SAVAGE PAYBACK (Jack Calder Crime Series #3)

by Seumas Gallacher

The two men came nearer to the bed.

  “Yes, baby. How are you now?”

  “I’m no worse than I was before I heard the explosion. Doctor Spencer is right. I asked him to let me leave, but he insists otherwise. I think we’d cause more problems by moving. Alan gave you his opinion. The police will do what they have to do.”

  The Assistant Commissioner nodded his agreement again.

  “You’re also right, Jack. We know who’s behind it. I’ve been thinking this through.”

  She tried to move a little where she lay to get her bandaged head more comfortable. Jack propped the pillow and tucked in another behind.

  “You just stop thinking stuff and get well.”

  “No. Listen to me. These people murdered Jules and Cy. They tried to get me at the same time in the station. This thing today probably wasn’t meant to kill me, but to make a mess of this place. A warning for you to back off. It’s tragic the young girl died. Duval may be the front man making the hits, but Fadi and Estrada are calling the shots. Fadi because we busted his business last year. We also arrested his men and cleared out his haul from the jewellery bombings.”

  May-Ling paused to get her breath.

  “Enough,” said Jack.

  “Hear me out. Cy was killed because of the strike in Turkey, not for what he’s done in El Paso. Which confirms these guys are partnering up. This won’t go away unless you stop the top honchos. Then you settle with Rikko Duval. Now, Alan here, and Marcel, will do what they need to do on the formal level, but if I’m not mistaken, if you, Malky and the others need to bite more into this new partnership’s business, I’m sure they’ll make things available to us.”

  “I won’t condone any wild vigilante action, but May-Ling’s right,” said Alan. “You understand how Marcel and I work with issues like this, Jack. We’re hamstrung in many respects in what we can and can’t do to counter these people. But helping the wheels of justice roll a bit better is always possible. Just make sure we’re kept in the loop.”

  He stood up and moved to the door.

  “See you later.”

  “That’s not all I wanted to say,” said May-Ling when Alan had gone. “Doctor Spencer told me he talked to you about how you’re handling this.”

  Jack grunted and shook his head to deflect her comment.

  “Sure, you’ve seen worse trauma than this. Don’t let it get too personal, Jack. Remember what Jules taught us. A cool head thinks clearer. Despite what I said just now in front of Alan, Duval’s going to keep after you and the other guys. Don’t wait for his move. Get on the front foot. He’s clever, but my husband’s smarter.”

  Jack embraced his wife gently.

  God, how much I love this woman. Why does it always take life-threatening shit to make me aware of that? Why is she always right?

  “I’ll start working on some things tonight, sweetheart. I love you.” He kissed her and left the room.

  Her body hurt all over, not only on the left side, her shoulder ached and her leg muscles screamed at her, but her mind was more settled now. Her man was in a better place than an hour earlier.

  Thank you for the alert, Doctor Spencer.

  CHAPTER 40

  “Word from Marcel’s boys in Turkey says Fadi’s disappeared,” said Paul Manning. “I spoke with Alan this morning. The watchers at the villa in Kilyos reported a convoy of cars leaving the compound yesterday. They think the place is empty.”

  The boardroom smelled of strong coffee. Malky and Jack buddied in their usual seats next to each other. Donnie sat nearest the door.

  “Any idea where he’s headed?” said Jack.

  “Not yet. They’ve got a spotter at the airport, but nothing showing. It was too risky to tail them right away, but they don’t think he’s gone into Istanbul itself.”

  “Why not?”

  “They headed off west on the major ring road. It could take them anywhere. The direct route into the city is the dual carriageway south,” said Paul.

  “Needle in a haystack time,” said Donnie. “We can’t nail a guy if we can’t pin where he is.”

  Malky leaned forward. “Excuse this ould Irish eejit, but maybe the most obvious place he’d go to keep his head down is home.”

  “Kilyos is his home,” said Jack. “What are you talking about?”

  “No it’s not, ye daft Jock. Kilyos is where he lives. Nobody’s ever seen him, right? I reckon he’s originally from somewhere else in the region. Someplace ye can drive to. We just have to figure out where.”

  “He might be right,” said Donnie.

  Jack gave his partner a play punch on the shoulder. “Once every ten years you come up with a good idea, you know that?”

  “How do we fathom likely bolt holes? This whole region’s porous,” said Paul, stepping up to the wall map and tapping the area with his finger. “He could be across half a dozen borders in a day’s drive.”

  “There might be a quick way to find out,” said Jack. “I’ve an idea if Alan Rennie’ll go along with it.”

  “Tell us,” said Donnie.

  Jack outlined his thoughts and waited for a response.

  “Worth a try,” said Donnie. “Let me call Alan.”

  Ten minutes later the former Scottish cop told Jack, “Green light. He’s aboard. Only you and Malky to go.”

  Jack picked up his jacket and pulled at Malky’s arm.

  “Let’s go.”

  “You understand this is not official. Everything will be totally deniable?” Assistant Commissioner Rennie spread his fingers toward the ISP men. “Desperate situations need practical solutions, Jack. These hands of mine are tied. But I’m only a policeman.”

  The unspoken message was clear.

  “This is not happening, Alan. It’s got nothing to do with you or the Met. Right, Malky?”

  The Irishman nodded. “Right, ye are.”

  “The room at the end of the corridor of the basement below is the only one occupied,” said Alan. “No-one else will be around for the next two hours, or until you come back here to my office. Here’s the key.”

  “It won’t take that long, Alan. I can promise you,” said Jack.

  Malky led the way, carrying a small leather bag. As Rennie had arranged, the basement corridor was deserted. The key turned easily in the solid, wooden door and the security men entered. The prisoners each sat on a plastic chair. A plain interview table secured to the floor split the room in half. Jack slammed the door shut. Malky placed the bag on the table and moved toward the smaller man. Jack stepped up to the other.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  Both men did as instructed. Each received a sudden hard kick to the groin. The attack caught them by surprise and each slumped forward. Malky steered the smaller one back into a sitting position on his chair. Jack’s target was not so lucky. The Scotsman grabbed the stricken man by his shoulders and head-butted him fully across the bridge of the nose, smashing the bone in one movement. A strangled moan escaped as the blood streamed down his shirt and trousers.

  “That’s just to get us warmed up, gentlemen,” he said.

  They were too shocked to resist as Malky took a roll of grey duct tape and wire cuffs from the leather bag. The cuffs secured their wrists behind them. The tape strapped their legs to each side of their chairs. Unlike his partner, the smaller man had his mouth taped, with barely enough breathing space at his nose.

  Jack’s man was conscious, but breathing heavily from the effect of the head-butt. His nose bled a little less, but spurted again as his aggressor grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back. The ceiling light dazzled him.

  “Pay attention,” said Jack. “I want you to understand I’m pissed. Really pissed. You know why? Because you and your fucking boss did some fucking bad shit on my patch. But it’s worse than that.”

  The man stared, trying to comprehend who these people were.

  “Your asshole pals tried to kill my wife. Now, we know your boss is Mister Ahmed fucking Fadi. You know and we know,
he’s not from Turkey, don’t we? Don’t we?” Another tug at the hair.

  “What you’re gonna tell me, so we can stay friends, is where does the shithead go when he’s not in Istanbul? You’ve got five seconds.”

  The man shook his head.

  “Dunno what you talking,” he mumbled.

  Jack double-slapped the man so hard his head swung violently from side to side.

  “Lost your memory, asshole? Let me tell you, my wife might lose her eyesight because of you bastards. This’ll help you remember.”

  He held the man’s head back with another vicious pull on the hair and jabbed his thumb hard and deep into the left eye. The prisoner screamed.

  “For fuck’s sake, man. Ease up. You’ll kill him,” said Malky, mouthing a rehearsed good guy, bad guy exchange.

  “Who cares. He’s a piece of shit, anyway.”

  The smaller prisoner’s terror showed in his eyes. Jack delivered a swift punch below his victim’s nose, calculated enough to knock him unconscious. The blow caused the man and the chair to topple over. Jack stepped back from the inert body, still tied to the seat. He moved toward the second man.

  “Well, I suppose our buddy here’s gonna have to talk to me,” he said.

  Malky ripped the tape from the terrified man’s mouth.

  “Don’t hit me. I can tell you what you want,” he said. “Don’t hit me.”

  “This better be good, Mister,” said Malky. “My pal here gets off on this stuff.”

  “Forty minutes. What did I tell you? Wouldn’t take two hours,” said Jack to the Assistant Commissioner. “Here’s the key. One of your lads downstairs fell and hurt himself on the floor. Very careless. He also smacked his eye. The other lad’s carrying a bruise or two as well. Must have bumped each other down there.”

  Alan Rennie took the key and picked up the phone to Bob Granger.

  “Okay, Bob. We got what we need. Get a doctor into the cell and fix our friends. Thanks.”

  He put the phone down.

  “Did you get everything?”

  “Yes,” said Jack. “Nothing you can use in a courtroom. Defence lawyers don’t like you leaning on their clients, right?”

  “If these guys think Jack might come back to say hello, my guess is they won’t be singin’ to anybody,” said Malky.

  “The base is in Tuzla in North-East Bosnia,” said Jack. “Our man’s real name is Viktor Bodan. He’s Serbian. You might want to have Marcel check the name. We’ve got a fix on where he stays there. The place backs on to the River Jala, so he needs only to protect the front and sides, I suppose. It’s about five kilometres west of the town centre, beside a post office and across from a Catholic church. Saint Joseph’s.

  “What’re you going to do now?” said Alan. “Although I think I’ve a fair idea.”

  “You keep these boys downstairs isolated for a few days just in case they whisper to lawyers or anybody else about our session today. We’ll be in Tuzla within forty-eight hours. We’ll talk directly to Marcel about local assistance from his people,” said Jack, stretching out his hand.

  “Thanks, Alan.”

  On the drive back to ISP, Malky kept his opinion to himself, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mate wreak gratuitous violence on anybody. Together they had spent a career in situations where killing was routine, part of getting the job done. Something had changed in Jack Calder. The added attack on the second man after he’d spilled the information was controlled rage.

  This shit’s got to him.

  Within twenty-four hours, Interpol confirmed information to Alan Rennie and ISP. Activity at the house on the river bank in Tuzla. Several vehicles in the front courtyard of the house and many male occupants. No sign of any females. From time to time, one or two cars left, to return a couple of hours later. Other transport arrived carrying various men, many of whom departed after varying periods inside. At least two of the visitors ranked as active in the Serbian underworld. Informed opinion pointed to Ahmed Fadi’s alter ego, Viktor Bodan renewing contact with old alliances.

  Marcel Benoit aired his surprise at how soon Jack wanted to act.

  “No time like the present, Marcel,” he said on the secured line to Lyons. “We’re all set to go, this time tomorrow night. Myself and the team are going in from the river. If your lads can cover the front in case anybody spills out, that should be enough.”

  “Jack, my boys estimate at least a dozen men inside.”

  “The last thing Fadi’s expecting in Tuzla is a visit from us. One of Jules’ things was always to do the unexpected. Four’s plenty to get the job done. Any more will be a crowd, and mistakes can happen in a small area. Trust me on this.”

  “I trust you, Jack. No doubts on that score. I’ll have my men in the church across the road from the house. What do you need from me?”

  “A couple of two-man dinghies with strong outboard motors. We’ll board them about a half a mile down river. You know the kind of weapons we like. AK 47s are good and some grenades. Can you do these?”

  “No problem. Transport’ll be waiting for your flight at Tuzla airport. The same on the return journey. Good hunting.”

  Jack addressed the others in the boardroom.

  “Marcel’s confirmed Fadi’s in place. We’re set.”

  ***

  The best way to ensure an honest partner is to keep him alongside. Manuel Estrada rang the number Fadi had given him.

  “I’ve decided the best way for us is to carry on as planned, amigo,” he said.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” said Fadi.

  “Why don’t you come visit. The agency people are putting a lot of heat on the street here. My supplier in Colombia’s getting edgy. Maybe you and I take a trip to Bogota and make some friendly head to head with him, no?”

  “I’m not comfortable in territory I don’t control, my friend.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve done business with these people for a long time. Security’s no issue. Bring some of your own men with you. I’ll do the same.”

  “When do you propose to go?” said Fadi.

  “I can arrange a meeting by the end of this week. The sooner the better, no? You can fly tomorrow and be there the next day.”

  The European took a few seconds to answer. If he declined, the partnership wasn’t going to fly. The building pressures from the other side with Interpol and ISP tipped the balance.

  “We’ll catch a flight tonight. Where to meet in Bogota?”

  “I’ll book a few rooms for you at the Paradiso Hotel.”

  “Done, partner.”

  “Adios.”

  Fadi called his lieutenant to his room.

  “Yes, boss?”

  “We need flights to Bogota for you, me and two others.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Minimal delay at Tuzla airport meant more time to check the weapons in the rear of the van as they drove to the river. Marcel’s flawless arrangements included black overalls and headgear. The driver took the vehicle along the road passing Fadi’s location. Jack wanted to get his bearings before proceeding to the riverside. The church faced the two-storey house, thirty metres across from the grey-painted front. A few cars were parked outside but with no personnel in view. Lights on the ground floor and a couple of rooms on the upstairs level shone halfway across the road. The building stretched back no more than ten metres toward the river. Original use of the place would have served a large family, expansive by local standards but of modest dimensions.

  Smallish area to clear out. Glad we stuck to a compact strike force. No doors at the side. Good. It means there must be a way in at the back. No other houses close by.

  The dinghies carried normal outboard engines. The distance to the rear of the house needed nothing more powerful. Paul climbed in beside Jack. Donnie and Malky boarded the second. They slung the AK 47s across their backs and carried grenades in the overalls’ pockets. Calf-strapped daggers completed the weaponry, with no intent on taking prisoners. A hunt and kill missi
on.

  A long, slow arc brought them opposite the house. More lights showed through the curtains upstairs at the back, to all appearances a full house. Paul steered his dinghy ten metres left, cut the outboard and let it drift into the bank. Donnie did the same ten metres to the right. First out, Jack and Malky covered the others as they pulled the dinghies upside. From a crouching position they had a clear view of the outside perimeter. Malky pointed toward a guard sitting alone on a bench near the back door. A modern version M16 lay alongside a clutter of empty beer bottles and a full ashtray on the small table at the side. The remains of supper plates sat next to the bottles.

  The guard hadn’t produced all that litter by himself. Where was the backup?

  The sentry raised another beer bottle to his mouth and tipped his head back. The man heard nothing as Jack covered the few metres to his quarry. A sharp karate blow to his exposed throat interrupted his swallow and seconds later a snapped neck sealed his fate. The other three approached. The sound of two men talking filtered toward the doorway. Donnie and Paul met them in one movement. Their unexpected presence gave the two former cops the edge as dagger slashes to the throat stifled any noise. They dragged the bodies outside to join their dead companion and entered the corridor as a foursome, AK 47s at the ready. The hallway extended three metres toward an opening into a large sitting area, passing a stairway leading to the upper floor level. The four-man chevron crept closer. A quiet buzz of conversation mingled with the sound of a television program. Jack estimated eight men in the large room as the team stepped in. He and Paul fired off from the centre to the left, Malky and Donnie taking from the centre to the right. In such a tight area aiming wasn’t needed. The combined fire-power swept the area in seconds. Bodies slumped where they sat or fell to the floor where they’d been standing. Paul and Malky waited at the door of the room in case they’d missed anybody. Jack and Donnie covered the two paces back to the stairwell. The clatter of boots thudded toward the top of the wooden banister. Jack lobbed a stun grenade up as he and his partner stepped to the side wall to avoid the blast. Screams of panic mixed with the sound of further movement. Three men lay across the upper landing and top stairs, disoriented by the stunning. A short burst from the AK 47 ended their confusion. Further noise indicated a hasty retreat of three or four others. Donnie passed Jack on the stairwell and threw another grenade up and along the upper hallway. Moments later the blast rocked the place again. The attacking pair mounted the stair in double steps, firing non-stop on the way. Only two men lay on the carpet, already felled by the deluge of bullets. Near the end of the corridor, a door slammed tight. All the other room doors were open. The prey was trapped in one chamber. Jack aimed at the door handle and let loose several bursts. The locking mechanism and the wood surrounding it disintegrated. The door swung inward a couple feet. Rapid fire from inside the room splintered more of the door as bullets ripped outward, causing it to slam shut and open again as it bounced against the lintel rim. The range of shooting from inside was confined to the borders of the door. Jack eased along the wall and threw in another grenade. Silence followed the explosion. Donnie crouched and peered into the room. One man was dead already, another dying beside him. Two shots to the head hastened his departure.