THE FOLLOWER: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 4)

by Robert White

  “I’m not much company, am I?” he said wearily.

  “It’s okay, Larry, I understand.”

  He took a gulp. “Blackman is a real piece of work…are you due to meet with him?”

  Feeling ever so slightly guilty I pressed for more info. “It hasn’t been mentioned…what do you mean a piece of work?”

  He took another long drink and looked at his almost empty glass. “Should’ve bought a pint, I reckon.”

  “I’ll get us both another,” I offered. “You’re not driving, are you?”

  “Cab,” he said, handing me his empty.

  “Pint it is, then.”

  I returned with Larry’s brew, a gin and slimline for myself and sat beside him.

  “You do look a bit knackered, mate, you need a day off.”

  Larry snorted. “Fat chance, It’s the PM tomorrow and we have a full murder incident team briefing first thing in the morning.”

  “And you are heading?”

  He shook his head. “Was, but not now, the boys in the big house have decided that it is too high profile for a DCI and they are shipping in a guy from HQ…a DCS Williams.”

  “You pissed about that?”

  Larry shrugged resignedly. “Was always going to happen. I mean a US Senator’s son…well, you could say, a prospective US President’s son…it doesn’t get any bigger, eh? And once the press gets a hold of it tomorrow… well, it will be fucking chaos.”

  “There’s a conference?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  I took a sip and went with a subject I figured we could both share. “Did you get a chance to have a look at those surveillance reports?”

  He nodded. “Quick look, yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And, in a way, they confirm what we already knew.”

  I raised my brows, surprised that they had given Larry anything.

  He shrugged as if it was obvious.

  “The area the team lost Todd in… every time he came to town?”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  It was Larry’s turn to give me the eyebrows. “The Village?”

  “He was gay?”

  Larry shrugged again.

  “But the reports said he was popular with girls, he had a girlfriend.”

  “Yes, Todd Blackman had lots of girls who were ‘friends,’ just no girlfriends.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Oh yes.”

  I took a bigger drink at that news. “Well, JE the mighty is going to be well pleased with that little snippet, given his political and moral stance on homosexuality.”

  Larry turned. “JE Blackman is adamant his son isn’t gay.”

  “He would be.”

  Larry shook his head and let out a small laugh. “No, Lauren, you don’t understand. JE admits his son had been confused about his sexuality as a teenager.”

  “But?”

  “But he had him cured.”

  I nearly spat out my gin. “What?”

  “Oh yes, JE has told me in no uncertain terms that Todd had undergone ‘treatment’ in the US for his ‘confused state.’ Apparently, he underwent a mixture of both psychological and religious counselling before leaving for the UK, and had been completely ‘cured’ of his homosexual leanings.”

  I scratched my head. “Well, he was arrested for kerb crawling in Louisville last year. It was in the press… no charges of course, so I suppose he may have been batting for both sides at that point.”

  Larry took a long drink of his beer.

  “Todd Blackman was arrested for importuning in a public toilet, a la George Michael. The only woman involved in that matter was the arresting officer.” He took another swill and waved his near empty glass,

  “... another?”

  I gulped my gin.

  “Oh yes.”

  As Larry bought the drinks, I made a note that should I ever see her again, never to trust anything that came out of Katelyn Willis’ mouth.

  Minutes later, he was back.

  Larry sat. He looked less tired. Maybe the beer, or maybe my gin, but he looked good, no doubt.

  I turned in my seat. “So, you believe Todd was definitely gay?”

  Larry pulled a small notebook from his pocket and wrote on it. He tore off the top sheet and handed it to me.

  “Here is my part of the deal. This was Todd’s best friend at college, Henrietta Duvall. She’s nineteen, from Oxfordshire and what is referred to locally as a ‘Fag Hag.’”

  I took the paper and pushed it in my jeans. “Not very complimentary.”

  “I don’t make up these terms Lauren, the street does. It simply means a woman who prefers the company of gay men.”

  “Well, that answers a lot of questions.”

  Larry cocked his head, a movement that made him look incredibly sexy. “Really?” he asked. I felt the old stomach doing somersaults again but pressed on.

  “In a way, yes. I mean… look, you don’t need to give anything away, but I’m supposing that there is evidence of Todd’s leanings at the scene.”

  “Definitely.”

  “And once the press gets a hold of this information, JE Blackman’s chances of running for President take a major nosedive?”

  Larry shrugged, unconcerned. “It will just be a basic conference tomorrow afternoon with very little detail from us. An appeal for witnesses to Todd’s last movements, that kind of thing.” He smiled and pointed, “…unless there’s a leak.”

  “Fuck no, Larry, that is a very dangerous game.”

  I took his hand and looked into those tired eyes that seemed all so inviting.

  “I like you, Larry. I really do. And you are a good cop, a good man. But… but don’t get involved in this one. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here. Blackman would hunt you down and have you slaughtered before breakfast. He’s rich and powerful enough to make the CIA dance to his tune. Leave this one be, Larry… please.”

  He sat back and blew out his cheeks.

  “Look, I’m pulling your leg about leaks. Anyway, it won’t be my call, Lauren, it will be down to this DCS Williams.”

  “The guy the suits just brought in from HQ?”

  He nodded.

  “Experienced murder detective, is he?”

  “Fraud expert, actually.”

  “Keen to advance his career?”

  Larry raised those brows again. “What are you saying, Lauren?”

  “Christian, is he? Regular church goer?”

  “I… I think so, but…”

  I figured Larry needed a wake up call.

  “Look Chief Inspector, our team were ‘loaned out’ to the Americans by The Firm… MI5… the secret fucking service… our Government, Larry. The people that pay your wages. It was rubber stamped in Whitehall, the corridors of power. They gave the go ahead for the Yanks to employ us to bury this job. To protect Blackman’s reputation. Sinking in yet?”

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s no maybe about it. I’ll bet your man Williams is a fine upstanding, bible wielding member of the community… and I’ll wager he’s a great deal richer today than yesterday.”

  “Are you suggesting Williams would have taken a bribe?”

  I turned down the corners of my mouth.

  “Possibly cash. Maybe he just got a call from on high suggesting he take the case, as it may help his future career development. Who knows? Maybe he has a skeleton of his own in the closet that he would rather remain hidden. I don’t know, but I would guess one or more of those scenarios is playing out right now as we speak.”

  Larry ran his hands through his hair.

  “My God, Lauren. This is just what I was talking about when I came to your flat. All this cloak and dagger stuff. You don’t need it. Why not just drop all this shit and li
ve a normal life again?... With me?”

  I looked at him. Strong, reliable, honest, hardworking, handsome. What more could a girl ask for?

  “I think it’s time I went home,” I said.

  We walked Deansgate towards the taxi rank. The air was thick and heavy with summer humidity. Girls teetered by in the highest of heels and tiny dresses, whilst guys in shorts and t-shirts guzzled cold cans as they strode noisily by, doing their best to hide their booze from the patrolling cops.

  We reached the line of waiting cabs, stopped at the kerb and faced each other.

  Larry took me in his arms and looked deep into my eyes.

  “You have my number. You know where I am.”

  I smiled and nodded. “I do.”

  He dipped his head and kissed my cheek. “I still want that dinner you promised me.”

  I took a step back, not trusting myself to stay so close to him any longer.

  “I keep my promises,” I said. “Come on… your cab’s waiting.”

  Des Cogan’s Story:

  It was 0700hrs when Maggie’s alarm shattered what had been a deep, dreamless sleep. She rolled from my arms and stretched, revealing her nakedness.

  “No rest for the wicked,” she yawned.

  I pulled her to me and we kissed deeply. I really did not want to let her go. “Another few minutes won’t hurt.”

  She smiled. “Yes it will, Mr Cogan. The drayman will be here in a quarter of an hour with my Boddingtons.”

  I looked into her face, still creased from sleep, still lovely.

  “Well, let me get the breakfast then, eh? You get a shower and I’ll find my way around your kitchen.”

  She stroked my cheek. “How could a girl resist?” “No black pudding for me,” she giggled rolling from the bed.

  The dray was on time and I had to warm Maggie’s breakfast in the oven until the delivery was done and the order was signed for.

  Finally, we sat together and ate.

  There was that hint of an atmosphere. The kind that only rears its head after two people have slept together for the first time. Especially the age of us two. I mean, let’s face it, you get to a stage where you don’t expect a great deal. It would have been no surprise if Maggie had politely explained over breakfast that our night of passion had been a one off, a mistake, a… whatever. That, or there would be no phone numbers exchanged, no second chances.

  That said, I didn’t know a lot of Maggie’s history, but I got the impression, just like myself, there hadn’t been too many one-night stands in her life.

  “You okay?” I asked, feeling the old nerves jangle.

  Maggie nodded, chewing.

  “Sure”

  More nods, a hint of a smile. “Are you asking about the sex, Desmond?” she said, without looking up from her plate.

  The good Catholic boy in me reared its head and I felt myself flush. “Well, no exactly that. I mean, it was just a general sort of a how ye doing like.”

  “Ah, I see…well I’m doing just fine, thank you…. And the sex was wonderful… just in case that’s what you were asking.”

  Well, if you wanted to make a fella feel good at eight in the morning, that’s the way. I tucked into my sausage and couldn’t stop myself grinning.

  I was halfway through my poached egg when I became aware that Maggie was staring.

  “You seem a really good bloke, Des,” she offered, all matter of fact. “Y’know. Sorted, good looking, look after yourself. I mean, there can’t be many men your age out there with a body like yours.”

  She stifled another wonderful giggle. “I reckon a girl could be forgiven for thinking she’d spent the night with a twenty-year-old.”

  I hadn’t felt so good in years. For the first time in an age, I’d fallen on my feet.

  I patted my stomach. “I joined a gym recently. I mean I have to shake off the Guinness somehow, eh? Anyway, you’re no too shabby yourself, hen. There’s a good few younger women out there would kill for a figure like yours.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Aww Des, good of you to say considering I’ve never seen the inside of a health club in my life. I’m lucky, I can eat and drink what I like. I’ve been this weight since I was a teenager… one of the positives of never having kids, I suppose.”

  “You and your husband never wanted bairns?”

  Maggie shrugged and somewhere deep in those eyes of hers an old wound was opened.

  “Just didn’t happen for us…” She stared into space for a moment, then broke the spell.

  “What about you, Des? You got any strapping lads or lasses?”

  “No, Anne and me never had children. I reckon it was one of the reasons we split.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I thought you’d said you were a widower?”

  “I am, well kindae. She passed, not long back, actually… cancer. But we’d been divorced a while. I suppose I never really accepted it, you know, not until she’d actually gone.”

  Maggie gave me that pitying look again.

  “It must have been awful finding out she’d died.”

  I felt my own demons tap me on the shoulder. “I was with her in the end.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye. She knew she was going and asked that I go up to Scotland to be there. It was kindae her last request.”

  “And you went?”

  “I loved her, Maggie,” I touched my ring finger absently, recalling the horrendous choice I made. “Still do, I suppose.”

  Maggie reached across the table and took my hand. She looked directly into my eyes. Purposeful, telling.

  “And there ain’t nothing wrong in that Des Cogan, and don’t let any man say different.”

  She gave me a beaming smile and stood.

  “Well, as much as I’d love to take my handsome Scotsman back to bed, I’ve a pub to run.”

  I stood. “Oh aye, sorry there Maggie. I must be getting on myself, eh? I dinnea want to get in yer way like.”

  “Nonsense. I just have things to do. After all, if Lucas Estates have their way, I’ll be out of business soon anyway.”

  I darkened some. “You let me deal with them boys, hen.”

  I found a pen and paper and wrote my mobile down.

  “Here, give me a call if you get any bother with those boys.”

  She allowed her head to fall to one side, her hair falling over one shoulder. She looked so beautiful. “Don’t you want me to call you otherwise?”

  How fucking dumb can you be?

  “Oh Maggie, don’t take no heed of me and my stupid mouth. Of course, I’d love to see you again. I’m not goin’ anywhere, well, not yet a while anyway.”

  She locked me with those eyes again.

  “Okay, Mr Cogan. You know where I am. And if I need rescuing, I’ll call.”

  “You do that,” I said, and took her in my arms.

  * * *

  Stepping out into the morning sunshine with the same stupid grin on my face I’d worn at breakfast, I was met by an old boy with a long broom. He was sweeping the pavement outside collecting last night’s cigarette butts and the odd bit of litter. He wore a striped apron with the pub’s logo on it.

  “Mornin’,” he offered with a knowing look.

  “And a fine one it is too,” I replied, striding off in the direction of my car.

  I fumbled for my mobile and switched it on. It buzzed instantly.

  Lock-up asap

  Rick never was one for long messages.

  I pushed my phone back in my pocket, pulled out my wee pipe, filled it, lit the bowl and took a good deep drag.

  As I exhaled, I saw something to change my good temper.

  Leaning on my car, face to the sunshine was none other than Mitch Collins.

  “You and your team are not easy to locate, Mr Cogan,” he s
aid without looking away from the sky. “Mr Carver is a little upset that there hasn’t been an update.”

  Of course, Mitch would have known exactly where the US Army pool car was located. As with most government vehicles, it was fitted with a GPS tracker. Finding yours truly however would have been a completely different matter.

  I tapped my pipe out on my heel and refilled it.

  “Well, your Mr Carver is going to stay upset there Mitch, as I am bereft of the slightest bit of useful information, including the whereabouts of the remainder of our little group.”

  At that, Mitch stopped his sun worshiping, pulled off his Ray Bans and eyed me. “So, you didn’t locate the murder site?”

  I lit up. “Come on, Mitch, you probably drove past it yourself this morning, stop playing games. What’s this about?”

  “Ms North was dispatched to meet with DCI Simpson yesterday was she not?”

  I shrugged. Mitch continued regardless.

  “Do we know what she discovered from that meeting? Did we obtain the files we sought?”

  I held out my palms.

  “I’ve no clue as to what went on after I left Menwith Hill, pal. I got down here and finally found the murder site. I popped in the nearest bar, asked a few questions and decided to stay the night. End of.”

  “And what did your enquiries reveal, Mr Cogan.”

  “Not a lot.”

  Mitch’s easy drawl was showing signs of irritation. “Mr Cogan, we are not paying you this great deal of money to socialise with the residents of Manchester. We…”

  I got in close. “You,” I pointed, “are paying us to find Todd Blackman’s killers. As yet, we havenea found them, and as a result, you havenea parted with one red cent. So, I reckon we are even. When we have something to tell you or we need something from you, we’ll be in touch.”

  Mitch was ruffled. “My orders are to work alongside…”

  I was having none of it. “Whoa there, cowboy. I know what you and Carver said yesterday, but Rick appears to have left you behind for some reason and this is his party, understand?”

  I pulled the car keys from my pocket and dropped them on the roof of the Chevy.

  “In the meantime, son, take that back to Menwith Hill…we’ll be in touch when we have something.”