by Conrad Jones
‘I think you’ll find the same in Mary Adam’s trailer,’ Alan said.
‘We have. She had pods to accommodate six people,’ Pamela explained. ‘The Vincentia trailer is adapted to carry twenty-two.’
‘That’s a very lucrative side-line,’ Alan said.
‘The workmanship is top quality,’ Pamela said. ‘Welders with that level of skill could adapt anything they wanted to.’ She paused. ‘It makes me wonder what else they’ve made.’
‘Do you think the trailer may be adapted to carry more than just people?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I can feel a big bill heading my way,’ Alan said, smiling. ‘Are you going to take the trailers away and strip them down?’
‘The question is, do you want me to take them away and strip them down?’
‘Is it going to be awfully expensive?’
‘Very.’
‘Okay. Let’s do it,’ Alan said. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’
*************************************************
Kelly left her house with the curtains closed upstairs and the bedside table lamp switched on. She had four sets of clothing on, one layer over the other. She packed as many of Elle’s clothes as she could into four shopping bags and put them into the boot of her car. It looked like she was washing rather than leaving. Her nerves were tingling as she started the engine and drove towards her mother’s house. Elle was at school until three-thirty. The street was quiet as she drove away, wondering when she would be able to return. She still had to convince her parents to come with her. Elle would not be happy but she would come around. Making shit decisions to protect your children was all part of being a parent.
It was a short drive to their house but she took the long route. Kelly drove around Land’s End and up the high street in an attempt to confuse anyone following her. There wasn’t much traffic and she was certain there was no one behind her. When she arrived at her mother’s house, she parked at the back next to the garages and waited a while. There was no sign of anyone following. She climbed out and went through the garden gate to the back door. It was open, as usual. The kitchen was full of steam when she walked in, the windows misted with condensation. The aroma of lamb stew filled the air. It reminded her of her childhood.
‘What are you doing here?’ her mother, Sheree said.
‘Look at what the cat’s dragged in,’ her dad, Steve said, walking into the kitchen. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, noticing her eyes were swollen from crying. ‘What on earth is wrong?’
‘I don’t know where to start,’ Kelly said. She went into the living room and removed three layers of clothing, folding each item on the arm of the chair. Her parents watched, completely bamboozled by her behaviour. ‘Let me get these clothes off. I can hardly move.’
‘Have you finally cracked?’ Steve asked.
‘Nope. I’ve never thought with more clarity that I am right now.’
‘Why are you wearing extra clothes?’ Sheree asked, frowning. ‘Have you been shoplifting?’
‘I need to take a few outfits but didn’t want to put them in a bag. They might be watching me.’
‘Oh, they might be watching her.’ He nodded to Sheree. ‘I see. That’s all perfectly clear now,’ Steve said. ‘What drugs have you been sniffing?’
‘Sit down and listen to what I’m going to tell you.’
‘This sounds serious,’ Sheree said, her face stern. ‘You’re not pregnant already with that Jack bloke?’
‘Are you pregnant?’ Steve asked, blushing. ‘I’ll bloody kill him if he’s dumped you.’
‘I’m not pregnant and Jack hasn’t dumped me,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s much worse than that.’ Her parents looked at each other, worried. ‘Have you been watching the news about people murdered in Rhosneiger?’ she asked.
‘Of course, we have,’ Sheree said, winking. ‘Why? You didn’t do it, did you?’
‘No, mam,’ Kelly said, smiling at her sarcasm. ‘I didn’t do it but I saw who did.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, not again,’ Steve said, shaking his head. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to be a witness again. Last time I got my arse kicked in the Blossoms. I don’t think I can cope with that again.’
‘Shut up, Steve,’ Sheree said. ‘Let the girl speak.’
‘Okay, I’m just saying,’ Steve said. ‘Can you please explain to me in simple terms, what the bloody hell you’re talking about?’
‘I’m talking about the Rhosneiger murders on the news,’ Kelly said. Her parents still looked confused. ‘Look. I was on the beach with Jack and we saw a woman called Mary Adams banging on the glass, screaming for help. The next thing we knew, we saw her crash through the window and fall from the balcony,’ Kelly said. ‘She’s the woman on the news. The police are saying she was pushed through the glass. It’s murder and I saw it happen.’
‘You never said anything about seeing her fall,’ Sheree said. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ Kelly said. ‘Not after everything that happened last time. I thought being a witness was the right thing to do back then but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Just look at all the trouble it caused the family.’
‘You can tell us anything. We’re here to support you.’
‘We’re your parents.’
‘Exactly,’ Kelly said. ‘That’s why I was protecting you. I don’t want any harm to come to any of us.’
‘Well, you’ve started telling us what happened now, so let’s hear what you saw,’ Steve said. He scratched his bald head.
‘When Mary Adams fell from the balcony, Jack phoned the police and I went to see if she was alive. She was dead. Her eyes were open and there was blood coming from her ears. She was gone.’
‘That must have been awful,’ Sheree said.
‘It was. I knew she was dead as soon as I saw her. I heard a door slam at the front of the house so, I ran down a path between the houses and I saw two men running away from the house. They were getting into a van. One of them was a big guy with scars on his head and tufts of hair on his scalp, like he’d been burnt or scalded. I’ll never forget him. He turned around and looked right at me. We looked at each other in the eyes.’ Kelly put her hands to her face. ‘I was frozen to the spot. He just stared at me and then he put his finger to his lips telling me not to say anything. It was the weirdest feeling. I was so frightened.’
‘Did you know him?’ Sheree asked.
‘No.’ Kelly shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen him before.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Steve said. ‘So, he knows what you look like?’ he asked.
‘Yes. They know what I look like.’
‘That’s not so bad if he doesn’t know you, I suppose.’
‘It’s not that simple. He knows who I am,’ Kelly said. Her mum and dad exchanged worried glances again. ‘He knows where I live, my mobile phone number, my Facebook and worst of all, he knows where you live and they know I have a daughter.’ They looked shocked and confused. ‘They sent me a photograph of Elle in her pyjamas outside your front door.’
‘How did they find all that out?’ Steve asked.
‘Jack’s van,’ Kelly said. Her dad frowned. The wrinkles on his forehead creased, making deep lines which reached onto his scalp. ‘He has his name and mobile number on the side of the van. They searched the internet for jack Henderson, found his Facebook page and found pictures of me that he had tagged me in, so it was simple to jump to my Facebook and get my name. They must have followed us from Rhosneiger, so they knew where I lived and they followed Elle here.’ She paused. ‘They called Jack and pretended to be the police asking for my mobile number. They told him they’d written it down wrong and he gave them my number.’
‘Bloody idiot,’ Steve said.
‘Oh my god,’ Sheree said, biting her nails. ‘What have the police said?’
‘I haven’t told the police.’
‘What?’ Steve sai
d, standing up. He became agitated. ‘Are you mad?’
‘We need to phone them right now,’ Sheree said.
‘Sit down and listen to me!’ Kelly snapped. Her parents looked shocked. ‘Sit down, please.’ They sat down. ‘I haven’t told the police because of what happened to us last time, remember?’ Her dad was going to complain. Kelly held her hand up. ‘These people are different to the last time I was a witness. They’re not local lads thinking they’re gangsters. These men are the real thing. The news reports are linking this to serious organised crime. People trafficking and drug smuggling. These are dangerous men, dad.’
‘I’ve heard them say that they were traffickers,’ Steve said, biting his bottom lip. ‘What did they message you?’
‘They threatened me,’ Kelly said. ‘They cut off my power from outside my front door and sent me messages on my mobile and a picture of Elle.’
‘They’ve been to your house?’ Sheree said.
‘Yes, and they’ve been to your house too,’ Kelly said. Steve stood up and went to the window. It was an instinctive reaction. ‘They knocked on your front door and Elle went out to see who it was.’
‘I remember her doing that,’ Steve said. ‘I thought it was those bloody kids from number eighty pissing about playing knock and run again.’
‘That’s when they photographed her and sent me the picture.’ Her parents were open mouthed with shock. ‘Five people died in that house in Rhosneiger.’ She paused to let it sink in. ‘Five people were murdered and I saw the men responsible leaving.’
‘They’re worried you’re going to talk to the police,’ Steve said.
‘Of course, they’re worried about me talking to the police. I can put them at the scene of a crime. They want to make sure I keep quiet.’
‘Of course, they do,’ Steve said.
‘What are you going to do?’ Sheree asked. ‘I can see you already have a plan. It’s written all over your face.’
‘Am I so easy to read?’
‘I’m your mum.’
‘I’ve turned everything off, phone Facebook, Twitter, computer, tablet, the lot. I need to disappear for a while with Elle but for that to work, you have to come with us,’ Kelly said. Her parents looked gobsmacked. ‘If we run and hide and you stay here, they’ll come for you to keep me quiet.’ Her parents nodded in agreement. ‘We all need to go. We go now and we take Elle out of school and take off. Right now.’
‘Where will we go?’ Steve asked. ‘Not that it matters. A long as we’re all together. We’ll be fine.’
‘I’ll pack a few bits and pieces,’ Sheree said. ‘Let’s go to Barmouth. We haven’t been there since you were a child. Elle would love it there.’
‘Okay Mum,’ Kelly said. ‘Barmouth it is.’
Chapter 31
Len bit into his hotdog and watched the ghost train in operation. He recognised young Koresh immediately. There was a strong family resemblance. The Koresh males had strong facial features, prominent noses and protruding foreheads and thick eyebrows that seemed to join in the middle. He looked like a younger version of Andi Koresh. Len could remember Andi Koresh well. Andi was one in a million. Psychopath, sociopath, narcissistic and paranoid. Living inside his head must have been like living in a box of snakes, where everything you touch is repellent and a threat to your life. Andi was sent from London to muscle into the action in the big northern towns and cities with the aim of gaining a foothold to launch a takeover. Taming the local outfits was the first priority. A task the Albanians massively underrated. The timing of his foray north couldn’t have been worse. Manchester and Liverpool were in a state of fragile peace for the first time in decades. It was a peace which had been brokered following years of mutual assassinations and political infighting between the powerful outfits. Gangland funerals became a rare event. Everyone was happy and everybody was making money, until Andi Koresh appeared on the scene with half a dozen apes and twenty kilos of good quality brown from Afghanistan. The stuff every smackhead dreamed of putting into their syringe. They set up shop in a lockup beneath the arches of the Manchester railway near Piccadilly and began trading immediately. A fortnight later, they bought a kebab house on Smithdown Road in Liverpool and were the talk of the town within days. Everyone wanted the Afghan scag.
There were four shootings in the first fortnight of them arriving. Three of them fatal. They began by identifying street dealers and robbing them of their money and product, hurting them so badly, they would never venture onto the streets ever again. With the street corners conquered, they worked up the food chain. Andi and his goons worked to a pattern. They identified key members of the local gangs and tracked them to their homes. Then they would storm their houses in the middle of the night while their families were sleeping, terrorising their wives and children. They made each visit as dramatic as they could, bringing shotguns, power tools and machetes. Threats were made which could not be ignored. Children were hung upside down by their feet from bannisters and threatened with drills and circular saws. Mothers were traumatised so deeply their bags were packed the following day. Marriages were destroyed in an instant. No one could protect their children twenty-four-seven and no one was in any doubt Andi Koresh wouldn’t follow through on his threats. It was enough for most to step away from the life with immediate effect. Those who retaliated by attacking the Koresh dealers, were kidnapped and given the special treatment. Andi enjoyed subjecting them to torture and horrific experiences that would break the strongest men. Not a single man who was taken by the Koresh family ever returned to the business. Not one. Considering who these people were, that’s quite a remarkable statistic and testament to what an evil bastard Andi Koresh was.
When two senior members of the Quinn family were subjected to a visit in the small hours of the morning, their families completely traumatised, Len was called in. Nobody wanted a war with the entire Albanian outfit. Tit for tat killings put a strain on the business and destabilised the cities fragile balance. This was a mission which needed to be swift and deadly. There was no chest beating or flag waving. With the aid of three handpicked specialists, Len cut the head off the snake. Literally. Andi Koresh was mailed back to the Albanian headquarters in London in six parcels. His head was sent by special delivery in a cakebox with his genitals shoved into his mouth, to the home of the Koresh patriarch in London. Three of Andi’s lieutenants were pulled from the Mersey missing their eyes, teeth, fingers and toes, their genitals found in the contents of their stomachs. A day later, the Koresh foray north was brought to a close when the remainder of their crew were found in the ashes of their newly acquired properties. They had been tied together and soaked in accelerant before the buildings were torched. It meant they had plenty of time to sit and contemplate what they had done and what was about to happen before suffering an agonising death. No one claimed responsibility for sending the Albanians running for the hills and they never ventured north again. Their annihilation became engrained in underworld folklore. Of course, retaliation was considered but the Koresh family couldn’t be sure who to retaliate against and they couldn’t fight everyone north of Watford. Len never heard the name Koresh spoken again. Until now.
Len could see the resemblance between Andi and Samiri. It was easy to identify them as relations. He watched young Koresh with interest. Samiri was positioned front of house, wearing something akin to a traditional vampire costume, white shirt, black cloak and fangs. The rest of the staff appeared to be dressed as killer clowns of varying shapes and sizes, most of which were terrifying. They were entertaining themselves by scaring the life out of people passing by and those in the queue. It was the most popular ride on the park. There was a queue snaking for a hundred yards or more. At five pounds a head, it was a goldmine. Len wondered if Leo had stood in that queue with Katrina before they died. He watched the riders climbing into the cars, getting comfortable, lowering the safety bars into place. The clowns checked the safety bars were locked into place before pushing the cars onto the drive chains,
which propelled them through the doors and carried them through the ride. It made him think about what might have happened. Leo had been a tough young man; a keen martial artist and weightlifter. Attacking him and his girlfriend would have been a dangerous thing to do alone. Even with the help of others, he would have been a handful. There would have been easier targets to pick on.
Unless he was sitting down, locked into place by a safety bar.
That would have made him virtually helpless.
It was all clicking into place.
Len watched Samiri working the crowd. He had a patter which appealed to passers-by, especially the females. He seemed to be particularly attracted to groups of teenage females. The younger the better from what he could see. Len felt a creeping uneasiness seeping through him. The young girls giggled and flirted with the handsome vamp and his frightening friends. He had taken three mobile phone numbers in the space of time it had taken Len to eat his hotdog. Len watched how he interacted with his co-workers. They were completely focused on the young females, sneering, pointing and teasing them, regardless of the fact some were accompanied by boyfriends or husbands. They acted with impunity. Some of their prey were responsive, some of them clearly weren’t interested but it didn’t matter either way. They were relentless in their pursuit of young girls. Len felt his blood boiling. He was no nearer to identifying his son’s killer for certain but the scenario playing out in his mind was plausible. Leo was fastened into a fairground car and couldn’t fight back. It was more plausible than anything he had heard from the police in the last five years. Whatever the case, he instantly disliked Samiri and he became the focus of his attention.
Len walked through the fair and skirted the queue. The ghost train was set up at the far edge of the fairground, close to the river. Len was parked on the nearby car park a stone’s throw away. Behind the ghost train were the trucks and vans which transported it and the people who worked on it. He slipped between two smaller stalls that were ladened with giant teddy bears and headed to the river, using the path next to it to bring him behind the Koresh ride. He noticed a flatbed truck which had a diesel tank mounted on the back. It was obviously the maintenance truck, which kept the noisy generators running. A metal toolbox was bolted to the bulkhead and acetylene tanks were laid on their sides; a welding torch attached. Next to the truck on the grass was a metal barrel. It was blue. He couldn’t make out the lettering without his glasses. He walked closer and read the labels. He took a picture of it on his phone. It was Super red grease made by Miles lubricants. The same brand the detectives had been searching for. The same type of drum his son had been stuffed into. Len scrolled through his contacts and found a number he hadn’t used for many years. Detective inspector Gill Robinson. He was about to send her the picture, not sure why, when he heard voices approaching. A young girl was giggling nervously as Samiri led her into the shadows behind the ride.
