution but wasn’t unduly worried.

  Eddie saw him coming, drove towards him. He tumbled into the passenger seat, put the shotgun on the floor while Eddie executed a three-point turn and shot off the way he had come.

  When they were well clear Eddie glanced at the suitcase on his friend’s knee.

  ‘Mission accomplished?’

  Still breathing hard, Alex tapped the suitcase. ‘There’s plenty in here for the officer and his family.’

  ‘No trouble in there?’

  ‘Sure there was. Bridge tried it on but I gave him a battering.’

  ‘For God’s sake, you didn’t kill him?’

  ‘You know me better than that.’

  Relieved, Eddie smiled. ‘So when do I call the police?’

  ‘Soon as you can pull in.’

  A moment passed. Eddie said, ‘Did you see a car back there?’

  ‘A car passed me. What about it?’

  ‘You had your balaclava off?’

  ‘Thought it best to take it off in the street.’

  Eddie grimaced, ‘I think it was the blonde woman coming back.’

  Alex thought about it. ‘If it was, she wouldn’t know me and in any case the police will arrest her too.’

  ‘Of course. Just thought I’d mention it.’

  Alex pointed to a parade of shops off to the left where there were two telephone booths.

  ‘Park out of sight and make the call there will you, old son? Then we can go home and relax.’

  Eddie drove past, pulled into a pub car park. He got out and walked back.

  Alone in the car, Alex felt exhausted. Most of the tension had drained away and reaction had set in. When Bridge had pointed the gun back there, he’d thought he was a dead man. But he’d pulled it off, emerged unscathed.

  ‘It’s done and dusted,’ Eddie declared as he climbed back in the car a few minutes later. ‘You look exhausted, though. Stay at my place tonight if you want.’

  ‘Appreciate the offer but I’ll collect my car and drive back. I’d better hide the money out there in the country near my place.’ He paused. ‘Thanks for your help by the way. Gave me confidence having you along.’

  Eddie smiled. ‘Let’s just say it was our last hurrah.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Late that same night, back at the old farmhouse, Alex lay back in his chair, supped his whisky and stared at the wads of money scattered on the coffee table in front of him. It totalled £60,000, an amount which, he had no doubt, would represent no more than pocket money to Bridge. But it could do a great deal for Officer Clark’s family. The problem would be how to pass it over without too much fuss, without the family knowing its source. A gift from a mysterious sympathizer might do it. Right now, at two in the morning, he didn’t want to think too much about the detail.

  He put his head back, listened to the dreamy, late-night music from the radio. He was tuned to a local station, had heard a couple of news bulletins in the last hour but nothing about Bridge being arrested. That didn’t worry him unduly; maybe the police hadn’t released the information, were saving it for a press conference in the morning. But he would feel better when he knew Bridge was recaptured and off the streets. That was his last thought as fatigue overcame him and he drifted off to sleep in his chair.

  The ringing in his head irritated him, wouldn’t go away, seemed to be coming from a long way off. He opened his eyes, realized it was the telephone ambushing his sleep. He glanced at his watch; it was half-past two. Who could be calling at this time of night? He could only think of Eddie, maybe checking up on him. Who else at this unearthly hour? Perhaps his old pal had news about Bridge’s arrest.

  ‘Enjoy your evening out, did you, Mac?’

  It wasn’t Eddie’s voice and, still half-asleep, he had difficulty recognizing its owner. A wrong number probably, though there was something familiar.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘What happened to the Scottish accent? Lose it somewhere on the moors, did you?’

  A bitter taste gathered in Alex’s mouth. He hadn’t recognized the voice because it must have been distorted by missing teeth and a swollen jaw. But, with a sinking feeling, he knew it belonged to Bridge, that he must have escaped the police. Like water being dragged down a plughole, he felt himself spiralling back into that black abyss from which he’d struggled to emerge.

  ‘Struck dumb, are you?’

  Alex had to dig deep for composure, managed to squeeze out his words.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Stupid question. But then you’ve been stupid. Have to admit I had a bit of luck, though. My sister came back and got me out of there in the nick of time. Calling the police didn’t work, Alex, so where does that leave you?’

  His desperation growing with every word that emerged from Bridge’s mouth, Alex wondered how the gangster could possibly know it had been he who had robbed him. How the sister had known he was about to be arrested was equally confusing? Alex tried to wriggle.

  ‘I don’t know what—’

  The gangste
r cut him short. ‘Don’t waste your breath. I want my money back.’

  Alex fell silent. Nothing he could say was going to make any difference. For all he knew, Bridge could be just down the road with his henchmen, ready to storm the place. Head on the block, expecting the axe to fall at any minute, he waited tensely. Bridge delivered the blow with his next announcement.

  ‘Remember what I said about your family? What I would do. Well – I did it.’

  Alex’s nerves screamed. He bit hard on his lip. He hardly dared ask the question.

  ‘What have you done? If you’ve—’

  Bridge’s laughter echoed down the phone, mocking him. Thoughts raced through Alex’s mind, each one flaying him with increasing force. He cursed himself for believing he could best the gangster without risking the safety of those dearest to him. Madness must have descended upon him. How would he live with himself if anything had happened to Liz and Ann? He’d surely messed up again. Was there no limit to his ego?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Bridge sneered. ‘I didn’t kill them but only because you’re going to give me my money back in exchange for their lives.’

  ‘If you hurt one hair on their heads, I’ll—’

  ‘Sure you will,’ Bridge interrupted. ‘But getting back to business, you’re going to do exactly what I say. Then you’ll get your darlings back in one piece.’

  Alex forced back his anger. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘It ain’t difficult. You just have to be at the northbound side of the Washington service station midnight tomorrow, with my money. Wait in the car park. Make sure you have your mobile with you because you’ll receive more instructions.’

  Gripping the phone hard, Alex ran it through his head. He would have to do what he was told. Straightforward as the arrangement sounded, knowing Bridge there was sure to be a sting in the tail. He’d hurt the man’s pride, hurt him physically. Bridge’s ego wouldn’t let that go.

  He grunted into the mouthpiece. ‘Midnight tomorrow, Washington services.’

  ‘You’ve got it and this time no police. I’ll know if they’re around and it’ll be your darlings who’ll suffer.’

  ‘There’ll be nowhere in the world for you to hide if you hurt them.’

  ‘So we understand each other?’

  ‘We understand each other. You bring my family. I bring the money.’

  Bridge sighed theatrically. ‘All this trouble. My jaw is hurting and my fingers are throbbing and it’s all for nothing. You might have known you couldn’t beat me. I’ve had you fenced in from the start. That’s how I do things.’

  Alex couldn’t resist asking. ‘How did you know it was me who took the money?’

  Bridge chuckled, ignored the question. ‘What puzzles me is how you knew where I was?’

  Alex mumbled, ‘A lucky break.’

  ‘Not so lucky now, then.’

  Before Alex could say anything, Bridge hung up. Shaking with fear and anger, Alex put his phone on the cradle.

  He didn’t move for an hour, besieged by fears for Liz and Ann, and troubled in his conscience, because his attempts to boost his damaged ego had placed them in danger again. How had Bridge known it was him? It couldn’t have been Jack Grimes. The man had been too frightened, surely, and Bridge had asked how he knew where he was, so Grimes couldn’t have reported his visit. Nobody knew him in the area and the only person who could have seen him, and very briefly at that, was Bridge’s sister in her car headlights. Yet, according to the gangster, she was the one who’d warned him he was about to be arrested. It seemed all to point to her but, against that, she didn’t know him, did she? So how could she have recognized him last night and told her brother it was he who’d stolen his money? In the end he gave up trying to figure it out and hauled himself to bed.

  Later, lying on top of the bedclothes, unable to sleep, he thought about tomorrow’s meeting at the service station. If he was lucky it would be a straightforward exchange. But he didn’t trust Bridge an inch. Regaining his money would hardly satisfy his vindictive streak. Alex decided that, rather than going into the situation blind, he’d have to ask Eddie to go with him to back him up. His friend would have to remain invisible but he would feel safer if he was there, armed and covering him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Here we go again,’ Eddie said, climbing into Alex’s car and placing the shotgun under the seat. ‘This is becoming a habit. Good job I didn’t give the weapon back yet.’

  They were outside Eddie’s flat. He was referring to their trip up the motorway earlier that day to take a look at Washington Services and its environs so they wouldn’t be going into the situation totally blind when Alex met Bridge.

  ‘This time it could get dodgy,’ Alex said. He looked worried. ‘I don’t like dragging you into this, mate, but I feel better you’re with me.’

  ‘We’ll be a match for them,’ Eddie replied. ‘Two old soldiers like us.’

  Alex wished he was that confident. They’d made a rough and ready plan but so much depended on Bridge’s instructions when he rang Alex’s mobile. He wondered if the fact that it was a clear night, the moon almost full, might help.

  Alex drove along minor roads to the Al, then north towards Newcastle. It was an hour off midnight and the road was quiet enough. To be sure they weren’t being followed he took a couple of minor detours off the motorway, then swung back on again.

  Neither man was saying much; each was preparing himself mentally for what lay ahead. Alex forced himself to dismiss negative thoughts centring on his feeling that he was to blame for this mess, responsible for endangering his family and now his friend, because if he dwelled on them he wouldn’t be in a fit state to deal with Bridge.

  A hundred yards before the turn off for the service station Alex pulled off the motorway into a small parking area with a grassy embankment at the side. Eddie picked up the shotgun and opened the passenger door. A couple of cars went past, then there was a break in the traffic.

  ‘I’ll be somewhere near, even if you can’t see me,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Good luck,’ Alex told him, his face set.

  Eddie put his thumb up and got out. Alex watched him scarper up the grassy incline and disappear over the top, before he pulled back on to the road.

  A hundred yards further on he took the slip road which led into the Washington services. He drove past the cafeteria into the spacious car park. There were only a few cars but he parked well clear of them.

  One of the parked cars was Eddie’s, left there on their earlier visit that day. He’d crossed the bridge to the services on the south side of the motorway where Alex had picked him up in his car. The idea was, if Bridge changed the venue Eddie would follow Alex. It was a contingency plan of course, which neither Eddie nor he thought would be necessary. The fact that Bridge had brought them all the way up here seemed to indicate that this would be where the exchange would take place. How that would be done was the big question.

  Alex cut the engine and studied his surroundings once more. The bridge spanning the motorway was glass-sided. Looking up from either car park, it was possible to see anyone crossing. The cafeteria was fifty yards from where he’d parked. Through the well-lit windows he could see the place was empty, except for a few stragglers, looking lonely hunched over their late night meals. Indeed, the place had the feel of a transit camp where lives intersected briefly before journeying again to who knew where. Where would Eddie take up his position? There were plenty of dark corners in the car park to lie up but Alex couldn’t see him, which was how it should be. Suffice, if this business turned nasty, that he was there to help.

  He glanced at his watch. Still twenty minutes to midnight. Was Bridge out there somewhere watching, counting down the minutes like an executioner? Though he didn’t want it to, Alex’s mind drifted back to all the events that had led to this critical moment in his life. His main aim, after he’d left the army, was to do something positive; becoming a doctor had fulfilled that need. Now, his life had gon
e into reverse; he was being forced into violent ways to save his family, the antithesis of the peaceful way he’d hoped to follow. That seemed perverse, no rhyme or reason.

  The phone ringing drove away the mood, the encircling demons brought him back to the present with a jolt. He put it to his ear.

  ‘Is that you, Bridge?’

  ‘You were expecting someone else were you, Alex?’

  ‘No! Right now you’ve got my full attention.’

  ‘Good to hear I’ve got my teeth into you.’

  Alex sighed. ‘I’m where I should be. Where are you?’

  ‘Not your concern. All you have to do is follow instructions to the letter and then we might all get away to our beds. You’ve got my money I presume?’

  ‘Yes, so let’s get on with it.’

  ‘That’s my boy. You see the bridge over the motorway?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Bring the money across in the suitcase. Half-way, put the case down. There won’t be anyone crossing but, if there is, wait till they’re off the bridge and it’s quiet. Then walk back to your end.’

  ‘Just like that,’ Alex sneered. ‘Afraid not. My wife and daughter need to be in the equation.’

  ‘Coming to that,’ Bridge said. ‘Soon as you put the money down they’ll be sent on to the walkway. You’ll see them at the opposite side. Head back the way you came and they’ll follow. Stay at your end with them until one of my men comes to pick the suitcase up and check it out. He’ll put his thumb up and then you’re free to go.’

  Alex was quiet while he considered it. Superficially, it seemed to make sense. The obvious rationale, or the one he was meant to assume, was that once the exchange was made both parties would be separated by the motorway and could go their own ways unmolested. In his heart, he doubted Bridge would play it straight but figured he didn’t have much choice other than to go along with it.

  ‘OK.’ Alex swallowed hard. That little word sounded so harmless but in saying it he risked everything dear to him.

  ‘You really don’t have much choice in the matter. So get started, and this time no games you can’t win.’