Highbridge

by Phil Redmond

  Luke then turned to Matt. ‘You OK?’

  Matt nodded and stood up. ‘You mean can I hold it together?’ There was more than a slight edge to the question. But it was controlled.

  ‘Well?’ Luke asked again. Adding his own edge. ‘Nothing new.’

  ‘Except it’s on our own friggin’ doorstep?’ More edgy.

  ‘Which is why we agreed to do this. Yeah?’ Luke spat back. ‘That kid … Those like him. No matter what we think. Or feel. About where and how they got like they do. You know. They’d still kill us if told to.’

  Matt hesitated. He did know. But that didn’t make witnessing it any easier. But after a moment he nodded. ‘Just … I get it when we’re away. Foreign. But it shouldn’t be … Not back home.’

  ‘And I should be happily married now?’ Luke asked, the irony weighing heavy.

  This brought Matt back. What Luke had been through. Why they were doing this. He finally touched his friend on the shoulder. ‘Sorry. Didn’t think anything could get to me any more. Perhaps my PTSD is wearing off.’

  ‘Do you want a hug?’ Luke asked, adding a grin.

  Matt gave a sardonic smile. ‘Now who’s engaging in displacement therapy?’ He bent, picked up the holdall and tossed it into the lake. The moment had come and gone. ‘What now? We still on for the other?’ he asked.

  Luke nodded and held out another wide five. The pact was solid. ‘Just need to sort the other two out first.’

  Matt took a last look down at the lake. Still once again. It was anyone’s guess what’s down there, he thought as he turned to follow Luke back into the weighing-in shed.

  ‘Got away did he?’ Mr Muscle asked, sneering, as he heard Luke and Matt enter.

  Luke went over, checked he was still cable-tied to the pipe, then pulled the hood off. He was still in his balaclava but wanted to see Mr Muscle’s eyes. Wide, glaring, hard. Hate. ‘Let’s just say he’s not with us any more. OK?’

  Mr Muscle stared back, trying to process this information, until Matt helped him out. Lifted the muzzle of the MP5 and pushed it against his nostrils. He didn’t have to phone a friend. He could smell it. And, finally, the eyes narrowed. Fear.

  Matt moved across to the driver and repeated the process. ‘What about you? Want to follow your leader?’

  ‘No. No. I said … Before … I said … I’ll take the deal back. I swear.’

  Matt turned to Luke. What do you think?

  Luke looked at the two remaining captives. Even Mr Muscle now looked subdued. But Luke kicked him to test his reaction. He didn’t get one.

  Matt took over. ‘C’mon. You go along with it?’

  Mr Muscle nodded. But it wasn’t enough.

  ‘I’d like to hear it,’ Matt prompted, putting the Blackhawk knife against his face.

  ‘OK. I’ll take the deal back, too,’ he shouted. The eyes back wide and full of hate. ‘We won’t come over here. But, if I ever see you anywhere near our territory …’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Matt said as he pulled the hood back over his head. He then went to do the same to the driver. Who immediately tried to pull away.

  ‘I’ll … I’ll do … I’ll do anything you want. Or say. I will,’ he gabbled quickly. Still petrified.

  ‘All right. Chill. We have a deal, don’t we? Someone will come and get you.’

  The driver flopped backward. Relief. Exhaustion. But found himself being pulled forward as Matt tugged the hood off again.

  ‘One last thing. That kid. After what your mate seemed to have done to him … Why? Why’d he …’ he glanced in the direction of the lake, thinking of the way the young lad had tried to stop Leather from falling. ‘Why was he so protective?’

  The driver looked away. He didn’t want to go there. But Matt yanked his head round. ‘What?’

  The driver hesitated again. ‘What?’ Matt asked again. More forceful.

  ‘Pete was his dad.’

  Matt almost stumbled backwards. But Luke was already right on his shoulder, thankful that bit of news hadn’t come out earlier.

  At the swing bridge Hilary was talking to her officers who had responded to a call about an abandoned car blocking the bridge. She was off duty, having stopped on her way back from visiting her parents. She learned that no one seemed to have seen anything. The occupants of the car had just disappeared. Already there was talk of an alien abduction. While Hilary considered they might be alien to Highbridge, she was sure they were of this world. Regional Crime had flagged the car as registered to one of the regional drug lords. And the APNR had it logged as coming in and out of town a few days ago. It was enough for Hilary. Two and two were not only making five. But six, seven and eight.

  ‘It should make you feel better, shouldn’t it?’ Matt asked, as they tossed their bags into the hire car outside the cottage. ‘Knowing you’ve dug out a parasite. But …’ He shook his head and went back to contemplating the question with no answer.

  Luke set the cottage alarm, locked up and headed for the driver’s seat. He was not going to let Matt get them pulled over for speeding. Before he dropped into the car he took a long look at the cottage, then across the roof of the car to Matt. ‘It makes me feel better, if that’s any help.’

  ‘That’ll do, for now. But …’ he carried on, as he got into the car, ‘another one’ll pop up. They always do.’

  ‘But it’ll buy time. That’s what we always do. C’mon, let’s get it finished and get gone.’

  He had already texted Joey on the pay and throw, which he had then dropped into the bag along with the others, the Motorolas and the drone, which they would leave for Billy Higham under the railway bridge. They were still in their blacks. The balaclavas and body armour were on the back seat. With the MP5s. Within reach.

  Having served its purpose, the Transit van had been collected and was now being driven down the track that led down to the old salt quay, long abandoned since canal barges had been displaced by trucks. The only people who went down there now were hard-core dog walkers and the occasional teenage taboo breaker. And the summer kayakers who usually generated a bit of interest in trying to restore the quay as a tourist attraction, reminding everyone that it was the Romans who originally built it. No one took any notice.

  Nor was there anyone around to notice the driver get out and go to the engine compartment. Nor would anyone have noticed him remove a spark plug and squirt in a bit of water. They might have noticed the clanking clunk as the engine fired, then seized solid as piston, water and cylinder head all met with the explosive impact of ignited diesel. As water cannot be compressed it was the steel that gave way. The engine was now useless so the van could not be driven away. Soon it would be an easy target for teenage curiosity and spares vultures. A stripped carcass to the passing onlooker, but a cornucopia of mixed DNA to a forensic examiner.

  In all this, the only thing anyone might have noticed was the shock of red hair as Bobby McBain’s car park manager jogged away into the night, tossing his biodegradable rubber gloves into the canal.

  Joey had received the text from Luke and deleted it straight away. It took him a moment or two to gather his thoughts, then his tool kit. With Natasha off fetching Tanya, it was an easy win getting the boys to stay put by saying he had to pop out. In the Jag. If Natasha left them alone while he’d been away, he was sure they’d be OK for half an hour.

  Twenty minutes later Joey had pulled the ancient fuse that still controlled the street supply. Everywhere went dark, including the chippy’s CCTV system. But not Joey’s phone. It vibrated. It was Luke again. On his real phone.TA MEET COTTAGE 20. A few seconds later he heard the jangling crash of the chippy’s front door being smashed. He headed off up the street, not looking back. Just as he was told.

  Inside the chippy, Fatchops had shown another turn of speed as he came out of the back to see what the commotion was, only to find himself grabbed, spun, slammed into the tiled wall and dazed, as his arms were pulled back and zipped together. He was then shoved through back into the rear.
The biggest human shield Luke and Matt had encountered to date.

  They passed though the neatly tidied workspace, everything cleaned and stored. Just so. Everything as Fatchops’s Mr Sheen POLO. It smelt of disinfectant. Unlike the smell that greeted them when them went through the door to the living space. Tobacco. Alcohol. Cannabis.

  The bearded one was there. Sprawled on a settee watching Newsnight, with two young girls leaning either side, neither of them appearing too interested in current affairs. One looked asleep, drunk or drugged, while the other was stripped down to her underwear and undergoing a slow breast massage.

  It was a moment for the bearded one to realise that Fatchops was walking rather oddly. Like some form of giant, obese penguin. With two smaller penguins following. Too late his vision cleared and the penguins were upon him. He tried to react but even without the weight of the girls he found himself trapped under the falling mass of Fatchops. Luke stayed with them as Matt went on through the house, MP5 raised and ready.

  It took him seconds to check the ground floor and go up the stairs two at a time, opting for speed and surprise rather than stealth. Four doors off a small landing. He went into the first. Bathroom. Nothing. Second door. Messy bedroom. But nothing. He crossed the landing. Third room. This was it. On the bed was a man having sex with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. He was overweight. White. To one side were two others, more like uncles, one black, recording it on his phone while the other, Asian, was stripping off. Obviously next.

  The girl was crying and asking for the old guy to stop which, unfortunately, seemed to be what he was after, as he turned and played up to the phone. His gurning face turned to shock as he saw Matt, but the phone-holder didn’t, until he was flipped round and felt the full force of a head butt. He fell next to the other one, now trying to dance away with his jeans round his ankles, who then felt his legs kicked sideways, his head hit the floor and then his chest crushed as Grandpa was yanked backwards off the girl and dumped on top of him. As Matt’s boot came down on Grandpa’s genitals, the girl rolled off the bed and curled up in a corner.

  While zipping all their hands, Matt tried to make reassuring noises and gestures to the girl until she calmed down, finally appreciating that he might be a good guy. He then indicated that she should stay put, while he went to check out the remaining room. When he got there, his stomach turned. Curled up on the bed was Joey’s girl’s mate. The one he had seen being dragged away the other night. Damn.

  Downstairs. Luke had other problems. Crunching glass. Someone was in the chippy. Having secured the bearded one Luke knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere, especially as he had tethered him to Fatchops. He gestured for the girls to be quiet. They nodded. Too frightened to do otherwise. He then slowly made his way back through the food preparation area and took a quick look from the darkened space into the chippy, lit by the sodium glow from the street lights. It was Hilary Jardine.

  11

  Resolution

  JOEY HAD MADE a critical mistake. He had let his heart rule his head. Despite being told not to stop, not to look back, for anything, he couldn’t walk past the old boy struggling to get his wheelie bin out the front door. In the dark. The darkness he was responsible for. He stopped to help, but then found himself inevitably turning and glancing down the road – to see Hilary Jardine stepping into the chippy. Could he just walk away now? Not look back? Knowing what Luke had told him about fighting his way out?

  No matter what. Luke had repeated it. Over and over again No matter what. You can’t get involved. Walk away, Joey told himself. Walk away. But he couldn’t. Not when two of his oldest friends were about to confront each other. It would only end badly for one of them. And Joey knew that would be Hilary. No matter what came after, right there on that street, he knew Luke would do anything to get away. And if anything did happen to Hilary, it would be his fault.

  Luke was also running through the scenario. She’s sussed it. But she was alone. Out of uniform. No blue lights. What’s that mean? Trying to prevent something? Old times’ sake? Only one way to find out. He took another quick look. She had her back to him, examining the smashed door. He pulled off his balaclava and unclipped the MP5 as he quietly stepped out into the shop, putting the gun just behind the counter, out of her sight.

  ‘What you doing here?’

  She spun round to face him. The confirmation clear. ‘Should I be asking you the same?’

  ‘Just saying goodbye, actually.’

  She started to walk across but he held his hand up, with a quick glance sideways to the MP5. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s something here you shouldn’t see.’

  ‘Really?’ It was a challenge. He was questioning her authority. She pointed at his body armour. ‘And I suppose that is to protect you from the hot oil?’

  He held her stare. Knowing this was the point. No going back. Win or lose. But one last try.

  ‘Hilary, please, can you just take my word.’ Then he hardened the edge. The language became clipped. Of command. ‘You do not … Want to get involved in this. Right now.’

  ‘Think I’ve seen enough already,’ she responded. Her own crisp tone now that of the Superintendent, not the old friend. This was her jurisdiction. Her authority.

  But he came back. Harder. One of them had to get the upper hand. ‘Believe me. If you do get involved you’ll have to act. And …’ He paused. Another of those moments. No going back. ‘And I’ll have to respond.’

  It was unemotional. Calm. Cold. A coldness that Hilary had not been expecting. Just as she had not expected to feel her pulse rate increasing in direct proportion to her anxiety, as the preconception of the hot-headed guy she used to know was forced out of her head. This was now nothing more than a threat standing in front of her. The past friendship might just allow her to back away, but nothing more. She had to let the training come though. Even though she was wearing a Per Una Quilted Stormwear overcoat instead of body armour, and armed with nothing more than her John Lewis Coney across body handbag.

  So they stood. The head girl up against the playground vigilante. But a lot of time, water and trauma had flowed by. And, back then, neither of them carried weapons. She was sure that was what he had on the countertop. Just as she knew he was right. If she saw him with a weapon there was no choice. No going back. He was also right about one other thing. She didn’t want that. Right now. Which is why she had come alone.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll blink first, if that’s what you want.’

  She moved to one side, deliberately allowing him to see that she was obscuring any possible view of what he might have on the countertop. But she also wanted to let him know that she was working it out. She pointed at the single point sling hanging from his shoulder. ‘And I don’t suppose that is for attaching your ID to?’

  ‘Among other things,’ he replied. But he smiled. That moment had been defused.

  But not for long. Luke suddenly caught something in his peripheral vision. A head taking a quick glance through the window. He stepped towards the counter – towards his weapon, Hilary thought, as she saw his eyes were now locked on the window. She turned to see a figure, silhouetted against the street lights, slowly making for the door.

  ‘No, stop,’ Hilary called, spinning back and forth between Luke and the approaching figure. ‘Stop. Stay where you are. Both of you.’

  She was relieved to see Luke step back from the counter, but surprised by the reason.

  ‘What? What’s going on?’ Joey asked from the door.

  Back in the house, Matt had corralled the gang-bangers downstairs and had them lined up, on their knees next to Fatchops and the bearded one. A motley multi-ethnic mix. He had the phone they’d been using upstairs, and was going along slowly, recording each of their faces. A bewildered Becky was helping the now dressed but still sobbing girl from upstairs into the room to sit next to the equally bewildered girls on the settee. They had come for a party and had ended up in a horror m
ovie.

  ‘What the hell you want?’ Fatchops asked. Defiant. ‘No money here.’

  The beast within Matt was on him in a moment, back-handing his head. Not enough to put him down, just enough to shut him up.

  ‘What I want, is for you to stop doing what you do out there.’ He pointed to the chippy, then turned to the others, held up the phone. ‘What I want, is for you lot to leave these kids alone. But you probably can’t, can you. So I’ll have to stop you, won’t I?’

  He raised the MP5 and put the red dot on Fatchops’s head. Which was when he heard someone fumbling with the back door. Someone was trying to get in.

  Out front, Luke and Hilary were still holding their ground, holding their stares, as Joey was babbling about having fancied some fish and chips, then saw the door smashed in, and then seeing them. Hilary knew this was all nonsense. She had seen the look that quickly went between Luke and Joey. She hadn’t been able to read it but she knew it was connected to her earlier suspicions about Luke’s return.

  ‘Go on, then. What’s going on?’ Joey asked again. Carrying on the charade. Hoping to find a way out. For them all. But that wasn’t likely to happen as the street outside started to strobe blue.

  They turned to look in unison. Joey looked alarmed as Luke again moved towards the MP5. Hilary turned back and held out an arm for him to stop.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me. This time, trust me, Luke. Let me check.’ Then she turned to Joey. ‘Stop him. Whatever he’s planning.’

  It was the old friend, now crunching across the glass towards the street.

  Joey and Luke watched her pulling her warrant card from her handbag as she met the approaching patrol car. Ordinary markings. And ordinary beat bobbies getting out. This was not an armed response team.

  ‘I told you not to—’ Luke started to say, but Joey cut across him.

  ‘I know, but what did you expect me to do, seeing her coming in here? But now’s your chance. Take it.’