by Conrad Jones
Another thud came from above them, and this time the screams that followed did not subside. “It’s coming from the attic.” Alec looked for an access hatch in the ceiling.
“It’s in the bathroom, Guv.”
“Get me a ladder in here!” Alec shouted down the stairs. “Tell Smithy to send the other armed units into the attic spaces.” He walked into the bathroom. Two armed officers formed a step with their hands joined between them. Their colleague placed his foot on it and they lifted him toward the hatch. He moved the wooden lid over to one side and grabbed the rafters inside. When the lid moved, the screaming from the attic became unbearably loud. “Wait for the ladder,” Alec ordered. The officer couldn’t hold his torch and pull himself up at the same time. He holstered his gun and reached up.
“Let me use your shoulders,” the officer said. “If I use your shoulders to stand on, I can climb in. I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to that, Guv.”
Alec leaned out of the bathroom and looked down the stairs. “Where is that ladder?” He shouted.
“Coming, Guv!” A voice answered.
Alec wanted the screaming stopped just as much as they did. He turned to stop the officer, but his head and shoulders were already through the hatch, and his colleagues were pushing him up. There was a loud creaking noise from above, which reminded Alec of a tree trunk bending in the wind. A creaking groan joined a whooshing noise. It sounded like a whip before it cracks. “What’s that?” Alec took a deep breath. The officer’s torch fell from his hand and clattered onto the rotten floorboards. His body went limp and his knees buckled. He released his grip on the rafters suddenly and without warning. “Mike?” One of the officers shouted. “What’s wrong Mike?”
His body seemed to fold onto itself like a piece of string dropped vertically onto the floor. The officers grabbed at his legs in an effort to keep him upright. Blood sprayed onto their faces in a torrent. It poured into their eyes and sprayed into their open mouths as they tried to comprehend what was happening. One of them let go of the body in panic. He spat the foreign blood from his mouth and stepped back. He tripped over a raised floorboard and fell onto his rump with a thud. His colleague cried out in pain as an object hit him square in the face. It was heavy and soggy. It bounced off his face and landed on the floor at Alec’s feet. The body crashed down on top of the sprawling police officers, and they kicked it away as if it was chasing them. They pushed themselves back against the wall and pointed their weapons at the hatch above. Nothing came through it except the sound of the boy crying uncontrollably. Alec shined his torch onto the object at his feet and stared at the severed head in disbelief.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Dean
“I cannot believe that you’ve made me leave my kids in intensive care when you could have grabbed the cash yourself, Leon.” Dean sat down opposite his boss. “The cash is in my car, take it, buy your drugs and then shove them up your fat arse!”
His boss looked angry, but Dean was beyond caring. Leon felt in his pocket for his tin. He expertly opened the lid and pinched some of the powder between his fingers. He snorted it and tilted his head back. “Keep your voice down, Deano.” Leon glanced around at the other diners. Their raised voices were attracting attention.
“I won’t keep my voice down.” Dean leaned over the table and glared at Leon. “Listen to me and listen well. I am out.”
Gareth approached the booth with a brown plastic tray in his hands. “What’s up?” He asked, oblivious to why they were arguing. He put the tray down and Leon reached for the Big Mac. Dean swiped at the box with the back of his hand and the messy sandwich exploded from the cardboard. A meat patty covered in sauce slapped a postal worker in the face and then settled on his shoulder. He brushed it off and turned angrily, but when he saw the three huge black men glaring at each other, he decided to say nothing. He picked up his tray of food and moved to another table.
“Fuck off, Gareth,” Dean said without taking his eyes from his boss, “this is between me and Leon.”
“What’s your problem?” Gareth looked offended.
“This fat fuck is my problem.” Dean stabbed a finger toward Leon. “Now do yourself a favour and fuck off!”
Gareth looked at Leon for instructions. “Go and find Monkey.” Leon sat back and smiled. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.” He shrugged his huge shoulders. “I can see you’re stressed out, Deano. Go and be with your kids. Call me and let me know how they are. I’ll send Gar to get the money from your car. We’ll have to get off now, anyway. Remember, we’re going to hit the jackpot today. Don’t throw it all away.”
“I don’t think you heard me, Leon.” Dean was shaking with anger. “I left my missus in bits at the hospital because you said nobody else could get the cash. My kids are lying there with tubes coming out of every fucking orifice while you stuff your fat face with Laurel and Hardy. I am out, Leon. Finished, understand?”
“Don’t push it, Deano,” Leon warned. He kept his voice low. “I’ve always looked after you. I know you’re pissed off. I don’t want Jinx to know that I’m back in town, that’s why I asked you to go and get the cash. He has put a hit out on us.”
“Fucking hell! That’s all I need right now.” Dean laughed sourly. “I told you not to fuck about with Jinx. And what do you mean he put a hit on us?”
“I heard that he put a hit on me, you and Jackson.” Leon leaned forward and whispered. “Jackson has disappeared, so I think he’s toast. I did a bit of digging and came up with the name of a mercenary who has links to a couple of Jinx’s associates.”
“How did Jinx find out that you wanted him whacked?”
“I put some feelers out to see who would back us up when it kicks off.” Leon shrugged. “Someone must have blabbed.”
“I warned you,” Dean sighed. “Jackson is toast, are you sure?”
“Pretty much,” Leon nodded. “Look, I paid this mercenary off, and he guaranteed me that he would take out the hit man. As far as I know, we’re in the clear for now.”
“Brilliant,” Dean laughed. “Fucking brilliant, I am so out of this shit.”
“Do you think Jinx is going to let you walk away?”
“Fuck Jinx, and fuck you, too. I am gone.” Dean stood up and looked toward his car. “Send one of the retards out for the money. I’m going back to the hospital.”
“Leon!” Gareth shouted from the toilet corridor. “Leon, get here now!” He panicked.
“Alright, alright!” Leon frowned at Dean and they walked toward the toilets. “What’s the panic?”
Gareth slid open the disabled toilet and they saw Monkey lying in a pool of blood next to the toilet with his pants around his ankles. “Yes, I see what you mean, Leon,” Dean shook his head. “I think we’re in the clear, too.”
“What’s going on?” The dining area hostess walked by. She peered into the toilet and then screamed. She ran through the door and headed for the counter in a panic. Concerned onlookers walked toward the three men.
“Let’s get out of here now,” Leon growled. “Call the police and an ambulance,” he said to the nearest bystander to detract attention from them. Dean put his head down and headed for the door. Leon and Gareth followed closely behind him. “Whoever shot Monkey can’t be far away,” Leon muttered as they exited the restaurant. A stream of other customers filed out. They didn’t want to be around when the police arrived asking for statements.
The car park was busy, as was the drive thru lane. It was impossible to identify the assassin. “Come and get the money, Leon, before I fuck off with it.” Dean ran to his car.
Leon waddled behind him like a huge black duck. By the time he reached the car, he was sweating and breathless. “You can’t do one now, Deano,” Leon looked around the car park nervously. “You could be next. Look how easily they hit Monkey right under our noses.”
“They shot him under your nose, Leon. Bollocks to it.” Dean opened the boot and thrust the holdall into Leon’s chest. He grabbed it, his top lip
curling up into a snarl. “I’ll take my chances alone, Leon.”
“You are making a big mistake.” Leon walked away. “Nobody walks away from me.”
“Watch me, Leon.” Dean looked at him in the eye. “You’ve got enough problems without me on your case as well. Just leave it.” Dean opened the door and ducked inside. He started the engine and the wheels spinned as he accelerated across the tarmac to the main road. He indicated right and drove in the direction he had come from. Leon raised his middle finger as a final salute, and then stormed off to his Lexus. “He’ll be back with his tail between his legs when he is skint. Just you see if he isn’t,” he grumbled. As he did so, he waved to Gareth. “Get in. We need to get out of here.”
Nate Bradley collected a cheeseburger from the drive thru window, keeping his eye on Leon. There was a commotion going on in the dining area, and he assumed that they had discovered the dead gangster. He followed the Lexus from the car park as it pulled onto the ring road. It headed toward the docks, which were less than five miles away. Jinx Cotton saw Dean heading back toward the hospital, and he waited for Leon to get into his car before pulling into the traffic. The Lexus cut across three lanes erratically and then turned right at a set of traffic lights. He floored the Mercedes to keep Leon in sight and then changed his mind as the lights changed. He pulled a sharp u-turn, taking the Mercedes in the opposite direction to follow Dean Hines.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Jack
Jack crawled along the rafters on his hands and knees. That bitch police officer had caused this mess. He could taste her blood in his mouth. It would have been nice to hurt her some more, but there just hadn’t been time. He needed to get back to his own house without being shot or arrested. That was easier said than done. It was a good job that he was always well prepared. The police had chased him across four continents for decades, but he had avoided capture so far. He could hear them running around, shouting and bawling at each other. They would comb the cellars and the attic space. He was counting on that. There were some nasty surprises lurking in the dark places. Jack had found some wonderful websites, demonstrating how to make lethal booby-traps using flexible carbon fibre poles and cheese-wire. It was amazing what you could find on the internet. If only he could hang around and see how effective they were. He knew what cheese-wire could do to skin and bone because he often used it to hurt his guests. Attaching it to something that could generate force made it more dangerous, and much more fun; after all, that was all that mattered.
Jack heard footsteps approaching, and he dropped his body to the rafters. He slowed his breathing down and waited for the boots to pass overhead. Muffled shouts drifted to him. The heavy boots were above him somewhere. Dust and grit tumbled through the gaps in the boards. They were close, very close indeed, but they wouldn’t find him. Jack had lived in the house for three years and he had spent hours knocking through the cellar walls to explore the empty buildings around his. He had made thousands of pounds cashing the metal piping and copper wiring in to scrap yards. It was also perfect for entertaining his guests when he had the urge. He occasionally kept the odd person in the cellars before transporting them to their buyers, but that was rare. It was whilst exploring the houses one day that he had noticed that the bedroom ceilings on the upper floors were lower than on the other floors. Victorian buildings had high ceilings and were difficult to heat, especially the upper floors. Jack assumed that the council or housing association who had converted coal fires into gas central heating had lowered the ceilings to insulate them. Whatever the reason, the void space had become his refuge.
He waited for the footsteps to fade away before making his way back towards his own house. He didn’t think it would be long before the bomb squad arrived. They were probably there already. He hoped so, because the sooner they arrived, the sooner he could get out of there.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Shankly Way
The scene at Shankly Way was bedlam. Paramedics were carrying the decapitated body of an ARU officer into a waiting ambulance. The two colleagues who had witnessed his gruesome demise were sitting on the pavement, covered in his blood. Their superior officer, DS Eales, squatted next to them, offering support to his officers. Alec watched as two armed units entered the adjoining buildings at the end of the terrace, carrying ladders to access the attics.
“Is the boy still crying, Guv?” Smithy approached. News of the beheading had forced them to evacuate the houses and wait until they deemed them as safe. Bomb squad officers and the heavily armoured Tactical Support Group now backed up the armed units. Identifying potential booby traps was paramount to keeping their officers safe.
“Yes, he was before we evacuated.” Alec pushed his hair from his forehead. Dried blood smeared his fingers. “They’ll get him out of there this time.”
“He must have spent weeks building that stuff in there.” Smithy was in shock. Seeing Kisha’s injuries had rocked him. “I‘ll tell you what I don’t understand, Guv.”
“Go on.” Alec didn’t think there was much to understand, really. Howarth was a psychopath, full stop.
“Why build a fake bomb?” The ginger detective looked baffled.
“Who knows what that bastard is thinking?” It had puzzled Alec too, but the priority was finding Kisha and the boy.
Raised voices inside the end terrace disturbed their conversation. “Paramedic!” An ambulance crew ran to the steps and waited. Alec feared the worst. He wondered if another of Howarth’s traps had injured or maimed an officer. Two ARU officers emerged from the house. Between them, they carried the fragile figure of a child. “We’ve got him, Guv. He’s alive, but I think his legs are broken.”
“Any sign of Howarth?” Smithy shouted.
“No sign of him.”
The paramedics took the boy and placed him on their stretcher. After a quick assessment of his injuries, they applied a foam brace to each limb to restrict their movement. For the third time that day, they watched an ambulance drive through the police cordon. “Did he say anything?” Alec asked.
“No, Guv. He’s in shock.”
“Who is in charge here?” Alec turned to see an officer from the bomb squad approaching. He had that stride military personnel had. He had tucked his camouflage trousers into black boots, which had a mirror finish to their polish.
“That will be me.” Alec walked toward him. “Detective Superintendent Ramsay.”
“I’m Captain Riley, bomb squad.” The captain pointed to the property where the device was. “We have a big problem, Superintendent.”
“Great, what is it?” Alec looked at the grey skies and blew out a deep breath.
“Those drums in number 44 are not full of water.” Riley called over one of his team. “Have you got the info?”
“What do you mean?” Alec asked surprised.
“We’ve inspected it, and the litmus test is telling us that it isn’t water. It is clear and odourless, which is why your men assumed that it was, but it isn’t.”
“Sir,” said the soldier jogging over to them. “A swab test is showing that the drums are full of Chlordane. I think the timer is a decoy. We‘re guessing the real detonator is somewhere inside the drums. Here’s what we’ve got on the stuff. I printed it off in the transporter, Sir.” He handed the captain two sheets of information about the chemical.
“What is that? I’ve never heard of it,” Alec asked.
“It’s a liquid used in insecticide production, and it is highly flammable. I’ve never come across it, but I know it’s been used to make incendiaries before.”
“Can you make it safe?” Alec frowned, and the creases in his face deepened with concern. “We have a dangerous suspect in there somewhere, and we need to find him.”
“Until we find the detonator you will have to call your people out of there and pull them back, Superintendent.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Alec turned to Smithy. It was obvious now why Howarth had built the device. “How far back and for how
long?”
The captain thought for a moment. “According to this data, a tanker load of this stuff went up somewhere in Chechnya, and it flattened everything within a half mile radius. I need your people back a thousand yards at least.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Jinx
Jinx accelerated down the dual carriageway until he was directly behind Dean’s Ford. He flashed his headlights, signalling him to pull over. He could see Dean’s eyes in his mirror looking uncertain. The Ford carried on at the same speed for a few hundred yards before it indicated and turned off the main road onto a Tesco supermarket. Dean drove his car to the front of the store where there were plenty of people milling about before pulling into a parking bay. He took out his mobile phone and jumped out of the Ford. Pointing it at the silver Mercedes, he captured images of the number plate and the driver. “What do you want, Jinx?” Dean shouted at the top of his voice. Passersby looked toward the noise. Dean didn’t think that Jinx was going to shoot him in public, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. “His name is Jinx Cotton. Remember that!” Some people laughed, thinking it was horseplay, but others put their heads down and scurried off.
Jinx smiled and turned his vehicle into the next bay. He lowered the driver’s window. “Funny, Dean!” He shook his head. “Everyone will think you’re a nutcase.”
“Better than everyone thinking I’m a dead nutcase, eh, Jinx?” Dean didn’t share the humour of the situation. “What is this about?”