Highbridge

by Phil Redmond

  Luke took another look outside. Hilary was in deep conversation and pointing up and down the street. It didn’t seem like she was summoning reinforcements. There was still time. He picked up the MP5, causing Joey to step back in surprise.

  Luke grinned. ‘What did you think we were going to do? Hand out Bibles and hope they found God?’

  ‘Er … No … But I …’ He was back to the gibbering schoolboy in front of the military pro.

  ‘We’re doing this because we want to, Joe. Remember. Our choice. Just as it’s our choice not to be taken. Win or lose.’

  ‘What? You’d really shoot … You’d shoot your way out?’

  ‘That’s what we do. And what you do, is forget this.’ He tapped the MP5. ‘And tell her –’ he nodded out the window – ‘you know nothing.’

  ‘OK,’ Joey said, turning to glance at Hilary outside. When he turned back, Luke had gone.

  Matt, behind the rear door as it opened, stepped out and hit the new arrival square between the shoulder blades with the MP5. Even with live rounds it was still a very expensive, but effective, club. The new arrival hit the wall opposite and then sideways, his head going one way, his legs the other as Matt executed the well-practised move, letting the target’s own body weight do most of the damage. Matt was just bringing in the prone figure to add to the line-up when Luke came through from the front of the shop, carrying his MP5 and saying they had to go, and Becky started screaming.

  ‘Stop … Stop … You can’t …’

  She flung herself on the new arrival. It was Husani.

  Luke pulled her away as Matt forced Husani down on to his knees. Was this more of what he’d witnessed up at the quarry? Victim dependency? But there was something else in her voice.

  ‘Please … please … He’s not one of them. He isn’t.’

  And then it echoed back. ‘I’m not, I’m not,’ Husani gabbled, realising the situation he had walked into. He then turned to Fatchops. Anger. Real. And rattled off something in what sounded to Matt like Serbian, but whatever it was the disgust and disdain was clear. As was the blaze of anger in Fatchops’s eyes about something of which he’d just been accused.

  Matt stepped forward and backhanded Husani across the head. ‘English.’ They had been in this one before, too.

  Becky leapt up. ‘Leave him alone. He’s done nothing.’

  Matt rounded on her. ‘And you can understand English. So, sit down and keep quiet.’

  She did so, but only after Husani nodded. Then turned to Matt. ‘I said he had let me down. I asked him to watch over her.’

  ‘And I did,’ Fatchops replied angrily. In English. ‘She was safe in another room. Until they came.’ He glared at Luke and Matt.

  Husani ignored him, still trying to make a connection with Matt. ‘I asked him to do this, while I,’ he threw another look of disdain at Fatchops. ‘Until I went to get money.’

  ‘What for?’ Matt asked. Still suspicious.

  Husani hesitated. And looked to Becky. She didn’t hesitate.

  ‘We’re going away. To get married.’

  She might as well have thrown a stun grenade.

  Outside in the street, Hilary had discovered that the patrol car was just that. And had been asked to check out the chippy in case there was a young girl, Becky Hargreaves, hanging out there. Then they saw the street in darkness. Hilary had explained her presence by saying she had been passing and saw the chippy door broken. She was about to call for backup, but in the meantime they should check with the neighbours who were out trying to discover what had happened to the electricity.

  She stood for a moment. Point of decision. Or no return. She looked up and down the street at the growing number of people drawn by the blue lights. Sometimes they attract more trouble than they solve, she thought, as she reached into the car and switched them off.

  ‘That might give Luke some reassurance,’ she said to Joey as he stepped out of the chippy, still trying to digest what Luke had just told him.

  ‘He’s gone anyway,’ Joey said, hoping it would slow her down. It didn’t. She pushed past him and went inside, making sure she was out of earshot of the street before calling Luke’s name.

  Joey decided, this time, to take Luke’s advice and stayed outside.

  After a moment, Hilary decided to go through to the back, but found her way blocked by Luke. That was the last thing he wanted her to do. Once again he left the MP5 out of her sight.

  ‘They came looking for a young girl,’ Hilary immediately offered.

  It worked. He relaxed. Slightly. ‘She’s in the back,’ he told her, but then added quickly, seeing her concerned look, ‘She’s OK. With her fiancé, apparently.’

  She looked a little surprised, but that wasn’t her concern right then.

  ‘I can’t just let you walk away, Luke.’ She glanced outside. ‘Not now they are here. They know I’ve been in here.’

  They held each other’s eyes again briefly as Luke digested her words. The chain of command. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘This time I’ll do the blinking. We’ll go out the back.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Neither head girl nor old friend. Back to win or lose.

  Luke considered. Then nodded slowly. ‘I understand, but …’ he paused again, trying to find the words. ‘OK. I know you’ll have figured out what this is all about. Who and what we’ve become. Just as you know what this is for.’ He flicked the lanyard.

  ‘I have my own weapons team,’ she countered.

  ‘You have. But you need to know that we will use ours to get out.’

  That was it. The last step. No going back.

  ‘That a threat?’

  ‘Just a fact. And your call.’ He stepped back. His voice became clipped again. ‘I’ve always like you, Hilary. I respect what you have to do. But you must be clear. Right now. Don’t follow.’ He held her stare, before adding, ‘Please.’

  With that he stepped away and went through into the back.

  She stood for a moment. Should she follow? Would he really harm her – or respect her authority? But the training came through. Don’t be a hero. Call for backup. She turned and headed outside for the police radio.

  On the pavement Joey was hovering. He followed her to the patrol car.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s an operational matter now, Joe. Keep out of it.’

  ‘Are you sure you really want to do that?’

  ‘I have no choice.’

  ‘And neither does he. Did he tell you that?’

  She rounded on him. What did he really know? ‘Tell me what?’

  Joey saw the look. The official look. The look that said he had to be very careful. ‘What he’s told me a thousand times in the past. That, after Janey, he just doesn’t care what happens to him.’

  She turned away, dismissing that as pub talk. Joey tried again.

  ‘What about suicide by cop, Hilary? Have you thought of that?’ Joey was making it up as he went along, trying to make sure he didn’t say anything that could be tagged to a conspiracy charge later. Like Hilary, he knew the old relationship would only get him so far. But it got her to hesitate.

  ‘And even if it’s not that, are your guys really up to taking on those two psychos?’

  ‘It’s what they are trained for, Joe.’

  ‘Are they? Really? I’m guessing here, but they might be good on the practice range or in training drills. Or taking down the odd psycho or schizo with superior numbers and weapons. Perhaps keeping the lid on something until someone like Luke turns up to clear it? But how good will your guys really be under a military-style attack? What’s your acceptable body-bag count, Hilary?’

  It hit home. Whether she liked it or not, it had elements of truth within it. She knew the firearms teams would do what was asked, but she also knew that part of their ethos was avoiding conflict. Containment was what they were trained for.

  ‘What do you expect me to do, Joe? I can’t just turn a blind eye.’

  ‘It
’s what I don’t want you to do, actually, Hilary. Like causing someone to write letters to the families of the guys you will lose. Explaining that they died needlessly. Or, just guessing again, will that come from some later investigation?’

  She tried to respond, but couldn’t immediately. Her mind was still sorting the cascade of images it was conjuring up from Joey’s words and Luke’s chilling response. Before she could get things sorted, Joey threw one more at her.

  ‘Do you really want to put your team in harm’s way?’

  Fatchops now felt in harm’s way as Luke had dragged him back into the food preparation area and told him to start the fire.

  ‘I … I can not … They, they’ll come. Worse than you.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Luke replied. ‘Get on with it. I want you to burn your own house down.’

  ‘Why? Why you ruin my life?’

  ‘Maybe because you’ve been doing that to the kids round here.’

  ‘That not me. That just life.’

  ‘And this is a life-changing moment. That’s if …’ Luke suggested, ‘you want to keep your life. Your choice.’

  It was decision time. For Luke and Matt it was only what they left behind. For Hilary it was everything. The final decision wouldn’t be hers. She knew the chain of command as well as Luke. But her duty was to set things in motion. Refer up. If she didn’t, her career, at the very least, would be over. If she did … well, she had spent enough time reading the post-trauma reports. Could she cope with that? To send in the tactical response team wouldn’t be her decision, but she knew, ultimately, that she would shoulder the responsibility if it went as Luke had warned her. No matter. She knew what she had to do. She reached for her phone. At least Luke would have ten minutes. And she guessed he would know that too.

  Having used some of those precious minutes on Fatchops, to Luke the smoke that was now billowing out of the chippy seemed to indicate that he had made the right choice. That same smoke now masked the departure of Becky, Husani, and the three young girls, shepherded by Luke and Matt, MP5s at the ready, but pulling off their balaclavas. Matt was carrying the girl from the bed. He put her down at the top of the alley.

  ‘Take her to the health centre for a check,’ he said. ‘And tell them what happened to her. OK?’

  But the girls hesitated, throwing worried looks down the alley at the smoke billowing out of the chippy.

  Matt took out the phone he had taken from the Asian granddad. ‘This is going to the local paper. So their families, friends, neighbours and assorted bigots and racists will know what they’ve been up to. I doubt they’ll stay around for long. Now go. She needs help.’

  They all nodded and walked away. Matt watched them go, still controlling the beast, as he knew this one would survive, before turning to Husani.

  ‘How’d you get in? I could have blown your head off.’

  ‘Borrowed the keys from my cousin. The one with the beard,’ he explained.

  Matt nodded. ‘Sorry about back there. Occupational hazard.’ Then added, ‘But behave with her, OK?’

  Husani didn’t know whether this was meant as advice or a threat, or whether to say thanks or tell him to mind his own business. But looking at the guns he decided just to nod.

  Luke turned to Becky. ‘We’re probably sounding like bossy uncles or something, but phone home and tell your folks you’re OK.’

  She felt she didn’t have to apologise or complain, but knew what she wanted to do: reach out and give him a hug. He held on to her for a moment longer. ‘And good luck,’ he nodded towards the waiting Husani.

  She smiled, thinking he meant with the intended wedding. He didn’t explain that he meant when she told her parents.

  He turned to Matt. ‘Time to get gone?’

  Matt nodded and they walked away, stripping off their body armour as they did.

  They had left the others face down in the back of the chippy, reasoning that after a while, as the fire got closer, they would risk defying the final order to stay put or be shot. One by one they’d come stumbling out into the alley and into the arriving armed response team.

  Up at the cottage, Joey had stumbled into something he hadn’t been expecting. With Natasha back home with Tanya, he had told her he needed to pop out. She hadn’t asked why.

  Outside the cottage was not Luke, but Bobby McBain, leaning against his Range Rover and offering Joey an envelope. Inside was £5,000 in cash.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Down payment on the rest of the job?’ he said, and indicated the cottage. For once the gravelly voice was sombre as he tossed the cottage keys to Joey. ‘Lukey, wants you to finish it. And get it ready to sell.’

  ‘What? What you on about, Bob?’

  ‘Reckons the memories have changed. Time to move on, he said. Also said you’d know what he meant.’

  Joey just nodded, understanding the real meaning. And if Bobby was delivering this message, had he been involved all along? ‘You been playing me, Bob?’

  ‘How’d you mean?’ It was genuine surprise.

  ‘You had Luke sorting out the competition for you?’

  But Bobby shook his head. ‘No, Joseph. And if we didn’t go back a ways, I’d be a bit offended now. I wanted those scumbags out, sure. But I wasn’t in that game. Christ, you can make more out of smuggling tobacco than you can for selling your soul to those psychopaths.’

  ‘Then what?’ Joey asked.

  ‘I’d like to say I was all public spirited and that but, well, Fatty and his clan were bad for business. Attracting too much attention from our Hilary and her merry men. And you couldn’t get boys like Luke and his oppo for five hundred quid now, could you? So, bit of cash to help them out. Why not?’ He just shrugged. Good business.

  ‘You were paying?’ Joey asked. Shocked.

  ‘’Course I was. That’s what that envelope is really about. You couldn’t have afforded some of the gear they were after. Or had the contacts for all the other stuff. Especially if it escalated.’ The gravelly laugh returned. ‘Clever bugger, though. Kept us apart until the end. Tradecraft. Need to know. Small cells. All that special ops stuff.’

  Joey was struggling to take all this in. He’d thought he was the one helping Luke, but now it seemed he was just a pawn.

  ‘So he played us both?’ he finally asked.

  ‘Played us all, mate, played us all. But we’re all grown-ups, aren’t we? Got what we wanted.’

  ‘Did we?’ Joey asked. Unconvinced. Remembering something Luke had said. Wherever they went, a military solution could only nullify the current threat. Buy time. Then it was up to people to find a political solution. ‘He might have left us with a bigger problem.’

  Bobby gave a nod of agreement. ‘Got the same war and peace lecture. He wins the war and we have to win the peace? But that’s down to the likes of your Sean, isn’t it?’

  Joey didn’t look too convinced.

  ‘Don’t look so depressed, Joe.’ The gravel started to rattle in his throat. ‘Like the rest of them, he won’t be able to create too much trouble. Without you behind him. Lukey might have pulled the trigger, but it was you and yours he was doing it for. Janey was just the excuse. Not the reason. And your Sean won’t do much unless the likes of you are behind him. Pushing. Keeping him on track.’

  ‘Do you reckon?’

  ‘I do. But I was up at the old chemical quarry before. Bit of tidying up to do.’

  Knowing its usefulness for the likes of Bobby, he didn’t ask for the details. As he’d told Natasha, it was best not to know. He just waited, wondering where Bobby was taking him next.

  ‘Reminded me of you.’

  This should be good, Joey thought. It was.

  ‘A catalyst. That’s what you are, Joe. Something that makes other things happen.’

  ‘I … I didn’t do anything.’ He waved the envelope. ‘Not even this, it seems.’

  ‘But you did, Joe. You stepped up. Crossed the line because you knew no one else would. Takes real bottle, t
hat. To put, as our Lukey might say, yourself in the line of fire. And you’re over that line now, mate. No going back. People will look to see what you do in future. People like Gazza down on the bridge.’

  Joey tried not to react to any of this, but the predator opposite spotted the telltale eye flicker. And held up his phone.

  ‘Told you, I know everything. And if this knows,’ he tapped the phone, ‘I also know that you are stuck with it now. You’re like the town conscience. We should call you TC, for short.’

  ‘Er … That’s a bit much to lay on me, Bob?’

  ‘Y’reckon?’ he asked. Deliberately mimicking Joey’s earlier dismissive response. Then cracked the pebble-dash. ‘You were born to it. People don’t like cops or politicians. But they’ll follow real people. Real leaders.’

  ‘Oh yeah. And what about you in all this? You seem to have it all figured out.’

  ‘Joe, I’m a villain, aren’t I? People like the cheap fags, fake designer gear or free parking. But “Vote for Bobby”? Nah. You’re stuck with that role, TC. The power behind the throne. Our own Game of Thrones. But someone always needs to bankroll ’em. And your Sean will need it too.’ He tapped his chest and then Joey’s. The meaning clear. It was going to be them. Then he turned away and headed for the Range Rover.

  ‘As you will,’ he shouted back. ‘And I’ll always need a good sparky every now and then.’

  With that double-edged sword placed at Joey’s feet he sped off, this time without his customary bang on the horn.

  Joey turned and looked at the cottage, then at the cash, and wondered where his friend was now.

  It was something that rattled round his head as the week rolled on with no word from Luke. Not even when the local paper came out with its best front page to date. A big picture of Craig Harlow, with Sean and Sandra opening Santa’s Garden. Out of focus behind their shoulders were, as promised, the Chairs of Planning and Education, but the main headline was: Craig Harlow to be Santa’s Helper. Below which ran a second strap: Owner set to run for Council. In the sidebar next to it there were two teasers. A picture of the burnt-out chippy with the caption: Chippy Owner Sought In Child Sex Scandal, See page 5; together with, on page 3, No Clues In Alien Abduction Theory.