Vengeance

by Price, Roger A

  *

  It was just after six when Vinnie arrived back at his home where he had a quick wash and shave and changed his shirt before aiming to link up with Christine. He tried her mobile several times, but each time it went straight to voicemail; it was either one hell of a conversation, or her phone was switched off, which would be a first. Then he tried her home landline and that ran out to answer machine as well. But he noticed that after the ringtone stopped and before Christine’s personalised message kicked in there was a long musical interlude – several other messages. He wasn’t the only one trying to track her down. As far as he was aware she didn’t do the gym or anything like that which would explain her being incommunicado. He knew she had a sister, but didn’t know exactly where, not that a visit there would take her far away from her smart phone.

  Then he tried her office phone and was surprised, and relieved when her desk extension was answered. But the relief was short lived.

  ‘Newsroom, June Jackson here.’

  Vinnie recognised the name; it was Christine’s editor, though he’d never met her. He introduced himself and was pleasantly surprised to discover that June knew who he was. Christine had obviously talked about him. He had known her last editor from when they had worked together on Christine’s documentary about the hunt for Daniel Moxley, but that had been some time ago and June hadn’t been there too long.

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me where Christine is?’ June said, adding, ‘she’s been gone hours. I’ve even tried the hospitals in case she’d been in an accident. I’m starting to worry.’

  Vinnie asked June what she knew and she gave him a brief rundown up until the point when she’d dashed out to meet her source, which Vinnie knew was Paul, but didn’t let on. ‘Have you tried ringing the source she was going to meet?’

  ‘I would if I had his number.’

  Things were obviously done very differently to the way the police would handle a source. He resisted the temptation to criticise. ‘What about her sister?’ he asked.

  ‘Never thought of that, Christine doesn’t tend to mention her much, but she might be on our HR files as next of kin, I know that neither of her parents are still alive.’

  Vinnie heard the phone receiver bang down on a desk and waited a couple of minutes before June came back on the line. She gave Vinnie both an address in central Manchester and a mobile contact number for Lesley, Christine’s sister, before passing her own number to Vinnie, and asked him to call her as soon as he had any news. She said she would do the same. He told her to leave it with him. He then tried Lesley’s mobile first; it was switched off. The address wasn’t too far away so he grabbed his Volvo keys and headed for the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Pain wasn’t possible in a dream, was it? Of all things that one could dream vividly, Christine was sure pain wasn’t one of them. The throbbing from the back of her head was breaking the reverie she was in, drawing her into a transition from sleep towards consciousness. She could hear her own breathing, loudly. It sounded rapid and shallow. It sounded internal. As if she was listening to her own inhalation and exhalations from within. The pain grew worse and jarred her back to being fully aware. She opened her eyes. Still blackness surrounded her. Terror shot though her at the not knowing of her environment. Alert and tense now, she tried to calm herself as she learned more as her eyesight adjusted.

  She could make out dark grey shapes, they were her legs. She was prone on one side, and her breath was bouncing off a hard object in front of her, explaining her earlier sensation. She felt her head, which was sore, and then reached out in front. The obstruction felt as if it was covered in carpet. She could hear a low constant droning noise beyond the carpet and all around her. She explored her space with her hands and realised she was totally enclosed. And the rumble, it was road noise. She realised she was in the boot of a car, but alive and relatively unhurt. She thought of Lesley, she hoped those two bastards hadn’t harmed her. She would be severely traumatised as it was.

  She heard muffled voices coming from beyond the carpeted partition in front of her. Not totally clear, but it was Quintel and Jason, she was certain of that. She cupped her hands around her forward facing ear as she strained to listen.

  ‘Why didn’t we just do her back there, Boss?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Two reasons; one, it would be easier to dispose of the body if we do her where we bury her,’ Quintel said.

  Dread coursed through Christine now at the realisation of her predicament. She no longer felt the pain at the back of her head, or acknowledged any discomfort from her physical incarceration. Dread and fear were tempered by the driven need to escape and flee. But why would these animals want her dead?

  Quintel continued, ‘And secondly, she mentioned Dempster. That made things personal. To her we are more than two random killers fulfilling a contract. She knows us, and I want to know how and why?’

  Contract? Christine thought. Had she heard correct? Who would want her dead? Ok, her documentary might flatten a few pints of Guinness for those concerned, but this was taking it a bit far. She wracked her brains to think of all those she had spoken to over the previous weeks whom she might have upset.

  ‘Any problems slotting her sister?’ Quintel asked.

  ‘Ah, I was meaning to tell you about that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was about to pull the trigger when I heard someone banging on the front door, and I mean banging.’

  ‘So?’ Quintel said.

  ‘Well, you were out back waiting in the motor, and it sounded like trouble. If anyone had come around the back you’d have been blocked in.’

  ‘You saying it was the filth at the door?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t sound like the postie, so I legged it. Wanted to get the motor out as quickly as poss.’

  ‘I thought you took off a bit smartish,’ Quintel said.

  Christine hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she exhaled loudly on hearing that Lesley was still alive, thank God.

  Jason continued, ‘You’re not mad at me then, Boss?’

  ‘No, if you are right and it was the plod at the door, they’d have come straight in on hearing gunfire.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Jason said.

  ‘But you’ll have to go back at some stage and sort it permanently.’

  Christine shivered on hearing the last. The conversation ended then, and she tensed as she was slung to one side, again. She then spent the next few minutes searching her space for a weapon of some kind but wasn’t having any immediate luck. She did notice a change from the road noise though; it was louder and more uniform. She also noticed that the car was staying on a straight course. They must be on a dual carriageway, or a motorway she reckoned. They were obviously going on a journey; it would give her more time to keep searching. Then she remembered her phone, but a quick search proved negative, not that she’d held out much hope on that one, so she returned to groping around the inside of the boot space.

  *

  Vinnie started with a gentle knock on the half-glazed door, but received no answer. He stood back to take in the narrow town house and noticed that the upstairs window curtains were closed. And even though it was still quite light outside, he could tell that the electric light in the room was switched on. The sun had disappeared over the rooftops behind him now and was starting to cast long shadows where he was stood. The electric light was clearly emitting around the curtains’ edges. Someone in? Or had the lights been left on? He decided it was the former as the sun had only just gone over the rooftops; twenty minutes earlier and the front of Lesley’s house would still have been bathed in sunlight. He knocked again. No answer.

  He bent down and opened the lateral letter box which was in the centre of the door, and thought he saw a shadow cast down the staircase. Well, not a shadow as such, but a change in the ambient internal illumination. He called through the letterbox saying he was a friend of Christine’s, he’d guessed wha
t he’d seen was someone opening the upstairs door onto the landing, so knew someone was home. He held back from shouting “Police”, as he didn’t want to scare Lesley. Hopefully using Christine’s name would be enough. Then he saw the light darken slightly. Had she returned to the bedroom? He stood up and banged louder this time, even if it scared her, he knew she was in and he had to speak to her. She’d obviously made a conscious decision to ignore the front door. He knocked once more. Nothing.

  He banged again, louder this time, and was considering now using the “Police” line when he saw a shadow coming down the stairs. He couldn’t see clearly through the frosted glass but it was definitely a “someone”. He stood back and reached in his pocket for his warrant card, but noticed the figure turn at the bottom of the stairs and head toward the rear of the house. He bent down to the letter box again but got a shock when he looked through it. The figure was the back of a large man in casual clothes. Vinnie shouted but the man didn’t look back - instead he started to run.

  The front door swung open at the first kick, and Vinnie was about to tear after the man when he heard a muffled cry of anguish from upstairs. It’s inbuilt in cops that their first duty is to protect life; arresting offenders and preventing crime come after that. He bounded up the stairs and was in the front bedroom in seconds. He saw the originator of the cries bound and gagged on the bed, and presumed it was Lesley. He told her who he was and carefully pulled back the tape from her mouth first, but before he could ask her anything, she spoke.

  ‘I’m ok, you’ve just missed them, go, go, they’ve taken my sister.’

  Vinnie was down the stairs in seconds and through the kitchen and the open back door seconds later. He could hear a car engine revving and rushed to the gate which led into a narrow, single track rear alleyway. As he ran through the gate, he could see the rear of a blue saloon, possibly a Toyota, screeching out of the end of the back entry, and then turning left from view. He couldn’t see the rear number plate clearly due to all the dust whipped up by the speeding car’s tyres, but he did see two Zs together as part of the number. He considered running through the house to get into the Volvo to try and give chase, but they were long gone, and he needed to help Lesley. He pulled his mobile phone out and dialled three nines.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Thirty, forty minutes passed, or was it longer? To Christine it felt like she’d been in there for a couple of hours, so she reckoned on an hour. She tried to see the time on her watch, but it was too dark. Then the car started decelerating and the turns, lefts and rights, resumed. She felt her heart rate quicken. Wherever they were going, they were nearly there. Then the car slowed some more, and then it stopped. She heard one of them get out and then heard the unmistakable sound of a steel roller shutter door. The car door shut and the car was driven into a building. The boot was filled with slices of light from around its sides and she heard the engine stop, and the car rocked as both men got out. She’d not been able to find a weapon earlier, so quickly used the extra light to search properly. Something moved under her hip. She could hear Quintel and Jason talking quietly, as if they didn’t want her to hear, which she couldn’t, but it struck her as daft as they’d talked normally when they’d been in the car. She paid no attention; she was more interested in why the floor had moved. Then it struck her, the spare tyre bay.

  How could she have not thought of that before? She’d have to move fast, and she did, but desperately trying to do so without alerting her kidnappers. She found the tyre underneath a piece of hardboard which had been under the carpet she’d been laid on. And thankfully, what she was searching for was on top of the tyre and not beneath it. She quickly pulled the short-handled wheel brace out and put it in the inside pocket of her jacket. She then put everything back in its place and still had the presence of mind to pull her skirt down. She listened as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

  She could only hear one voice now and it was Quintel’s, he was talking in between pauses; he must be on the phone. And thankfully, he was one of those annoying people who subconsciously talk loudly when on a mobile. Those people annoyed her in normal life; but she was grateful now. She listened in.

  ‘Look, it’s only a small favour, not like the last one,’ Quintel said, followed by a pause.

  ‘And you were fucking paid well, don’t forget that.’

  Pause.

  ‘There is someone who seems to know our business, and I want to know how, and how much?’

  Pause.

  ‘Of course I’m going to ask her, I just thought you might help me judge if she bullshits me.’

  Christine felt a stab of fear as she heard Quintel pass her details and that of her employer to whoever he was talking to.

  ‘I know they are supposed to report the facts, but you said the clowns had no idea where we are, or what we’ve done, apart from that undercover twat, Charlie or whatever his name was? The one you knew fuck all about. Yeah, yeah. Never mind that now.’

  Christine was shocked, and then she heard Quintel again.

  ‘But she mentioned one of my dogsbodies, and I thought you said they know fuck all – er, it was Dempster’s name she used. She’s obviously spoken to him, and he’s not told me the press were sniffing around.’

  Pause.

  ‘Yeah, Dempster.’

  Pause.

  ‘You leave that twat to me, he’s already had the hard word, and it’s about to get harder.’

  Pause.

  ‘No, don’t shit your pants; I’m not going to kill him. You just find out from the top pig what you can and ring me straight back.’

  Christine then heard Quintel’s voice lower again; he was off the phone and probably speaking to Jason.

  ‘I know it might be nothing, but Dempster knows a lot about you, and that could lead to me.’

  ‘Look Boss, Dempster’s no hero, he might have had the press nosing around but so would a lot of scrotes on that estate,’ Jason said.

  ‘Yeah, but she obviously knows he’s linked to us.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a worry.’

  ‘Look, I’m going for a shit; get the bitch out of the motor, and tie her to that chair, then we can have a little chat with her before we slot her,’ Quintel said.

  Christine heard two sets of footsteps, one going away from her, and the other getting louder. She kept her eyes shut and played dead as the boot lid opened. Through her closed eyelids she could see bright light invading her pupils.

  ‘Wakey, wakey,’ Jason said in a singsong way, just before he slapped her hard across her face, reawakening the sore nerves from the earlier strike at Lesley’s. She couldn’t help but cry out as she opened her eyes and blinked against the bright lights.

  ‘Think I’m heaving you out of there? You must be joking. So get out, nice and easy, or I’ll hit you properly.’

  Christine moved as slowly as she felt she could get away with, as if she’d just come round. Jason stood back as she carefully orientated herself out of the boot space while trying to keep her skirt at a dignified length. She didn’t want to give either of these monsters any ideas.

  She took in her environment as quickly as she could; they were in a small one-car sized motor garage with work benches by two walls, and a door covered in oily handprints leading to somewhere in the rear. The walls were made of grey and blue breezeblock and the steel roller shutter door behind the car was closed, though she did notice a normal sized steel door next to it. It looked as if the lock on it was a Yale type one.

  ‘Come on hurry up and get your arse on that chair,’ Jason said, pointing to an orange coloured plastic chair in front of the car; the ones with a large hole at the back of the seat that had been all the rage in colleges and schools twenty years ago.

  Christine walked towards the chair, her back to Jason, as she felt the wheel brace with the elbow of her left arm. She knew it wouldn’t be too long before Quintel returned. She saw some rope thrown over the back of the chair. Jason obviously intended to tie her to it; it was
now or never. She knew she was no match physically against Jason, so had to make the first strike count. She slipped her right hand into the inside of her jacket while her back was still to Jason, and took a firm grip on the cold steel shaft. As she turned to sit down she launched her attack.

  She pulled the bar out as she swung around and kept her right arm swinging in a wide arc towards Jason’s head, hoping the movement would enhance the power of the strike like some demented shot put thrower. She could see the look of surprise in Jason’s eyes, but knew that the advantage would be short lived. The L shaped end of the bar – the bit that normally fastens onto the wheel nut itself – was the business end of her weapon and missed Jason’s head as he started to react, pulling his head backwards, away from the arc of attack. But he didn’t manage to get completely out of the way, as the end of the brace smashed into the side of his nose.

  Christine heard the satisfying crack of breaking cartilage as her arm continued on its orbital path past Jason’s head. He screamed out as a jet of blood shot from his nostrils down his front. He staggered backwards, dazed, and Christine brought her backhand into play as she returned the brace in a reverse motion. All those years playing tennis as a teenager were now paying off; she’d always had a strong return serve.

  This time she stepped towards Jason as she struck and the end of the brace caught Jason squarely on the side of his head, somewhere near his temple, and he went down fast. She could see a nonplussed gaze in his eyes before he hit the ground. Euphoria and adrenaline coursed through her as she turned to face the door with the Yale lock. She was towards it before Jason was fully grounded. She dare not look behind her as she reached the door and started to turn the Yale lock and pull the heavy steel door open. She couldn’t believe she’d done it, all ten stone of her against a large ape like Jason.

  She pulled on the door as it started to open wider, and then she heard a deafening sound. A roar of gunfire, which seemed incredibly loud in the confined space of the garage. She heard it at the same time as she saw sparks fly off the door towards her and the door fly out of her hand back into its frame.