Beyond Doubt: the ULTIMATE vigilante (legal thrillers)

by Stuart Mills (ex military)

  The video stopped, and at that precise moment, in walked the young man who had previously entered. He switched the video off, removed the video and placed it into his brief case, and then put three identical files onto the table before them, and quietly walked away.

  “Fucking hell”, said Steve. “What do you make of that”?

  “I think that this geezer wants us to be his private ‘hit’ team. I do, however, agree with his comments about the crime rate in the U.K. but there again, it is happening all over the world too”, answered Geoff.

  They all took a file and began to read the contents thoroughly.

  FOUR

  The three men sat quietly and read the files before them. Each one of them absorbing the contents fully, and when viewing the photographs of the victims injuries, even as hardened soldiers of battle, winced at the explicit, extent and graphic details of the wounds and injuries to this particular victim. With the file came newspaper reports from the various tabloid press.

  Geoff got up, walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a brandy. “Does anyone want to join me” he asked the others, who both replied that they would have the same. They all stood up and just thought over at what they had just read and seen.

  “Well, I don’t know about you two, but having seen and read this file, I’d like to ‘slot’ the arsehole who done this to that young girl right away”, said Stuart.

  Both the others agreed, and they began to talk openly about the contents of the file that lay before them.

  A knock upon the door brought them back to reality, and in walked a few waiters pushing in two trolleys of various meals and drinks, all laid out very carefully, with a magnificent choice of various menus. Job done, the waiters simply turned around and quietly walked out closing the door firmly behind them.

  For over an hour, while the three men ate and drank, their conversation turned continually back to the contents of the file, and unanimously agreed, that they would be interested in this new type of challenge. The stranger reappeared, asked them if they had enjoyed their lunch, and re-inserted a video, handing, once again, the remote to one of the men before departing. “I sincerely hope that you did enjoy your lunch gentlemen, and glad to see that you are all still here”, came the voice from the screen.

  “We must be on CCTV. How the hell could he know that we are all still here”?

  Quickly, three pairs of expert eyes scanned the room for any signs of a hidden camera, but could not detect one.

  “You have seen the file, one of many that I have secured, and it would please me immensely for you all to agree to be employed by me. If you do agree, then everything will be treated with the highest security and total confidentiality. There will be no records kept of our meetings. No records of telephone calls, and no record of money transactions. You will be paid, as I have already mentioned, each of you receiving £5,000 each month, plus, any expenses that you may incur, irrespective if you do or do not carry out a task for that particular month. We will never meet in person for obvious reasons, as the risks are too high to even consider. So, if you wish to consider my offer, and I do know each of your personal financial and employment situations and marital state, then I will leave you now, and if one of you cares to go over to the back of the T.V. you will discover three envelopes taped to the back, each one with your name on it. Inside, you will each find a simple card with the words ‘Contract Accepted’ and a line for your signature alongside. If you accept my proposition, then simply sign, and replace the card back inside the envelope and seal it down. If you do not wish to become involved, then simply leave everything blank, replace the card back into the envelope, and seal it. All envelopes are to be left upon the fireplace. Gentlemen, for those who do decide to become part of my team for justice, I will shortly be in contact. For those who do not, may I wish you well. My code name will be simply 306. Thank you”.

  The video stopped.

  Stuart had already walked behind the T.V. and collected three envelopes, give one to each of the others, and sat down by the window. “I think that based on what we have seen, this Mr. X is a highly organised and very efficient guy, and I for one totally agree in what he says and what he wants to achieve. Under the circumstances, I personally think that each of us should privately and discreetly, do what they want to do about as to whether they sign this contract or not, and to make up your own mind. Put the card back in the envelopes, and leave them where he said. That way, none of us will ever know who is for or against”.

  The others agreed, and made their way to different room, replaced the cards, sealed the envelopes, and placed all three on the fireplace mantelpiece. They all had one more drink, and toasted to Mr. X, or whatever you fucking name is. Thanks for a first class ‘scroff’”, then all caught the lift down to the foyer, out into the sunlight, and without any eye or bodily contact or acknowledging each other, each walked their separate ways as total strangers, getting swallowed up into the throngs of people in the London streets.

  FIVE

  Later that same evening, Mr. Martin Bradley looked down upon the three sealed envelopes that had been brought to him by his butler shortly after the three ex-Special Forces had left the hotel room. He poured himself a Grouse whisky, sat down at his table, and opened up all three envelopes.

  The first card was signed by Steve Walker. The second card was signed by Stuart Watson and the third signed by Geoff Hunt.

  Good. All three have consented, and now the game begins, he thought to himself. He quickly began to organise the second stage of the operation. That would be to open up three new bank accounts under different names for the three, and he wrote out instructions to his bank to carry out his orders immediately, the instructions being hand delivered the very next day to his long term associate and personal friend who ran the bank itself. He knew full well that his instructions would be carried out explicitly without any question.

  He selected a file from his drawer, read through the contents once again, and in his mind, had decided, many months ago, that the name in this particular file, would be the very first to receive True Justice.

  A week later, three identical envelopes arrived by special motorcycle couriers to all three addresses of the ex-Special Forces, and no signatures were required. The contents were as follows.

  “Gentlemen. Thank you for your cooperation and acceptance. Inside the envelope you will discover the name, address and a recent photograph of the person whom I wish you to ‘contact’ and bring to the address listed. You are to secretly detain him there under close supervision until I get in contact with you by telephone, where I will then have arranged a date for his True Justice trial to be carried out. Once I have arranged this, I will then inform you of a date, time and place for him to be taken to for his trial. You will also find that I have provided you with each others telephone number to enable you to directly contact each other when the need arises. Once you have all read the enclosed file, destroy all the contents immediately. I look forward to further contact from you shortly. Thank you, and good luck”.

  Stuart Watson sat down to read his copy of the file before him.

  TARGET PROFILE:

  Name: Peter Dougherty

  Age: 37

  Previous and Related Crime Record

  Car Theft: 1 year jail. Released after 3 months.

  2 Counts of Burglary. Found not guilty. Witness failed to appear, obviously been threatened by Dougherty.

  G.B.H. 6 months. Suspended.

  Drunken Driving. Banned for 1 year. Fined £200.

  Driving While Disqualified. Further ban for 2 years. Fined £100.

  Manslaughter. Whilst being banned, ran into 7 year old Stephen Rafferty who died from horrific injuries. Found not guilty owing to lack of correct procedure and proper evidence by both the D.P.P. and Police.

  Car Theft. Found not guilty as all DNA was destroyed by the stolen vehicle being set on fire.

  Current Status: Unemployed. Distributor of Drugs for minors. Gambler. Thief and latel
y procuring young girls for sexual favours in return for drugs.

  Address: 10, Richmond Avenue. Northtown. Birmingham.

  All the ‘Team’ read their file at approximately the same time, and studied the contents very closely. Both Steve and Geoff had already resigned from their employment, and both their employers asked no questions as to the reason. It was Geoff who made the first telephone call to the others, and arranged a meeting accordingly, specifying a time, date and place, somewhere where the general public would not be around. All agreed to the venue.

  Two days later, all three met in a wooded section of the New Forest in Hampshire, and having parked up their vehicles, commenced to walk through the forest discussing their forthcoming task. Specific jobs were allocated. Date and time was set for reconnaissance on the subject to check his daily movements. A map was produced of the A-Z street map of Birmingham, and Richmond Avenue was quickly located and pinpointed by the three.

  As they walked back to their vehicles having arranged to meet up in one vehicle the following day where they would drive to Birmingham and spend a few days following Peter Dougherty. They would alternately ‘EyeBall’ him to see his daily pattern, after which, they would then discuss the best way to remove him, and then carry out the operation accordingly, both swiftly, quietly and without any danger to any of themselves. The plan was discussed over and over until they all agreed.

  The following day quickly arrived, and soon Steve, who had driven up from South Wales, and Geoff, who had driven the short distance from Northampton, had parked both their cars at Stourbridge, just off the A449, and waited in a small café for Stuart to arrive. Within the hour, Stuart arrived who had driven down from Leicester.

  “Sorry I got held up lads with a fucking accident on the M6. Stupid arsehole was driving in front of me on his bloody mobile. One hand around his ear, the other half hanging out of the window. Didn’t even see the car trying to overtake him on the outside. He drifted over, clipped the overtaking car, which struck the barriers and bounced back into the lanes of following traffic taking out about seven other vehicles. I didn’t really hang around in case the Police and the emergency services turned up, which they did shortly after. So I somehow got down the hard shoulder for a couple of miles and got off at the very next exit before coming cross country to you”.

  Formalities were exchanged, and they ordered a meal, as they did not know when they would be eating again.

  They set of in Stuart’s car, as living near Birmingham, he often drove into the city where a good night life and parties occurred, so he had a fairly good knowledge of the streets should they have to make a fast getaway.

  SIX

  Peter Dougherty had just left his house and was walking toward a road junction, where he was regularly collected by one of his mates Phil who owned a Ford Scorpio which was quite old and had seen better days, and the rust was taking hold on various areas of the body of the car, especially on the door sills.

  Phil would always be paid by Peter for taking him around all the ‘collection’ points where Peter would slip his ‘customers’ their daily needs after he had firstly been paid. They never spent more than ten minutes at each point just in case the Police were about and may get picked up. The next point they visited was in a yard behind an old transport café where the truckers parked up their vehicles, and went inside for their regular ‘full breakfast’.

  The Scorpio reversed in between two ‘artics’, and Dougherty got out telling the driver to wait in the car for him. He walked between both vehicles, and saw his client waiting as normal by the rear of an old shed which was out of sight from the public.

  Jennifer Aston, aged eighteen years, relied upon her daily issue from Peter. After all, he was the one who started her on it in the first place. She would not be able to pay for it today. Maybe Peter would trust her until tomorrow where she would have to sell some C.D.s to pay for her ‘fix’.

  Peter approached her, his hand already around the little packet to give to her. She reached out to get it, but he was quicker.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something first”, he said.

  “Look, I haven’t got the money today, but I will have it tomorrow. Can you just let me have it until then. You know that I will pay you back”.

  “No money, no fix” came the reply and he started to walk away.

  “Please, I really need it now. I’ll do anything for it”.

  He had always wanted to screw this young girl, for she was so good looking, and he knew, that in time, this day would happen.

  “I’ll let you have me if you want to, just as long as you promise to give me my fix” she said. “I can’t get through this day without your help”.

  He sniggered, pulled her toward him, and placed his hands upon his hips. “What are you waiting for. You know what to do don’t you”?

  Jennifer slowly looked at his eyes which were so cold, and slowly bent down upon her knees in front of him, unzipping his trousers, placing his now erect penis into her mouth and pleasuring him, knowing full well, that if she did not carry out this act upon him, she would not be able to get through her day without her ‘fix’.

  After she had finished, he gave her the packet and told her that he would be back the same time the next day for his money.

  “But, I’ve already done what you wanted me to do. Its not fair”.

  “Life is not fair little girl, so grow up”.

  He entered the café, nodded to a few familiar faces, and went into the toilets where he was shortly joined by three other men, all who were regular users, and who paid Peter cash on the spot for their fix. Deal done, Peter left the café and made his way to the Scorpio.

  “Next place” he told the driver, and off they went in a cloud of dust, unaware that most of these events had been secretly witnessed by three members of the ‘team’. The Scorpio drove into the Bullring and was parked up in one of the multi-storey car parks where both people got out, and who made their way through the streets toward their next distribution centre, being closely followed and monitored, undetected by the ‘team’.

  On one of the park benches sat a middle-aged woman. Quite smart in appearance, with a light blue coat, tight jeans and blue scarf around her neck. She seemed quite nervous and tense, but her tension lifted when she saw Peter arriving. He sat down alongside her without any recognition between them. Placed his hand palm downwards upon the bench, while she passed the money over into his other waiting hand.

  Once done, she slid her hand toward him, and he lifted up his hand as if to cough. In that brief moment, she had collected her ‘fix’, stood up and walked calmly away from the scene. After a period of twenty minutes or so, a young boy came past the bench on a skateboard, stopped briefly by Peter, where the smart exchange of both money and drugs took place all completed in under twenty seconds, where the boy then jumped back upon his skateboard, and disappeared into the crowd.

  The team had witnessed enough, and made their way back to their car to wait for Peter Dougherty to return. After a period of thirty minutes, he arrived, paid his driver with the ‘readies’, and they drove off, closely followed, undetected, once again.

  SEVEN

  After about one week, the ‘team’ had unanimously decided that Dougherty kept to the same daily routine, and they began to plan their strategy for ‘lifting’ him.

  They were all staying at a small hotel just outside the city centre, and had rented three rooms where they would plan their next line of attack, preparing themselves for a deadline time and date for this operation with professional military precision. Having spent three further days at the hotel where they went over and over their plan, they were contacted by `306`. They agreed that Peter Dougherty would be lifted the next day at the Bullring car park, and rehearsed their scenario many times, each man having a specific task, and the final plan, including a backup, was agreed.

  The next day, after eating a hearty breakfast, they all paid their individual hotel bill, taking great care not to associate or b
e friendly with each other, made their way out of the hotel and into the car park, where they discreetly, after first checking that no-one had noticed them, all got into Stuart’s car, and drove off heading toward the bullring car park in central Birmingham. They had parked their car just outside the entrance to the car park, and waited for Peter Dougherty to arrive.

  Within ten minutes of their arrival, Peter Dougherty arrived, sat in the front of the Scorpio which manoeuvred between the other parked vehicles, eventually stopping near the exit door. Twenty seconds behind, followed Stuart’s car which parked up opposite. They all sat in their car while Dougherty got out and walked into the lift.

  Steve and Geoff walked over toward the exit, then turned to point at the rear tyre of the Scorpio.

  “Hey mate. You’ve got a flat tyre at the back”, called Steve and who was pointing toward the rear of the Scorpio. “Looks like a big nail or something”!

  The driver of the Scorpio got out and walked toward the rear of his vehicle to check his tyres, bent down, and as he did, two strong hands grabbed his from behind while another held a chloroformed pad over his mouth and nose. Within seconds, the driver was limp and carried back into the Scorpio where he was placed into the back seat. The team then took up their positions to wait for the return of Dougherty.

  Dougherty returned back toward the Scorpio and could not see his driver behind the wheel where he should have been, and as he neared the car, saw him laid out on the back seat.

  “Get up you lazy shit, and get this piece of junk moving or I’ll be late for my next appointment”!

  Two men suddenly appeared from behind the next vehicle, both of them grabbed Dougherty who tried to get the hand from his mouth. God, something smells so sickly and sweet. I can’t breathe. Suddenly, he began to feel sleepy and very tired. His legs were giving way and his eyes began to close. Soon, he was in a deep sleep.