Vengeance

by Price, Roger A

  ‘What does that mean?’ Vinnie asked.

  Ignoring his question, an excited Harry continued, ‘I’ve spoken to Reedly and run the name past him, too, and, bingo.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He remembers a job where the security forces intercepted an ASU kill team. Two were killed, one escaped, and one was seriously injured. The two who were killed were adjudged to have been so by virtue of “Justifiable Homicide”.’

  ‘Good of Reedly to only remember this now.’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing; he’d discounted it as the injured terrorist – who incidentally was a very senior member of the Provisional IRA – never recovered from his injuries, he was left in a paralysed state known as Locked-in Syndrome. He apparently hated the man who is speaking today.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He took over his role and became a leading light in the peace process, and there’s more, much more.’

  Vinnie could see the links now. Carstair and Reedly because of their adjudication – rightly so – that the terrorists who had died had been stopped about to commit murder. But more so with today’s speaker, a man hated by the man behind Quintel. ‘So who is the man behind all this?’

  ‘He’s called Bobby McKnowle,’ Harry said.

  ‘But why now after all these years, and who is doing it for him?’

  ‘McKnowle himself is behind it and the reason for “why now”? is easy. According to our intel team McKnowle recovered his muscular movement a couple of years ago and has since made a full recovery.’

  ‘Shit this is it,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Can you get in close and look for any sign of Quintel and McKnowle; I’m guessing he was Quintel’s passenger the other day. I’ve got the three gunships that were behind the surveillance team making ground to join you.’

  ‘Ok, Harry, no probs. Has Quintel’s phone been lined-up yet?’

  ‘Imminent I’m told and Blister’s phone is still off, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Last question, Harry; who is the actual target then?’

  ‘You won’t believe it, Vinnie,’ Harry said, and then he told him.

  *

  Quintel picked up the grenade he’d bought the other day from the guy in Birmingham. He guessed either would do, but this one looked newer and Quintel hoped that would make it more effective. The lesser of the two – if indeed there was any difference – would be plenty explosive enough to destroy the Nissan afterwards. He kept the two hand guns under his coat until he was back in the car, and handed one to McKnowle who slipped it in his pocket before starting the engine.

  McKnowle drove away from the Barracks before turning around and re-approaching. He pulled over fifty metres short as they took in the scene. The crowd was growing larger and their white-haired target in the light grey suit kept strutting up and down the driveway between the two podiums. He eventually settled at the one by the sentry, away from the crowd.

  ‘Typical of the arrogant bastard to say whatever the feckin ejiot has to say away from the crowd, and then to do a photo opportunity afterwards. Grandstanding bastard, so he is. We’ll wait until he’s started, all the attention will be on him then. You ready, Jackie-boy?’

  Quintel looked at the grenade in his hand and looked up at their target, before saying, ’Don’t worry about me, just get me as close as you can.’

  He was going to enjoy this.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  By the time they were approaching the scene of McConachy’s main address, Christine was feeling decidedly car sick. ‘We should be the only press here, well, the only TV hopefully.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Paul asked.

  ‘As no one was expecting him to drop any bombshells, most channels, or those who were bothered, thought they could get away with covering the first address only, and now thanks to your skill behind the wheel, they’ll all be playing catch up.’

  ‘Not lost it,’ Paul said, adding, ‘it looks like it’s not easy to park around here, I’ll drop you three and join you after I’ve ditched the motor.’

  Five minutes later, Christine had managed to push her way to the front of the crowd. People naturally gave way to a camera crew coming through, apart from other camera crews that was, but they were the only ones here yet. She could see McConachy walking between two lecterns; one by the cordon by the road and a second one a little way down the driveway to the main entrance to the Barracks. She could only imagine why he’d picked Fulwood Barracks to make his grand speech. She watched as the silver-haired man in his light coloured suit seemed to settle by the lectern nearest the gatehouse. She also noticed he walked exaggeratedly straight. Probably trying to cover up his limp.

  ‘If he’s going to do it from there, then we will need to be closer,’ the soundgirl said.

  ‘Come on them,’ Christine answered, adding, ‘but do it slowly, like it’s pre-arranged.’

  The three of them walked slowly up the short driveway to where McConachy was stood, clearly preparing to start his address. He only seemed to notice them as they drew to a halt a couple of feet away. He’d been engrossed in his notes or whatever he’d been reading.

  ‘Turning,’ Christine whispered to her crew, who both repeated the word.

  ‘Outside Fulwood Barracks, take one – Action,’ she said, facing the camera before turning back to face McConachy.

  ‘I’ll be doing press interviews by the roadway in a few minutes, if you can wait ‘till then,’ McConachy said.

  ‘Christine Jones, NWTV. Mr McConachy we have evidence that you, although appearing to be pro-power sharing with other political groups, have in fact behind the scenes been systematically removing any Protestant or pro-Unionist from public office.’

  ‘What the hell is this?’

  ‘In fact, you have replaced such senior figures, including within the police service, with Republican sympathisers in a secret plan to eventually usurp the British Government, isn’t that true?’

  ‘What rubbish is this?’

  ‘The fact that you plan to announce today that you are ending investigations into the actions committed by the forces of law and order, is simply a smokescreen to your true political agenda.’

  ‘Get these out of here,’ he said, turning to two minders who were stood back from McConachy.

  ‘Actions, which only this morning, you still described as “atrocities”.’

  ‘Get that camera,’ McConachy barked at his minders.

  Christine told her crew to run as she stepped forward to block the advancing minders in an effort to give her crew a head start. She knew she’d gone further than June had told her to, but she couldn’t help it.

  *

  Quintel could see the three-person TV crew head up the driveway towards their target as McKnowle spoke. ‘We go now while McConachy is distracted, so get ready.’

  It was the first time McKnowle had used their target’s name, not that it made any difference, it still meant nothing to him. Quintel wound down the passenger window and held onto the grenade tightly as he pulled the safety pin out.

  McKnowle drove at normal speed as they approached. Then, as they neared, Quintel got a side-on glimpse of the woman in the TV crew asking the questions. It was that bitch Christine Jones. What was she doing here? And then he smiled to himself. He could kill them both in one go and McKnowle would never be the wiser. Both jobs completed, no problems. Money in the bank.

  ‘Get ready,’ McKnowle said, adding, ‘I’ll slow right down as we pass the back of the crowd, every fucker’s watching that twat. Make it a good one.’

  Quintel reckoned their target would only be between fifteen and twenty metres away at the most. If he hit the driveway at five metres prior or better, it would be good enough. He remembered at Blackley cemetery when Jason had told him about the three meter zone – within that there was no chance of survival.

  He turned to face the window as the car slowed down, and kept a firm hold of the blue painted weapon in his right hand.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

>   Vinnie had turned back onto the main road that the Barracks were on, done a U-turn, and was headed in the general direction of the A6 for a further drive past. He slowed down, as he wanted to be able to take it all in, see if anything had changed since a few minutes ago. The crowd were slightly larger and First Minister McConachy was stood at the podium nearest to the Barracks. He had grey hair with a suit to match. It looked as if he was being interviewed by a three-person camera crew. McConachy was waving his arms aggressively; he guessed the interview wasn’t going too well. He’d got quite a shock when Harry had told him that this ex-terrorist was now the First Minister of the Northern Irish Assembly. No wonder the local uniform superintendent was harassed at having this dropped on him at the last minute, and no wonder he was coy with Harry as to the man’s full identity.

  Although this had to be the target, and acknowledging the fact that according to what Crompton had told Harry that he had took over from McKnowle and had then taken the IRA in a different direction, there had to be more to it. McKnowle had spent God knows how many years fermenting his hatred of McConachy, a man whom he once must have stood with as brothers-in-arms. There had to be more.

  Vinnie slowed as he started to pass the back of the crowd, albeit from the opposite side of the road, scanning their backs, looking for anything that could construe the start of a hostile act. His last contact from Harry had been to tell him that the ARVs had arrived and were decamping in a side street, their instructions being to mingle among the crowd.

  He looked forward again and then saw it. The blue Nissan approaching from the opposite direction. It too was starting to pass the back of the crowd. It too was slowing. He was fairly sure that the driver was the same man who’d been the car’s passenger when he and Christine had seen it in Blackpool. That must be McKnowle. And he was sure of whom today’s passenger was, Quintel. And he was winding his passenger window down.

  Fifteen metres between them and not a moment to lose, Vinnie hit the accelerator of his Volvo as hard as he could and aimed at the front of the Nissan. It was all he could do in the time. He glanced back at McConachy and saw two of the camera crew running away and the anchor, a woman, being bundled by two minders back towards the cordon by the road. She had her back to him.

  He turned back to face the Nissan and braced himself for impact. The front of his car missed the front of the Nissan, as McKnowle must have seen the threat at the last minute as the car swerved. Vinnie didn’t have time to alter his course and the front of his car hit the driver’s side of the Nissan. Horns blazed all around from other motorists as the crowd turned to face them, Vinnie saw a blue object fly out of Quintel’s window in a looping arc towards McConachy. His own window was down and all he could do was shout ‘grenade,’ as he watched the small round death-giver fly through the air.

  He then realised that the grenade was going to fall short. The collision between the cars must have altered Quintel’s aim. Vinnie was horrified as he realised that the grenade was now headed towards the crowd. He wasn’t sure in this time-lapsed moment whether people had seen the approaching object or heard his shout, or both, but some had reacted and were fleeing in all directions, star-bursting across the lawn perimeter with some running wildly into the road. Then Vinnie saw the TV anchor turn around. It was Christine. What the hell was she doing here? Then remembered what she’d spent months working on.

  Vinnie felt sick as he realised what his intervention had done. The grenade was past its highest point and heading straight towards Christine. Time caught up as he helplessly watched in horror as the device landed at her feet.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Christine tried her best to stall the two burly minders but knew she was no match for them, but what she had done was to buy her crew a couple of vital seconds, and they were off and through the crowd before they could be stopped. Job done. She stopped resisting as the two goons frog-marched her to the outer cordon by the pavement and then gave her an unceremonious shove towards the main gathering. Then she heard an almighty crash, a road accident beyond the crowd. She couldn’t see the vehicles clearly because everyone had turned to look, but two cars had definitely collided right behind where they were. She hoped no one was hurt.

  Then she heard someone shout what sounded like the word “grenade”. People started to flee; they must have thought they heard the same word. But it couldn’t be. Why would someone shout “grenade”? She turned around, towards where the two cars which collided had slithered to a halt, and that’s when she saw something flying through the air towards her.

  It took a second to register. It was small, round and a vivid shade of blue. And it was headed straight for her. It had obviously topped-out within its trajectory and was looping down towards her at a fast rate. Her brain assimilated everything in a milli-second. Then flight mode kicked in as she started to leap, but in a further milli-second her brain had also told her that it was hopeless. The grenade was only feet away.

  As she started to jump, it hit the ground right in front of her. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  *

  Vinnie watched the grenade as it hit the ground right in front of Christine. Then nothing. Nothing happened. The blue object bounced up into the air before hitting the ground for a second time. Still nothing. It just rolled to a stop. Vinnie screamed, ‘Christine here, run.’ He saw her head spin around, and through the thinned out crowd their eyes locked in mutual recognition.

  Vinnie was out of the car by the time Christine arrived. He didn’t know why the device hadn’t gone off, or whether it still would. She flung her arms around him and he hugged her like he’d never hugged anyone in his life. No words were spoken. None were needed. Then a familiar cry brought him back to the initial matter in hand. ‘Armed police; put your hands where I can see them, do it now.’

  Vinnie turned to see several of the surveillance team’s ARV crews with weapons drawn approaching the Nissan. The driver suddenly leapt from the Nissan and opened fire with a handgun before he grabbed hold of one of the last members of the crowd. He backed off across the road with his gun to the terrified man’s head. Then Vinnie recognised the scared man from the crowd. It was Major Crompton, in civilian clothes. But he was playing along, shouting and wailing as one would expect. Three armed police followed the retreating McKnowle at increasingly widening angles, until his back was up against a wall on the opposite side of the road next to a small pub.

  ‘Stand the fuck down or this twat gets it,’ McKnowle shouted.

  But the armed police continued until they were only twenty feet away, but covering a wide arc. McKnowle couldn’t watch them all, and he must have known it.

  ‘Just put your weapon down and no one needs get hurt,’ the middle cop said.

  ‘I knows how you fuckers work, I put the weapon down and yous kill me,’ McKnowle said.

  ‘Even if that was true, which it’s not, would we do such a thing with all these witnesses?’ the same officer said.

  McKnowle looked as if he was taking in his environment for the first time. The crowd had re-formed, albeit at a safe distance. Amazing how bold the inquisitive mind could be, Vinnie thought.

  McKnowle took the gun away from his hostage’s head. Crompton was still playing his part, wailing and muttering. McKnowle said, ‘Just so yous know who the feekin boss is here; I’ll lame this fucker.’ McKnowle then started to move his gun arm towards Crompton’s right leg. The moment of impasse was clearly not one which the experienced soldier was going to let pass. He balked back, knocking McKnowle backwards into the wall with a look of genuine surprise in his eyes. He’d clearly not seen his hostage as a threat due to his excellent playacting.

  Crompton kept himself bent double as he rushed forward, in a zig zag pattern. Vinnie watched as he saw McKnowle rebound off the wall before he started to raise his gun arm again, clearly trying to track Crompton’s movements as his arm swung to and fro. Then two shots rang out and McKnowle went down. He’d given the police no choice, as the middle cop started t
o run to McKnowle’s aid.

  This had all gone off in seconds, but had seemed like minutes to Vinnie. He spun around to look for the Nissan, but it was gone, and so was Quintel.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  As Vinnie spun around to look for the Nissan, he also saw Christine approach McKnowle with her soundgirl and cameraman following on. He reckoned that they were recording as the light was on above the camera. He quickly pulled Christine to one side. ‘Did you see where Quintel went?’

  ‘Quintel?’ she asked.

  ‘He was just here in the Nissan.’

  ‘Sorry, no I didn’t.’

  Two paramedics arrived and started to work on McKnowle, who was awake and swearing. Vinnie stepped forward. ‘Will he be alright?’

  The paramedic nearest to Vinnie said, ‘Looks superficial, once we staunch the bleeding he’ll be in no danger. He might need minor surgery to his wounds, but he’ll live.’

  Then Major Crompton approached and that reminded Vinnie of the unexploded grenade. ‘The grenade?’

  ‘Worry not Inspector, I’d been keeping an eye from beyond the gatehouse and saw the attack. But the fools used a training ground grenade. That’s why they are painted bright blue – no explosives in them. One of my men has already recovered it; and before you say anything, it’s preserved for forensic examination.’

  ‘Thanks, Major,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Looks like whoever sold that munition to your man knew he was not ex-military so ripped him off,’ Crompton said.

  ‘Brick dust,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Pardon?’ Crompton asked.

  Vinnie quickly explained that if a heroin dealer thought he was dealing with a patsy he’d sell him brick dust instead of heroin, as it looked like the real thing.

  ‘I thought heroin was white?’ Christine said.