Go Out With A Bang!

by Gary Weston

  Chapter 18

  Detective Inspector Dale Andersen looked at the Ferret's once pristine office and knew how horrified Ducket would have been to see the state it was now in. The “Kids” as Jordon Fletcher and Trish Bailey were referred to by him, Morris and Crowe, were still sitting at the hi-tech equipment. They were surrounded by take out cartons, snickers wrappers and drinks cans.

  'One question. Have you got anywhere?'

  Bailey said, 'Not really. I've never come across a computer I couldn't dominate before. Ferret is in a league of his own.'

  'You got that right. You might as well call it a day.'

  Fletcher took his glasses off and wiped the lenses on the hem of a grubby looking T shirt. 'We got so far,' he said, defensively. 'A little more time and...'

  'Wow,' said Bailey. 'Somethings happening.'

  Bailey was right. Everything suddenly lit up. From one end of the room a monster screen dropped down from the ceiling.

  'What's going on?' Andersen wanted to know.

  The “Kids” could only watch as the information in Ferret's computer flashed around the screen at impossible speeds.

  'Somebody has hacked in,' said Fletcher. 'The data is being downloaded to another computer.'

  'You cretins,' snapped Andersen. 'You've compromised Ferret's hard-drive. His stuffs being stolen.'

  'We didn't get that far,' said Bailey. 'This isn't our fault.'

  'Get the bloody thing turned off,' barked Andersen.

  'Can't just do that,' said Fletcher. 'It'll stuff it all up.'

  'No shit,' said Andersen. 'I think you two have already done a bloody good job of doing that.'

  All they could do was watch the flashing screen, until it went blank.

  'My God,' said Bailey, knowing just who would cop the blame for the travesty. 'Inspector. This isn't our fault.'

  'You reckon? Look at the screen,' said Andersen.

  The message in red bold letters made it all clear.

  “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE. FERRET.”

  Then the computer turned itself off.

  'You heard the man,' said Andersen. 'Clean up your crap and get your sorry asses out of here.'

  They didn't see the huge grin on his face as he stormed out on his way to see the Chief.

  Chapter 19

  'That's a relief,' said the Chief, as Andersen told him what had happened. 'The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced my sister has something to do with this.'

  'At least we know he's still alive and kicking,' said Andersen, pleased to be the bearer of good news. 'What do you want me to do?'

  'Nothing. Not about Ducket, anyway. Just get on with business as usual. Ducket will turn up when he needs to.'

  'Right. I'm off to a brainstorming session with Morris and Crowe. We can't help feeling this explosives gang aren't going away anytime soon. We are looking at all the possible targets they might be considering. See if we can beat them to it.'

  'Sounds like a shot in the dark. Good luck with that. I'm about to call Poppy and give her the news.'

  'At least it's positive. Back to work.'

  With the inspector gone, the Chief called his niece. 'Poppy. We've just had some contact with Fred.'

  'You've seen him?'

  'No. Sorry. He downloaded all his stuff from his computer here and then told us in no uncertain terms he wanted us to keep out of his office. Nobody will be going in there until he comes back.'

  'He'll be getting a real ear-bashing from me when I see him.'

  'Something for him to look forward to. Poppy. He's going to be alright. I feel that.'

  'This is the last time he puts me through this. He has responsibilities, now.'

  'He'll understand that. Take care.'

  * * *

  'What we got?' asked Dale.

  Morris said, 'We found three possible targets, assuming they stay in our neck of the woods. The new cathedral, almost finished. Then there's the Cloud Tower. A high value commercial building.'

  'But it's occupied,' said Andersen. 'I can't see that being a target.'

  'Because we wouldn't, might mean they would,' said Crowe.

  'True,' said Andersen, doubtfully. 'What else you got?'

  'My personal favourite,' said Morris. 'The Stargas Refinery.'

  'We need to talk to the owners and check out their security. They need to be aware of the situation.'

  'Way ahead of you,' said Morris. 'They're expecting us.'

  'Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go.'

  Chapter 20

  The Cloud Tower was first. It was a two hundred and fifty feet iconic landmark building. The top was a revolving restaurant with spectacular city views, and below that, the casino. Designer label stores, a gymnasium and spa made up the rest. The detectives were greeted by Theo Lipton, general manager and Charlotte Tyrone, chief of security. They were in Lipton's office.

  'Thank you for seeing us,' said Andersen, after the introductions.

  'Our pleasure,' said Lipton. 'You'll be pleased to know we already beefed up our security systems after what happened to the Petrolex building.'

  Tyrone said, 'We think we have it all covered, but we'll be happy to take on board any suggestions you may make.'

  'Good,' said Andersen. 'Right. Am I correct in thinking the Tower is a twenty four hour, seven day operation?'

  'Yes,' said Lipton. 'The stores on the ground floor are open from seven in the morning, until six in the evening. The gymnasium and spa from eight until six. The restaurant is a twenty four seven operation but only serving from ten in the morning until three the following morning. The rest of the time is cleaning down and food preparation.'

  Morris said, 'Public access from the main street only?'

  'Yes,' said Tyrone. 'Straight off the street into the stores. Three elevators go up to the other levels. We have four emergency exits.'

  'Car parking?' asked Crowe.

  'Multi story across the street,' said Lipton.

  'Surveillance?' Morris asked.

  'I can show you,' said Tyrone.

  'Lead on,' said Andersen.

  'I'll leave you in Mrs Tyrone's capable hands,' said Lipton. 'She'll report back any suggestions to me later.'

  'Thank you, Mr Lipton,' said Andersen.

  Tyrone led the way to an impressive dedicated surveillance room. Two men in smart pale blue uniforms were monitoring a bank of twenty CCTV screens.'

  'Mike and Smithy,' said Tyrone. 'We have a three shift system, covering twenty four seven. We get a very well heeled clientèle to the casino and restaurant. Not much cash changes hands in this day of plastic. Probably no more than between twelve and fourteen thousand per night in the casino. The stores obviously more between them.'

  'All floors covered by CCTV?' Morris asked.

  'Yes. Every angle covered.'

  Crowe said, 'I don't think inside is an issue. My concern would be the outside. A few well placed explosives, the whole lot could come tumbling down.'

  'I couldn't agree more,' said Tyrone. 'That's where we beefed things up. Smithy?'

  'The top row of monitors are dedicated to the exterior,' said Smithy. 'One on the roof of the multi car park aimed at the front entrance.'

  'That could be a weakness,' said Andersen. 'That one could be taken out by a determined individual.'

  'It has its own alarm,' said Tyrone. 'Anyone messing with it and we would know about it. And in case of a malfunction, we have another on a completely separate circuit, fixed to the Tower aimed at the car park entrance. Those two modifications are new ones.'

  Smithy said, 'Other cameras cover all of the Tower from every angle, all over lapping.'

  Andersen smiled. 'I'm impressed. Obviously a very professional operation here. You run a tight ship, Mrs Tyrone.'

  'Thanks. No suggestions?'

  'Not from me. Stanley? Vince?'

  'All good,' said Morris.

  'We can cross this one off,' said Crowe.

  'Thank you for your time, Mrs Tyrone.' />
  Chapter 21

  The cathedral was a different story. When the old cathedral had been destroyed by fire, the modern glass and steel, multi denominational offering to any God interested, was built by funding from most major religious institutions. It was close to completion, with minor exterior work to finish off. The whole building was surrounded by security fencing. The construction crew were busy at work and Andersen had to shout above the noise of a jackhammer.

  The foreman told his men to take a tea break and he lit up a smoke as he talked to the detectives.

  'Security?' said Bill Toddy. He hitched up his jeans so his beer belly overhung even more.

  'Yes,' said Andersen. 'Do you have any?'

  Toddy slapped the fencing. 'Yep.'

  Andersen rolled his eyes up to the heavens. 'And you think that's adequate, Mr Toddy?'

  Toddy shrugged. 'Not my problem. I couldn't give a shit about the building. At the end of each day, we get all the gear in the truck, lock up the fencing and go home. That's all I'm responsible for.'

  Morris said,'Mr Toddy. Didn't you see the news reports about the Petrolex building?'

  'Yeah. Hell of a mess.'

  Crowe said,'We wouldn't want the same thing happening here now, would we?'

  Toddy shrugged. 'I couldn't care less if it was blown up. Look at it. That's a cathedral? Gotta be the ugliest bloody building I ever had to look at. God must have pissed himself laughing when some pot head dreamed this crap up.'

  Morris said, 'So, if not you, Mr Toddy, who would be a good one to talk to?'

  Toddy scratched his bald head and ground out his smoke with his boot. 'Try head office. Nothing to do with me. And if you can get anywhere with that tight fisted lot, you're a better man then me. Here's the number. Good luck with that. Are we done?'

  'Might as well be, Mr Toddy,' said Andersen. 'Thanks for...not a lot, really.'

  'That was depressing,' said Morris.

  'Can't blame Toddy,' said Crowe. 'He's just a construction foreman.'

  'I'll take that on board,' said Andersen.

  'Going to call their head office?' Morris asked.

  'Nope. Nothing like the personal touch.'

  * * *

  Flexicorp Construction had a unique shabbiness and air of neglect that was reflected by the indifferent attitudes of the staff working inside.

  'Mr Jenkins is tied up at the moment,' said a middle aged woman in a front office. Piles of overflowing folders were stacked up on every available surface. 'Care to make an appointment?'

  Morris and Crowe could feel the tension building up in Andersen, like crackling static electricity.

  'I do not care to make an appointment. Call Mr Jenkins now and tell him Detective Inspector Andersen wants to see him and I don't mean tomorrow.'

  The woman went over to a door, knocked on it and entered. She was out again a few seconds later, not too happy.

  'Mr Jenkins says he'll be available in about half an hour.'

  'Ooops,' said Crowe, guessing what was coming next. He was right.

  Andersen didn't bother knocking and he was followed by Morris and Crowe into the room. Four men in suits were around a large table.

  'What's the meaning of this?'

  'I'm Detective Inspector Andersen. We'd like a word.'

  'I could think of a few words myself.'

  'We don't have time to waste. Are you all managers of this company?'

  'Yes. I'm C E O,' said Jenkins. 'I take it this is important?'

  Andersen said, 'We have identified the new cathedral as a potential target by the gang who destroyed the Petrolex building.'

  The four men round the table stared at Jenkins, hoping for a display of leadership.

  Jenkins said, 'Why would anyone blow up the cathedral?'

  'Because its aesthetically repulsive?' Crowe offered.

  'Extortion money from the owners,' said Andersen, shooting a chilly look at Crowe. 'What's the place worth?'

  Jenkins shrugged. 'Thirty five million, give or take a bit.'

  'And who actually owns it at the moment?'

  'The consortium,' said Jenkins. 'That is made up of five denominations. With falling congregations, they decided on a combined operation.'

  Andersen said, 'Anybody in charge of the consortium?'

  'If you'd ever had any dealings with them, you wouldn't think so. A bigger bunch of procrastinating buck passers I never met before.'

  Andersen bristled. He didn't like Jenkins and it showed. 'You. Give me a name and hurry up about it.'

  Jenkins looked at Andersen's glowering expression and the huge Crowe by his side. 'One moment, gentlemen,' he told his colleagues. He went out of the boardroom to the overworked woman in the office. 'Margaret. Have you the contact details for the cathedral consortium, please?'

  'I have it here, somewhere. Here we go. I'll get you a copy.'

  'Thanks,' said Andersen, taking the copy. 'We'll be in touch. Good afternoon.'

  Outside as they went to their car, Andersen grunted, 'It might do that lot some good, having a bomb under them.'

  * * *

  Bishop Tory Thomlinson at least made the detectives feel welcome, providing coffee and biscuits. Other than that he was less than helpful.

  'Detectives. I appreciate your concern. I really do. We have the building fully insured, and there is security fencing all around the site.'

  'Nothing like adequate security,' said Andersen. 'That fence couldn't even keep a cat out. And I would double check your insurance to see if you are covered if the gang decided to blow it up. I doubt if they would shell out extortion money. It's actually still under the terrorism heading. Just have a think about it. Perhaps consider hiring a private security to do patrols at night. I'll see if I can have a police patrol keeping an eye on the place, but we can't be everywhere. This is only until we have apprehended the gang.'

  'I'll do what I can,' said the bishop. 'But it also depends on what the rest of the committee agree on. Leave it with me, I'll see what I can do.'

  'Thanks,' said Andersen.

  The Stargas Refinery was chalk and cheese to the mishmash management of the new cathedral. Like the Cloud Tower, it had dedicated security, and state of the art technology. They spent time with the security manager, had a guided tour and went briefly over the internal and external security procedures. Apart from being advised to be extra vigilant, the detectives had nothing to recommend. By the time they had finished and got back to police headquarters, it was time to call it a day. Andersen had an extra patrol for the cathedral approved and organised before he went home.

  Chapter 22

  It was a ten bedroomed home in five acres of gardens and lawns. In an Olympic size indoor swimming pool, eight men were playing a game of their own invention, involving a basket ball and small netted goals at either end. Trying to half drown each other was quite acceptable. After an hour, they climbed out, got drinks from the small bar in the corner, put some pleasant sounds on, broke out the cigars and relaxed on the recliners. The games in the pool served two purposes. Keeping fit and bonding. When it came to planning the crime and risk taking, they all had an input. No idea or suggestion was ever dismissed out of hand.

  But Steve Telford was generally accepted as the leader. At forty five, he was the oldest, most experienced and with a degree in physics, arguably the brightest. Not that the others were dumb. Between them, the eight men held six university degrees and many other skills to call on.

  They were on their biggest campaign. It was their first crime and it was also to be their last. The rewards would be plenty for several lifetimes and their legacy would be the perfect execution of a brilliant crime. It would be one that would be the basis of many books and would undoubtedly be high-jacked by Hollywood for a blockbuster film.

  Steve Telford blew smoke rings and sipped a small brandy on the rocks. 'You know? It's the idea of messing with their heads that I enjoy the most.'

  Frank Telford, Steve's younger brother by three years, had to agree. '
It's all going to plan so far. And as plans go, this one is brilliant.'

  Steve said, 'Don't you jinx it. No chicken counting until we have the money. We've always tried to take out the elements of luck, and be totally in control of our own destinies. But there are always things out of our control so we still have to be prepared and flexible.'

  Hank Andrews was one of the youngsters in the team at twenty five. Steve and Frank were his uncles. His forte was electronics. During planning meetings, the others would often propose far out ideas and then they would look to him to determine if it was physically possible to do. He had written several technical books that had achieved modest acclaim from his peers and could be found in most technical training institutions.

  'I think we have covered all bases and the back up plans are as faultless as we can make them. The police think we have failed miserably so far. Which is exactly what we want them to think.'

  Steve stubbed out his cigar. 'There's no place here for either cockiness or complacency. Once the job's done and we can walk away free and very rich, that's the time to slap ourselves on the back. We have two weeks before the job. Everyone. Think the rest of the plan through long and hard in the meantime. If any aspect has the minutest element we can improve on, we do so. In the meantime, relax and enjoy the day. Cheers.'

  'Cheers.'

  Chapter 23

  The detective's had done all they could, both in trying to solve the crime and find the gang, and also take preventative measures to identify possible targets, advising the people concerned about any inadequacies in their security systems. Forensics at both crime scenes had drawn blanks. All equipment from the surviving hotel had been methodically taken apart and checked for prints. None were found. All model and identification marks had been removed from all electronic parts, down to the smallest resister. Most parts were generic and commonly sourced.

  The explosives proved untraceable. Top electronic experts had been impressed by the assembly, commenting on the professional work as being from a first class craftsman. Other than that accolade, nothing proved helpful in traceability.