Killer Intent

by Tony Kent

  ‘That’s that, then. McGale’s cabin, 7 p.m. Haversume will be there.’

  ‘You really think a gutless bastard like that will show up?’ O’Neil sounded doubtful.

  ‘He’ll be there,’ Dempsey replied. ‘He can’t risk the recording going to the press. Besides, he doesn’t think you’re a big enough threat to stay away, and he thinks I’m dead.’

  An earlier call to Henley had made sure of that. Dempsey had recounted the part he had played so far to the brothers, and they had done the same, each filling the gaps in the others’ information. Michael had stared in disbelief at the news that Stanton was none other than Anthony Haversume. And then been filled with a terrible rage that his friend’s death had been at the hands of someone he considered family. Having finally calmed down, his face had been set in an expression of grim determination ever since.

  Together they had formulated a plan, to draw Haversume into the open, to get him to come to them. To get Sarah back. The first stage of that plan was complete. Now for the second.

  ‘We’re going to need a crew,’ Liam said.

  Michael could see that his brother was already thinking ahead. That he knew what odds they would face at McGale’s cabin.

  Liam continued.

  ‘The best we have. I want them double quick.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘If they’re good men, ten’s enough.’

  This time it was Dempsey who spoke, his voice as certain as always.

  A nod of Liam’s head confirmed the number. O’Neil stood up in response.

  ‘I’ll get on it.’

  The 7 p.m. meeting and the journey to County Wicklow in the Republic of Ireland made for a tight timetable.

  ‘We’ll be ready within the hour.’

  ‘So can we do this?’ Michael asked as O’Neil left. ‘You think ten is enough to pull this off?’

  ‘Enough to deal with the numbers Haversume will bring?’ Dempsey replied. ‘In all likelihood. The man’s not planning a straight gunfight, so you guys should be a match for them. But they’re not the problem. The problem will be in the hills. The man who paid a visit to your garage earlier.’

  Those words worried Liam. His memory of the lock-up massacre was still fresh.

  ‘Who is he?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a man called Turner. Haversume knows you won’t offer up the recording if he doesn’t show up in person. That puts him in the line of fire, but he won’t risk a gunfight on the ground if he can avoid it. He’ll have another plan, designed to take you out of the picture before a fight can start. That’s where Turner comes in.’

  ‘What is he, a sniper?’ Michael was more intrigued than afraid.

  ‘Oh, he’s a lot more than that. He’s a professional killer, and he’s already caused you a world of trouble. It was Turner who killed one of my agents at Trafalgar Square, which is what got this whole thing started. And the bomb in your car, Michael? And the guy on the bike? Turner. And, judging by the bodies in the lock-up tonight, I’d bet good money that was him too.’

  Now Michael was worried. Shaken by the mention of his first encounter with Turner, which he had barely survived.

  ‘So he’ll be in the hills?’ he asked. ‘Just picking us off one by one from some safe spot in the distance?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Dempsey replied.

  ‘But how’s that going to protect Haversume?’ Michael was not following the logic. ‘Surely he knows he’ll be the first person we go for, once the bullets start flying?’

  ‘Don’t underestimate Haversume, Michael. He ended up an army lawyer before going into politics, but before that he was in military intelligence for years. So he knows how people react in a combat situation. The destabilising effect of sniper fire. And, more importantly for you, he knows the importance of target selection.

  ‘Michael, you’ll be the first to go. Followed by Liam. Believe me, Turner is good enough to take you both out before anyone can react. And once you two are gone your men will panic. They won’t be looking to kill what they can see. They’ll be looking to hide from what they can’t see. That’ll give Haversume more than enough time to find cover for himself, after which Turner will take out what’s left of your crew.’

  ‘But if he does that,’ said Michael, ‘then Haversume can do what he wants to Sarah and Daniel’s family.’

  ‘Except let them live.’

  Dempsey’s final words summed up the situation.

  Silence fell. Neither Michael nor Liam had anything to add. What was there? They seemed to be going into a fight that they could not win. And yet they had no other choice.

  The quiet was only broken by the intervention of Anne Flaherty. Anne had been outside the office door. She had heard everything. And she did not seem happy.

  ‘Let me get this straight.’ She was speaking even faster than usual. ‘This Haversume fella, he’s got a man hidden in the woods whose only job is to kill the two of you as quickly as he can? A man who can do it so fast that neither of you stands a chance? And you’re still going? Have the pair of you lost your bloody minds?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Dempsey replied, when Michael and Liam failed to speak. ‘What I said was that Turner is that good – that quick – if he gets the chance. But that’s a big “if”. And you have an advantage. You have me.’

  ‘And just who are you, Clark fucking Kent?’

  Anne did not mince her words.

  ‘Far from it. But I am someone who can put Turner down, and that’s what I intend to do.’

  Dempsey turned to Liam.

  ‘It’s what gives us the upper hand. Haversume will be relying on Turner. As far as he’s concerned Turner is the deal-breaker; the only one that really matters. The upshot of that is he won’t worry too much whether his men on the ground are as good as yours. He doesn’t think he needs them. But when Turner’s bullet doesn’t come, then it’ll be Haversume’s turn to panic. After that, he’s all yours.’

  ‘Are you sure you can take this guy?’ Liam asked. ‘Are you sure he won’t be expecting you?’

  ‘I’m sure on the second one. Like I told you, Haversume thinks I’m dead.’

  ‘And the first?’

  ‘Any man who gives you a guarantee on something like that, that man’s a liar. What I am sure of is that I’ve got a better chance than anyone else you’ll ever meet.’

  Dempsey’s blunt response was cold but honest. And it was enough for Michael, as it seemed to be for Liam. Which was just as well, because Dempsey did not seem inclined to answer any more questions.

  Dempsey got to his feet.

  ‘I need to be at the cabin first if this is going to work. Which means I need to leave ahead of you.’

  ‘You’re going? Now?’

  ‘Old habits die hard,’ Dempsey explained. ‘His and mine. Turner will be at the cabin long before 7 p.m. For reconnaissance and to choose his hiding place. So I need to be there first. That means leaving now.’

  ‘But how will we know you’ve managed it?’ Michael asked. ‘How will we know if it’s safe to hand over the recording?’

  ‘You won’t know that until Turner doesn’t shoot. I’m sorry but there’s no other way.’

  The weight of Dempsey’s words plunged the room back into silence.

  ‘I’ll see you all when this is done.’ He was already at the door. ‘And trust me. I will take care of Turner. You have my word.’

  The room remained silent as Dempsey left. Only once he was gone did its three remaining occupants begin to speak among themselves.

  ‘Liam, you’ve got to think about what you’re doing,’ said Anne. ‘This isn’t a few Belfast gangsters. These people are serious. Please stop and think.’

  ‘I have thought, Anne. Long and hard.’

  Liam’s words were gentle. His hand cradled Anne’s cheek as he spoke.

  ‘But I have to do this. Haversume has everyone Mikey cares about and he’s gonna kill them because that’ll make Mikey come to him. And if Mikey’s going, I’m going.
I can’t let him do it alone.’

  ‘But there’s got to be another way,’ Anne said, her eyes welling with tears. ‘There has to be.’

  ‘There isn’t. You know that. And you know I’d be going even if he didn’t have Mikey’s friends. He’s killed innocent women and children, Anne. Murdered babies. And all for power. For ambition! The bastard’s gotta be stopped.’

  ‘But what about what’s waiting for you? You heard what your man there just said. This Turner fella’s going to be there. He’s going to be waiting for the pair of you.’

  ‘But he’s not waiting for Dempsey. We have to trust the man. We have to trust that he can do what he says.’

  Michael could see the tears trickle down Anne’s face. And he could see the effect it was having upon his brother: Liam wished he could listen to her. Wished that he could stay. But Michael knew that his brother would do what he must, not what he desired. He was leaving to face Haversume, and there was nothing Anne could say or do that would change that.

  ‘Then I’ll be praying that he is that good,’ Anne finally said, her voice faltering. ‘I’ll be praying that he gets you home to me in one piece. Both of you.’

  With her last words Anne glanced at Michael, who stepped forward in response.

  ‘I’ll be looking out for Liam, Anne, so don’t you worry.’

  Michael forced a smile as he spoke. He leaned forward and kissed her wet cheek before continuing.

  ‘But he’s wrong about one thing. Haversume doesn’t have all of the people I care about. Two of the people I care about most are right here.’

  With that Michael turned and walked away, leaving his brother and his oldest friend to say their intimate goodbye.

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  Haversume sat in the back seat of his chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce Phantom. The palms of his hands perspired with nervous anticipation. It was the first time they had done that for longer than he could remember.

  Haversume tried to ignore it. He focused instead on his private Learjet 60 as it was refuelled. It was a sight that usually buoyed him, filling him with the pride of accomplishment. A private jet was an achievement – a status symbol – that few could match. So what if he had started out rich? If he had inherited his family business? He had still overseen that empire as it grew bigger and more powerful. And he had managed that while also building a political career and creating the Stanton persona. All of which just increased Haversume’s feeling of achievement.

  Or at least it usually did. But not today. Today he could not shake the guilt of what he would soon have to do.

  His first concern had been dealing with Devlin and Casey. A call to a contact in Dublin had secured enough men for the confrontation. And a second call had secured the only man who really mattered: Joshua.

  Once the arrangements were in place Haversume had turned his mind to the other consideration of the day. It was this that now caused him such trouble.

  ‘Sir, the jet’s ready.’

  Terry Barrett was Haversume’s long-time chauffeur, confidante and – if such a thing were possible – his personal friend. Barrett’s thick cockney accent broke into his employer’s troubled thoughts.

  ‘Thank you, Terry. Is everyone on board?’

  ‘They are, sir. They ain’t going nowhere.’

  The relationship stretched back to Haversume’s earliest army days. There was almost nothing Barrett did not know about his employer’s business and personal life. Including the truth about Stanton. With McGregor dead and Devlin and Casey soon to follow, Barrett would be the only other person who did. Haversume’s man had never bought into his employer’s counterfeit principles. Barrett had no doubt that his boss sought power for power’s sake. Well paid beyond his qualification and talents, it was an ambition with which Barrett empathised.

  ‘Did anyone see them board?’

  ‘No, sir. They did it while the plane was in the hangar. Nobody would have seen a thing.’

  ‘And how are they?’

  ‘A bit confused,’ Barrett explained, ‘but they don’t suspect nothin’. And I’ve told ‘em you’ll explain every’fing when you get ‘ere.’

  ‘Good,’ Haversume replied. ‘Then let’s get this over with.’

  Haversume took a final deep inhalation of the car’s warm air before forcing himself to move. He stepped out of the open rear door and felt the tarmac of the private Denham Airfield underfoot. Next he took the short walk to the waiting aircraft. Barrett was at his shoulder for every step.

  Finally he reached the few steps on the underside of the jet’s open door. It was one of the shortest journeys of his life. And one of the hardest. He was unsure if he could maintain the deception to follow, and he dreaded its inevitable end.

  ‘Tony!’ It was Hugh Lawrence who spoke first as Haversume entered the plane fuselage. ‘Thank God you’re here. Have you heard anything?’

  Haversume looked his closest friend in his eyes. And he began to lie.

  ‘I have. Michael’s safe. He’s in Ireland and we’re going to get him. We’re going to bring him home.’

  ‘All of us?’ It was Deborah Lawrence who spoke. Daniel’s mother. ‘You can’t just send for him?’

  ‘There’s no way he would come, Deb,’ Haversume replied. ‘Michael has got himself very worked up about all of this, and I don’t think he would trust me without knowing that you’re all safe and sound.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that everything he told Hugh on the telephone, well, I’ve had it looked into and he was wrong. There was an incident near his home, but it wasn’t what he described. Not even close. And it had nothing to do with Daniel’s death. But Michael convinced himself that it did, and so it now seems he took Daniel’s death harder than any of us realised. It, well, it affected him. And now we need to protect him from himself.’

  ‘But he was strong,’ Claire Lawrence offered. She seemed hesitant to believe what they were being told. ‘He dealt with it better than any of us. He can’t just have lost it.’

  ‘He hasn’t lost it, Claire.’ Haversume was careful not to go too far. ‘He’s just emotional and confused. So like I said, we need to protect him from himself. And if I have you all with me that will be much easier to do.’

  Claire Lawrence did not answer, but she still looked sceptical.

  Haversume was concerned he might be losing her. That he might be losing them all. He had to be more persuasive, he knew. It was still too early for them to know the truth.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, addressing them all in his softest tone. ‘I’ve done everything I can to bring Michael home, but he doesn’t trust anyone now. Which I have to presume includes me. But we can’t just leave him to his own devices. He’s paranoid and God knows what problems he is going to cause, to himself and to others. That leaves two options. Either we send people after him who can bring him in, but who could well hurt him in the process. Or we can go. All of us. So that he can see the people he trusts.’

  There was no response. At least not verbally. But Haversume could see the unspoken communication between the Lawrence family. He had convinced them, and so for now he would enjoy their cooperation.

  It would not last. He knew that. At some point Daniel’s family would learn the truth. But for now the illusion continued. And he was grateful to delay his last – and greatest – betrayal.

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  Joshua unclipped his Rolex Submariner and carefully concealed it in the undergrowth ahead of him. He covered it with loose autumn leaves to obscure any hint of metal. The watch face itself was visible only from his position. As it always was when he settled in to await a shot.

  His internal clock was exceptional, but confirmation of time at a glance was a crutch he had never left behind.

  The time displayed was 5.30 p.m. It would not be a long wait.

  Joshua had arrived over an hour earlier and done exactly as Stanton had instructed. Sarah had been secured inside the isolated cabin, bound and gagged.

 
He had spent little time in there with her. Just a minute or two. Long enough to take a mental note of its layout. The pervasive odour of damp had revealed how long the cabin had been empty; the overall effect suggesting a return to the wild. Maybe it was the deteriorating furniture. Or the moss that grew on happy family photographs.

  Not that he had been there to observe nature. There was a job to do, and he would not be distracted.

  It was essential to his mission that the cabin could offer no protection to anyone who took refuge inside. With Sarah secured to a chair in the centre of the cold lounge, Joshua had assessed the room. It had not taken long. The open area was surrounded on all sides by windows. It would be near impossible for anyone inside to avoid his line of sight.

  It was all Joshua needed to know. Satisfied, he had returned to his newly rented four-wheel-drive vehicle and driven away, navigating the narrow country roads that led to the small village of Avoca at the bottom of the wooded hills.

  Joshua parked directly outside of Avoca’s dominant feature, a nineteenth-century grey stone church. The car was instantly anonymous in a line of similar utility vehicles, most left by the many fishermen now dotted along the gentle river that ran alongside the single village road.

  Joshua had looked around as he climbed out of the car. Once satisfied that he was not overlooked, he removed a leather gun case from the car’s back seat. He strapped it to his back and began the return journey to the top of the mountainous hill on foot, moving through the uneven terrain easily. Experience and training made him well suited to the task, and he reached the top of the steep, wooded hills in a time that would have been remarkable for a man in his twenties.

  Once there, Joshua had moved silently through the shade of the trees, eyes fixed on the clearing ahead of the cabin. That would be where it happened. Where the confrontation between Stanton’s and Casey’s groups would take place.

  Which meant that the best possible view of the clearing was needed. Taking a pencil-thin, hand-held telescopic sight, he had slowly walked the hillside.

  Instinct had already told him the ideal vantage point; the spot with an unobstructed view of both the clearing and the cabin. But Joshua still followed the process. His compulsions had brought him this far. He would not abandon them now. And so he had moved from possible location to possible location. Always stopping to check the scene below through his sight. Always assessing which spot was best.