by Conrad Jones
Raitis walked towards the back of the van and stopped in his tracks when he was faced by two men holding pump action shotguns. His colleagues were already stood with their hands above their heads.
“Put your hands up and get on your knees.”
“What the fuck is this?” Oleg snarled.
“Do it now,” the mechanic who had opened the doors ordered. His accent was British, probably local and that spelled trouble. Raitis noticed that his hands were spotlessly clean. Neither of the men looked grimy enough to be one of the Fletcher Bros. “I won’t repeat myself and I really don’t care if you live through this. I don’t have to kill you but I will if needs be.” Raitis did as he was told, followed closely by the other two. They knelt and put their hands behind their heads. “Good, now where is the zombie?”
Raitis looked at his colleagues. They didn’t have much choice but to tell them. He kept quiet and left it to Oleg to speak. “It’s in a briefcase on the front seat.”
One of the men gestured with his head and a third man that he hadn’t noticed went to check for the drugs. “Do you know who those drugs belong to?” Oleg sneered. “You’re already dead men.”
“I’ve got the case. Cuff them to the van.” The mechanic ignored Oleg as if he hadn’t spoken. He was ice cool.
“What about these lot in here?” One of the men looked into the back of the van. The black women were huddled together as far away from the back doors as they could against the front seats. They were mesmerised by what was happening. He shook his head in disbelief at the smell and covered his nose with his sleeve. “They must be carrying something inside them, there’s shit everywhere in the back of the van.”
“Untie them and leave them. They look like they need a break.”
“You had better get used to the smell of shit,” Oleg snarled, “because you’re up to your necks in it. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
“If you speak again, I’ll blow your head off,” the mechanic said calmly. “Do you understand me?”
Oleg nodded and spat on the floor. Raitis was cuffed to Oleg by one hand and then attached to the tow bar by the other. The metal bit painfully into his flesh. Oleg’s other hand was cuffed to the van, making it impossible for him to stand up.
“There are balloons full of gear in this bucket.” One of the men said as he untied the mules. “Could be heroin or cocaine; it would be a shame to leave it behind?”
“We’ll take it and see what the boss wants to do; could be a decent bonus in it for us. As long as we have zombie, nothing else matters but hurry up!” It was obvious to Raitis that the mechanic was a pro. He wouldn’t think twice about eliminating them if they caused problems.
“Okay, keep your hair on.” The last but one girl was cut free. “That’s it ladies, you’re free to explore. You’ll find all the restaurants and bars in the city centre, just a half an hour ride on a number 79 bus. Keep hold of any balloons that come out of your bottom and you’ll be very wealthy women,” he wittered to himself as he freed the last girl. The women rubbed their wrists and cowered in the van, wide eyed and confused, frightened, hungry and tired. “They haven’t got a clue what’s happening, have they?”
“Let’s move,” the mechanic shouted. The three men jogged to the Mercedes and climbed in. Exhaust fumes drifted into the bays as it pulled forward. When the van was clear of the barn, one of them jumped out and slammed the doors closed. Raitis heard keys and the sound of the locks being fastened. “See you, boys. Enjoy the rest of your day!”
“Fuck you!” Oleg shouted after them. It was a futile gesture. They had been stung good and proper. “We need to get out of these fucking cuffs,” he moaned. Spittle flew from his lips as he spoke. His face was purple with anger. “I will find them and skin them alive. We need to get out of here!” He was panicking. What had happened wasn’t necessarily their fault but Raitis knew how things went down when an operation went wrong. The shit rolled downhill. They had been in charge of the zombie when it went missing, therefore they were responsible and Oleg knew it too. “Ivor will bury us alive.”
“Don’t panic,” Raitis said calmly. “This was not our fault. We have been stitched up. There was nothing that we could have done.”
“You can explain that to Ivor for me,” Oleg scoffed. He looked around the garage in a panic. Sweat trickled down his forehead. “Look at all those tools on the wall. We can use them to get out of here and then follow those bastards.”
“They’re long gone by now.” Raitis said shaking his head. “What we need to know is who is the rat. If we find the rat, we find the drugs and Ivor will be happy on both fronts.”
“You can turn into Sherlock Holmes if you want to but right now, we need those bolt cutters.” Oleg pulled hard as he spoke hurting Raitis’s wrists.
“Take it easy, Oleg.”
“Hey you!” Oleg shouted to the women in the van. They were untied but still cowered in the van. “Get out of there!” Oleg’s face was red with anger and frustration; the veins at his temple pulsed visibly. “Get out of the van!” he shouted.
“Don’t shout at them,” Raitis said. Oleg turned and glared at him. “You will panic them. Talk to them calmly.”
“Fuck off, you pussy,” Oleg snapped. “Hey! Move it quickly!” He shouted again. “Get out of the van. I need you to pass me those bolt cutters.” The women stirred and one of them reached for the door handle. “Yes, that’s it. Pull the fucking handle and get out. Move it!”
“Calm down,” Raitis said shaking his arm and looking him square in the eyes. “We need to stay calm or we’re not going to get out of this without being locked up for a very long time. Are you listening to me?”
“What?” Oleg’s eyes seemed to focus. “What are you bitching about now? I am trying to get us out of this.”
“Listen to me,” he explained calmly. “I think that they’re going to tip off the police as soon as they’re a few miles away,” Raitis said. “They know the women have drugs inside them. Why do you think that they left the women behind?”
“Why would they do that?” Oleg frowned. “There’s no way they would phone the police.”
“Why didn’t they kill us, Oleg?”
“What?”
“They didn’t kill us because they know that we won’t be around to bother them. Think about it for a minute.”
“It doesn’t make any difference. We need to get out of here, so unless you have a better idea, shut up!” Oleg turned back to the women. He pointed to the door. “Get out of the fucking van!”
“It is obvious that we need to get out of here, now calm down and stop shouting at them. We need them to stay calm.” The women were chattering to each other. They seemed to be settling down. It had dawned on them that their captors were now handcuffed to the van and couldn’t reach them.
“Get out of the van!” Oleg was losing control. His face was a mask of anger. The women looked at him with contempt.
“Calm down,” Raitis said again. As he did, he noticed one of the women opening the side door of the van. They were still wary of Oleg but as they moved towards the door nervously they seemed convinced that he couldn’t do anything to hurt them. They climbed out and huddled closely, taking comfort from each other. They were talking to each other at a hundred miles an hour which seemed normal but they were staring and pointing at Oleg with blank dead eyes, which wasn’t normal. Raitis could feel the hatred radiating from them.
“Hey,” Oleg ranted. He pointed to the wall as best as he could with his cuffed hand. “Pass me those bolt cutters.” The women looked at him blankly. “There you stupid bitch!”
“Oleg, shut up and stay very calm,” Raitis sensed a shift in their mood. The fear was dissipating and now there was hatred in their eyes. “We do not want to freak them out.”
“What are you talking about?” Oleg sneered. “Will you stop bitching!” He pointed to the wall where the tools were displayed. “Get them for me,” he shouted at the group of women repeatedly. “Ther
e. Pass me those bolt cutters!” he bellowed at the top of his voice. The sinews in his neck stood out like wires ready to snap. The women continued to stare at him angrily but none of them moved. There was an expression of defiance on some of their faces and it was an expression that was spreading. “Listen to me! Pass me those cutters and do it now!”
One of them followed his gaze and looked over her shoulder at the tools. Raitis was amazed as she walked over to the wall where the cutters were hung on a rack. He couldn’t believe that she was doing what he had told her to do. It looked like she was going to help her captures to break free. Fear has a strange effect on people, Raitis thought. He watched as she stood with her back to them for a while studying the tools.
“Good!” Oleg nodded. He laughed like a lunatic. “They’re right in front of you, you stupid bitch! Pick them up, hurry up!”
She ignored him and turned to the others, speaking in a language that Raitis couldn’t understand. The others walked closer to her and chattered looking over their shoulder every now and then. Raitis was baffled until she picked up a long handled lump hammer and stared at Oleg. The others each picked a tool, some heavy, some sharp. They had hatred in their eyes as they approached. Then Raitis knew exactly what they were going to do.
CHAPTER 11
Jason Greene was reporting what he thought was a robbery in progress at the pawnbroker’s shop when the door opened and two men walked out. They were bruisers, heavy leather jackets and grade one haircuts. He reckoned that they were too old to be serving military although they had the look of those that had. One of them locked the door with a key and Jason noticed a tattoo between his thumb and forefinger. It was a spade with a 3 at the centre. They looked up and down the street furtively before heading past the cafe and across the road. Jason raised his mobile and snapped off some pictures. As he did, one of them looked directly at him. His heart stopped beating in his chest as their eyes locked. Time seemed to slow down; it almost stopped completely. There was anger in the man’s eyes and if looks alone could kill, Jason would be dead. It was obvious that he didn’t want his face on camera; not one bit. The man stopped and turned to walk towards him but his accomplice pulled him back. At first, Jason couldn’t understand why but then he heard the faint sound of a siren. The men began to run away but one of them took out his mobile and snapped a picture of Jason and his Range Rover. His pulse was still racing when a black Ford screeched to a halt outside the emporium. A man the size of an oak tree climbed out and ran to the shop door. He rattled the handle and pushed his shoulder against it but it wouldn’t budge.
Jason took the Rolex watches from his pocket and stashed them under his seat and then he opened the door. He had to help Kayla if he could. “They locked the door behind them,” Jason shouted across the road. “I saw them leaving.”
“Did you call the Police?” Stirling asked.
“Yes.”
Stirling turned around and waved him over. “You saw someone locking the door?”
“Yes,” Jason jogged to him. He pointed in the direction that they had run. “They ran that way; two big guys with cropped hair.”
“How do you know that they don’t work here?”
“I know the owner, Kayla. We were going to do some business. She told me to meet her here this morning but when I got here, the door was open but the shop was empty. I hung around for a bit but she didn’t come out of the back then I heard a noise in the office and called the police. They’re on the way.”
“They’re already here,” Stirling grunted. He took a step back and then launched himself at the door. His shoulder connected with the frame but it barely moved. It was reinforced to jewellery store industry standard and it was going nowhere. As big as he was, he needed some assistance.
“I’ve got a heavy bar in the boot,” Jason offered.
“Go and get it,” Stirling nodded. He pressed his face against the glass and looked inside. Nothing looked out of place, which was odd if a robbery had occurred. A marked police interceptor arrived on the scene and the uniformed officers climbed out. It was closely followed by a second. “DS Stirling, MIT.” He flashed his ID.
“What can we do to help, Sarge?”
“Call an ambulance for a start.”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Have you got a big red key in your boot?” Stirling asked, referring to the heavy battering ram that the force used to break entry.
“No, sorry, we’re on traffic detail but we were closest so we responded.”
“I’ve got the paramedics on the line. What are the injuries?”
“I don’t know yet,” Stirling said as Jason returned with a metre long piece of iron. He took the metal from him and looked at it. “What is your name?”
“Jason Greene.”
“Okay, Jason, I won’t ask what this is doing in your vehicle,” he said with a wry smile as he took the bar from him. Jason Greene blushed. Stirling aimed the bar at the crack between the door and the frame below the lock, ramming it in as deep as he could. It bit into the frame and he forced it one way and then the other, feeling the frame crack. He drove it deeper as the gap widened and then forced it hard to the left but it wouldn’t budge.
“Do you want a hand, Sarge?”
“Yes, lean on this with me. Ready, one, two, three!” They leaned on the bar with all their body weight. A gap appeared at the bottom and they jammed the bar further into it, wrenching it hard and fast. Stirling slammed his shoulder hard against the door and it splintered and cracked before it flew open. “We’re in!”
Stirling headed straight for the office door. He twisted the handle and it opened. The office was roomy and bright despite having no windows. A slim computer monitor sat on a tidy desk and a stack of well organised shelves were fastened to the back wall. To his left, there was a tall Cannon safe and a stack of cardboard boxes marked with the shop’s logo. A single chair lay upturned on the floor and a small pool of blood no bigger than a saucer stained the carpet. Apart from that, nothing looked out of place and there was no sign of Kayla Yates. Stirling called back to one of the uniformed officers.
“Bring Jason in here.” The officer stepped outside and returned with him in tow. “Did you actually see Kayla in here today?”
“No, I didn’t see her. I spoke to her on the telephone.” Jason was confused. “Isn’t she in there?”
“No.”
“But I heard her cry out.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Jason lied. He was almost sure that he had heard her but not certain. He couldn’t be positive what he had heard. “I called the shop just after nine. I spoke to her and she told me to come in. The door was open. She must be in there.”
“You’re sure that she didn’t leave with the men that you saw locking the door?”
Jason fumbled in his pocket and took out his phone. He scrolled to the pictures that he had taken. “Here, look.”
Stirling looked at the pictures. “We’ll need those photographs,” he said waving a uniformed officer over. “We need these pictures sent to MIT immediately.”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“You can send them to me before you go,” Stirling said as he looked at the pictures. Sure enough, there was no sign of anyone on the pictures but two men.
“What is your number?” Jason asked. Stirling handed him a business card and Jason sent the photographs. The big detective looked angry and confused. “Have this picture distributed to traffic too,” he said to one of the uniforms. “They must be in the area somewhere.”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Can you follow me, Constable?” He gestured to the second uniformed officer to follow him and they went back to the office. “There’s a small toilet there with no windows. I need you to walk the office with me. Check every inch of floor, ceiling and walls as you go.”
“Sarge.”
They walked around the room in opposite directions but it was empty.
“Once more but this time double-check,” Sti
rling sighed. He stamped his right foot every few feet, searching for an access hatch to a cellar but the entire floor was concrete. The uniformed officer knocked the walls with his baton but there was no other way out of the office. “She can’t vanish into thin air.”
Stirling looked around again and his eyes focused on the Cannon safe. It was tall and wide. The uniformed officer raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks. “It’s definitely possible,” he said reading Stirling’s thoughts. “But if she’s in there, she’s in trouble.”
Stirling approached the safe and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. It was just below chest height tall and a metre wide. “If she is in there, we’ve got minutes to get the thing open.” He pressed his ear to the cold metal door. It was six inches of composite; not a sound came from within. He picked up the iron bar and thumped the end against the door and then listened again. He couldn’t hear anything but the blood racing through his ears. Stirling looked around again as his mind computed the options. There simply was nowhere else that she could be. “Get on the comms and get me any safe experts that we have on our books, locksmiths or welders, whatever it takes to get that door open. We need them now. If they can’t get here in half an hour, tell them not to bother.”
“I’m on it, Guv.”