The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  Quintel stopped the conversation as he concentrated on leaving the motorway at the Preston central junction – 31 - and navigated them back onto the M6 north. The junction had come at a bad time in their little chat and had broken the rhythm. He was intrigued to ask more, but noted that McKnowle was now just staring out of his passenger window. Quintel remained quiet as they passed the junction they had initially joined, and were soon at 32 where the M55 to Blackpool started.

  The M55 was a lot quieter than the M6, as it only went to one place, and as he relaxed more, Quintel couldn’t resist carrying on the conversation. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you said you’d been away for a long time. Because of the Brits. I just assumed that you’d been in the nick, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Quintel, tensed, half expecting McKnowle to launch into one of his rants, but he didn’t.

  ‘The fookers tried to lock me up but they could never catch me, and as a member of the Army Council I didn’t get involved too much with the Active Services Units, so was pretty much off-limits,’ McKnowle said calmly, before adding, ‘Though every now and again I would show up with one of the Belfast ASUs just to keep my hand in. I enjoyed it and missed it if I’m honest.’

  ‘I take it the job went bad?’

  ‘Did it, the fucking Sass were waiting for us.’

  ‘But you didn’t get nicked?’

  ‘They’d no intention of nicking anybody. Those SAS bastards. They just opened up and a fookin huge firefight ensured. All the óglachs were killed, except me.’

  ‘“Óglachs” what the fuck is that?’

  ‘Irish for volunteers, Jackie-boy, not every fucker kills for money, like you.’

  Quintel didn’t want to nose too far, too soon, but had to pose the unasked question, ‘So what did happen to you?’

  ‘We’re at the end of the motorway, so I’m guessing wees are nearly here?’

  ‘Yes, not far. Our hotel is in the South Shore district, not far from here.’

  ‘In that case we’ll chat later.’

  Quintel didn’t argue as he steered the motor from the end of the motorway and took the first exit from the roundabout. What he had learnt about McKnowle had certainly intrigued him; he was one serious mother, and he was starting to figure out who the final target was. They had obviously seriously pissed off one serious bastard in McKnowle. That said; if his hunches were right he’d have to tread carefully, he’d only get one go at this, he was sure of that.

  *

  ‘Vinnie, look. That’s it. It’s gone the other way from the roundabout.’

  ‘You sure?’ Vinnie asked, as he fired up the Volvo.

  ‘Couldn’t see the driver, but I’m sure the front seat passenger is the guy who bundled Dempster into the car. He looked out his side window. Straight at me.’

  Vinnie slewed his car across the road as he headed to the roundabout, knowing he’d have to go all the way around it to get to the same exit that the blue motor had just taken. ‘No offence, Christine, but you said earlier you couldn’t describe the guy apart from “a small white man in his sixties”.’

  ‘I couldn’t, but now I’ve seen him again, I’m sure.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I can’t explain it. Just the look of pure evil on his face. Like a permanently etched countenance of hatred. Now step on it.’

  Vinnie did, and just hoped he wasn’t damaging his motor, he was paid an allowance to use his own car, which wasn’t as wonderful as some thought. It didn’t seem to matter when you were screwing the guts out of a firm’s pool car. Fortunately, he got a clear run onto the roundabout and left it in the offside lane of two as an urban dual carriageway opened up in front of him. There were a few cars in the nearside lane but their outside lane was clear. He asked Christine to keep an eye on her side so they didn’t flash past the blue car by mistake. His plan was to follow it discretely until he could arrange an intervention by – ARVs - Armed Response Vehicles. He asked Christine to repeat her trick with his radio as he shouted into it.

  They soon approached a further roundabout with no sign of the targets’ vehicle, and as they hadn’t passed any turn-offs they were still in play, at least until this next roundabout. The advance warning sign told Vinnie that there were four exits from it. He would pick the straight ahead option, the third exit.

  Then as he started braking heavily on the approach, he saw it at the same time as Christine screeched. The blue car was an old Nissan in the nearside lane and it entered the roundabout twenty-five metres ahead of them. He saw part of the vehicle’s registered number – SP02 something, something, something. A 2002 model. He came off the brakes as he shouted the update into the radio. An ARV was making ground from North Shore he was told, and the Force Incident Manager in the force Control Room had authorised the use of weapons. ‘Shit,’ he shouted, as he slammed the brakes back on. A slow moving heavy goods vehicle was now blocking his access onto the roundabout, not to mention his view. He glanced to his left, and was fairly sure the Nissan hadn’t taken the first exit, so he drove around the back of the artic and undertook it. He received a blast from the driver’s horn drawing attention to them, but he’d had little choice. As he passed the wagon there was no sign of the Nissan. He picked the third exit, the effective straight on, named Progress Way – which he hoped was an omen – and floored the accelerator.

  Vinnie raced along Progress Way until it became Squires Gate Lane and they passed the site of the old Blackpool Airport, but still nothing. They had passed many junctions since they had lost sight of the Nissan; it could be anywhere now. He slowed down and thumped the steering wheel in frustration. ‘So bastard close, but so far.’

  ‘You did all you could,’ Christine offered.

  ‘I know, but?’

  ‘But nothing, at least we know they are in Blackpool, whether just to hole down, or for something more sinister, it’s more than we knew ten minutes ago.’

  Vinnie knew she was right and appreciated what she was trying to do, but if they went on to kill someone else now; it would weigh heavy on him. He thanked her and took the radio from her and brought the Control Room up to date. He then pulled over; it was time to ring Harry. But before he did, he turned to face Christine and said, ‘You sure there was only the driver and front seat passenger in the car?’

  ‘Sure. I know what you’re thinking; but he could have been on the back seat slumped down, or even in the boot, God forbid; I know what that feels like.’

  Vinnie signed as he dialled Harry’s phone, he only hoped she was right.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  It was gone eight by the time they had all eaten their fish and chips supper, and settled down with a beer. Vinnie just wanted to collapse into the armchair in Christine’s flat and sink a few while letting go of the day’s stresses. He was pleased to see Lesley coping well after her ordeal, and she seemed happier to be staying with her sister until Quintel was caught. Christine had warned Vinnie before they landed that Lesley could be up or down, especially after what had gone on, but seemed relieved when she greeted them with a smile on her face.

  ‘Why don’t you make a night of it?’ Christine said, adding, ‘you can crash on the settee, or you could have a threesome with me and Lesley? What do you reckon, sis?’

  Vinnie could feel the heat in his face as he laughed, ‘A rose between two thorns? I wouldn’t risk it, but the settee offer sounds perfect,’ he answered, and then ducked to miss a low flying cushion.

  ‘Hey,’ Christine said.

  ‘Yeah, hey,’ Lesley added as a second cushion flew past Vinnie.

  ‘After all you’ve been through, it should be me treating you two to plenty of drink in some swish restaurant,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘I’m ok, I’ll let you treat my sister, she’s been through much more than me,’ Lesley said.

  ‘Why do you think I’m plying you with free booze? I’m just making sure your bill goes through the roof. I don’t do back-street bolt-holes, well, unless I’m paying for myself, that is,’ C
hristine said.

  ‘Well, joking apart, when we get a chance, dinner is on me,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Sounds great,’ Christine answered.

  ‘I’m off to the kitchen, while you two carry on flirting, I mean pleeease. But if you need a top up, say now,’ Lesley said.

  They both said they’d love another bottle of lager each as Vinnie’s phone rang. ‘Hello Frank,’ he answered.

  ‘Just to let you know that the locals have stood down their search in Blackpool, no sign of the car or Quintel,’ Delany said.

  Vinnie had guessed as much by now, and said, ‘Hotels?’

  ‘I’ve got a DS and two DCs on it, but it’s a long list. I hope they weren’t just passing through.’

  ‘ANPR?’

  ‘The part number is logged in, but it’ll be hit and miss even if the motor passes one of the fixed-cameras sites.’

  ‘What does Darlington say?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Can’t get hold of him which is unusual, so I’ve had to leave a brief update with Blister.’

  ‘Who’s blister?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Oh sorry, it’s the chief’s nickname for his staff officer.’

  ‘You mean the lovely Russell Sharpe?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘But why Blister?’ Vinnie repeated.

  ‘Because, according to Darlington, he only appears once all the hard work is done.’

  Vinnie roared with laughter while seeing Christine’s puzzled expression watching him. He said his goodbyes and said he’d see Harry in the morning.

  Christine laughed when Vinnie explained to her what Harry had said.

  ‘God, you cops don’t half stick it to each other,’ she added.

  ‘Only for those who deserve it, and don’t tell me journalism is any different,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘You got me there. We have our fair share of Olympic Torches,’ Christine said.

  Vinnie laughed, the police also had their share of ‘those who never went out’ too. Perhaps their two professions were not that different after all. Then his phone rang again. It Christine’s editor June ringing to ask if he’d had an update from the hospital on Christine. He apologised profusely for not letting her know sooner that she’d been discharged and made it sound as if he’d just arrived at Christine’s flat straight from hospital. He accentuated his words and saw Christine nod her tacit understanding, before he handed the phone over to her.

  ‘Just about to ring you, June, sorry I didn’t get chance sooner,’ Christine said.

  ‘No don’t be daft, you’ve been through enough,’ June said, adding, ‘are you sure you are ok, you know hospitals can’t wait to clear beds nowadays. Perhaps we should do a feature on it.’

  ‘I’m fine June, really, and the staff there were first class.’

  ‘Ok, I’ll drop the feature idea, but I’ve had your man on, he said you’d been due to ring him some hours ago and was becoming concerned.’

  ‘You mean Paul?

  ‘Yeah, Paul Bury.’

  ‘What, he gave you his full name?’

  ‘Yeah, said he was starting to worry.’

  ‘He hadn’t struck me as the worrying kind.’

  ‘Something about being followed? I’m damn sure you don’t tell me all you should, Christine Jones,’ June said.

  ‘Honest, it was nothing, I promise to fill you in properly tomorrow.’

  ‘Ok, you’re off the hook, but ring your source back.’

  ‘I’ll give him a bell; I’ve had no access to a phone until a minute ago,’ she lied.

  ‘No need to explain; only he’s just rung again and said he needed to talk urgently.’

  Christine thanked June and said she’d keep her updated. She told Vinnie quickly what June had said, before using her new mobile to ring Bury. It rang out to answer machine with an automated message. She said who she was and asked him to call back on this number. She didn’t have to wait long.

  When he rang back she gave him an abridged version of what had happened, in case he had been tailed the previous day, but she was sure it was her who had been followed, probably from her office to Lesley’s.

  ‘So, glad you’re safe nar, but are you sure you’re ok? Bury said.

  ‘I’m fine, bit of a sore head but ok, thanks for your concern,’ Christine said.

  ‘As glad as I truly am, I’m selfishly glad too, if you’re up for it?’

  Christine wondered exactly what Bury was about to say, and asked, ‘Depends what you mean?’

  Bury laughed, and then said, ‘Sorry, I mean a bit of work. Any chance of meeting you tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure, why?’

  ‘It’s the main man, I know where he’ll be later on tomorrow, if you’re still up for an ambush?’

  Christine said that she was and arranged to meet Bury in the morning, but this time at the coffee shop near her office. She then rang June straight back, not just to update her, but to ask her to sort out an outside broadcast unit.

  ‘I’ll need to speak to Sally, but I can’t imagine she’ll want you to ambush the First Minister of Northern Ireland, without due cause and provenance.’

  Christine expected this, and knew they needed some proof from Bury in the morning, but knew also what great TV it would make. June agreed to have a camera and sound team on standby all day so they could use them at a moment’s notice, and Christine promised to get what they needed from Bury. She pointed out that he knew their terms so assumed that he had what was required. She’d known better than to ask him more over the phone.

  She quickly brought Vinnie up to speed and asked if they could postpone the evening. He said he fully understood and in truth could do with getting up to Preston as early as possible the following day. He said he’d taken up enough of her time as it was and didn’t want to get in the way; they both had jobs to do. She loved this about Vinnie, no edge; her job was just as important to him as his.

  ‘There’s just one problem, though,’ Vinnie said, as he prepared to leave.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be missing, with just an ever so slight hint that you’re dead?’

  ‘Shit. I forgot. What now?’

  ‘Don’t panic, I’ll get Harry to release something to the press office tomorrow saying that the ‘hostage has been found fit and well’. Then at least your family can stop having to pretend. We can say you were found unconscious but are fine now. No one needs to know the details. And as your name hasn’t been released publically it shouldn’t create too much of a media storm for you.’

  ‘Will he be ok with that?’

  ‘He’ll have to be, you have your job to do.’

  ‘Won’t that put you back at risk,’ Lesley interjected, ‘I mean if that madman hears that you’re alive?’

  Lesley had said what she herself had not wanted to think, but Christine had her job to do. They discussed it further and Vinnie suggested that they prepare the press release but hold back until Christine knew for sure what she was doing. No reason to out herself prematurely if the decision was not to ambush McConachy. If they just ended up covering an address or speech or whatever, she could sit at the back with Bury and observe. She could get a junior to sit at the front and ask the usual questions.

  That agreed, she kissed Vinnie softly on the cheek and watched him walk away a while before closing her door. He’d keep, but for now she was buzzing with what might play out tomorrow. It was good to be back doing what she loved; she’d leave the cops and robbers stuff with Vinnie for now.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Quintel was at the hotel bar for nearly an hour after they had eaten. It was gone eight now and McKnowle had said he’d only be a short while; he had some calls to make. Quintel figured he obviously had another phone with him. Eventually, the thin, haggard looking oddity that was McKnowle came rushing into the bar. He wondered what the other customers would make of him; someone’s granddad, probably. He certainly didn’t have the appearance or aura of an ex-terrorist. Not th
at Quintel had met one before. That said, who would know that he himself was also a dead-hearted killer.

  ‘Sorry ‘bout that, Jackie-boy,’ McKnowle started.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ Quintel said.

  ‘Oh away with you, it won’t be for much longer, nar.’

  ‘Sounds encouraging.’

  ‘Get us a drink and we’ll find a corner.’

  So suitably refuelled Quintel chose an alcove with a crescent shaped seat set away from the main bar.

  ‘Right you are,’ McKnowle started, ‘I had a chat with one or two boys over here that I still trust, just locals you understand, not volunteers. And they’ve sorted out an O.P. for us to use the morrow.’

  ‘Is er “the morrow” game on day?’

  ‘Oh no, but we need ta build up arh reconnaissance.’

  ‘Where’s the O.P?’

  ‘I’ll telt yous when we are on arh way, not before, no offence. But it’s a small office cum flat above a shop, that much you can know.’

  ‘Where are the owners?’

  ‘Ah the owners of the shop and flat have decided to take a short vacation, so they have. Same again?’ McKnowle said, and headed to the bar without awaiting an answer. He was back a few minutes later with two more drinks.

  Quintel knew better than to ask McKnowle about the target yet, so concentrated on the man’s fascinating past. ‘You said you’d tell me where you’d been, the last twenty years, or however long it was?’ he said.

  McKnowle put his arm around Quintel’s shoulders and pulled him in close with a strength that surprised Quintel, before whispering in his ear, ‘Back in the day over the water, had you been asking these questions, you’d have been made as a tout of the Brits and would had been sent to have a chat with one of our Security Officers, and there never was a more ruthless set of bastards than those guys.’

  He then let go of Quintel and roared with laughter, before adding, ‘Nar would you look at yous, I’m only feekin joshing you, Jackie-boy.’

  Quintel sighed in relief. There was something alien about McKnowle, and his laughter had an unhinged tinge to it. ‘I meant no offence,’ he said.