by Liz Mistry
Taking out his mobile, Gus phoned into Hardeep at The Fort and explained the situation. ‘I want traffic to look the car over and then pay a visit to the delightful Reverend Anthony Evans. Far as I’m concerned, they can throw the damn book at him.’
74
18:15 Paprika Lounge Heaton
Gus was trying hard not to think of the delicious meal they were having as ‘The Last Supper’. They’d had more footage of Simon Proctor, but no breakthrough. Poor kid seemed to be losing it. He’d displayed his belly to the camera, clearly aware that someone was watching him. Who knows what must be going through his mind.
Gus had thought getting out of The Fort would take his mind off Operation Biker Chick that was due to commence at 21:30, but Alice’s incessant talking about it made that impossible. Fed up listening to her, he changed the subject. ‘What did you think about the Buttons?’
They hadn’t had the chance to discuss the interview in detail, because Nancy had wanted to be briefed about the raid this evening. And then they’d wanted to put the wind up the Reverend Anthony Evans. Now, he wanted to get Alice’s take on things. They’d left it up to Mrs Button to tell her husband about her infidelities, and when asked what she wanted to do, Ali had elected to return home with her dad. Poor kid, no sooner does she get adopted than her new parents and her church question her sexuality and ridicule her in public and, to top it all, she finds out her mum is having sex with a school friend.
Alice put a piece of poppadum in her mouth and chewed. ‘Think the link between Mr Button and Simon Proctor is too big a coincidence to ignore?’
Grabbing the last piece of roti before Al had it, Gus took a bite. ‘Definitely. Kyle Button was quite convincing when he said he hadn’t realised that Simon was that kid. Hell, the guy nearly fainted. I thought he was going to keel over. It was a lot for him to take in all at once. First, he finds out his wife’s been screwing a fifteen-year-old friend of his daughter, then he’s told Ali’s adoption is at risk because of said wife’s behaviour. Finally, we land the double whammy on him that Simon Proctor was the child who survived the fire that killed his pregnant fiancée. He’d be forgiven for freaking out. He seemed quite genuine, I thought.’
Alice spooned a dollop of rice onto her plate and with a vigorous wrist action mixed the dahl in before stuffing a huge spoonful into her mouth. Gus watched, half amused, half frustrated with her, when bits of rice fell out of her mouth as she ate. God, she was becoming more like bloody Compo every day. Next, she’d be scoffing his mother’s burnt offerings as if they were ambrosia from the gods.
Alice swallowed a mouthful, took a long slug of water and wiped her fingers on her napkin. ‘Well, I’m still not sure about the dynamics between the wife and Simon. I know that legally she’s guilty, yet that business with the burner phones is a bit off. Why would a fifteen-year-old kid looking for his jollies buy two burner phones? And why would he record the sex tapes, and then, to crown it all, send it to Ali? He seems like a bit of a sick fuck to me.’
Gus grinned. ‘Glad to see you’ve not allowed your analysis to ruin your appetite or your ability to present a cogent and technically-phrased argument for the prosecution. Hell, a lawyer could just take that statement straight to court.’
‘Ha bloody ha! Very damn funny.’ She glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. ‘Come on. Got to get a move on. I’m being “made over” back at The Fort.’
Frowning at her eagerness to present herself to the lions, Gus grabbed her arm. ‘You sure about this? You don’t need to do it, you know?’
Grinning, she pinched his cheek hard and said, ‘Oh, but I do. We both know I could be out on my arse tomorrow, so I aim to go out with a bang.’
Shit, thought Gus. Wish she wouldn’t use words like ‘bang’! He peeled a couple of twenties from his wallet, waved to the waiter and followed her out.
75
19:10 The Fort
The incident room was more crowded than usual and Gus hated it. One of the vice team had grabbed his chair and his coffee mug. Compo looked like he was trying to merge into the wall behind his PC, and Sampson and Taffy kept sending petulant glances his way. Still not forgiven me for not getting them on the raid!
Alice, on the other hand, was in her element. Dressed in a skintight crop top and leggings with heels that made her a good half foot taller, she was strutting around looking like the cat who’d got the cream, while Gus was of the opinion that ‘a lamb to the slaughter’ was more apt. They’d made sure she had the look of a girl trying to appear older than her years. Her make-up was heavy and somewhat inexpertly applied. The clothes they’d given her were a complete contrast to her normal gothic black attire. And, despite her added inches, she did look very young. They’d wired her up and put a GPS monitor onto the underwire of her bra.
The plan was she’d saunter into the pub their targets frequented in Keighley. According to the snitch, they were having some sort of celebration in honour of a new member joining the One Percent club. Gus had been told that One Percent was the term used to describe biker groups like the Hells Angels and referred to the fact that ninety-nine per cent of bikers were law-abiding whereas the other one percent, the one percent they were dealing with tonight, were not. This information did not reassure him.
Once in the bar, she was to attempt to attract the attention of the two bikers. Mickey had intimated that that would be easy as they were always on the lookout for young fresh meat. A description that made Gus’ heart sink even more. Because of his ethnicity, he wasn’t allowed in the pub, which was a watering hole for Keighley’s resident bigots and racists and that annoyed him, too. He wanted to be as close to Alice as possible. The fact that two other officers would be inside didn’t reassure him one bit. He was relegated to a parked car with Mickey Swanson, twenty yards up the road, with a view of the pub door. Alice would, if all went to plan, get herself invited to the clubhouse and would, whilst partying with them, distribute miniscule cameras and microphones around the premises so the teams outside could see what was going on and judge the time to raid the joint. Gus tried to ignore all the things that could go wrong and instead focus on the fact that Alice was capable of anything. He only hoped her nerve held.
76
21:15 The George, Keighley
Alice had held it together in front of Gus. He was such a bloody wuss and she knew he was worried stiff about her. She wasn’t scared as such, not really. It was more of a low-level, constant rush of adrenalin. As soon as she walked into the pub, she’d be fine. All her old instincts from Brent would kick in and she’d get into character, just like that.
To make it authentic, she’d got on the bus three stops away and got off outside the fish and chip shop opposite The George. As she waited to cross the road, she looked at the pub. Even from here she could hear the low-level thrum of a bass beat interspersed with deep laughter and guttural tones. The outside of the pub was tired. Paint peeled off the sign as it swayed half-heartedly in the slight breeze. Even the lighting had a sad, yellow, nicotine-stained glow to it. Seeing a gap in the traffic, she walked across the road, trying to ignore the fact that the shoes nipped her toes and the cold night air was making goose bumps appear on top of her goose bumps. She thought of her heavy winter coat with longing… and then, she was at the door. Two monster-sized Harleys stood outside. With any luck, they’d belong to her guys. If not, maybe the owners would be heading to the clubhouse later anyway. She’d be adaptable.
Pushing open the door, she swaggered in, chewing gum and with her hips swinging side to side. She marched over to the nearest empty bar stool and deposited her clutch bag on the counter before getting out her phone and texting. She was aware that her presence had been noted and went full-on playing the part of a disgruntled friend who’d been stood up and was trying to contact someone. The bartender approached, a bar towel slung over his shoulder. Alice glanced up. ‘Vodka coke, please.’
From behind her, she felt rather than heard the air displacement as someone approach
ed her. The faint, unwashed smell of sweat mingling with leather drifted to her nostrils.
‘I’ll get the lady’s drink,’ said a gruff voice.
Alice summoned up the innocent, teen girl grin she’d been practising all day. ‘Wow, really? Thank you.’ And she was in, as simple as that. She hadn’t expected it to be quite as easy, but sometimes in undercover work you’re dealt a winning hand.
77
22:25 Outside The George, Keighley
It was ages since Alice had entered the pub and Gus was getting more and more anxious. He hated inactivity at the best of times and the cramped confinement of Mickey Swanson’s vehicle irked him. His shoulders ached and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to untense them. He and Mickey could hear everything that was happening in the pub and with every passing minute it seemed that Alice was having to come up with ever more inventive excuses not to fulfil some sort of sex act with those two jokers. It put him on edge. If they took a step too far, or if Alice said the safety phrase; ‘my shoes are too tight’, he’d be over there in a flash… except, he knew he wouldn’t. He’d leave it to their two plants inside to initiate some sort of distraction – that was their brief, after all.
They needed to get the bikers on possession of both the drugs and firearms, and they needed as many of the Chapter members as possible in the clubhouse before they raided. This was a multi-faceted attack and getting those responsible for Jade Simmonds’ death was only one aspect of it. He was lucky he’d been allowed to tag along and he knew he was there only because Nancy had pulled some strings and Mickey seemed to like him for some reason.
Inside their vehicle it ranged from freezing to boiling as Mickey alternated between having the engine on for warmth and turning it off to avoid looking conspicuous. She’d slipped her bullet proof vest off earlier and run in to get them chips, but Gus couldn’t eat anything. His stomach was too unsettled. Mickey, on the other hand, worked her way through both packets of chips with clear enjoyment.
‘Love chips!’
Gus raised an eyebrow. ‘Never have guessed.’
When at last the pub door swung open and the two bikers emerged, Alice between them, Gus was relieved. The three of them stood looking at the bikes for a good ten minutes, Alice alternating between running her hand over the shiny metal and running it over the taller of the two men’s arm. It made Gus’ skin crawl. Visions of how these men had treated Jade Simmonds were at the forefront of his mind as he watched.
‘She’s brilliant, isn’t she?’ said Mickey, gripping her steering wheel and peering out the window. ‘Got them in the palm of her hand.’
Gus could only nod. Mickey had summed it up. Alice was leading them on, using a blend of playfulness and sensuality that Gus had never seen from her before. One of the bikers took off his leather jacket and Gus heard Alice cooing her thanks as she slipped it on and zipped it up before climbing onto the larger of the two bikes behind the taller biker. The jacket dwarfed her. The sleeves covered her hands and it tucked under her bottom as she sat. The guy who’d given her his jacket leaned over and extracted a helmet from the box at the back of his bike and plonked it on her head, fastening it, before kissing her noisily and tapping the visor down.
Then they were off, accelerating and roaring into the flow of traffic causing a taxi to brake and honk its horn. It wasn’t Gus’ job to follow. They knew where the bikers were headed and the GPS transmitters they’d planted on the bikes and on Alice would tell them if there was any deviation from the expected route.
Half an hour later, Gus and Mickey drew up in a lay-by further up the road from the track leading to the clubhouse. It was out of sight of the bikers unless they missed the track and drove past, but that was unlikely. Their source had told them these two were regular patrons of the Chapter’s facilities. From the bushes to their right, one of Mickey’s men appeared and confirmed that Alice and the two men had shot past them a couple of minutes before. Game on!
78
22:25 Unknown Location
Not long now, thank God. It’s getting colder. It’s like someone’s thrown a bucket of cold water over me. And the dripping… fuck’s sake, the dripping. Bloody pouring down the walls. Puddles all over the floor now, mixing with the piss and the blood. Clothes are soaked. How am I supposed to carry them? They’ll weigh a fucking tonne, but I can’t leave them here. Just have to manage.
‘Fi…re, fi…re, watch it burn, la, la, la, da, da, da. Fi…re, Fi…re da, da, da, la, la, la.’
Can’t remember a time I’ve ever been warm. Hoodie and blanket do fuck all… except make me scratch. Fucking great bug welts all over my arms and thighs. That’ll look good when they find me, though… authentic! Fucking fleas. Never mind, I’ll get my revenge. What I’d give right now to be at the Hare and Hounds, sat in front of that big log fire of theirs, one of their cheese burgers in front of me… Ace!
‘Log fiii… re. Keeps me saaa…ne. Bu…ur…ur…n, la la la.’
Warm bed. That’s what I need. Wonder if they’ve found my stash. Could do with a score right now… you know? Take the edge off. Maybe should’ve hid the stash. Nah, what teenage lad doesn’t have a stash these days? Hell, bet even old Jane and James smoked some wacky-baccy when they were young. What am I thinking, though? The coppers will have taken my shit. They’ll have searched my room and the shed. They’d have told Mum and Dad too, and she’d have had that face on her. The one that says, ‘I don’t know where he gets it from. It must be his birth mother because it’s certainly not from us.’
Wonder if they’ve been on telly, yet? What I’d give to see that. The pair of them, holding on to each other like a pair of Siamese twins, crying and pleading for his captor to release him. If they knew the half of it… bloody inspired. Everything planned to a T. Just need to follow through to the end and I’ll be in the home straight.
At this stage, my options are limited. The most important thing is to get out of this alive. That’s the main aim, however it’s the variables that are the issue. Too many variables. A joint right now would clear my thinking. Relax me a bit, take my mind off the cold and hunger.
Not long now, Simon, for Christ’s sake. Just hold it together. Plenty of time for joints when I get out. Right now, I need to focus on my getaway. I know what needs to be done. Just need to make sure it’s timed just right. There’s no room for mistakes. No margin of error.
Then… back to my old life, nobody any the wiser, loose ends tied up… Revenge complete.
Or, worst case scenario… Plan B. Either way, I’ll have done what I set out to achieve.
79
23:15 The Fugitive Bandits Clubhouse, Ilkley Moor
Alice had loved the drive from Keighley to the clubhouse. The wind, the speed, the weaving between vehicles gave her a real rush.
Then, before she knew it, she was at the track leading to the clubhouse and was being bounced around like a rag doll on the back of the bike. Her grip tightened round Biker Joe’s middle and the wind whipped his laugh away as he accelerated more. He was trying to frighten her, so she refused to scream. She had faith that, although she was pretty low on his list of precious things, his bike was number one. He wouldn’t risk damaging it.
He decelerated and braked just in front of a solid wooden fence that rose eight feet off the ground. Sticking up from the top were jagged shards of glass. Very security conscious! Balancing the weight of the bike, Joe pulled off his glove, reached over and pressed a button. A fuzz of static came over the line. He gave a mumbled response which was followed by a buzz and the gate opened, admitting both bikes into the compound.
Fifty feet away from the fence was a large stone bricked building that was only just visible in the light of the moon until a door opened and light spilled out onto the dirt track. Twenty or so Harleys were lined up around the yard. When Joe got off the bike, she followed suite and, after retrieving her clutch bag from the pocket, slipped off her borrowed biker’s jacket and laid it over the saddle. Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born
To Run’ blared from the open door and men of all shapes and sizes, the majority clad in leather, tattooed, baldheaded and heavily bearded, spilled from inside. Some of them had their arms round girls who looked barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces.
‘What the fuck, Joe? Why you brought her with you? Who the fuck is she? Some fucking minger from Binger?’
Alice recognised the coarse reference to the less salubrious women of Bingley and wanted to swipe the smirk of his face. Tilting her head back, she looked into the eyes of the tallest man she’d ever met. Her gaze dropped downwards to the gun that was directed inches from her stomach. In response, her muscles clenched and the flicker of fear that flashed over her face wasn’t altogether an act. The thug with the gun threw back his head and laughed, addressing the group of leather clad men ranging in age from mid-twenties to their fifties, who hovered at his shoulders. ‘See that? She’s bricking it.’
Alice shuffled back a little. Judging by the way the girls darted wide-eyed glances between Alice and ‘Giant Man’, she was in trouble. The few inches she’d gained with her backward shuffle weren’t enough for her to manoeuvre into any self-defence move. Not that it would matter. She was outnumbered. It was then that she became aware of another, much more ominous sound from behind her. A quick glance told her that two Rottweilers were pacing, saliva drooling from their huge jaws. They were so close to her that she was sure she could feel their hot breath on her naked arms and she imagined them pressing their sharp teeth into her arm. Shit, this wasn’t good.