Then she did.
Chapter Thirty-two
Bill Johnson only realised that he had been asleep as he started to wake. Brought around by a heavy dull ache thumping away at the back of his head. He was also cold. Before he opened his eyes he tried to move his left arm, which came to a premature stop. He also realised his back was aching. He opened his eyes and as they came into focus, the shock brought him fully around in an instant.
He had no idea exactly where he was but was lying on a cold damp concrete or stone floor, and his arm was chained to a cobbled stone wall. He sat up and pulled himself together with his back to the wall as he further took in his environment. There was some light, but not much. He could hear running water in the distance. Looking around he saw the back of a man laid asleep on an old mattress, gently snoring. The room was about six or seven metres square, and at one end Johnson could see a hole in the floor with a steel ladder jutting up. It appeared fixed to the shaft, which was no doubt below the hole, and was where the sound of running water was coming from.
Turning the other way, he saw a steel gate in front of a set of concrete stairs leading upwards. The gate looked as rusty and old as the ladder in the hole, but it had a padlock on it that was obviously new.
Then he remembered what had happened. He was about to do that maniac Moxley when the lights went out. Someone had hit him on the head from behind. He put his hand around to the back of his neck to sooth his aching bones. He felt something moist and immediately removed his hand to see what it was – blood? –but no, it was clear. He smelt his fingers, beer.
He turned his attention to the sleeping lump in front of him, and was relieved to realise that it wasn’t Moxley. But the shape seemed familiar, even from behind. It was part of the job, checking on the prisoners during the night, you became used to seeing them asleep from behind, and this guy looked familiar. He grunted and turned over on to his other side. White skinned, very white skinned to match his shockingly ginger wavy hair. In his thirties and slim. Johnson remembered him, he was an ex-con from Strangeways, hadn’t been released long, but he’d definitely been on Johnson’s wing, he was sure of that.
“Hey,” Johnson shouted, “what the hell’s going on here?”
As the man started to stir Johnson wondered if he’d done the right thing. The man didn’t appear to be fastened up to anything and Johnson watched as he came around and sat up, coughed and spat phlegm over towards the hole.
“So you’re awake, how’s the head?”
“You, it was you?”
“Sorry about that, I had no choice.”
Johnson remembered the man’s name, Watson, Jimmy Watson. “What do you mean, you’d no choice?”
“Moxley’s kidnapped me, too,” Jimmy said.
“You don’t look very kidnapped to me,” said Johnson as he lifted his restricted left arm as far as the chain would let him.
“I was, but I’ve earned his trust now – well, to a point.” Jimmy nodded towards the locked gate.
“Granted, but you were free in the house. In fact, I was about to do the bastard with his own knife. You should have helped me, not bash me over the head.”
“You don’t understand; you don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Jimmy explained how Moxley was treating him as a lover, a thought that made Johnson cringe. Then he recalled that Jimmy had been padded up with Moxley for a time. Jimmy continued, explaining all that had gone on since Moxley had paid him a visit at his flat in Rochdale.
“I still don’t get why you didn’t help me back at my flat?”
“I was too scared in case you failed. It did cross my mind, honest.”
Jimmy told him how Moxley had instructed him to wait in the bedroom, and only to come into the lounge if needed. He had heard the struggle so went into the kitchen to arm himself, which is where he got the bottle of beer. Johnson was still confused as to why Jimmy hadn’t at the very least simply saved himself and legged it. Then he told him why.
“He had me chained up at first, but when he released me he said how he hated betrayal and had a task to do to someone who had betrayed someone. I’d no idea what he was banging on about, but when he came back he had a new scalp with him, which was fresh. He also had a photo he’d taken with my phone.”
“What of?” Johnson asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“My eighty-three-year-old mother stood in the front garden of her council flat. He said she looked attractive for her age. Then he asked me if she was a widow and when I said yes and asked why, he, he …” Jimmy stopped himself.
Johnson didn’t say anything, he could see where the conversation was going, but after a couple of seconds, Jimmy carried on.
“He said if I ever betrayed him, in any way, he would pay my old queen a visit and give her an afternoon she would never forget.”
Johnson could see the utter terror in Jimmy’s eyes as he spoke.
“I’ve not been much of a son to her over the years, in and out of nick, but I couldn’t risk this. I know Moxley is more than capable of keeping his word.”
Johnson understood and felt genuine remorse for Jimmy, but if he’d only had a bit more mettle, he was sure they could have ended Moxley’s reign back at his flat, but he’d never been a hero himself before then and was still slightly shocked with himself. “Okay, Jimmy, but where the hell are we? And where’s Moxley now?”
“Said he had to be up early today as he had more tasks to do. God knows what that entails. As for where we are, I’ve no idea. I arrived here blindfolded, but it was only a ten-minute drive from my flat, so we must be somewhere in the Rochdale area still. Yesterday is the first time he’s taken me out and he still made me wear a blindfold and lie on the back seat of his car for ages.”
“Do you know what he’s got planned for me?” Johnson asked. Jimmy didn’t reply. “Jimmy?” he pressed.
“Look man, I don’t know. I was one of the few cons who didn’t mind you when I was locked up,” he said, which Johnson knew was true.
Jimmy continued, “So I would tell you man, but I’ve no idea.”
Johnson was sure this was true, but didn’t want to think further, as the cold hand of terror started to claw at the back of his thumping head once more.
Chapter Thirty-three
“Why do you think Moxley talked on the recent interviews, as opposed to the ones ten years ago?” Vinnie asked.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps on the original offences, he knew he was guilty so therefore was trying to hide it. Whereas, recently, as his state of mental health has declined, he sees life so differently, thinks he’s done no wrong, but is always the wronged,” Anne suggested.
“Or Harry’s just a crap interviewer?” suggested Vinnie with a smirk.
“You’re not the only DI at my disposal, Palmer,” said Delany, also with a grin.
“Now, now gents,” said Anne.
“Ignore him,” said Delany, “but do carry on.”
“It’s all about his view of the world. He’s decided he’s the victim due to what Dawson and Piper did to him and he’s probably kept this repressed for a long time, so once a chance of freedom was realised, it all came to the fore, further strengthening his narcissist and antisocial behaviour. This in my view has led him to seeing you two as special.”
Anne paused as Vinnie raised his eyebrows.
“First, the worse he views public officials morally – which includes that poor DC of yours – the higher the pedestal he potentially puts you two on.”
“But why, exactly?” Vinnie asked.
“I can only assume that as Harry didn’t give evidence at his original trial, he sees him as honest,” Anne said to Delany, before turning to face Vinnie. “But you are probably higher up in his estimation; you not only dealt with Jimmy fairly, in his eyes, but have been the subject of betrayal. I hope you don’t mind, but Harry filled me in, I know it’s personal …”
Vinnie interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay, Anne, please
go on.”
“Well,” she started, and Vinnie noticed her cheeks redden a little, if only for an instant, “well, he sees you as a fellow betrayed good guy.”
“Good guy,” Delany said, “he’s certainly got a grand view of himself.”
“Which is entirely indicative of his personality disorders,” said Anne, “so he respects Vinnie. What started me off on this line of thinking, which is also a concern, was when you told me he claims to like Vinnie.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, he seems to like you too much.”
“He shouldn’t like me at all. I’m trying to catch him.”
“Yes, but he does. I worry that he is developing an attraction towards you. He’s effectively split up your relationship at home – sorry again – or should I say, been a conduit to your discovery of what was going on.”
“Oh God, that’s all I need,” said Vinnie.
“And you got all this from listening to his police interviews?” Delany asked.
“Partly, but it was the fact that he liked Vinnie that troubled me. It was when I listened to his ranting during the interviews about how he was the victim and all officials were corrupt that I stated to match this against his actual behaviour since.”
“I see,” Delany said, though Vinnie wasn’t too sure he did.
“I think he wants Vinnie to find him, but has no intention of being caught.”
“And how the hell does he think that’ll play out when I do get my hands on him?” asked Vinnie.
“You have to remember, he has an extremely high view of himself, his importance, and no doubt, his ability to obtain what he wants.”
“What, so he thinks he can talk me into a life on the run with him?” Vinnie tried to control his rising temper and sarcasm.
“I’m only trying to warn you, Vinnie,” said Anne.
He could see offence in her eyes and immediately apologised, adding, more calmly, “How sure are you, doctor?”
“Enough to worry me into your office on a Saturday morning.”
“Fair point, Anne, it’s come a bit unexpected, that’s all,” said Vinnie.
Delany asked her to go through it all again, for the sake of clarity, then he wrote up a note in his sensitive policy log and asked her to read and initial it, to make sure ‘I’ve fully understood it’. Vinnie thanked her after Delany had and walked her to the front desk, where he apologised again if his tone had hardened earlier. She told him to think nothing of it. As she started to walk across the foyer towards the front door, she turned back to face Vinnie who was watching her leave.
“Be careful, Vinnie. I know you are a big strong boy, but I’m being serious, be careful and don’t underestimate him.”
He smiled and thanked her once more before going back inside. By the time he reached Delany’s office there were two more steaming hot plastic cups of coffee waiting on his desk. He closed the door behind him before joining his boss who was now sat where Anne had been.
“Well, what do you make to all that?” Delany asked.
“I’m not too sure,” and he wasn’t, “do you think she’s right?”
“Not sure, it’s a subjective business, but we’d be stupid to ignore her professional warnings.”
“True enough,” said Vinnie, pausing to test the temperature of the coffee, still way too hot. “But, I’m sure of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She believes it, so until we know different ...”
Vinnie and Delany discussed the options, including pulling Vinnie off the job altogether for his own protection.
“Not a chance, Harry, next option?”
Delany smiled as they continued. First thing he suggested was to get a full interception not on Vinnie’s phone, no point, but on the phone Moxley was using.
“The cell-siting team have identified the number as a pay-as-you-go and research on calls made to and from that number before all this started confirm it as Jimmy the Jemmy’s.”
“Won’t that take forever to get a home sec’s warrant of interception signed?” Vinnie knew how difficult and relatively rare phone taps – or lines, as they called them – were.
“Not in life and death situations, we can get an emergency application down to London today. I think it’s only fair to assume that Jimmy’s life is in increasing danger, especially if Anne is right about Moxley’s growing affection towards you.”
Vinnie hadn’t thought of that. He’d been too wrapped up in his own concerns but, as usual, Harry was spot on. Jimmy could become persona non grata.
It was gone eight now so Harry insisted they grab some food, as it could be a long day. Vinnie readily agreed. Over breakfast, they drew up lines of enquiry for the day. Delany said he’d heard nothing from Preston with regard to George Piper so gave them a quick ring while they waited for their food. Apparently, there was no change at the address and no sign that Piper had returned home for the weekend.
Vinnie said he’d take a run up the motorway later, but wanted to get into Johnson’s ribs first and find out what he’d told Rob.
“Good idea, Vinnie. While you do that I’ll get on with the application for the line, and get it up to the chief and then get it down to London. It’ll have to be someone of at least DI rank, so I’ll get on to HQ to lend us one.”
Vinnie was relieved to hear this; the last thing he wanted was to be shoved off down the M6 with all that was going on. Though he suspected he was too involved anyway, it would have to be someone else. Some poor fellow DI was about to have his weekend ruined.
Having bade Harry goodbye he headed for the car park. He was extra vigilant now as he drove towards the estate where the safe house was located. He kept feeling his sidearm in its holster touch his left rib cage as he drove, which he found reassuring. Harry also said he’d sort out all the continuing authorities for the firearms strategy, while Vinnie was ‘out enjoying himself’. He did feel a little sorry for his boss; at least at DI level he still got to get out on enquiries now and again. He was also glad Harry had decided not to shadow him; too much to do he guessed.
After doing several circuits of the estate, Vinnie was confident he hadn’t been followed and parked his car in a different place from last time. Five minutes later, he was at Johnson’s front door. He had a key but would knock first, try to get off on the right footing to start with. He could always up the tempo if he had to. Not as easy to do it the other way round.
No reply. Perhaps he’s gone for a paper, even though he’d been told to stay put, or maybe he was out the back enjoying the sun that was starting to warm up nicely. Vinnie walked around to the rear and jumped over the three-foot fence before he noticed the back door. He stopped in his tracks when he realised it was open and had been forced.
Chapter Thirty-four
He hadn’t expected to need Jimmy’s help, but thought the run out would do him good, plus he might have needed help shifting Stench. Now, he was extremely grateful for his help; things hadn’t exactly gone to plan and at one stage he thought Stench was going to do him. He’d make him pay for that. As for Jimmy, he’d ensure he rewarded him later in the best way he knew.
He’d left Jimmy with him while he backed his car up to the front; he knew it was a risk, but a small one. He’d made sure that no one was about before quickly carrying Stench into the boot. Front door to open boot only took seconds, and they were soon off after that.
Once he and Jimmy had secured Stench back at their temporary base, he made sure they both had plenty of food and water, and left to carry on his tasks. He could see the look of disappointment in Jimmy’s eyes, but he’d made it extra special when he saw him again later than evening. So much so, he could see tears of happiness run down his face when he’d finished. He’d later left Jimmy unfettered but still locked the gate, as he’d explained to Jimmy it was purely a precaution in case Stench woke up and caused trouble.
He’d driven up to Preston early on purpose, hoping to see a change at Piper’s address, but ther
e was none. He’d also been the previous evening and noted everything; position of the curtains and the fact that they were open in every room. He’d even risked a walk-through down the rear alley, same as the front. And when he saw nothing had changed this morning he didn’t hang about. Next stop was one of the local motorway services for some breakfast. Great places to be anonymous and also great places for fried breakfasts. After ten years inside, he’d forgotten how good they tasted.
Having eaten, he sat back with a second cup of tea and wondered if the Traffic Warden had forgiven him yet. He would in the long run, he’d realise he’d done him a favour, eventually. He had considered a more brutal course of action with his wife, but hadn’t wanted to go too far too soon. He realised he could change his mind on that in the future if he saw the need, but he had other things to attend to first.
He dearly wanted to meet Dawson again, and as he sat there musing over what he would do to him; he started to feel erect. He ended his thought, realising he was probably out of reach; well, for now anyway. He still had Stench and Piper to deal with first. Of Piper; he realised; he hadn’t given him a fitting name yet. Scum seemed appropriate, yes he’d call him Scum.
He thought back to his original trial ten years ago. Scum had given his bent evidence from behind a screen, but the screen only protected him from the public gallery. The jury, judge and barristers could all see him, as could Moxley. Made the use of a screen pretty stupid, Moxley had always thought. Some rubbish about an accused man being able to face those who accuse him, his brief had told him at the time. And, although he hadn’t seen him since, he could still picture him as if it was yesterday. Average height, average build, fat white face with black hair.
Then he opened his eyes and watched people milling about as he considered his next move. What exactly should he do with Stench? He’d got the money back, so didn’t need anything from him. Perhaps a one-off on his bank card would help top up his funds, but that was about it. Other than that, it was just for fun what he chose to do next, before he killed him.
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