by Tom Benson
The dark haired guy appeared near the back of the car, looked around and then opened the boot of the car. He lifted out a large green holdall and dumped it on the ground. From within the bag, there was a faint sound of metal on metal. A second bag was lifted out and landed beside the first. Two men came out and lifted a bag apiece before heading indoors. The Astra driver looked around and then went inside the building.
Max wanted so badly to waste the guy, but something was holding him back. He kept his usually impulsive nature in check. He remembered a young woman saving his life. She’d given him a number and told him to use it if this day ever came. He felt the least he could do would be to give her a call.
The branches and undergrowth crackled. Branches snapped as the Triumph broke through a gap in the hedgerow. The bike sat facing outwards, so if there were any more visitors, it would be easy for Max to slip out of sight. He could assess the situation from behind cover, or he could get the Hell out. He was in no mood for backing off, but then he never was.
He’d been involved in enough gang warfare to know when a scene had developed too quickly. A call to his biker brothers at the clubhouse and he’d have a good team of trustworthy muscle and weaponry with him in a short time, but something wasn’t right.
The birds cheeped and flew in and around the hedgerows. Rabbits ran around the area. A swishing sound occurred when the light breeze blew through the leaves and branches. Voices carried on the breeze and then there was a faint smell of smoke. Two men with machine guns slung over their arms stepped out from the building, both smoking cigarettes.
Max lifted out his mobile as he observed the men standing not far from the ruin. Caution was not a word generally associated with Max, but the incident early in March had been a rude awakening. He was lucky to have survived.
When he had skidded along the snow-covered track near the reservoir, he had done so in the belief his brother Joe was in trouble. Immediately Max had dismounted, the guy in black had shot him in the leg to weaken him, before laying into him with a baseball bat.
Max recollected he’d regained consciousness just in time to see his brother dying in front of him. No, he thought, caution was the name of the game today. He looked down at his phone for a moment and scrolled to the desired contact.
He looked along the track again at the men beside the car.
Max pressed the call button.
11. Agendas
.
BTL Enterprises
Glasgow
Scotland
Annabel opened the meeting by indicating the layout of the briefing room. She was aware a group of people such as this, had no need for such detail, but it was logical and professional. She made it quick and looked across the table.
“Have you any immediate questions before we go on Jake?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I must congratulate you guys on the graduation from the old lockup in the east end.” Jake was the only person new to the office suite, but he knew the other guys would have regularly amended the layout to fit their operational setup.
Rachel said, “We worked hard to impress you.” She winked.
Annabel lifted a remote control and flicked a switch. There was buzzing near the panoramic window, and a thick white screen rolled down blocking out the view. A small projector clicked. It operated wirelessly to a laptop on the desk.
A bulleted list of possible tasks appeared on the white screen.
Jake shook his head. “It looks like the same activities as years ago.” He turned to Phil. “Do they never learn?”
“It is the same activities mate,” Phil said. “All it takes is some smart-arse to come up with a slightly new slant on the operation, and it spreads like wildfire.”
Annabel highlighted the points one at a time. As they discussed each topic, the four members of the team provided observations and made personal notes. The target areas included: people trafficking, drug smuggling, weapon smuggling, armed robbery of whisky and cigarette deliveries, the slave trade, slave prostitution, luxury car theft, loan sharks and protection rackets.
An hour later, the team stopped to replenish their drinks.
“Does your Commanding Officer know you’re up here?” Annabel asked.
“I’m on leave,” Jake said. “I promised you guys I’d drop in if I got the chance, and apart from The Regiment, you are like family.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you back in the family,” Phil said.
“There was one thing I wanted to mention,” Jake said and looked around at their faces. “When I was abroad recently, I’m sure I saw somebody who should still be doing time in Barlinnie.”
“Please go on,” Annabel said.
“You’ll all remember one of the guys we put away a few years ago,” Jake said. “Martin Cameron.”
The other three had exchanged glances before they turned to Jake.
Phil explained. “Cameron escaped from a prison van in February this year, and nothing has been seen or heard of him since. Where did you see him?”
“Colombia,” Jake said. “It was in the middle of the bloody jungle.” His expression became serious. “I wanted to top the bastard right there and then, but it would have compromised the mission.”
Phil said, “Was it a covert op?”
“Yeah, we had to ex-filtrate a British asset. The task was meant to be completed with minimum collateral damage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple.” He was silent for a moment as he recalled the execution of the peasant in front of his son. “The guy we had to get out is the same person who wants to join your team.”
“Ian,” Rachel asked, her brows raised.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t like girls who ride motorbikes,” Jake said, using Rachel’s interest to lift the dark mood that threatened him. Rachel punched his arm, and after her fist made contact with his biceps her eyes widened.
“To get back to Cameron,” Annabel said. “How recently did you see him in the jungle?”
“Less than a month ago, and I’m convinced it was him,” Jake said and then turned to Phil. “Which of his legs did you put a bullet in, Boss?”
“The right thigh,” Phil said.
“It was him then, judging by the limp. Could we get a recent picture?”
“Give me two minutes.” Rachel crossed the room to a laptop on a bench. The other three waited while she tapped keys and changed screens.
“Bingo,” Rachel said, and hit one more key. The laser printer zipped out a colour photo, which Rachel handed to Jake.
He nodded at her as she resumed her seat. “Nice work.” He lifted a black pen and started shading in the jawline and around the mouth on the mug-shot of Martin Cameron. He worked on the photo for a few seconds and then showed it to Rachel before passing it across the table to Annabel and Phil.
Phil said, “I don’t suppose your intelligence report contained anything about his present or ongoing whereabouts?”
“At the team debrief the other guys said he sounded European, so I went along with the story so nobody else would be looking for him. I know he’s back in Scotland, or he’s coming back soon.”
“What makes you so sure he’s coming back to Scotland?” Annabel asked, looking up from the picture to Jake.
Jake said, “He was a cocky bastard with his murderous hosts, probably because he felt safe so far from home.” Jake’s features froze as he remembered the scene in front of the jungle lab.
Nobody else spoke, sensing there had been a disturbing incident during the operation.
Jake went on, “According to Ian, one of the chemists asked Cameron in broken English about the phrase, ‘An Englishman’s home is his castle’.” Jake looked around the table. “Apparently, he said to the guy, ‘First of all I’m not English, I’m from Scotland—but my new home is a castle.’. It leads me to believe he’s here or coming back.”
“Oh my God,” Rachel said in a whisper. “I remember his fancy house outside Kirkintilloch. It was full of expensive ornaments and furniture.”
>
Jake nodded. “He still obviously fancies himself as the Lord of the Manor—”
It was at this point Rachel’s mobile phone buzzed. She glanced across at Phil and Annabel and then lifted her phone from the table.
“Max?” she said, and her brow furrowed. She was so focused on the Cameron issue, she had a momentary blank, and looked across the table.
“Go ahead,” Phil nodded.
“Hi Max,” Rachel said into the phone. “How are things, mate?” She listened for a moment and then stood to cross to the east wall. She studied the map of Scotland. As she ran a finger along Drymen Road, she used her other hand to flick the phone onto loudspeaker. The deep, gravelly voice of the biker boomed out of the small device.
“I’ve got the bastard trapped, Rachel,” Max’s thick Glasgow accent exaggerated by the speaker. “I just wanted to let you know before I went in.”
“Hold on, big man,” Rachel said. “Give me those directions again.” She lifted a coloured map pin and placed it at the location that Max had given her. “How many of your guys are with you?”
“I’m on my own, but I’ve got the pistol you found in the snow. I’m gonna use his gun to settle the score. The difference is—it won’t jam this time.”
“How easy was it to locate him, Max?” Rachel looked over her shoulder as Phil stood to join her at the map.
Max said, “He drove right past me, and I tailed him here.” He was silent for a moment. “I’ve hidden my bike, and I’ve been watchin’ the place for ages, so I’m goin’ in. I just wanted to let you know.”
While Max’s voice had been bellowing from Rachel’s phone, Phil had been whispering in her ear. She waited until Max finished speaking. Rachel knew how angry and volatile Max would be, and he was not a man to irritate.
Rachel said, “How did you know it was him if he drove past you in a car?”
“I was on my bike, and he raced up beside me when I was indicating to pull over. He nearly hit me, but hit his horn and sped off ….” the biker’s voice trailed off. “Why are you askin’?”
“It’s a fucking ambush, Max.” Rachel used his kind of language.
“Not another fuckin’ setup?”
“Yeah. It’s another setup, Max. Were you wearing your colours?”
“Yeah, of course, I was. I was ridin’ my bike.”
“It wasn’t an accidental sighting.” She raised a forefinger to Phil, believing she would be able to save the situation. “Listen to me mate,” she said into the phone. “Do you remember I said I’d chase up the other death in your club?”
“Yeah, it was Donny, in the hit and run after Joe’s murder,” he said. “Did you find out anything?”
“Earlier today,” she lied. “I found a possible connection, Max, but I can’t tell you about it right now. We’ll meet up, and I’ll explain as best I can.”
“What about me wastin’ this arsehole now?” he said. “I can’t see any other vehicles. It looks like there are only two other guys.”
“If the others were already there, they’re waiting for you,” Rachel said. “Do me a favour mate. Give me five minutes and call me back. Okay?”
“Okay. You’ve got five minutes, and if you don’t convince me, I’m goin’ in.”
“Thanks, mate.” She clicked the phone off. Rachel had been watching as Phil placed coloured pins in various locations around the one showing Max’s position. She glanced at her watch. It showed precisely 11:30 am.
“If we don’t do something, Boss, it’s going to be bloody High Noon,” she mumbled and shook her head. “The difference is, it won’t be one against one.”
Phil briefed Rachel and pointed out the points where he’d placed pins.
In the background, there was the sound of keys clacking, as Annabel studied street maps of the area online.
Jake kept his counsel, prepared to take part as required.
In less than four minutes, between them, they had formed an outline of a plan. It was sketchier than they would typically use, but time was of the essence.
Annabel said, “It’s not a great plan, but it’s a good plan.”
Phil looked at Jake and grinned as if sharing a private joke. “It’s better to have a good plan now, than a brilliant plan tomorrow.”
Jake nodded, recognising the phrase, although he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.
Rachel’s phone rang again, and she looked at Phil. “Do you want to explain it, Boss?”
“No,” Phil said. “The guy trusts you, and you’ve got history. I think he’ll listen to you.” He paused. “Are you clear on the outline?”
“I’m on it.” She flicked her phone to receive and then selected loudspeaker. “Hi, Max are you ready for this?”
“Go ahead,” he whispered.
“Are you okay mate?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” There was only the sound of breathing and birds chirping. “Four bastards are wanderin’ around with fuckin’ machine guns.”
“Max, will you listen to my boss while I get changed.”
“Okay—Put him on.”
“Hi Max,” Phil said. “This is Hawk.”
Rachel, Jake and Annabel were no longer in the ops room.
“Hey Hawk—respect man,” Max whispered.
“Likewise,” Phil said. “Are those guys still wandering around?”
“Yeah—What’s my best option?”
“I know it will go against the grain mate,” Phil said. “If you want to survive and get the arsehole, you have to sit tight.” He paused and glanced at the map, thinking about travelling time on country roads.
“What should I do if any of them get close?”
“First of all, don’t panic. Keep your body low by kneeling. If you have to shoot, wait until your target is within spitting distance.”
“Right—kneel and wait until they’re close.”
“Try to fire single, aimed shots.”
“What should I do about back-up?”
“I’ll call your guys as soon as I leave here. My team is already preparing.”
“Hey, Hawk.” Another whisper.
“Yes, mate?”
“If I don’t make it—Thanks, man.”
“We’ll see you shortly Max.” Phil grabbed his jacket and holdall from Annabel as they headed for the door. Annabel explained about Rachel and Jake taking a spare mobile phone and two radios.
12. Unexpected Guests
.
11:45 am
On the way to the underground carpark, Rachel and Jake discussed their best route out of the city.
Jake said, “Should we use the M8 motorway south and make a fast loop?”
“Well, we would normally, but there are roadworks in two different sections of the M8 south of the Clyde, and the Erskine Bridge is presently single lane use on either side of the carriageway.”
“Right, so we exit the city via Anderston, head west and take Balshagray Avenue up to the A82?”
“Yes—I see you haven’t lost your touch for route planning.”
“I’ll still let you lead, and then if there’s a hitch, we’ll be good to keep moving.”
“Thank you for your confidence.”
Jake realised they’d be passing Drumchapel, the sprawling housing estate where he’d been brought up. He recalled the life he’d led before leaving Glasgow. He had to admit in some ways the place had helped prepare him to tackle situations head-on.
They reached their bikes, and Rachel gave a nod of appreciation when she saw Jake’s Norton Commando 750cc. It was she who had taught him to ride his first bike in ’96—a 125cc Suzuki. She had ridden a Norton back then, but hers had been the limited edition Yellow Peril. She looked forward to seeing Jake handle a powerful machine.
She said, “I suppose with your job these days it had to be a ‘Commando’ and in green.”
“Well until one of the manufacturer’s produce a good bike called a Trooper,” Jake said and grinned as he looked at the big black Kawasaki. “I’ll se
e if I can keep up.”
They donned helmets and tested the radios. There was the low rumble of two powerful bikes and then the high-pitched whine as the pair accelerated and were gone. Rachel led the way north along Douglas Street. On bikes, they were able to weave through traffic that would have slowed them in a car. They turned left onto St Vincent Street and headed west.
In less than ten minutes from leaving the briefing, they were riding at speed on Pointhouse Road. Before leaving the carpark, Rachel had applied transfers over the number plates on the back of both bikes.
She never went on a mission without a handful of false plates with adhesive backing. Sometimes speed was more important than honesty, and on this task, they’d be making haste. Rachel knew Max could take care of himself, but the odds were against him.
As Annabel steered her Audi along the same route the bikes had used, her mind was busy formulating backup plans. It was on occasions like this when she felt as if she was driving on autopilot. She handled the big car easily, and although she sometimes missed her Golf GTi, the Audi A6 Quattro was roomy and had a powerful 3-litre engine.
Phil’s confidence in Annabel behind the wheel was evident because he rarely looked up from his map. As they turned onto Pointhouse Road, he turned to Annabel.
“I’ve got a vantage point for us,” he said. “There’s a small copse north of the location.” He checked the grid lines and contours on the map to make a rapid measurement. He knew it would be the next question.
“Range to targets?” Annabel asked as she dropped a gear and accelerated past four vehicles at high speed.
“About three hundred metres and we’re slightly higher,” Phil said, with satisfaction. “It’s ideal for us and not so good for them.”
“What was the response when you rang the biker’s clubhouse?”
“A flat tone,” he said, and they gave each other a knowing look.
“Do you want me to go via Byres Road?”
“No point,” Phil said. “Max’s guys don’t know us. If their landline has been damaged maliciously and we pull up in this motor, they’ll be suspicious.”