Death in July

by Michael Joseph

  Sam stared through the net curtain, knowing he couldn't be seen from outside. The man was sat passively in his hatchback, parked about a hundred yards away. He had the sun visor down, trying to be discreet. Sam was beginning to wonder if his mysterious adversary wasn't quite as clever as he thought, leaving himself exposed in the open like this. Why was he taking such a risk?

  'He's panicking.'

  Benjamin looked at Sam as though he were mad.

  'Why is he panicking?' he cried. 'He's spying on us! We're the ones being watched!'

  Sam joined Benjamin in the middle of the room.

  'Yes, he's keeping tabs on us, but that means he's worried about what we'll do. Or more to the point, what I'll do.'

  Benjamin slumped down in the chair.

  'Sam, I haven't got a clue what you're-'

  'He's building up to something, Benjamin. Something is going to happen soon...and he doesn't want us anywhere near the scene.'

  Benjamin groaned. He was totally lost.

  'How do you know all this?' he sighed. 'More importantly, what are we going to do about it?'

  Sam gave him a reassuring smile. Benjamin found the expression quite unnerving given the circumstances.

  'You'll just have to trust me on this one, but I can tell you what we're going to do about it.'

  Benjamin pulled a face. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

  'For starters, Benjamin, you're going away.'

  ***

  'Nice and slow, Benjamin. That's it.'

  Sam gazed through the curtain, watching Benjamin get into his Volvo. He smiled as the car pulled away from the kerb sedately. Benjamin was doing as instructed, going about his business as though he didn't have a care in the world. As he drove off, Sam turned his attention to the hatchback. It remained where it was. Good. Sam hoped Benjamin was now going to stick to the rest of the plan.

  Sam's idea hadn't gone down well. Benjamin was mortified by the thought of leaving Sam to it and driving straight to London. However, Sam had been insistent, explaining he wanted Benjamin out of the way for the next day or two. It was highly probable things were going to get dangerous, and there was no telling how this man might react. Anyway, Benjamin had planned to attend a two day conference in the capital tomorrow. Why not go a day early and get settled in?

  Sam pocketed his gun again, deciding he was keeping it on him for the foreseeable future. He contemplated how to play the man sat outside. Sam didn't want to lose him or alert him in any way, and there was no point trying to confront him again. He would only disappear like a shot. No, the idea was to turn the tables on him and find out his hiding place.

  Sam reverted to his tried and tested method. Make it up as you go along.

  He followed Benjamin's suit and strode to his own car in nonchalant fashion. Driving away, he watched the hatchback pull out in his wake. Sam tapped away on the steering wheel as he drove. A plan was forming in his head.

  Five minutes later, that plan was sinking faster than a holed yacht. Another car, a Bentley with tinted windows, had join the action. Sam was several car lengths ahead of the hatchback, and the Bentley was the same distance further back.

  What the hell was going on? Had the man behind called back-up? Sam wondered if he had got it all wrong. Perhaps the plan was to take him out of the equation. He drove on, discreetly checking his mirrors, noticing the man in the hatchback doing the same. It appeared he was just as mystified by the sudden appearance of this unknown vehicle. The three cars followed each other for another five minutes, going nowhere in particular, driving leisurely around town. Then, the hatchback suddenly turned off. Sam groaned. The man had bailed out.

  The Bentley remained on Sam's tail, undeterred by the sudden exit of the hatchback from the procession. Sam sighed. He wanted to deal with this fresh complication right away. He turned off and drove towards a multi-storey car park. At the barrier, he paid for his ticket and zoomed up the ramp. He kept his foot down going up the next three floors, treating the sharp bends on each level as contours on a racing track. Eventually, he parked up, got out and took cover behind a pillar.

  Then he checked his gun and waited.

  The Bentley appeared a few moments later, travelling at a far more sedate speed. Sam didn't like the fact they were in such little rush. He watched the car come to a halt level with the rear of his Capri, blocking him in. Now he really was left with no alternative. Suddenly, the front doors of the Bentley opened and two men in smart suits got out. They walked over to the Capri to take a closer look.

  This was his chance.

  He was five feet away from them, gun at his side, ready to spring, when he felt cold metal in his own back.

  'Drop the weapon.'

  Sam let the gun fall to the floor. As it reverberated loudly on the concrete, the two men by his car didn't flinch. Sam rolled his eyes. He had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Somebody had got out of the Bentley and made their way up on foot.

  Professional.

  That spelt trouble.

  Sam's hands were pulled behind his back and quickly tied up, then thick tape was crudely wrapped around his eyes. He was frogmarched in the direction of the Bentley and forced into the back seat. He heard people get in the front of the car, and felt two more slide in either side of him in the back. Nobody said a word. The doors slammed shut and they were moving, the car smoothly making its way up the floors of the car park. When it finally halted, Sam guessed they were near the top level. The driver eased the Bentley into a parking space and switched the engine off. For a moment, all was still. Sam awaited his fate in silence.

  'Mr Carlisle, we have a request.'

  The voice came from the front seat. It was educated with no distinguishable accent. Sam remained tight-lipped.

  'We would like to you to stop asking questions.'

  Sam tried to think fast. Talk. Buy time. Find out as much as possible.

  'I don't know what-'

  A gun was pushed into his ribs. The man in the front sighed.

  'Mr Carlisle, we know you. You are not a fool. You either do as we ask, or the choice will be taken out of your hands. No questions. No discussion.'

  'One question,' said Sam.

  Silence. He took that as a sign he could proceed.

  'Why?' he asked.

  'And no answers.'

  Sam grimaced. That had told him. There wasn't anything he could do but play the game.

  'Okay, gentlemen. It looks like we have an agreement.'

  The men bundled him out of the car, leaving him bound and blindfolded on the tarmac. He heard the Bentley's engine start up and the soft whine of one of its windows winding down.

  'I hope you are a man of your word, Mr Carlisle. I certainly am.'

  Then they drove off.

  Chapter 24

  'Every so often in life, a man has to accept defeat. And when he does, he must handle it with good grace and humility.'

  Sam smiled grimly as he tore off the blindfold and wriggled free of the bind. His old man had been prone to long-winded lectures while trying to curb Sam's wayward behaviour as a teenager. That particular pearl of wisdom had been one of them.

  One he had never abided with.

  He walked back down to his car, trying to pick up clues from what he had just encountered. The voice had been clipped and educated, the suits expensive, and the after-shave one used by the more mature man. There had been a noticeable lack of accessories. No chains or jewellery. No gloating, either. The tactics implied experience, while the smooth, efficient manner indicated a well-drilled organisation. They were a classy outfit. Sam had no doubt they were also ruthless. They would have put a bullet in him without blinking if it had suited their needs.

  Re-united with his car, with his gun nowhere in sight, Sam got in and drove down to the exit. He didn't see this kind of attention as particularly bad news, he just had to watch his step from now on. The case was hotting up, always a positive sign because that meant he was closing in on the truth. Yet
this investigation was infuriating Sam at the same time, and not just because of the mishmash of clues he couldn't piece together.

  It was the way he was being pressured.

  The blindfold hadn't bothered him.

  Nor had the gun in his side.

  But the way everyone was going out of their way not to damage him?

  Now, that did confuse Sam.

  ***

  Just when he thought his Sunday lunch-time couldn't get any worse, Sam got a phone call from a frantic, breathless Alice.

  'It's Moira. She's been in an accident.'

  Sam took a deep breath.

  'Is she alright?'

  'We don't know anything yet. Me and Archie have just got to the hospital. The police brought us in...'

  Alice's voice sounded strained. Sam could sense she was near breaking point.

  'Hang on in there, Alice. I'm on my way.'

  Minutes later, Sam found them in the casualty waiting area. Alice was anxiously pacing the floor, while Archie was sat down on a plastic chair, chewing on his fingernails. Sam spotted one of the undercover twins from outside the Barton leaning against a wall yards away. The two men exchanged brief nods.

  'How is she?'

  Archie looked up at him. The colour had drained out of his face.

  'They haven't told us anything yet. Mind you, she hasn't been in here long.'

  Archie tilted his head towards Alice. Sam nodded.

  'How are you holding up, Alice?' he asked, taking steps towards her.

  She didn't reply, simply threw her arms around him. Sam could feel silent sobs vibrate through his chest. He held her tight.

  'I should never have come down to Newgate,' she whispered, lifting her head, gazing at him with moist eyes. 'Look at what I've-'

  Sam shook his head.

  'Don't think about that now,' he told her. 'Let's concentrate on Moira. What happened to her?'

  Alice took a deep breath.

  'All the police know so far is what a witness told them. Apparently, Moira was out in the van...'

  Sam raised his eyes but didn't say anything.

  'She was driving along a country lane. A car pulled level with her. Apparently, the driver was trying to get her to pull over. The witness said Moira looked frightened. She started driving faster...trying to get away...she lost control around a bend...the van went over...'

  Alice wiped her eyes with a tissue. Tears were trickling down her cheek.

  'The car drove off,' she sniffed. 'The woman who saw all this, she found Moira unconscious in the van and rang for-'

  Alice shook her head. She couldn't talk anymore. The tears were streaming now. Sam held her close once again.

  'Okay, Alice. Okay. We don't know anything yet. It might not be as bad as it sounds.'

  Sam glanced over at Archie.

  'Does anybody know why Moira left the pub in the first place?'

  Archie stared back at him with a vacant look in his eyes.

  'Yes,' he replied plainly.

  Alice released herself from Sam's embrace and joined him in staring at Archie.

  'She came downstairs while I was behind the bar. I think you were upstairs, Alice.'

  Archie looked down at his hands.

  'She popped her head around the bar to tell me a customer had rung her...'

  He hesitated again. Sam and Alice sat down either side of him. Alice took one of Archie's hands and squeezed gently.

  'She said she was fed up with being stuck in...said it was only one delivery, out of town and back...'

  Sam put his head back and stared at the ceiling. Moira simply hadn't had the patience. He listened to Archie continue, his voice crackling with emotion.

  'I was busy serving. By the time I realised what she was planning to do, she was gone...'

  Archie looked distraught, in absolute pieces. He stared down at the floor, lost in his thoughts. Alice, still holding Archie's hand, did the same. Sam let out a sigh. They were both blaming themselves for Moira's predicament.

  He started to offer consoling words when DI Jackson walked through the door. He looked grim.

  'It was Richard Brown,' he told them quietly. 'Another stolen car.'

  'Have you caught him?' asked Alice, her eyes wide.

  Jackson shook his head and looked away, hands on hips. Sam waited for the reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

  'What are you doing?' screamed Alice, on her feet, in Jackson's face. 'You promised us you would catch him! You told us-'

  Sam and Archie got to their feet, ready to drag Alice away. It wasn't necessary. Moira's doctor had appeared. They all held their breaths, daring to hope. The doctor gave them a smile.

  'She's going to be alright.'

  ***

  They were allowed in for a few minutes. Moira was under sedation for the pain, but the diagnosis was good. Well, better than the others had feared. Concussion, lacerations, cracked ribs and a broken leg, but no lasting damage.

  A policeman at her bedside nodded to them as they came in. Alice sat down on the other side of the bed and took her aunt's hand. Sam and Archie stood at the end of the bed, watching on. Moira stirred with a groan. Her head was swathed in bandage, her eyes were red and puffy, and her face was cut and bruised. She forced her eyes open a fraction and turned her head slightly to take in her visitors, staring at them blankly, her eyes glazed over. They watched her, unsure if she was coherent enough to register them.

  Then Moira did two things. First, she took them all by surprise by giving them a weak smile. Then she squeezed Alice's hand with as much strength as she could muster. The tears ran down Alice's face once again. Only they were tears of happiness this time.

  'You're going to be okay,' she whispered, stroking her aunt's hand.

  Sam glanced at Archie. The landlord was beaming broadly, struggling to keep his own eyes dry. Sam shook his head. These were good people. They didn't deserve any of this.

  ***

  A short while later, they were leaving the hospital. High up on the wall was a television, the news programme currently showing a photo of Richard Brown on screen. The police had gone public at last. Surely now, thought Sam, it was just a matter of time.

  Sam drove Archie and Alice back to the pub, the three of them silent, reflecting on Moira's brush with serious injury. Behind them, the unmarked police car trailed. Sam had learnt from DI Jackson that Richard's stolen car had been found dumped near the beachfront in town. It was the second time he had returned there following an altercation, suggesting to Sam he was using the area as a base when he wasn't stealing cars or terrorising women. It made sense. It was close enough to the Barton Arms to spy on the pub with ease. The area was also full of cars, parked up by the beach on a daily basis, innocent holiday-makers unaware it could be them providing Richard with his next getaway vehicle.

  Sam felt his adrenalin rise just thinking about the man. He told himself to focus, to put himself in Richard's shoes. Where would Sam hide right now if he wanted to lie low? Accommodation would be out of question, especially if his face had just been plastered all over television. It had to be somewhere providing cover. Somewhere a person could disappear amongst a packed beachfront. Sam thought back to his first nights in Newgate. Those restless sleeps, squashed up in the back of the Capri. Where would he have gone if he hadn't had the car?

  Approaching a set of traffic lights, Sam switched lanes and drove straight on rather than turning off for the Barton as usual. Neither Archie or Alice said anything, either too preoccupied with their thoughts or just presuming Sam was taking the long way around. The cop in the car behind hadn't missed the trick. He was on the radio, probably warning Jackson something irregular might be about to happen. Sam watched him close up behind the Capri as a precaution.

  They turned into the coast road overlooking the beach. Sam had to slow down because of the hordes of people leisurely crossing the road. That suited him, allowing him a chance to scan the beach. Sam reduced his speed further as he neared the spot he was partic
ularly interested in. In his mirrors, he saw the cop raise his eyebrows. Archie glanced across at Sam with mild curiosity. Alice remained silent. They drew level with the pier. Sam stared hard at it as they went past. That was where he would stay. Underneath the pier, safely out of sight. Sam considered getting out and taking a wander down to it.

  Then he spotted him.

  Richard Brown, ambling along the beach towards the pier, just another ordinary holiday-maker, his sunglasses in his pocket, carrying his sandals. Only this wasn't the average tourist, and Sam was going to get him.

  He eased the Capri into a convenient parking space just yards on. One with room for two cars. The cop pulled in behind him.

  'What's going on?' cried Alice, startled.

  Archie turned around and gave her a smile.

  'You were fast asleep, Alice. We've just stopped for a moment, although I'm not sure-'

  The car door slammed shut. Archie looked around, stunned. Sam was out, jogging down to the beach, shouting something to the undercover policeman in the car behind. As the officer got out of his car and spoke into his radio, Archie watched Sam pick up speed along the sand. He had someone in his sights. Archie didn't have to be a genius to work out who.

  Sam was catching Richard fast. Nobody paid any attention to him as he sprinted along the beach, and Richard couldn't hear him approaching on the soft sand. They were almost at the pier. The crowds began to thin out, and the sand got damper, packed harder underfoot. Sam's running steps began to sound, hard slaps on the wet sand. Richard turned around, alerted by the noise. His face was a picture of complete shock, finding Sam Carlisle suddenly on his tail. The man he had tried to run over only nights ago.

  Richard changed direction and sprinted up the beach towards the road. Sam began to slow down, the effort of toiling on sand beginning to take its toll on his bad leg. He could see Richard pulling away from him, almost at the road now, no doubt preparing to head into town again, hoping to lose the police amongst the crowds once more. Sam resigned himself to yet another close call.