by Larry Igbon
* * *
Duffy and Popeye lay before him, bloodied and unconscious, but at least they would live. They were about three feet apart on the floor. Ramsay stepped over each and took one more stride, committing the action to memory.
“You see what happens, Grant, when you pay your minions with bananas instead of cash? This pair did no good for anyone, don’t you agree? Just like that,” snapping his fingers, “the field between us has narrowed.”
With complete calmness Grant countered, “There’s a lot of truth in what you say. Those two are brawlers who serve me well and earn their keep. Well, they’re good at their work. I agree today’s performance was disappointing. The rest of us can redress the balance. The field has diminished, but we’ll still enjoy killing you. You supercilious prick.”
“Sticks and stones, Grant.”
“I’ll enjoy crippling you, after what you did to my knee,” Burroughs added, picking a two-pound, ball-peen hammer out of the tool-chest.
Ramsay noticed he was holding the hickory shaft near the bottom. Not the best grip for balance, you moron. “That’s a very challenging ambition for an idiot like you, Bunny. You know I’ll prove you wrong. But I promise to be quick, because I’m not as sadistic as you.”
The chill from his words reached Burroughs’ ears and rattled him. “We’ll see about that, you cocky bastard.”
Buoyed by his friend’s show of bravado, Entwistle chimed in with, “We’ll cut you down to size, like we did your brother.” He picked a machete from the chest and laughed as he pointed it in Ramsay’s direction.
“A bold prediction, Enty, for someone who doesn’t know how to handle a long-bladed implement. Don’t worry though; when I take it away from you, I’ll show you the correct way to use it.” His right hand went into his trouser pocket, and he took out the little push blade and palmed it. “Still two at a time lads? Or would you prefer to try one against one?”
Both thugs, it transpired, wanted to pulverise him at once. They advanced, and then Entwistle led. As Ramsay had hoped. After all, Entwistle was the more dangerous.
“Get in there, fellas, show him how the big boys do it,” Grant said, making jabbing moves with his fists. “Enty, I want you to bring me his ears. I’ll feed `em to him.”
“Yeah, full on chaps, have fun with it,” Holmes said.
When Entwistle was within swinging range, he raised the machete. Ramsay leapt back a pace. Emboldened by this retreat, Entwistle hurried after him. He sneered as he began his attack. Ramsay strode backwards twice over the two downed thugs. As he followed, Entwistle stumbled to get his feet over as he flailed with the blade. Ramsay ducked and swiped right-to-left at Entwistle’s wrist. The razor-sharp blade cut into the radial artery and blood syphoned out, dark and thick. Burroughs arrived as Entwistle stopped to look at his wrist. He raised the ball-peen and brought it down with a grunt. Ramsay blocked the attack by ramming his left forearm into Burroughs’ right forearm. The hammer shot out of his fist. Ramsay circled his own arm around his opponent’s, locking it at the elbow. Then, he jerked his arm upwards producing a sickening crack. The sound Burroughs emitted, was like a live cat being skinned. Ramsay grabbed his hair, stabbing the knife deep into his neck and the carotid.
Both enforcers lay on the ground, unable to stop the bleeding from their wounds. Looking dazed, confused, and fading fast.
“Well, Grant, I think you owe them something for their loyalty? A ride to Casualty or somewhere? Only you must hurry, they’re bleeding out hard.”
Holmes exhaled an incredulous gasp and looked at Grant, whose face was a mask of disbelief. They each reached inside their jackets for their guns. Holmes could not contain his curiosity. “Where the hell did you get that knife?”
“Are you serious? Two of your closest friends are over here dying. Shouldn’t you be phoning for an ambulance?”
“Bunny, Enty,” Grant yelled, “how’re you guys doing?”
Burroughs was dead, but Entwistle tried to stand. He reached out his hand towards Grant’s voice, but nobody came. His efforts to raise himself from a kneeling position proved too much. After stumbling forward three steps, he fell to the ground and lay still.
“Enty, Enty,” Grant shouted to no avail.
“Save it, Grant, they’re deceased. So, only two left to conquer.”
Grant pointed his gun at Ramsay. “That’s enough from you. We’re giving the orders here and you’ll do as your told.”
After pulling the gun from the back of his waistband and pointing it at Grant’s head, Ramsay said, “How about now?”
* * *
An eerie silence seemed to fill the room, and they noticed it. Two of those present found it disquieting, but hostility was commonplace to the former marine. He felt neither fear nor discomfort. Yet, Grant and Holmes looked far from comfortable. Their advantage lay in their odds of two against one.
Ramsay had command of the occasion, he was the one who had to start the action. “Well, it’s obvious that the pair of you are no match for me, so we’ll forget about that torture nonsense. OK?”
Grant glanced at Holmes, nodded towards Ramsay and grinned. “The torture will go ahead with double the intensity and twice the pain. The enjoyment will be one-sided, no change there.”
“OK. You need to understand something. You have no advantage here.”
“We have more guns,” said Holmes, waving his.
“I have more skill, training, accuracy and sense. We’re at least twenty-five feet apart. I have a Beretta 9, and I have a flawless accuracy score with it. Can either of you say the same? There’s nowhere to take cover, but I’m still accurate on the move. You guys?” They both looked concerned. “Spend many hours on the range, working on your small-arms skills? I’m betting, no. You guys are ‘point and shoot’, from as close as possible. Am I right? I will humiliate you. I can see you’re both sweating.”
“It’s two-to-one, you won’t get us both. One of us will get you.”
“Let’s suppose you’re right, which you’re not. You assume I’ll go for Grant, right?”
“Well...”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I blame you less than him.”
As he walked to the left, Grant gripped his pistol with both hands, “You talk a good fight, but we like the odds.”
“Are you serious? You came as six after one man. A five-minute skirmish, only two left. Who has the advantage?”
Grant banged his weapon on the torture chest and glowered at him. “We do. We always do.”
Ramsay moved to his right, in line with Grant. “Whenever you’re ready then, loser.” In his peripheral vision, he noticed Holmes walk behind the chair and the generator. “You’re using available cover, Holmes. Jolly good idea.”
Grant looked right, and Ramsay swivelled left, firing two rapid shots in Holmes’ direction. One passed through the chair, the other lodged in the rotor.
Holmes dropped to the ground, firing a wild volley. Grant stared at Ramsay, who, wearing an expression that said ‘try it’, nodded.
With his gun trained on Ramsay, Grant crab-walked towards Holmes. He stopped by the oil drum. “You OK, Al?”
In a whisper, Holmes replied, “I’m fine, but he wasn’t trying to hit me.”
“I know. Let’s blast him together, yeah?”
“OK.”
“Now!”
They both fired, but their target was no longer there. Dropping to the floor, he rolled left to where the bodies lay. From there he took aim and fired. The first shot drilled into the barricade and Holmes moved away from it. The second shot ricocheted off the edge of the electrical stator, into Holmes’ left thigh. He grunted and whispered across to Grant, “He got my leg.”
“Is it bad? Can you walk?”
“Sure, if you help me. I don’t think it’s serious.”
“OK. Cover me, I’m coming over there.” He darted to Holmes’ side.
Ramsay was watching, reading them and guessing their next move. He expected them to
make a break for the entrance and escape. That suited him. It was too early to settle his account with Grant. He would attend to Holmes first. But not now.
They both fired in his direction as Grant grabbed his friend and helped him stand. In the same instant Ramsay had moved up and around towards their first location. Not wanting them to lock the door, he kept shooting as they hurried out of the building.
They were in their car when Ramsay emerged. Grant hit the gas pedal, and there was no further shooting.
He went to find his car. It was in the car park, in a space reserved for management staff. The doors were unlocked, the keys in the ignition. After climbing into the driver’s seat, he reviewed his strategy. An evil smile flickered across his face. Various conclusions became obvious. In a short space of time, he had pushed Grant further than anyone had before and lived. Undermined his security, invaded his privacy and killed his two lieutenants. Grant had one goal, to see Ramsay dead.
He was, without doubt, a sagacious villain. He would make reasoned assumptions when faced with possibilities. For instance, if he knew the whereabouts of a driver’s car, he would assume the driver would be close. With equal sagacity, a smart driver could lead a predator on a time-wasting chase. That was what Ramsay proposed to do.
Chapter 7
In his apartment, Ramsay chugged a cold beer. After having showered and eaten, he felt refreshed and alert. He sat by the window looking over at the Bryant. Although unsure of the whereabouts of Grant and Holmes, he would catch up with them soon enough.
He needed an update on things. He took a phone out of his bag and called the one number stored on it.
“Hello, Tom. What’s happening?”
“Hi, Phil. My car’s compromised since Grant had access to it today. I left it parked across town. I’d like to send the Grant gang on a wild goose chase, thought you might have a little free time.”
“That’s OK, I know where your last trip ended. Sure, I can make them spot your car all over the map. Leave it with me. I’ll park another vehicle behind your apartment in about twenty minutes. Ready for the good news?”
“You bet your life I am. Go ahead.”
“Grant’s accountant shut up shop and left for an afternoon of golf at 16:00. We now control all of Grant’s accounts. The total balance was one hundred and sixteen million pounds. That included operating capital of around two hundred thousand in his UK account. We emptied the accounts and dispersed the lot as agreed.” Wallace paused for a reaction.
“Excellent. I take it the first stop was our offshore account?”
“Yes, it was. The funds dwelt there for twenty minutes.”
Ramsay chuckled, “Easy come, easy go.”
“Well it can’t buy you happiness, my son. We made all the agreed disbursements. Your personal account two million, Julia Parry two million. Three million to the account of yours truly. The remaining one hundred and nine million went into the accounts of the charities we agreed on. My share will cover all expenses, including the bonus for my nephew—our brilliant hacker.”
“He deserves it too, he did a terrific job. You’ve both been spectacular.”
Wallace laughed. “Modesty prevents me from disagreeing with you. It’s a great result. As usual your planning was flawless.”
“Cheers, mate. I’m resting after the fun I had with the mob earlier at the Tombs.”
“Yes, I heard about that. You killed both of his enforcers and shot Holmes. Grant called the police. He reported an insane attack upon himself and his colleagues. The police sent a small army to the Tombs. They also retrieved two wounded grunts. They had to stretcher them away. Someone called Popeye is in Intensive Care.”
“Well he learned a valuable lesson today.”
“And that is?”
“Being buff and talking tough, is not enough for survival.”
“Heavy, heavy. Oh, Grant told Sykes that you murdered Todd, Enty and Bunny.”
“Murdered them?”
“Yes, and you also attempted to murder Holmes. You’ve been a busy boy.”
“No chance of making any of that stick, but I can’t waste time with Sykes yet.”
“No, not since you’ve two murders to commit tonight.”
“Correct. Before you ask, the answer is no. I’ve told you I don’t want your involvement known. Just watch over Julia for a while.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do everything as we agreed. You’re safe. Who the hell will believe murder against odds of six-to-one?”
“Not the SCD I guess, but Sykes would love to detain me pending enquiries.”
“Too true, mate, and with three bodies you’d have no chance of bail. OK. We’ll let tonight play out. Wait until Sykes has two more bodies show up on his watch. Remember, if you get taken by Sykes, hit the number four on your keypad. I’ll contact the lawyer.”
“Agreed. OK. Where’s Grant now? And what are his plans for later?”
“He’s at home right now. Holmes is with him. The hospital fixed him up and released him. Grant wants you found. He has goons watching Julia’s place, just in case. But Craig’s place in particular. We need to do something about that. Something subtle.”
“You’re right. How many are on the job?”
“Four grunts. Two to a car at each place. I cruised by earlier and got the vehicle details and descriptions. My bet is that they’ll tag-team between each address from time to time.”
“Any idea who should handle my complaint?”
“Yes. None other than our old friend, DCI Sykes,” Wallace said, chuckling. “He’ll delegate it.”
“You got that right, buddy, and that suits me fine. I’ll phone him and explain my concerns and fears, he’ll sort it. Can you tell me what Grant has on his agenda?”
“He’s got a meeting at the Bryant, with a guy named Louis van Giersbergan, aka Lou van G. A diamond dealer.”
“A dealer?”
“Well, from what I can gather, he’s a courier. He travels around Europe, buying and selling precious stones. He has connections to an organisation in Amsterdam known as the Blauwglas. It’s an organised crime gang, but Lou van G has no criminal convictions—he’s clean.”
“What time’s the meeting?”
“Tonight, at 19:00. Holmes will be there too. Want me to get my IT guy to phone Sykes with a tip-off?”
“It can’t do Grant any harm, but it’ll take the focus off me for now. Go ahead and do it. Let me know when all visitors leave the Bryant. Then I’ll move. Same phone OK?”
“Yeah, same one. What about Julia?”
“I’ll visit her later and give her the other phone. That’s it for now, I’ll wait for your call. Cheers, pal.”
“Bye for now. Stay frosty.”
* * *
The phone conversation between Ramsay and Sykes began at 5:20 pm. The inspector attempted to dominate the exchange, but abandoned this idea after Ramsay told him to stop talking and pin his ears back.
“Listen, Sykes, Grant has four members of his gang watching Julia Parry’s home and my brother’s place. I’m sure they’re trying to find me and make another attempt on my life. I’m not worried for myself, but I see no reason to let these thugs intimidate Julia. I’m asking you to do something about it. Now, so I don’t have to do it.”
“Where are you Ramsay?”
“I’m at an undisclosed location, calling from an untraceable phone. What the hell are you wasting time on ridiculous questions for? I’m talking about the Grant organisation. Who else would I, a concerned citizen, call about this?”
He felt Sykes’s fury in his amplified return. “Listen, Ramsay, you may think you’re hot shit. Well I’ve got news for you, here in civvy street you’re nothing. Nobody.”
“OK. I’m sensing I may have upset you. But I’ve reported an incidence of intimidation by members of a known crime gang. May I ask what steps you intend to take to avoid an escalation of the situation? I can give their names and vehicle registration numbers.”
Sykes snatched up
a sheet of printer paper. “Fine. Give me the details and I’ll make sure the matter receives attention.”
Ramsay gave Sykes the information he had received from Wallace. He knew the inspector would act on it.
“Serious allegations have been made against you, which need clarification. Allegations which concern a treble murder, an attempted murder, and two severe assaults.”
“Would those allegations be from Gerry Grant and Alan Holmes?”
“Yes.” Running his fingers through his hair, Sykes looked up at the ceiling. His instinct told him that Ramsay was not preparing to come in to make a statement.
“You should know those killings occurred in a six-to-one attack at the Tombs, and I was the one. I acted in self-defence. The first killing happened by accident at Elite Automobiles. I didn’t drop into the Tombs for a social visit—I arrived there against my will, and unconscious. I committed no murder. The only attempted murder was against me.”
“The individuals involved reported these incidents to the police. You know I must act upon them, Ramsay. I need to bring you in for questioning.” Like I even have a bloody clue where to find you.
“Get real, Sykes, you can’t believe I went to the Tombs uninvited on a murder spree. I can’t come in for questioning right now, I have things to do. I can’t afford to be in custody for up to ninety-six hours on bogus charges. Do you believe this crap? Considering the source?” He was feeling sorry for antagonising Sykes.
“I’m only a copper, Ramsay, I have to investigate allegations of murder. That’s why I’m still working on your brother’s death. I got your phone recording of Grant admitting Craig’s killing, but I can’t use it in court. It’s only hearsay.”
