Old Crackers

by Peter Bates

  “I’d never thought of that previously,” commented Roy, “but Reg and Frank have made some very good points there. It’s got to be a decent line of enquiry. If nothing else, at least it’s a start, although how we could find out which trawlers are the most likely ones, I really don’t know. All the boats must be registered, and there won’t be many, so maybe we could find out who the regular skippers are, and whether they’re currently at sea or still on dry land. I’m sure that I heard recently that there are only four boats still in operation, so that would narrow it down considerably, bearing in mind how many there used to be.”

  “We could be chasing shadows here,” muttered Frank, “but I think that it’s probably worth a try. At least there’s not so many of them to check, and if we could get some sort of outline background on the skippers it might help us along a little.”

  “We need help here,” said Terry. “I’ll give Norman Pendleton another quick call and ask him a few questions. You never know, there might be one skipper that stands out as a likely candidate, and a little research from Norman might just help things along a little. Either way, it won’t do us any harm to ask, and we might just get lucky.”

  “Go for it,” smiled Frank.

  “Now?” asked Terry.

  “Why not?”

  Terry grinned at his old friend, and pulled his mobile phone from a jacket pocket. Norman might just be a little fed up with his calls, but Norman also knew that he and the lads were not fools, and anything that they could do might well help his own investigation. Quickly, he pressed several buttons and pushed the phone against his ear.

  “Norman Pendleton’s office.”

  “Can I speak with the chief inspector, please?”

  “He’s busy at the moment.”

  “I’m sure that he is, but would you please tell him that Terry Reid wishes to talk to him, and that it is very important.”

  “I can, sir, but I don’t think he will come to the phone. He’s particularly busy right now.”

  “Please give him my name. Just tell him it’s Terry Reid.”

  “OK, sir, but as I said, I don’t think that he’ll take your call.”

  Thirty seconds later, Norman Pendleton’s voice vibrated into Terry’s phone.

  “Terry.”

  “Hi, Norman. Thanks for taking the call; I understand that you’re very busy at the moment.”

  “You’re welcome, mate. I am busy, but never too busy to take one of your calls. I know that contacts from you lads are never wasted ones.”

  “Cheers, Norman. Amongst other things, we’re looking as you are at the drug situation around town. I’m not saying we can solve it, but if you can spare the time, could you please get one of your staff to do a few checks for us. It could just help us along a little.”

  “Of course I can, Terry. If it’s legal I can do it.”

  “Thanks, Norman. In Fleetwood, there are only about four or five fishing boats going out to sea these days. This may not come to anything, but can you please do a history check on the sailors onboard the ships, and especially include the captains. They may well be all totally clean, but if not, we could really do with knowing what their past record is, even if any were only convicted for a minor crime.”

  “For you, my friend, I can do anything. I’ll get a couple of the lads to do some research and get back to you as soon as possible. It shouldn’t take too long, as you say there are very few boats going out these days. I take it that you want to see anything, no matter how minor the issue was?”

  “Yes, Norman. It might all lead to nothing, but it could also open the way to something much more substantial. We’d really appreciate it if you could do that for us.”

  “As good as done, Terry. I know that if you lads want the info, it must be important. Can I call you back on this number?”

  “That would be great, Norman. Look forward to your call.”

  Terry clicked off the phone, folded his arms across his chest, and smiled at his three friends.

  “Good result,” grinned Frank.

  “Looks like it, Frank. At least he’s agreed to do the checks for us. We would never have been able to do those ourselves. He can dig a damn sight deeper than we ever could, and he can easily access the records without causing a stir, or accidentally alerting someone that we really wouldn’t want to alarm right now.”

  “Did he say how long it would take?” asked Reg.

  “No, mate, but I don’t think it will be too long. Norman has a far greater interest than we have about sorting out the drugs problem in Blackpool. I reckon he’ll be back on the phone within a couple of days. It just depends on how quickly he can uncover the information that we asked for.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Glad of some time on his own and without any unwanted distractions, Mel Harrison took his time driving to the Rose and Crown. The traffic was quite light and for the first time in a long time he felt quite relaxed as he unusually drove his large BMW at a moderate speed along the winding country roads to his destination.

  “I could do with a bit more of this,” he said aloud to himself, as he finally steered the car into the pub’s car park and switched off the engine. He glanced at his watch, thanks to the lack of heavy traffic, he was early by almost fifteen minutes, and sat silently for the first five of them before finally climbing out of his leather seat and locking up. The saloon bar area was reasonably quiet. Just a few couples dotted around two or three tables, plus one elderly man, standing alone at the bar, and clearly enjoying a very lively conversation with the barman. Harrison noted that it was a different barman than the one on their last visit.

  I wonder if I’ll ever reach that age? thought Harrison, as he drew nearer to the old man, and casually stepped close to the bar and then alongside him. Not very likely, he grinned, as he glanced sideways at the deeply lined face. A few seconds later the barman turned to face him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Harrison glanced quickly at his watch before responding. “I’ll have five pints of lager, please.”

  “If you’re using one of the tables, I’ll bring them over to you.”

  “Yes, thanks mate. My four pals and I will be sitting at the table in the far corner.”

  Harrison paid for the beers, tipped the barman well, and then took one of the seats at the table that he’d pointed out. He sat still for a moment, then rose and pulled out a chair from another nearby table, before dragging it a few feet across the floor and adding it to his own.

  Bob and Alan pushed their way through the entrance door before the drinks had arrived, both laughing loudly as they entered the big room. Each man fell silent as their eyes met those of Mel Harrison.

  “Shall I get ’em in, boss?” asked Bob, conjuring up a fresh grin, his eyes still fixed on Harrison, already seated at the corner table.

  “No problem, Bob. I’ve already ordered them. You and Alan just take a seat over here. The other lads should be here at any minute.”

  Bob inwardly smiled. He was never sure exactly what sort of greeting he would receive from Harrison at any time. Maybe Harrison was having a good day for once. It was a rare event, but very welcome.

  “How are you doing, boss?” asked Alan carefully, taking one of the seats as he spoke.

  “I’m good, pal. And I’ll be even better when I get a pint of Guinness down my throat.”

  Alan forced a laugh. Like Bob, Alan was never sure what mood Mel Harrison would be in from one day to the next. So far, so good though, it was just as well to make the most of it, while it lasted. Normally that wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “Are Gary and Kenny coming?”

  “Yes,” responded Harrison, glancing at his watch. “It looks like they’re going to be late though.”

  Alan hoped not — that was all it would need to alter Harrison’s present demeanour. He knew that it didn’t take very much to change the man’s mood, and he firmly crossed his fingers behind his back.

  “They’re here now,” said Harrison, looking u
p and over Alan’s shoulder. “They’ve just about made it in time.”

  Alan let out an almost imperceptible breath of relief, and turned to see the smiling faces of Gary and Kenny standing immediately behind him.

  “Come on, lads. The boss has got the beers in, and they’ll be on the table and ready for supping in no time.”

  “Thanks, boss,” chorused the two new arrivals as they took their seats. Alan watched their two faces carefully. Despite their smiles, they were clearly both apprehensive as he was, and already continually checking on Mel Harrison’s mood. The pints of lager arrived within seconds, and moments later all five men had lifted their glasses from the table top, saluted their companions, and taken their first sips of the cool, pale liquid.

  “Nice beer,” muttered Alan, his dark eyes flicking occasionally from the table’s surface to Harrison’s face, still warily checking but not seeing any change in the man’s facial expression. The man’s good moods were generally very brief, but this one was covering new ground.

  “The beer is good,” agreed Harrison, “but it’s about time we eliminated Thomas and his crew. We’re not going out of here today until we have a plan that will work.”

  So much for the happy face, thought Alan, knowing full well that any discussion about Jed Thomas would make it rapidly disappear, and probably not return for a long time.

  Harrison reached into a pocket and pulled out the folded sheet of paper on which he had written an outline of all the various options. He unfolded it, straightened it out, and laid it on the table.

  “If you remember, these were the guidelines and options that I drew up recently. Have a good look at them, and then we’ll do a bit of serious talking about what to do and how to do it. We’ve buggered about for long enough now, and it’s time for some serious action. My own early thoughts are that fire is a good option. Fire has a great knack of destroying any evidence, and it can kill as well.”

  *

  “This day will a big turning point in the life of Alf Kennedy.” Alf spoke the words out loud to himself as he drove his car, as though making a major news announcement. At five forty-five a.m., the traffic was light and he would reach the Squires Gate commercial car park well in time for his meeting with Amel. The silver Jaguar was parked in virtually the same spot that it had been for their first meeting, and Alf was soon pulling up his car alongside it and pulling on the handbrake. Amel was in the driving seat as before and impassively staring straight ahead of him as he had done on Alf’s first visit. He might be a cold fish, but Alf didn’t care. If the man came up with the money that he’d mentioned at their earlier meeting, Alf would become a rich man virtually overnight. After stepping out of his car, he strolled as casually as he could to the gleaming Jaguar, and gently pulled open the passenger door.

  “Get in, Mr Kennedy.”

  “Thank you, Amel.”

  Alf quickly climbed into the car and pulled the door shut behind him. This time he didn’t offer any unwanted handshake, but folded his arms across his chest. Like Amel, he stared straight ahead through the windscreen, silently and patiently waiting for the man to speak.

  “As I said to you the other day, Mr Kennedy, I have work for you today. On this paper there are some coordinates which will provide you with the exact position of your meeting and collection, and a description of the captain and his boat. It’s extremely unlikely that there will be any other boats in the vicinity, but if there are, you must hold your position half a mile from the boat that you are meeting with, until the area is totally clear. The captain of the boat you are connecting with will wait patiently for that to happen. As I said, it’s unlikely that there will be any other ships around, but if so, you must follow my instructions before you collect the bag from him. Do you fully understand?”

  “Yes, Amel.”

  “Good. After you have collected the bag, I want you to store it safely out of sight on your boat, and then sail back as soon as possible, directly for the harbour. You can make up some sort of story for your crew if you need to. Maybe tell them that you have a family problem to deal with at home — tell them anything, so long as you get quickly back here with the bag. You could even pay them their full wages once you get your ten percent of the bag value, then everyone’s happy.”

  Alf nodded his head. “Don’t worry, Amel. I’ll think of some good reason to get back, and as you say, if the lads get paid anyway, which I’ll then be able to do, they won’t be bothered in the slightest.”

  “No, they won’t,” agreed Amel. “You could even afford to give them a small bonus.”

  Alf laughed. “It’s been a long time since they had one of those.”

  “If this goes well, Alf, we’ll make you a regular, just like Tom Felder.”

  “Brilliant, but just one more thing.”

  Amel twisted his body sharply and closely examined his face for the first time. “What’s that?” he asked firmly.

  “The bag — what do I do with the bag when I get back home?”

  “Give me your mobile telephone number. We’ll know when you get back to the dock and we’ll call you as soon as you do. You’ll have to put the bag in your car boot and then take it to a location that we will phone to you. The exchange place that we give you will be isolated, and you will carry it there, collect the bag of cash and then carry it somewhere else where we will be waiting for your arrival. We’ll give you your cash on the spot, and then you can go back home.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “It will be, Mr Kennedy — it will be.”

  CHAPTER 42

  “This breakfast is damn good.”

  “It is, Terry. It was a good idea that we came in a little earlier for once. I never realised that pubs did such good breakfasts.”

  “Especially when it’s nearly lunch time now.”

  “I don’t suppose it makes any difference to them. Food is food, after all. A lot of places sell all-day breakfasts nowadays.”

  “I know we’re eating a very tasty meal lads, and this may not be the best time to say this, but do you think that it’s coming to a time when Harrison and Thomas will really try to wipe each other off the map?” asked Reg,”

  “Yes, mate, I do,” answered Roy immediately.

  “Well, they did it with the young lads from the big smoke.”

  “That was a little bit easier though, I would think,” added Frank.

  Roy nodded. “Well, we did help that event along a little with our magical little paper note. I wonder if we could do something similar again with the two big gangs.”

  “I must admit that I’d already given that very idea some thought,” joined in Terry. “There must be a way, but we can’t afford to get any outsiders hurt in the process, and it certainly can’t be traced back to us.”

  “No, it can’t,” agreed Roy, “so it has to be cast iron, whatever we come up with. I’m pretty certain that Harrison will still be fuming about the deaths of their young relatives, and also the time when Thomas pinched their drugs. They must know that it was him. We certainly do.”

  “They must know,” added Frank in agreement, “but when both gangs are tooled up like these two are, it’s going to be difficult to get a result without creating a blood bath. In truth, none of us would mind if they all blasted each other out of existence, but if we could manage to contrive something, we’d have to be absolutely certain that there were no innocents involved in any way.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Terry, “but they won’t be coming to a peaceful agreement, that’s for sure.”

  Terry’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he finished speaking. “It’s C.I. Pendleton,” he whispered to the others, before pushing the receive button, switching on the loudspeaker, and placing the phone on the table top.

  “Hi Norman.”

  “Terry, I don’t have much to go on here. The skippers are really quite well vetted, but I can certainly give you what I’ve got.”

  “OK, Norman. What do you have?”

  “Well, we have
one guy with a string of motoring offences, most of which occurred after he’d had one too many. The only other one we have is a young captain with a fairly minor record, but one that might interest you. The guy’s name is Alf Kennedy, and he’s done borstal, plus a couple of months in nick for a string of stealing offences.”

  “Is he from Fleetwood?”

  “Yes, mate.”

  “So, there’s only him with a record then?”

  “Yep, just him, if you discount the drinker.”

  “Can you give me the name of his boat?”

  “Yes, it’s called The Lady Gabrielle.”

  “I don’t suppose you know whether Kennedy is off-shore at the moment?”

  “Funnily enough, I do. It was included in the info that we recovered from our sources. He went out early this morning, but we now understand from our sources that he is unusually cutting short the fishing trip, and is returning back to Fleetwood.”

  “That’s a bit odd, Norman.”

  “It is mate. My contact tells me that Kennedy says that he’s had a call from his wife and that she’s not very well at all.”

  “That normally wouldn’t bring a fishing ship back to the dock, would it?”

  “It wouldn’t, not unless the wife was desperately ill, Terry. I thought that you might ask that question, and half an hour ago, I sent a plain clothes officer round to the house to knock on the door. Kennedy’s wife answered the door, and surprise, surprise. She’s perfectly fine.”

  “Brilliant, Norman. The only thing is — what did the officer say?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” laughed the inspector. “My man just asked her for directions to a local shop, and then quickly disappeared around the corner and called me.”