The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  “It’s not Donovan that I have to worry about.”

  “Ah, it’s the politician, isn’t it?”

  “How do you… I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit, kid,” Tafferty said before breaking into a loud coughing fit. “You think that I don’t know where Donovan’s power comes from? That snot nosed punk couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a roadmap.”

  “He’s a great man.”

  “Donovan? You must be kidding.”

  “No, not Donovan - he’s a piece of human garbage, but a necessary one. Mr Tolanson is going to set this country on the right track and cleanse it of all of its darkness.”

  “You sound like a zealot, kid, and that’s never a good thing to be.”

  “I have belief, Mr Tafferty. I have a shared vision and an iron will to get the job done.”

  The car was pulled up next to a public payphone booth and the tense air in the car was suddenly split by the shrill ringing of the telephone outside. Both men jumped and looked at each other as the phone rang on.

  Raymond was suddenly struck by a powerful thought and exited the car. He opened the booth door and stepped inside but kept the door open as the booth smelled like it had been used as a toilet by every down-and-out in the area.

  He reached out to pick up the handset only to find that the cord had been severed some time ago, but he still picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Raymond, my child, I’m afraid that you’ve been a naughty boy,” Tolanson said on the other end.

  Raymond held the handset away from his head and looked down, stupefied, wondering how the thing was still working with a cut cord.

  “Mr Tolanson?” he asked incredulously.

  “A very naughty boy indeed,” the politician confirmed. “Mr Donovan is not happy and I believe that his instructions were simple enough.”

  “He was going to have me killed, Sir.”

  “Nonsense, child, just your imagination running wild.”

  “No, Sir, he really was… Tafferty too.”

  “Well I don’t like to micromanage.”

  “What do I do now?”

  ----------

  Tafferty looked out of the car window as the young kid stood in the phone booth holding a disconnected handset to his ear. The kid was nodding away as though someone was speaking on the broken phone and Tafferty was suddenly afraid.

  The kid was barely half his size but he could smell crazy radiating off him even from here and that scared him.

  When Bailey and Burr had shown up at the hospital he’d not been surprised, but the kid had offered a way out. He’d known that Donovan would have him killed, he had to - it was just the way the business worked and he would have done the same if the positions had been reversed.

  The kid was still listening intently on the broken phone and Tafferty had a real bad feeling in his gut. He’d been a fool to mention the politician as he knew that was supposed to be a secret but Donovan had a loose tongue, especially after a little too much nose candy.

  The kid finally hung up the phone and exited the booth. He walked around the back of the car out of sight for a moment before climbing back in.

  “Everything okay?” Tafferty asked nervously.

  The kid’s face was deathly pale and there was a faraway look in his eye that Tafferty didn’t like one little bit.

  “We need a plan,” Tafferty probed gently. “And I need a doctor; this dressing needs changing before it gets infected.”

  “We have a plan - a great plan - that’s going to change the country and then the world,” the kid said in a strange disaffected voice.

  “We do?”

  “Oh yes, Mr Tafferty. I have been shown the way, the great and glorious way that’s lined with heaven’s trumpets and the calls of angels serenading in the new world.”

  “Oh, right,” Tafferty said, suddenly very aware that they were the only people on a deserted street.

  “We all have our part to play, Mr Tafferty: you, me, everyone. If we are to herald in the new dawn then sacrifices must be given over to the glory.”

  Tafferty pulled himself up from his slumped position and lunged for the door handle. The car stank of crazy and he had to find clean air. His fingers only got to brush the handle before the kid pounced. His hand held a broken bottle with wicked jagged edges and then it was plunging downwards, slicing and stabbing into his chest. The weapon was not the most effective and it took a while to get the job done. Tafferty tried to get his hands up to offer some protection but it only delayed the inevitable.

  ----------

  Raymond kept stabbing as the blood spray hit his face and Tafferty grew weaker. At some point he hit an artery and the inside of the car was suddenly splashed crimson.

  Eventually Tafferty went still and Raymond stopped. He turned around in the front seat and panted , waiting to catch his breath.

  “For the glory,” he whispered and paused for just a second more of life before drawing the bottle across his own throat. The windscreen was hit with a further spray and his breath came in gurgled gasps as his body jerked and bucked in the seat.

  He slumped back and waited for death to come, for the chariots and the angels to bring him home, home to glory and home to victory. The darkness started to take him, and he waited for heaven’s light to guide him, but as he died he was suddenly filled with the terrible realisation that the darkness was all there was.

  ----------

  “I want him dead. I want both of them dead!” Donovan shouted as he slammed his fist down on the table hard enough to make the people on the next table jump.

  “I would suggest that you lower your voice, Mr Donovan,” Tolanson said warningly.

  The coffee shop was half empty and far enough out of the city for them to meet in secret. Donovan wore a large overcoat with a hat pulled down low enough to obscure enough of his features. He’d been shocked to find that Tolanson hadn’t bothered with any attempt to disguise himself and was waiting at the table as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Don’t you try and handle me. I want that kid and that fucking cop both in the ground, you hear me?” Donovan snarled.

  “I do believe that you’ve quite forgotten just who you’re talking to, Mr Donovan.” Tolanson smiled.

  “No, I know exactly who I’m dealing with,” Donovan retorted. “This whole meeting somewhere in public goes both ways, you arrogant bastard,” he said, looking around the café.

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh yes; you wanted this meet here for your own safety as much as mine. Now I want the kid and the cop gone, do you hear me?”

  “And just what if I say no?” Tolanson smiled broadly.

  “You don’t get it. I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

  “Well now, it appears that my little pup has grown some fangs.”

  “Fuck you.” Donovan sat leaning back from the table with his hands behind his head.

  He knew that Tolanson wouldn’t dare try any shit in public.

  Tolanson stared right through him and Donovan suddenly had the strangest thought that the politician could read his thoughts.

  As if to prove the point, Tolanson suddenly clapped his hands together, just once and loudly. The rest of the café patrons abruptly ceased their chatter and the sound of crockery being set down and chairs being pushed back filled the room as they all stood in unison and walked out of the café silently.

  Donovan looked on in shock as everyone except him and Tolanson left the café, leaving them alone.

  “Now I want you to listen, Mr Donovan, and listen well. The young man that you seem so eager to extricate from our employment has already made the ultimate sacrifice, as a gesture of goodwill on my part - call it a gift to you. Oh, and I’m also sad to report the passing of Mr Tafferty as well. Such a waste.”

  “Okay,” Donovan said warily.

  “Mr Sutherland, however, is still a very valuable member of my little gang
and won’t be harmed; is that clear?”

  Donovan nodded his head in compliance. He was now willing to say anything just to get out of here in one piece.

  “SPEAK, DOGGIE!” Tolanson roared and Donovan flinched.

  “Yes… fine… whatever… the cop stays.”

  “Excellent.” Tolanson smiled again. “Always nice to do business with you, Mr Donovan. Oh, and one more trifling matter - we’re going to be running some rather expensive adverts in a couple of weeks. I’m going to need… let’s say 3 million, how does that sound?”

  Donovan tried to keep the horror from his face. 3 million was going to all but wipe him out but he also knew that Tolanson wasn’t asking. Once again he’d forgotten his place and he was now treading a fine line, one that if he swayed even a millimetre off course would get him killed, or worse. He didn’t know exactly what was worse than death but he was sure that Tolanson did.

  “It’ll take me a few days to arrange that.”

  “Oh, no rush, dear boy, no rush at all, and as always I thank you for your support.”

  Tolanson stood and reached into his jacket. Donovan flinched, fearing what the man was going to bring out, but it was a metallic campaign badge. Tolanson leaned forwards and pinned it to his chest. The pin went through his top and pierced the skin beneath. Donovan cringed, more from the politician’s touch rather than the stab of pain.

  “There now.” Tolanson smiled. “Another soldier for the cause,” he said, standing back before moving away from the table.

  Donovan sat rooted to the spot just praying that the politician would leave.

  “Oh, and Mr Donovan?” Tolanson said, reaching the door and opening it before turning back.

  “Yes?” Donovan asked, fearing the worst.

  “Don’t forget to vote.” Tolanson smiled before he was gone and Donovan remembered to breathe again.

  CHAPTER 14

  PAYING THE PIPER

  Sutherland headed into the station and nodded an occasional hello to various officers as he passed. His rank offered him protection in the main against questions as to his whereabouts over the past couple of days but that wouldn’t hold sway with his boss.

  Superintendant Chambers was an officious prick of a man who couldn’t see past the end of his paperwork.

  It was a constant bugbear of Sutherland that men like Chambers, men who had never walked a beat in their lives, got to stand over real cops who knew what the job took.

  He wasn’t stupid enough not to realise the whiff of hypocrisy given his own arrangement with Tolanson, but even then he had to believe that he had done more good than bad down the years, he just had to - otherwise how would he sleep at night?

  “Ah, the very man.”

  Sutherland paused in his tracks. He had been so concerned with creeping past Chambers’ office that he hadn’t heard the man walking up behind him.

  “In a bit of a hurry at the minute, Sir,” Sutherland said quickly as he tried to make a hasty escape.

  “My office, Detective Inspector.”

  “Maybe later, Sir. I’ve kind of got a lot on at the minute,” Sutherland said, starting to walk away.

  “Inspector, I want you in my office and I do mean now.”

  Sutherland recognised the tone immediately. Chambers was on the warpath about something and he had no choice but to obey.

  “You seem upset about something, Sir; anything I can do?” Sutherland asked in a placating voice as he followed the man into his office.

  “Well that will happen when the station has a spot inspection and one of my senior officers has gone missing,” Chambers said, removing his coat and hanging it gently on an antique coat rack before smoothing the material out to prevent creasing.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh indeed, Inspector,” Chambers said, taking a seat behind his desk.

  The office reeked of the station’s misspent budget. The large heavy oak desk was expensive, and tasteful artwork adorned the walls. The carpeting was lush and the bookcases were handmade - no stationery suppliers for Chambers.

  The superintendant sat behind his desk with his immaculately pressed uniform and glistening brass buttons, a king on his throne with an expectation of compliance from those around him, derived from his rank.

  Sutherland knew that the Chambers family had spawned multiple officers down through the years. Some in the police, others in the military, but all had held positions of authority and all future generations were expected to follow suit.

  Chambers was a small man without much in the way of natural authority. His frame was narrow and wiry and his voice had a tendency to drift towards the shrill when he felt like he was being ignored, which was often.

  “How do you think it looks, Inspector, when I’m left unable to answer questions about your whereabouts? Head Office sent a team down yesterday and I had no idea where you were or even what you were working on.”

  Sutherland held his tongue but with some difficulty. “I was working, Sir,” he offered as though that explained all.

  “It just won’t do, Inspector, and I won’t have you coming and going at all hours of the day or night without so much as a word.”

  Sutherland rubbed his forehead trying to stave off the pounding headache that was rounding the corner and heading in his direction.

  “We have an arrangement, do we not?” he asked politely. “Spoken or unspoken,” he added.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Inspector,” Chambers replied, emphasising the junior rank.

  “Bullshit!” Sutherland snapped. “You want to sit in your ivory tower and play with your spreadsheets? Well fine, you go right ahead. I give you the arrests that make your crime stats sparkle and you keep the hell out of my way!”

  “You’re forgetting yourself, Inspector,” Chambers blustered.

  “No, you’re the one who has the memory problem, you dozy prick,” Sutherland exploded, jabbing his finger viciously. “This place would fall apart without me and you fucking know it. Now keep the hell out of my way and if you ever try and ball me out in your office like I’m some faceless fuck then you’ll be sorry. You’re nothing but a turd in a polished uniform and don’t you forget it.”

  He left the office and his speechless boss. Chambers needed putting in his place and for once he didn’t have the patience to handle it gently. Tolanson was breathing down his neck and Donovan would be out for blood; the last thing he had time for was to play wet nurse to Chambers’ fragile ego.

  There were several people in the corridor and all avoided his angry gaze as he burst out. He stormed down the hallway and almost knocked Steve Marine to the floor.

  “Easy there, bud,” Steve said as he staggered backwards, just managing to keep an armful of paperwork from tumbling to the floor.

  “Shit, sorry, Steve,” Sutherland replied.

  “Bad day?”

  “Bad life, mate,” he said with a small laugh.

  “I hear that.”

  Steve was as close to a friend that Sutherland had in the station and probably beyond. He was a sergeant who spent most of his time behind a desk and was happy to do so. The streets weren’t for everyone, and - as genuine as Steve was - he’d just be a risk to himself and everyone else out there.

  Steve had gone through a bad time recently when his beloved wife, Lucy, had died of cancer. He had never known a man more devoted to his family and when Lucy had been dying, Steve had almost fallen apart. He’d been a shoulder for the man because he’d liked him and he’d liked Lucy.

  She had been a woman with the sharpest bullshit detector he’d ever known but she’d always seen something in him, something that he never saw himself, but she assured him it was there, however deeply buried.

  “Say, what do you know about a guy called Jeremy Darin?” Sutherland asked casually.

  “Darin?” Steve mused as his forehead creased in concentration. “Oh yeah, that’s right: drugs bust caught with enough to warrant an intent to supply charge if I remember rightly. Why, you know
the kid?”

  “Maybe. I think that he’s a player in something else that I’m looking into.”

  “Darin is? Jimmy Horton’s handling the arrest; said the kid damn near pissed himself when they brought him in, started blubbing like a baby when they interviewed him”

  Sutherland didn’t want to start off telling lies that he’d have to remember and then change later on, not to his one friend at least. “Kid probably doesn’t know what he’s mixed up in. Horton’s case?”

  “That’s right. Jimmy’s in the canteen now if you want him.”

  “Cheers, we still on for Thursday?”

  “Sure, just make sure that you bring your wallet.” Steve laughed as he walked away.

  The fact that Horton was handling the case was the one bit of good news that he’d gotten recently. Horton was a cop who knew how to play ball.

  He found the detective sitting in the canteen piling almost a full breakfast into a thick bread roll before shoving it into his mouth. He looked up as Sutherland approached, his shirt a record of previous meals denoted by the various stains that still lingered there.

  “How’s it going, Jimmy?” Sutherland asked as he took a seat next to him.

  “Better than you, apparently.” Jimmy grinned as egg yolk spilled down onto his beard.

  “Meaning?”

  “Word is you blew up at Chambers,” Jimmy replied, speaking with a garbled mouthful.

  “This place does like its gossip,” Sutherland sighed.

  “How can I help you this fine morning?” Jimmy queried in an exaggerated Irish brogue.

  “Darin.”

  “Young Jeremy? Now what is it that you want with my boy?” Jimmy asked suspiciously.

  Sutherland answered by remaining silent; he only stared hard at Jimmy until the other man got the message.

  “Shit no. Come on, man. Darin might be big time and he’s going to lead me to someone bigger. You know his old man is some kind of bigwig? Bollocks, is that why? Someone pulling strings here?”

  “I don’t think that you actually need me for this conversation,” Sutherland smiled.

  “Dammit, how am I supposed to swing his release anyway?”

  “Mistakes happen, Jimmy; sometimes, in the heat of the moment, we can forget to read a suspect his rights?”