Vengeance

by Price, Roger A

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, since we pressed the launch button; I’ve hardly been able to decipher much of the chatter coming from your radio. It all sounds like gibberish.’

  ‘You get an ear for it,’ Vinnie said, just before his phone rang. It was Harry.

  They gave each other a quick update and then Harry cut in with something else. ‘You’ll not believe it, but there’s been another murder.’

  ‘Never,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘A day or two ago over in Blackpool. I’ve only just heard about it chatting to Darlington,’ Harry said.

  ‘Who’s got it?’

  ‘Not our unit, that’s why I’ve only just heard about it.’

  Vinnie knew that the whole point of creating the Regional Homicide Unit was to extend resources from the five forces in the region into one pool. But the last few days had been unprecedented, with the killings of Charlie, Carstair, the milkman Devers, and not to mention the attempts on Reedly and Christine. Plus there had been a couple of normal day-to-day jobs in Salford and Liverpool. One was a domestic which had been solved pretty quickly – jealous boyfriend - but the other looked like a turf-war job which could prove a lot harder to resolve. ‘Who is doing it then?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Darlington has asked for mutual aid and a team from West Yorkshire are in Blackpool as we speak.’

  ‘Who is the deceased?’

  ‘That’s the bit that worries me.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘A local backstreet gun dealer. Shot at point blank range probably by his one of his own weapons.’

  ‘And you think maybe Jason and Quintel are connected?’

  ‘Could be them tooling up?’ Harry said, adding, ‘if they are as organised as we suspect, then they’ll change their hardware with every job.’

  Vinnie was glad Harry had chosen the word “organised”. He hated it when villains were described as pros, but that aside he knew Harry had a fair point. It was a bit of a coincidence and Blackpool wasn’t that far away. Then he remembered the “Kiss Me Quick” hats they’d been wearing at the Leyland hotel. With everything that had been going on he forgotten all about them. ‘What have you told the SIO over there?’

  ‘Just enough to keep a dialogue going, but they’ve got no suspects yet,’ Harry said.

  Vinnie said his goodbyes and told Harry that they would stay in the area a while longer before leaving the continuing search to the locals - and in any event he had to get Christine home.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said as soon as he was off the phone. She also asked what Harry had said and Vinnie told her.

  ‘Just a hunch,’ she said, as soon as he’d finished.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why Blackpool?

  ‘I’ve been wondering that. It might just be that that is where Jason knew they could go to get some guns.’

  ‘Why kill him?

  ‘Seen their faces?’

  ‘No honour among thieves then?’

  ‘They’re not thieves.’

  ‘You know what I mean. But if you wanted to re-arm and needed somewhere to hole down, somewhere away from Preston or Manchester, but with easy access to the motorways, where would you go?’ she asked.

  ‘Not too far from where the guns were. You might be onto something?’

  Christine smiled and Vinnie said he’d ask Harry to push through the action – line of enquiry – for checks with Blackpool hoteliers with Quintel and Jason’s mugshots, to be run as a priority. But he warned her about how many hotels and guest houses there would be in a seaside resort like Blackpool.

  ‘All the more reason to hole down there,’ she added.

  As they had chatted Vinnie had driven and drifted generally towards the motorway when a thought hit him. If they had used the motorway to escape then it made sense they would have used Junction 31A. Which would send them the wrong way if they were headed to Blackpool. But if he and Christine cut across local roads, they could pick up the Blackpool motorway – the M55 – at Junction 32 of the M6, which is where he’d been headed before they’d decided to pay Dempster a visit. He just hoped they still had Dempster with them. If they’d dropped him off before they’d left, he’d have no doubt belled him by now.

  Vinnie explained his hypothesis to Christine as he drove like an idiot again. Once on the M55 he screwed the guts out of his car’s 2.4 litre engine, and ten minutes after joining the motorway he parked up by a roundabout at its end. The road carried on after becoming a single carriageway two-way road, and they had a good view of its traffic. It was a long shot but at least they were doing something. Vinnie settled back into his seat to concentrate on the road as the engine tinkled a childlike tune as the motor cooled.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  ‘I think you and me will get along just fine, so I do,’ McKnowle said as Quintel gunned the motor south on the M6.

  ‘Why’d you say that?’ Quintel asked.

  ‘The way you offed Dempster. I looked into your eyes.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘No emotion – you’d have made a good volunteer.’

  Quintel had already guessed that his client McKnowle was an ex-terrorist of one variation or another, but had never wanted to pry, especially over the phone. Now was his chance. ‘Volunteer? I’m guessing you’re not talking about helping out in your local library?’

  McKnowle laughed before he answered, ‘The Provisional wing of the Irish Republican Army. Or PIRA, the Provos or just, the IRA. I used to be one of its senior commanders.’

  Quintel had all but guessed the organisation, but was shocked to hear of McKnowle’s high status. ‘Wow, I’m honoured that you have deemed me a suitable asset to use.’

  ‘No offence Jackie-boy, but I’ve got no idea who the fuck I can trust back home nowadays, the majority have either gone soft, or are too busy sticking their tongues up the Brits’ arses.’

  ‘I’m obviously glad you picked me, but what of your hard-core? There must still be some guys you could have used?’

  ‘I’m fucking hard-core, but the rest, well, most of them were nutters back in the day. I don’t even know them now.’

  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 h
ere?’

  ‘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,’ Christine 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.