Deadly Vengeance: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns (Detective Jane Phillips Book 3)

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Shit!’ cried Phillips.

  ‘Zero Four. This is Team Leader,’ said Saxby over the radio. ‘What is your position?’

  A split second later, there was another loud bang and thick red smoke enveloped their view. Phillips turned to check the rear window, but saw nothing but smoke mixing with the dense fog. ‘We’ve been ambushed!’ she screamed into the radio, before throwing it onto the floor.

  As she opened the car door, torrential rain soaked her. She could hear shouting coming from the direction of Sandra Hawkins’s car, where she could just about make out movement. Suddenly her eyes felt like they were on fire and her nose filled with mucous. She began coughing. She closed her eyes for protection, but could hear that Jones was suffering in the same way. They’d been attacked with smoke grenades and CS gas.

  Shouts came from behind her, down the hill, where the trailing surveillance car had arrived, but they too were soon engulfed by the smoke and the CS gas.

  Coughing uncontrollably, Phillips managed to feel her way around the car to where Jones should be. She found him on all fours, retching. An asthmatic and an ex-smoker, she knew his lungs were shot to pieces. She had to get him out of there fast.

  Phillips opened her eyes long enough to grab Jones under his armpits and lift him up onto his feet. She dragged him down the hill, away from the gas and smoke, until at last they hit a patch of clean air and better visibility. As she looked back up the hill, she could see the remnants of the smoke floating up into the night sky. The heavy rain continued unabated.

  DS Kevin Sharp, the motorbike surveillance officer, rushed towards them. ‘Are you all right, Ma’am?’

  Phillips nodded. ‘It was an ambush,’ she managed to say, and spat mucous onto the ground. ‘They attacked the car carrying the money.’

  In the distance, the sound of screeching tires on tarmac filled the air for a moment, then faded. Phillips turned to see if she could make out a vehicle, but the smoke was too thick. The gang was getting away.

  Next to her, Jones continued to retch and spit, eyes streaming.

  ‘Are you ok, Jonesy?’ asked Phillips.

  Jones didn’t manage to stop coughing for long enough to speak, so nodded weakly.

  At that point, Phillips noticed DS Sharp was wearing a neckerchief along with his riding gear. ‘I need your scarf.’

  Sharp did a double take. ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am?’

  Phillips pulled at the material wrapped around his neck. ‘I need your scarf. Give it to me.’

  Sharp quickly removed the scarf and passed it over.

  Phillips tied it over her nose and mouth. ‘I’m going to get Sandra Hawkins.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Ma’am,’ said Sharp.

  ‘No. Stay here and look after this one,’ said Phillips, and patted Jones on the back.

  Sharp nodded, and Phillips turned on her heels. She ran back up the hill towards the smoke and gas.

  A second later, Sharp shout her name. He was waving his radio in the air. ‘Sorry, Ma’am. It’s DCI Saxby. He wants to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll call him back,’ Phillips shouted, and disappeared into the smoke.

  40

  November 9th

  Phillips dried her face with a paper towel, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. The effects of the CS gas had finally worn off, but she looked like she’d been crying for a week, with her puffy red eyes and blotchy cheeks. It was approaching 1 a.m., and she was expected for an emergency meeting in Fox’s office. It was unheard of for Fox to come into the building out of hours, so Phillips was dreading what lay ahead.

  She took a deep breath, held it, and let it out with gusto. ‘Come on, Jane. You can do this,’ she said to her reflection. A moment later, she headed for the fifth floor.

  Fox’s door was ajar, and as Phillips approached, she could hear voices. Saxby was already in there.

  ‘Take a seat, Jane,’ said Fox as Phillips entered.

  Phillips had never seen Fox dressed in anything other than her black and white uniform, and was taken aback by her casual attire of jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.

  Saxby sat in a chair opposite Fox, an icy glare fixed to his face.

  As Phillips sat, Fox locked eyes with her but said nothing, then did the same with Saxby. When an uncomfortable silence had been established, she finally spoke.

  ‘So. What exactly happened, tonight?’

  ‘We were ambushed, Ma’am,’ said Phillips, ‘just before we hit the Snake Pass.’

  ‘And how did this happen?’

  ‘DCI Phillips’s incompetence, Ma’am,’ said Saxby.

  Phillips recoiled in her chair. ‘My incompetence? It was your bloody op, mate!’

  ‘Exactly. And you messed it up.’

  Phillips shook her head in disbelief. ‘How did I mess it up?’

  ‘You were distracted at a key moment and weren’t close enough to Sandra Hawkins’s car.’

  ‘What? Because I told you it was a bad drop and we should stand down?’

  ‘Yes. Exactly that,’ said Saxby. ‘If you hadn’t been so focused on that, you’d have spotted the gang and Mrs Hawkins wouldn’t have been ambushed.’

  Fox had yet to say a word.

  Phillips had expected Saxby to try and shift the blame, but this excuse was weak, even by his standards. ‘I told you it was a bad drop based on fresh intel. You didn’t listen. DS Jones and I maintained our position throughout the operation. There was no way we could have stopped the ambush. It came out of nowhere and was over in a matter of seconds.’

  Saxby bristled. ‘Ah yes, the so-called fresh intel from your confidential informant. So who exactly was he? And how did he know it was bad?’

  ‘Who he is is not important,’ said Phillips.

  Saxby lurched forwards in his chair. ‘Yes it bloody well is!’

  Fox cut in at last. ‘I have to agree with DCI Saxby.’

  Phillips turned to face her. ‘Ma’am. I promised my informant I wouldn’t say who he was.’

  ‘Yes. Well, I promised I wouldn’t fire anyone today,’ said Fox, ‘but we can’t have everything in life, now can we?’

  Phillips knew she had to come clean, but the truth could end her career, so she chose her words carefully. ‘I spoke to John Robbins this evening. The head of security at Marstons—’

  ‘You shared operational details with a civilian?’ Saxby spat.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she lied again. ‘I simply asked him in a roundabout way if a military team would ever pick a remote location, such as the High Peak, out of choice.’

  ‘And what did he say?’ asked Fox.

  Phillips swallowed her rising anxiety. ‘He said that if he was leading an extraction operation, even with all his combat experience, he wouldn’t choose to operate in terrain such as that. Particularly at this time of year, when just the weather could very easily kill at that elevation.’

  ‘And you believed him?’ said Fox.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. I did.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. I’ve heard it all now,’ scoffed Saxby. ‘He could be involved, for all you know!’

  ‘Well, if he was, he can’t be that clever, can he? I mean, he as good as warned me the ambush was coming, for God’s sake.’

  ‘She makes a strong point there, DCI Saxby,’ said Fox, leaning forwards on her elbows. ‘So what exactly happened, then, during this ambush?’

  ‘Well, Ma’am. DS Jones and I were the lead car, following Sandra Hawkins,’ said Phillips, ‘We’d just started the ascent up Woodcock Road, towards the golf course, and the fog came in. Visibility was down to about thirty metres when suddenly Sandra slammed on the brakes. The next thing we know, our car hit something in the road – a stinger, we later discovered – and shredded our tyres. Jones lost control and we crashed into a lamppost. Then smoke grenades were set off, in front and behind us, and when we got out of the car, it became apparent some kind of chemical agent had been used. We suspect it was CS g
as. Jones and I were incapacitated. That was when the gang attacked Sandra’s car and took the money. It all happened in less than a minute.’

  Fox nodded. ‘And did anyone see the attackers?’

  ‘No, Ma’am,’ said Phillips. ‘The smoke made it impossible.’

  ‘So, how is Sandra Hawkins?’

  ‘She was unharmed, Ma’am, just a little shaken up. The paramedics checked her out at the scene and, once the effects of the gas and smoke had worn off, she was allowed to drive home.’

  Saxby interjected now. ‘Sir Richard is furious, Ma’am. I spoke to him personally and apologised.’

  Fox fixed Saxby with her black eyes. ‘Yes. So I’m told.’

  ‘He’s very upset about losing his money,’ said Saxby.

  ‘But not so bothered about his missing daughter, hey?’ said Phillips, sarcastically.

  ‘Enough,’ said Fox with force. ‘Well, between the pair of you, you’ve managed to create an almighty mess, haven’t you? A mess that I’m now going to have to try and clear up. I’m sure, at this point, it’s a case of damage limitation – where possible. Now we can only hope the girl is returned safe and well. If not, then I suggest you both prepare for the consequences that will be coming down the line. You were both culpable in this shit-show, and if anything happens to Hollie Hawkins, you can expect her father will want heads to roll.’

  ‘But Ma’am. It wasn’t my fault,’ snivelled Saxby.

  Fox glared at him now. ‘It never is with you, is it, Saxby?’

  Saxby sat to attention. ‘Well, I must say—’

  ‘No, you mustn’t,’ said Fox. ‘What you must do is shut the fuck up and take what’s coming to you when you get back to London, tomorrow. Your expertise is no longer required here in Manchester.’

  ‘But what about Sir Richard? I’m his primary contact,’ said Saxby.

  ‘You were,’ said Fox. ‘From now on, I’ll be dealing directly with the Hawkinses, so you’re free to leave.’

  Saxby clenched his jaw, but remained silent.

  Fox turned her attention to Phillips now, whose pulse quickened in anticipation. ‘And as for you, DCI Phillips. As I’ll be spending most of tomorrow cleaning up this mess, I’d suggest that, as a matter of urgency, you come up with something substantive that I can give to the Hawkinses with regards to their daughter’s whereabouts. That is the only thing that stands between you and a whole world of pain. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ said Phillips with some relief.

  Fox checked her watch. ‘Well, as it’s almost 1.30, I think we’d all better go home, so piss off, the pair of you.’ She waved them away.

  Phillips shot out of Fox’s office and strode down the corridor in an attempt to get out of the building without being forced to speak with Saxby again, but her efforts were in vain, as he caught up to her at the top of the stairs.

  ‘You’re finished, Phillips,’ he said to her back. ‘With my connections in Whitehall, I’ll make sure of that.’

  She turned to face him. Once again, he stood uncomfortably close. Phillips edged backwards, but he mirrored her movement, keeping his face just inches from hers, his rancid breath more pungent than ever. She stared at him for a long moment, and then smiled. ‘I’ve seen off bigger pricks than you, Saxby. You messed up tonight. Not me.’

  ‘Well, I guess that depends very much on your point of view, doesn’t it?’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess it does.’

  Saxby smiled thinly as Phillips held his gaze.

  ‘Oh, and by the way,’ she said, ‘if you’re gonna stand so close to people all the time, you should think about investing in a toothbrush.’

  Saxby looked taken aback, and Phillips used the moment to retreat and head down the stairs and towards the car park.

  ‘You’re finished, Phillips!’ Saxby shouted down the stairwell after her.

  She didn’t look back.

  As Phillips unlocked the front door to her terraced house, situated in the bohemian suburb of Chorlton-cum-Hardy, she was greeted by her faithful Ragdoll cat, Floss, who instantly snaked around her feet. ‘Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ she said as she turned on the hall light and headed for the open-plan kitchen at the end of the hall.

  She opened the large, double-doored fridge and inspected the contents; a microwave meal of spaghetti Bolognese, a full bottle of Pinot Grigio and a tin of cat food. Phillips picked up the bottle of wine and held it in her hands, staring at the condensation forming on the sides of the pale green glass. She was very tempted to open it and wash away all the bullshit of the last week, but then she caught site of the clock on the wall; there was nothing positive to be gained from drinking at 2.30 a.m. She replaced the bottle and chose the Bolognese instead, which she nuked in the microwave whilst she fed Floss. Soon, they were both sat together on the couch in the lounge room, their bellies full. As usual, it wasn’t long before Floss was fast asleep, but Phillips’s racing mind kept her awake despite her exhaustion.

  As Floss purred in her lap, Phillips began scrolling through her phone, looking for a distraction. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she was drawn to the Facebook icon on her home screen. If truth be told, since its inception, she had never really been an advocate of social media, refusing point blank to allow her phone to send her notifications or updates. And ever since her very public demotion in the aftermath of the Marty Michaels case, she had avoided social sites almost entirely. However, in that moment, she felt compelled to open Facebook, so she pressed the icon and waited for the app to fill the screen. A second later, her feed updated itself and a loud ping indicated a new message. Intrigued, she pushed on the little red ‘1’, and to her surprise was met by a name she recognised, but a face that, at first, she didn’t. The message was from Daniel Lawry.

  Suddenly she remembered. ‘Bloody hell. Now there’s a blast from the past,’ she whispered aloud.

  The message was short and sweet.

  ‘Hi Janey.

  Long time no speak. I can’t believe it’s nearly twenty-three years since you left Hong Kong! I’ve just been checking out your profile, and you’re looking great. Even more beautiful than when we dated! I’m going to be in Manchester in the New Year with work. I was hoping we could maybe meet for a drink and catch up. Let me know. Love and Hugs, D.’

  Phillips clicked on Daniel’s name so she could access his full profile, and began scrolling through his pictures. ‘You’re looking pretty good yourself, Daniel,’ she said with a wide grin.

  For the first time in years, she felt a tingle of excitement, and butterflies in her stomach. She and Daniel had dated briefly in their teens. They’d kissed and fooled around – as teenagers did – but nothing more than that. It had ended, before it really got started, when her family moved to Manchester. She wondered what they would find to talk about after so long, but she was intrigued to hear how life had turned out for him.

  ‘One drink can’t hurt,’ she said, grinning. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  41

  Phillips arrived at Ashton House at 7 a.m. with a coffee in one hand and a spring in her step. Despite spending the night on the couch with Floss, she had woken with renewed energy. The message from Danny last night had been at the front of her mind from the moment she had woken up, and thoughts of how their meeting would pan out swirled around her head.

  She was surprised to see Jones and Entwistle already at their desks when she walked into the incident room.

  Jones looked up from his computer. ‘What’s making you so happy?’

  Phillips realised she was still beaming.

  Entwistle glanced over. ‘The meeting with Fox went well, then?’

  Suddenly the memories of last night’s failed operation crashed over Phillips like a rogue wave, dousing her good mood. Her face screwed up with agitation. ‘Actually, no. It was bloody awful.’

  ‘Sorry, Guv,’ said Entwistle, now sheepish.

  Phillips changed the subject. ‘What a
re you guys in so early for, anyway?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ said Jones.

  ‘I didn’t get home ’til 5 a.m., so had a shower, some breakfast, and came straight back in,’ said Entwistle.

  Phillips wandered over to Entwistle’s desk. He appeared to be working on three different screens at once. She took a sip of her coffee as she stood at his shoulder. ‘What are you working on?’

  ‘I’m going back through articles and files on Sir Richard, trying to find any new military links that might help us identify the kidnappers. Bahmani stayed at the snooker club until 1 a.m. I followed him home and stayed outside his gaff until 4 a.m. It was all quiet. No one in or out.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’s not involved, though.’

  ‘No, Guv. But like you said, trafficking girls is one thing. Kidnapping the daughter of a major player with connections to the government? That seems a bit high-profile for him.’

  Phillips took another drink. ‘I have to admit, I’ve never really liked Bahmani for it, and after what happened last night, I’m convinced he’s not involved. The gang that ambushed us was brutally efficient. I just can’t see a team like that choosing to work for a cowboy like Bahmani.’

  ‘So, based on that assumption,’ said Entwistle, ‘and the fact that all our potential suspects connected with the military have alibis, I’m going back through Hawkins’s business history, trying to find anything that might shed some light on who these guys might be.’

  Jones looked over. ‘Well, based on the way they hit us last night, there’s no doubt in my mind whatsoever that they’re ex-military. If it hadn’t been so bloody painful – in another life – I’d have to admire their skills. They blew us away in seconds.’

  Phillips had to admit that, in the cold light of day, the execution of the ambush had been impressive. Catching Jones’s eye, she nodded in the direction of her office. ‘You got a minute?’