Dead in the Water

by Matthew Costello

  “It certainly will be – but for now–”

  “We wait?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “For Jack.”

  And she looked at the clock. And waited for her phone to ring.

  Thinking: It has to ring. Because if it doesn’t…

  But she cut that thought off.

  It’s going to work. Has to…

  ***

  Jack looked at his watch.

  Been long enough, he thought.

  Plenty of time.

  Enough time for Ross to hop in his car, drive here. And yet, still no Ross.

  Jack looked up at the sky. Light had nearly faded from the west, especially here, surrounded by the high walls of the quarry. He saw a couple of swallows, dipping and gliding in the near-dark, swooping low, taking insects. But Jack could see no other sign of life.

  The quarry was deadly silent. The soft yellow stone seemed to absorb every sound. The air felt thick and warm, as if maybe a storm was on its way.

  Had he figured this wrong? Did this whole plan depend on Ross behaving exactly the way Jack hoped?

  That could be a danger.

  A plan was just that; but people didn’t always act according to a plan.

  And he and Sarah could be left with nothing but a bag of expensive drugs and three unreliable crooks to finger the real bad guy.

  Not good.

  And as he stood there in the open, he thought about that decision: out in plain sight.

  He could hide behind the van, and then, when – if – Ross arrived to get his drugs… his money… Jack could walk from behind it.

  A real confrontation.

  But Jack guessed Ross might not be too impressed by that.

  No.

  The decision: better to stand out in the open, waiting. Like he had nothing at all to worry about, that he was in charge of their situation.

  He’d put the bag of drugs under the van, just out of sight – but easy to pick up. If things went the way he planned…

  He took a breath.

  Back in the city, he’d had such encounters, trying to “play” someone, get that last little bit of incriminating evidence to break out.

  But in those days – he had backup.

  Lot of cops and other detectives behind him.

  And he had his own gun, holstered to his side.

  Now – no gun, and for back up, Sarah and the well-meaning Alan.

  Maybe that’s why I feel more than a tad nervous, Jack thought.

  He took a breath, telling himself steady.

  Then he heard the rumble of a car in the distance, making its way towards the quarry.

  Ross.

  Had to be.

  Jack took out his phone – the text to Sarah already written – hit send, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  Clenched and unclenched his fingers.

  Ready as he could be.

  As car headlights appeared at the far end of the quarry and swung toward him…

  ***

  The sleek Mercedes with its dark tinted windows pulled up close to the van. The engine kept running.

  Then – nothing happened.

  Ross didn’t get out.

  Jack, standing in the spread of the lights, nodded at the car.

  As if signalling: this is all okay.

  Nothing to worry about here.

  But there would be… if Ross backed up that car, turned it around, and left the quarry.

  Pretending, maybe, he just happened to take a wrong turn.

  But then – the engine was killed.

  The door popped open.

  And Jack watched the bald man, wearing a golf shirt, pricy logo on the pocket; his arms, big, powerful looking.

  A real tough guy, Jack thought.

  As he was about to see how tough.

  ***

  Ross slammed the door, and then just stood there, looking at Jack.

  Hands on his hips, like a pissed-off Napoleon.

  “OK – you want to tell me–” Ross paused, because his next words rose in volume as he bit off each word like a piece of chewy meat, “… who… the hell… are you?”

  Jack figured that a guy like Ross had already worked out that if police were involved they’d be here.

  That this – was something else.

  Jack didn’t move, but kept the smallest of smiles on his face.

  “Mr. Ross, my name is Danny.”

  Jack had layered just enough of a ‘Brooklyn meets the streets’ patois on his accent.

  Don’t want to overdo it, Jack thought.

  Ross nodded. “Danny? And who the hell are you, Danny?”

  Jack kept his smile in place. Jack couldn’t see, but Ross could easily have a gun in his back pocket, some little snub-nosed revolver.

  Small – but if Jack blew this, it would do the job.

  And then – it was time for Jack to see how much Marc Ross wanted his drugs back.

  41. Deal or No Deal

  “Another fifty yards or so,” said Sarah. “There’s a track off to the left.”

  Sarah watched as the headlights of Alan’s police car picked out the turning – hardly a track, more a gap in the stone wall that lined the lane.

  Alan pulled the car onto the grassy edge of the road, then turned in his seat and backed into the gap.

  “Jack’s car,” said Alan.

  Sarah turned. She could see Jack’s Sprite lit up by the police car’s reversing lights. Jack had tucked it out of sight from the road, almost into the bushes.

  Alan killed the lights, turned off the engine and they sat in the darkness.

  Sarah’s eyes began to adjust and she could just make out the lane and the trees in the field beyond.

  “Quarry’s about a quarter of a mile further down the lane,” she said.

  “Yup,” said Alan.

  Sarah listened to the car engine ticking and clicking as it cooled down. She opened the window.

  “Remember when we used to come down here?” said Alan.

  Sarah turned to him.

  “We did?”

  “Sure,” said Alan. “That summer. The old crowd – very last year at school.”

  She nodded.

  So that was the year me and Alan… were nearly an item, she thought.

  Funny how the memory plays tricks.

  Alan had been part of that gang, twenty years ago…

  “So you knew exactly where I meant,” she said. Alan turned to her, nodded. “Long time ago,” said Sarah.

  She waited for Alan to take the conversation further. But he looked away.

  “These days – it’s a good place to catch kids drink-driving. You think they’d know better. Not fun, taking them in, but–”

  “It’s good you do that,” Sarah said.

  She hoped if Chloe ever made a bad decision like that, Alan would be there to stop her.

  She dug out her phone. No more messages.

  Quiet.

  And it had been a while.

  Too long, she thought.

  Alan’s police radio was silent as well. Sarah could hear an owl hooting in the distance.

  “Any news on back-up?” she said.

  “They’ll be coming from Oxford,” said Alan. “I told them to block the top of the lane. And no sirens.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t need them,” said Sarah.

  ***

  “I hear you want your drugs back. Lot of lost income, hmm?”

  Jack saw Ross look over to the van.

  “Where’s my guys?”

  “They went off. Said they forgot something.”

  “Useless sods.”

  Then back to Jack.

  “The drugs? Yeah. You got them, Danny? Cause if you do, let me tell you–”

  Jack raised a hand, and now, as he had planned, he took steps and closed the distance between him and the barrel-chested man.

  “Now Mr. Ross, let me tell you. You see, I represent a group of people who, well, like to control such things.
We’ve been watching your work here, and elsewhere. Very interesting. But I’m afraid my friends don’t like it.”

  “Well, your friends can go–”

  Jack reminded himself to take care here.

  That gun. In a back pocket. Could come out.

  “I don’t think you want to tell my friends anything, Mr. Ross. Trust me on that one. See, with big operations in the states, and here, and in all those lovely collapsing countries in Europe, they’ve kinda gotten used to calling the shots.” Jack paused.

  Jack guessed Ross was doing all sorts of calculations in his head. Who is this guy? Who does he work for? And what the hell is going on?

  Ross licked his lips.

  Ah, a swab of concern when you don’t know what sort of beast you are facing.

  “But I got good news for you, Mr. Ross. You can have your drugs. Got them. All of them. Ready to hand over to you.”

  Ross nodded. He liked this sound of that. But also… waiting for the rest of the deal.

  “And all my friends want in return is well, just a little piece of it all.”

  “I don’t give–”

  Jack shook his head. “I thought I explained. My friends? They don’t like to hear words like that. I’d highly recommend,” Jack pointed to his head, “you think before speaking.”

  Another lick of the bald man’s lips.

  “Your business goes on, just as before, see. No worries. You even get to keep using the three stooges, though you may want to think on recruiting some more talented employees.”

  Ross looked at Jack.

  Then: “How big a piece?”

  And Jack took another step, and put a hand around Ross’s shoulder.

  “There we go. Not sure yet, but trust me, a figure you will be able to well afford.”

  Ross nodded, not liking the arm, the scene, the deal – and probably wanting to get the hell out of there.

  “Okay,” he said. His voice hoarse now.

  Jack gave the man’s shoulder a good squeeze.

  Perhaps more of a squeeze than was called for.

  And that was just fine, Jack thought.

  “So – now I will give you your drugs. You can get out of here. And we’ll let you know when we need to talk about the arrangement.”

  Ross nodded, as Jack released him.

  Jack walked over to the van, and grabbed the bag of drugs from under the wheel, bringing it to Ross.

  Representing tens of thousands of pounds Ross just recovered.

  “There you go, Mr. Ross.”

  Ross looked at the bag as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

  Then he tossed the drugs into the back of the Mercedes, got into the car, backed up, turned around, and drove slowly out of the quarry.

  ***

  Sarah’s phone pinged and she looked down at the message from Jack: In the back seat. All yours…

  At the same time, she heard the sound of a car coming from the quarry.

  She showed Alan the message.

  “We on?” said Alan.

  “Yep.”

  “You’d better hop out.”

  “You think?”

  “If he decides to ram us – it’ll be that side of the car gets hit, Sarah. So, personally – I think I’d recommend it.”

  Sarah smiled, then opened the door of the police car and climbed out. She could hear the distant car’s engine getting louder, echoing in the walls of the quarry, though she couldn’t see its lights yet.

  “I do have another suggestion,” said Alan.

  “Go on.”

  “I know you want to talk to this guy.”

  “You bet I do.”

  “But here’s the thing, Sarah. If you’re right about all this…”

  “We are.”

  “I know. But look – if you stay out of this now, we can wrap up the whole thing without you and Jack ever having to stand in court, go public, make statements.”

  “Really? You’ll have enough?”

  “Drugs in hand? I’m sure.”

  She saw a flicker of light brush across the trees. Ross’s car was on its way, headlights blazing.

  She thought about Alan’s suggestion. And knew that the last thing Jack wanted would be to be stuck in England, hanging around the edges of a trial, giving evidence.

  Answering awkward questions about those drugs.

  “Okay,” she said. “You convinced me. I’m not here.”

  And she stepped back into the shadows by Jack’s Sprite, where she could watch – and listen – without being seen.

  As the Mercedes got closer and the lights now lit up the lane and the stone walls, she heard it pick up speed. Ross, she guessed, happy to be heading home after a good day’s work, deal done, looking forward to winding down.

  Then Alan started his engine, hit the blue lights – the sudden light startling and bright in the darkness – gave the siren a single burst, and then pulled out across the lane, completely blocking the Mercedes in.

  Sarah watched the big limo come to a hard stop, its engine still running, the windows dark.

  Even if Ross had wanted to drive round the obstacle, the lane was just too narrow.

  Alan grabbed a big torch, climbed out of the police car, walked slowly round it, tapped on the Mercedes’s driver window, and waited.

  Brave guy, thought Sarah.

  Although Alan had back-up, it was still parked half a mile up the road somewhere waiting on his call.

  Pressed tight into the bushes by the side of the road, she watched as at last the window of the Merc slid down.

  “Is there a problem, officer?” said Ross, all charm.

  “Step out of the car, please, sir,” said Alan.

  Sarah saw Ross thinking about this – and realising there was no choice.

  The car door opened and the bald man climbed out.

  “Stand to one side there, please, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Alan, politely.

  Ross followed instructions, and stepped away from the car.

  Sarah watched Alan open the back door of the Mercedes, and point the beam of the torch around the seat.

  Then – surprise, surprise – he reached in, and took out a big plastic bag.

  He pointed the torch into the bag, inspected the contents, then turned to Ross.

  “Is this your bag sir?”

  “Never seen it before in my life,” said Ross.

  Alan nodded.

  Then he spoke quietly into his radio and stood waiting, staring motionlessly at Ross.

  Ross stared back.

  Seconds later, Sarah saw more blue flashing lights up by the main road – and heard the sound of sirens approaching fast.

  She looked at Ross – who was staring at the approaching police cars. He turned and looked at the gap in the wall – seemed to stare right at her.

  Sarah could guess what he was thinking – shall I make a run for it?

  She saw him sigh and turn his head back again. He’d clearly decided not to risk it.

  And he would probably never know that she had been standing here all along watching him from the shadows.

  Never know that she and Jack were responsible for taking him down.

  She watched as he leaned back against the side of his car, and shook his head briefly, muttered to himself.

  After a minute, two police cars – big, fast pursuit cars – pulled up in the lane and Sarah saw two officers climb out from each, head over to join Alan and Ross.

  The officers crowded round them, a buzz of talking and activity, then one of them clicked handcuffs on Ross and led him over to one of the police cars.

  As Ross was being bundled into the back seat, Sarah saw him look up – some instinct making him turn in her direction again.

  As if he knew.

  But a hand pressed down upon his head and he disappeared from view inside the car.

  The door slammed shut, then both cars turned in the narrow lane and sped away, lights still flashing, the blue visible for a good mile as they disappeare
d down the country lanes.

  “Guess we ought to be heading off too,” came Jack’s voice from behind her.

  Sarah turned to see Jack emerging from the field behind the Sprite. He must have walked round from the quarry.

  “One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, Jack.”

  “Your heart’s stronger than anyone I know,” he said.

  “You okay?” said Sarah.

  “You know – I think I am,” said Jack. “And I think – at last – I’m beginning to know what really happened to Josh Owen that night…”

  She nodded at that.

  All of this had not been easy.

  Could they finally have got a much-needed break?

  Then Jack turned, as Alan walked over to join them.

  “What’s up, Alan?” said Jack innocently. “You been making an arrest?”

  “Hi, Jack,” said Alan. “Yep. Tip off from a member of the public, concerned that there might be some kind of criminal activity going on in the quarry. How about that, hmm?”

  “Wow. Sounds bad,” said Jack.

  “Anonymous, I suppose?” said Sarah.

  “Yes, it was, in fact.”

  “And was the tip-off correct?”

  “So it seems,” said Alan, just about keeping a straight face. “We’ve arrested a gentleman who’ll be charged with possession of a substantial amount of Class A drugs.”

  “Excellent,” said Sarah.

  “Shame I missed all the action,” said Jack.

  Then Alan’s radio squawked, and they waited while he spoke into it.

  He turned, and Sarah could see his face was dark.

  “Tim Wilkins.”

  “He’s turned up?” said Sarah.

  “You might say that,” said Alan. “Someone down at Cherringham Bridge just saw Tim Wilkins… and he says he’s going to jump.”

  42. Back to the River

  Jack pulled up just short of Cherringham Bridge, and he and Sarah climbed out of the Sprite.

  Ahead, Jack could see a couple of cars on the bridge, headlights on, doors open – as if they’d been hurriedly abandoned.

  A small knot of people stood between the two cars – facing the parapet.

  And on the parapet, lit by the headlights from the cars, Jack saw Tim Wilkins – standing, swaying, with his back to the crowd, staring down into the void of the river.

  “Alan should be here in a few minutes,” said Sarah.

  “Don’t think we can wait that long,” said Jack.