A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)

by Edward Holmes

  “Where are we going? This is the wrong direction,” John asked as they moved further away from the gunfire. Lewis however did not reply as he made his way to a cluster of trees. He reached the trees twenty paces before John and swept his torchlight over the area. John got there using his torch, his night vision now destroyed, “What are we looking for?”

  “This,” Lewis said ripping straw and plant growth away. John shone his torch over a concrete structure. The student stepped onto the top of it and tried to lift a heavy metal grate, “I need some help.”

  John reached over putting his torch in his mouth and straining against the metal. The cold steel budged with a grunt of effort. His ribs ached with the exertion. My hands are killing me but I can’t tell the kid. I think I’ve reopened the wounds. He bit down hard on the torch then took it out of his mouth scanning the depths below, “What is this?”

  “Old drainage maintenance access. It leads down into the tunnels beneath the farm,” Lewis said as he swung his legs over the lip and dropped down into the darkness, “Come on,” his voice echoed from inside.

  John jumped down into the tunnel; it was only a short drop but it hurt his ankle and the back of his knees enough for him to let out a short gasp. Even with the pain burning its way up his body he kept pace with Lewis as they splashed through large piping. The tunnel was concrete and showed nothing of interest to the detective apart from the occasional tags of graffiti that he noticed as his torch arched across them, “How did you know about this?”

  “There are tunnels everywhere around here. Every kid in Hollingswood has played down in the caverns, I just know down here better than most,” Lewis said though gasps of breath as they ran. After about five minutes he turned to his left and pulled open another gate, “We’re below the chemical plant now. Like I said most of Hollingswood has tunnels under it. There is even a cathedral down here if you believe all the stories.”

  “Yeah ok,” John managed sarcastically as he stepped through the gate which was rusting away.

  “There are strange things down here detective, many tunnels have collapsed over time. I’ve always wanted to come back down here, there is supposed to be a secret passage to a confidential military bunker. How cool would that be?” Lewis said giddily.

  Shaking his head John muttered, “Conspiracy theories. The main military bunkers are under the motorways.”

  The two men moved in silence for a bit longer before Lewis guided them upwards. The tunnel turned into another gate, which they barged open. There was no moonlight coming through the tree cover and only a couple of yards in front of them ran a bubbling stream. John put a hand over Lewis’s torch and pocketed his own. He held up a finger to his lips which could just about be seen.

  Rustling in the brush turned them to their right. John moved closer to Lewis and whispered to him, “Try your phone now but try and shield the light from view and be quiet. Stay here and if you get an answer get back to the road and then show the help in.”

  Lewis nodded in acknowledgement and moved back towards the gate. John started walking in the direction of the sound. The further he went the more he could hear whimpering. He was wary of getting too close to whoever was hurt when there were gunmen about but the cries for help drew him closer.

  Two beams of light showed him the location of the noise once he was close enough. Cook and Craik focused their torches that were attached to their weapons onto an old man who had blood coming out of his left leg. The wounded man was wearing waterproof camouflage clothing much like the two breeders.

  Cook with a soft hat on his head and was approaching the old man, “Finally caught you, you old bastard. I thought you’d be younger.”

  “I thought you’d be smarter. You’ve just shot a man,” said the man who lay bleeding on the ground, his words measured as he struggled with the pain, his hands around his wound.

  “What does that matter? Aint like you are gonna walk away from here,” Cook replied.

  Craik stood vigilant, his weapon trained on the bleeding man. He was roughly fifteen yards to John’s right. The detective moved closer with his left hand on his wallet and his right hand behind his back on the hilt of his knife. Sounds like a bad joke bringing a knife to a gunfight. Of all the stupid situations I’ve got myself into this has to be top ten. This guy has had some sort of training but he’s not Special Forces or anything. The longer I can stay in the shadow the closer I can get and his night vision will be ruined by that light.

  John crept closer as Andrew Cook continued, “What you reckoning boss, we leave him like we did with the foxes? Wily old bastard is just like them, coming in here, stealing our livelihood,” Cook kicked the old man’s right foot, the move shook him, sending fresh agony through his body.

  Stoically the old man did his best not to show his pain, instead staring at the man above him, “I have people waiting for me. They’ll call the police once they realise I’m missing. Don’t be stupid over this, just let me go and we’ll leave it at that”

  “No one knows you are here. By the time we are done it doesn’t matter if they bring an entire army in here they won’t find ya.”

  Craik raised the gun to his shoulder, “He’s right. I know who you are Leonard, and I know there’s no one waiting for you to come home. Like the man said by the time someone realises you are gone they won’t be able to find an ounce of evidence to say that you where even here. Why would they even think to look here; poaching is illegal.”

  “Go on then, what are you waiting for? Shoot me you coward,” Leonard yelled at them.

  John was only yards away and could see the muscles tensing in Craik. The bastard is going to shoot. With a speed that surprised himself John moved, wrapping his left arm around Craik’s throat, his right arm lifting the shotgun into the air. The action shocked the gunman into firing, the noise deafening, “Drop the gun! I’m Detective Inspector John Harper and I am ordering you to drop the gun,” He yelled as Craik went to bring the butt of the weapon into his ribs. John applied pressure to the man’s neck and moved so the blow was only glancing. In his right hand his wallet and badge dangled in his unsteady grip, “I said drop it.”

  Cook stared open mouthed at what was happening. Once his senses returned he levelled his own weapon on John and his boss, who was struggling against the iron grip of the police officer.

  “Don’t even think about it Cook, we know all about the two of you and I have backup on the way so be clever, drop the weapon and put your hands on your head,” John managed to say as the fight was beginning to wane in Craik, “Drop the fucking gun, Cook! I’m not joking about this.”

  The indecision played over Cook’s face as he watched his boss slowly lose grip on his shotgun. It landed softly in the mulch and leaves at the feet of the detective and Craik. As it did, the light that had framed Cook disappeared and in that moment he made his choice running off into the black night, the lamp on his own weapon slashing deep swathes of light in the darkness.

  John eased Craik backwards away from the gun and then dropped him to the ground. From his trouser pocket John removed a couple of plastic ties and bound Craik’s hands behind his back. John then patted the man down for weapons, removing shotgun cartridges, a large hunting knife, a mobile phone and a small two-way radio.

  Leaving the incapacitated man on the ground next to a tree John walked over to the shotgun and broke the barrel taking out both the spent and loaded cartridges. John took out his phone but there was still no signal for him to contact Lewis, shaking his head he carried the weapon over with him to provide light and propped it up in a nearby tree as he moved over to Leonard, “Are you ok? Try and keep pressure on the wound, help is on the way here.”

  The old man was pale in the weak light, greying from loss of blood but he was still conscious, “I’ve had worse. Are you really a copper?”

  “Yeah,” John took out another tie and put it at the top of Leonard’s leg, “I’m just putting a tourniquet on your leg to try and reduce the bleeding. It shouldn’t
be too long till people get here.”

  “What’s gonna happen to me?” Leonard asked wincing.

  “I don’t know Leo, at the moment I just want to make sure you are ok. I’m not here to bust ya, I’m here to get you through this. Can you just answer me a quick question?”

  “I’ll try Detective.”

  John looked at the man’s face, he had a thick layer of stubble on his face, John could not tell the colour of his eyes in the dim light, longish hair was plastered to his head, “Do you poach here often? Like I said I’m not here to take you in, I’m a homicide cop.”

  “I don’t really see it as poaching. I prefer the term hunting. When they release those birds they put them straight in front of a gun and they blow them all to hell. Shotgun is overkill and loud, that’s not hunting.”

  Nodding John continued, “So you wouldn’t have been out shooting a couple of weeks ago when Harry Bailey fell?”

  “I remember that night; it was pissing it down, no way I was going out in that, no point.”

  “Right and you don’t use a shotgun. What do you use?”

  “Sometimes just a knife, mostly I have an air pistol, it’s basically silent and is powerful enough to kill. Closest thing to a handgun you can get in this country now. I must’ve dropped it whilst I was trying to get away from those idiots,” Leonard said moving to get comfortable.

  Craik groaned from where he was laid out. John fished the torch out of his pocket, “Just stay here and try not to move too much I’ll go see how that tosser is doing.”

  “Not an issue Detective, I aint moving anytime soon.”

  With his torchlight focussed on Craik, John walked over, “How you doing?”

  Craik was busy trying to right himself, his face deep in the mud. He managed to roll himself on his back and croak, “You assaulted me.”

  “I did nothing of the sort. Now a quick question before you’re thrown in jail for attempted murder.”

  “He was trespassing, I was well within my rights to apprehend the man.”

  “One this isn’t your land, is it? Secondly the whole trespassing law is mess but you’re not allowed to arbitrarily shoot people, it’s a case of justified force. Thirdly I heard you plan to kill him and dispose of his body. That enough for you? Now were you out protecting your birds and shooting on the night of the twenty ninth?”

  “How the hell would I know? I don’t even know what the date is today let alone any other day.”

  “It was the night Bailey died. It rained, were you out shooting?”

  “Why would I be out? If it rains I stay in, there’s no point. Couple of weeks ago the birds are small not worth killing, they’re barely worth it now but that bastard still did it,” Craik said defiantly.

  “Did you know a George Fleming?”

  “No, I don’t have a clue who you are talking about.”

  John looked at him and shook his head then he walked over to Leonard. He tried his phone again but without luck, so he sat and waited with the injured man. Leonard had provided a small hipflask of strong bourbon which was nearly empty when they finally saw torchlight. It was more than one light, so John felt confident that it was not Cook. Probably should’ve been worried about that little rat coming back. Then again I doubt a coward like that would have the stones to come back here.

  “We’re over here!” he called out, till the lights turned in their direction. John stood up and shone his torch towards them until they arrived. Four men wearing dark uniforms carrying automatic submachine guns came through the woods, fanning out. Behind them John could make out the high visibility jackets of a few police constables. He kept his hands raised and his badge out in his hand, “I’m DI John Harper, there’s an injured man here who needs urgent medical attention. Over by that tree is a restrained man who tried to kill this individual. There is an unloaded shotgun propped over here as well.”

  “Sir please get on your knees, cross your legs and put your hands on your head whilst we sort this out,” one of the black clad men ordered. John did as he said, watching the men expertly comb the scene. One of them covered him with his gun as the other patted him down and took the knife from his waistband. The PCs went over to Leonard, one of them carrying a small first aid kit.

  Twenty minutes later John was back at the gate, after a treacherous walk out of the forest. He had offered to show the others the tunnel route but was told by the armed responders that it was safer to go their way, after they had verified that he was a police officer. Out of the canopy of trees he could hear the street sounds again and the distant thumping of the police helicopter above them. Down the road he could see at least five police vehicles and an ambulance, which seemed to be trying to navigate itself out to the main road as another was arriving. Lewis stood with a number of officers as John came out.

  “Thank God you’re ok,” Lewis exclaimed walking over to him.

  “All thanks to you kid, you saved a man’s life in there. If I’d been any slower he’d have been shot. You can chalk that one up in the win column,” John said putting a hand on the student’s shoulder.

  “You can thank my grandfather; he was the one who told me about all the old tunnels.”

  “Well it certainly came in handy,” John turned to one of the officers who seemed to be in charge and flashed his badge, “I’m Detective Inspector Harper; do you mind if the lad here makes his statement later. His mother will kill me considering he is out this late.”

  The man looked at him through thick glasses, “We’re taking you both to the local station to go through what happened whilst it’s still fresh in your minds.”

  John rolled his eyes, “Okay okay it’s your show,” going back over to Lewis he shook his head, “I hope your mum wasn’t expecting you back anytime soon.”

  “Detective you forget I’m an adult I can go back whenever I want. I spoke to her earlier to say I was safe and would be back later. Now are we going in one of the vans or cars or do we have to make our own way there?”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  The station was new but small and John had been placed in a small interrogation room that could barely fit a table and three chairs, let alone people. He had given his statement over two hours ago but was still waiting in the locked room. After counting every tile in the ceiling fifteen times, John was beginning to feel the depressing nature of the gray drab room weighing down on him. Resting his hands on his head he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. At the sound of the door opening he merely lowered his fingers and looked up to see Detective Inspector Frank Spencer walk in with a folder in one hand.

  “DI Harper what a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” the man said sitting down opposite John and placing his hands over the folder laid out in front of him.

  John kept his fingers over his mouth for a moment and then leaned back and interlaced his fingers, “I should’ve known you would be behind me waiting for bloody ages. Now let me guess you want to grill me for awhile and then compare dick sizes again before I leave. I saved a man’s life tonight all I want to do is go home, Detective.”

  “Home back in Manchester or to the cottage in Hollingswood?”

  John pinched the bridge of his nose before answering, “I’m going to the nearest one, Detective.”

  “Staying close to Hollingswood,” Spencer said scratching his chin with his fingers, “I’d have thought your holiday was coming to an end.”

  Shaking his head John responded, “The end of the week Detective, then I go back to reality.”

  “Yeah it’s been a wild time hasn’t it out here? You being in the sticks solving the problems and murders of the yokel folk, that how you see it? Must be a fantasy land for you; nice break away from the world.”

  John blew his breath out and then inhaled deeply, “What are you trying say Detective? You’re wasting my time but then again you took an instant dislike to me. You then went out of your way to try and embarrass me. Problem is Detective you want to play games but I don’t play, I win, so let me out.”r />
  “We’re not playing here, Harper. I’ve got you sussed; you’ve got a hero complex, Harper. You save everyone, so you put yourself in danger. Hell you put a university student in the middle of an armed situation. You went out there tonight, knowing that there would be armed men and what, you had a knife to take them on? A knife that is borderline illegal I might add. Risking your own life is one thing but Peter Hart’s son is out of hand. That man will skin you for that; I might even let him use that nasty blade of yours.”

  John ran his left hand through his hair and cracked his neck, “Lewis was in no danger. I made him go back and call for help, Detective. I’m sure you’ll tell your buddy all about this so he can have another crack at me but I aint afraid of you or him, you can give him the knife for all I care. Are you forgetting that there is a man alive because of what I did tonight? If I wasn’t there Leonard Felton would be dead and since solving crimes is your job, Detective, poor Mister Felton’s family and friends would never know what happened to him.”

  “Are you trying to say I’m a bad cop, Harper? Because I’m seeing a lot of things you’re doing wrong and pot and kettle comes to mind, considering that a Mister Andrew Cook is in hospital with lacerations due to being caught in a snare trap. That man could have died that wire cut so deep,” Spencer said with a hint of anger seeping into his voice.

  Laughing a little John replied, “In my opinion he deserved what he got. As for you being a bad copper it’s a case of if the shoe fits, Detective. Lots of things go wrong around here. How long have you worked in the area? I mean you weren’t old enough to be on the force for the Bennett case but I’m sure they taught you all the good stuff when you got here. You know, planting evidence and beating confessions. You know you can’t do that with me Detective, so you tried brow beating me but did you bother having a look in my file? Now I’m not some Mensa member; I don’t need to join a club to know I’m intelligent but I’m good at my job and I don’t resort to the tactics you need to solve cases.”