A Long Way Down

by Ken McCoy

  Shots were still being fired at the front of the house and Sep was back on the wrong side of the wall for this – a sitting target. He needed to have the wall between him and the shooters, so he threw himself back over and almost passed out as he landed on his leg. He lay there for a short while as the house blazed. Dense smoke was pouring out of the door. Jesus! How could anyone be alive in there?

  He managed to take a look back over the wall and saw two men advancing on the house with guns blazing. No one in the house was shooting back. Why was that? There was an obvious, worst-case scenario here that he didn’t want to think about. He was just hoping that the Scarborough Police had got their fingers out and sent an armed-response unit double quick. Right now would be a good time for them to arrive.

  His prayers were answered as he heard shouts behind him and the sound of running footsteps, warning shouts and more gunshots; heavier gunshots he recognized as coming from the Heckler and Koch 17 rifle, used by armed police. He was brought to the ground by a man from behind and his hands cuffed within seconds. Very efficient, Sep thought.

  ‘Well done, but I’m a copper!’ he shouted, ‘same as you, I hope!’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘DI Black, West Yorkshire Police, and you’re an armed unit sent by Superintendent Hawkins in Leeds. The bad guys are over there, shooting at the house. There are two people inside who we need to keep alive if possible – that’s if they’re not already dead.’ He added the last sentence in a defeated tone, as he was almost certain they would be. The cuffs were unlocked. The gunfire increased, all shots being aimed at Redman’s men.

  ‘OK, sir,’ said the officer. ‘My apologies. We have no way of knowing who’s who.’

  ‘Well, everyone else who was shooting, apart from you, are the bad guys. I think there are four of them. The two people in the house have shotguns, but they seem to have stopped shooting.’

  Explosions were now coming from the cottage, blasting out of the upstairs windows. Gas explosions probably, at some point the main pipe would catch a spark and the whole building would blow up. A police officer arrived carrying a megaphone. Sep took it off him and ran towards the house. The assailants were now all down and the police had stopped shooting. Sep stood at the end of the path and held the megaphone to his mouth, calling out Winnie’s name.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘WINNIE … WINNIE O’TOOLE!’

  No answer, just smoke pouring out of the building.

  ‘Winnie, you need to get out. There’s gas in the building, you need to get out before the whole place blows up. Winnie, the police are out here. It’s safe!’

  He took a few steps forwards and tried to see through the smoke.

  ‘Don’t go any nearer, sir,’ called out a voice behind him. Sep took another two steps forward and tried to peer through the smoke, which had him choking. He took three steps back. No way could Winnie and Eli be alive through there. But no way was he going to give up hope on this woman.

  ‘Winnie, it’s me, Sep. If you come out, you’re safe.’

  Another explosion blew out a bedroom window, causing him to turn and shield himself from the glass splinters. The inside of the cottage was a raging inferno. He dropped to his knees and screamed at the ground as if he wanted it to swallow him up. Then he shook his head to clear the smoke from it and forced himself to take a last look at this bloody house that was taking Winnie’s life. In the whirling smoke he made out a vague face, or was it his imagination at work forming a face in the smoke? No, it was two faces. One of them was saying something. A word hoarsely spoken in a voice he could barely hear.

  ‘Sep!’

  ‘Winnie?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The relief he felt was a sensation he’d never felt before. She was still alive, no doubt about that, but for how long?

  ‘Get out, Winnie! It’s safe out here. There’s gas in the house. It’s going to go up!’

  ‘Help us, Sep. Eli’s been shot.’

  He tried to go towards her but he’d already inhaled too much smoke. Any more and he’d pass out and be no use to anyone. He was at the end of both the path and his tether, on crutches and holding the megaphone, which he dropped to the ground. His bleary eyes were trying to fix on her as she moved towards him. Her face was blackened and clothes wreathed in curls of smoke, as was her hair. She had one arm linked under Eli’s armpit, staggering under his weight. At the sight of Sep she managed a smile, her teeth glowing white amidst their sooty surrounds.

  Two policemen, with fresh lungs, ran past Sep and were with Eli and Winnie in an instant, hurrying them away from the blazing cottage. When Winnie reached Sep she threw her arms around him with such vigour that she knocked him off balance. They fell to the ground, wrapped in each other’s arms as the policemen carried Eli past them. They picked themselves up and took a minute to stagger a good hundred yards from the house; Sep on crutches, with Winnie helping him. Once clear, he threw down the crutches, leaned against her for support and kissed her.

  ‘Winnie! Thank God you’re OK. Jesus! I thought you were dead in there. I thought I’d lost you. I didn’t want to lose you.’

  At that point the fire reached the gas main and the whole house exploded in flame as if a huge bomb had been dropped on it, blowing the roof clean off, scattering dangerous debris to within a few feet of them and smothering them with dust.

  Winnie’s words came out in fits and starts. ‘Bloody hell, Sep … I – I … thought we were dead as well. We had to get our heads right down to the floor below the smoke. They … they set the cottage on fire then … then … they were shooting at us, so we couldn’t get out.’

  ‘I know, I saw them. Two more turned up. I thought they might.’

  ‘Did you – did you get them?’

  ‘I brought two of them down, but I think they’ve all been got. Unfortunately I think at least a couple of them might be dead.’

  ‘Why unfortunately?’

  ‘Because I needed to talk to one of them.’

  ‘Bloody hell! Ever the copper! You mean Redman?’

  ‘Yeah – well, if he’s one of them – and the bloke who set fire to the cottage. I winged two of them but when they started firing at us, the police finished them off good and proper.’

  ‘We tried to fight them off using the shotguns, Sep. I think I hit one man’s arse, but they had real guns, so we had no chance.’

  Winnie now saw a group of heavily armed policemen milling about. ‘Thank you,’ she shouted, hoarsely.

  ‘Has anyone rung for the fire brigade?’ Sep was asking. ‘This is my cottage.’

  Winnie looked at the blazing embers and said, ‘Bit late for that, Sep – it was your cottage. I hope it was, er … insured.’

  ‘I think it was.’

  ‘You only think?’

  ‘Well, it was never worth insuring.’

  ‘All that computer stuff of Eli’s must have been worth a bomb.’

  ‘I think the least said about that stuff the better.’

  Sep saw Winnie’s wounded arm.

  ‘Winnie, you’re bleeding. Are you hurt or is that Eli’s blood?’

  ‘Bit of both, Sep. I got shot in the arm.’

  ‘We need an ambulance!’ Sep shouted to anyone who might hear. ‘We need fire and ambulance.’

  Miraculously they heard an ambulance approaching. Hawkins had anticipated such a need.

  ‘Jesus!’ said Sep. ‘I should never have left you two back here. How bad is Eli?’

  ‘He’s not good, Sep.’

  ‘Shit! I should have stayed.’

  ‘Sep, if you’d stayed the two you winged might have done us more damage, maybe even killed us both. The first two did enough damage on their own. You put the second two out of action when it counted. I’m glad we didn’t have four of them shooting at us.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose you could be right.’

  They headed towards where the police had laid Eli on the ground. A police medic was taking a look at his wounds.

  ‘
How is he?’ Sep asked.

  ‘Bad stomach wound. He needs to get to hospital straight away. What about the woman?’ asked the medic, seeing the blood on Winnie’s arm.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Eli. You need to get him to hospital right fucking now!’

  The ambulance people heard and responded in a flash by loading Eli onto a stretcher and putting him into the ambulance. As the driver got in Sep called out to him. ‘Quick as you can. Blues and twos all the way.’

  ‘No problem.’

  As the ambulance sped off, Sep said to Winnie, ‘Let’s take a look at that arm. They should have a first-aid kit in the police van.’

  ‘It’s not too bad, Sep. In fact, I think it just went in and out. I don’t think it broke a bone.’

  ‘That’s what you think, is it, Dr O’Toole? I think we’d better get it bandaged and you to the hospital.’

  ‘Thanks. Did it really worry you when you thought I was dead?’

  ‘If you must know, I was sick to the stomach at the thought, yes.’

  ‘Because you thought you’d lost me?’

  Sep said nothing. Arguing would have been just wrong and he knew it. The relief he’d felt when he saw she was alive was the most powerful emotion he’d ever felt about anyone. In fact the remnants of that sickness were still with him and the memory of it painfully etched into his mind.

  ‘I need to get some sleep,’ he said. ‘I’m going to interview the other two men later today. They’re both wounded but they’ll live. Lucky them, eh?’

  ‘Do you know who they are?’

  ‘Well, I certainly know who one of them is – Stanley Butterbowl, otherwise known as Wolf. I recognize him from the state of his face. Not sure who the other one is, but I’ll find out soon enough. I’m hoping it’s the boss man.’

  ‘Right then,’ said Winnie. ‘Get me fixed up at the hospital and we’ll find a hotel for the night. I’m thinking the Grand Hotel and you can get the police to pay for it.’

  ‘No problem. Look, there’s another ambulance just arriving. You take that one. I hope Eli’s all right.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Scarborough Hospital

  Eli was in Intensive Care with a less than fifty/fifty chance of survival. Winnie’s wound had been dressed. She had discharged herself and was spending the day in the Grand Hotel. Sep had had a few hours’ sleep at the Grand Hotel and, still on crutches, had gone to Butterbowl’s ward. He and Roscoe were the two survivors. Redman and Animal were both dead, having foolishly taken the armed police on in a fire fight. A uniformed officer was sitting by the bed to which Butterbowl was attached by a long chain and a handcuff.

  ‘So, Mr Wolf. Do you have anything for me? If you want reduced jail time it’d better be good.’

  Butterbowl looked a sorry sight. His face was still bandaged up from the wound Sep had previously inflicted on it and now the rest of his upper body was wrapped up in a plaster cast. Lucky for Sep he could still talk.

  ‘Reduced jail time? Am I supposed to believe that?’

  ‘You can please yourself. Exactly what have you been charged with?’

  ‘Nothin’ yet. They’ve been mendin’ me leg ever since I got here. It were your lot what did that ter me, yer bastard!’

  ‘There you go then. You haven’t been charged with anything and I’m the senior copper around here, so what I say goes As far as I’m concerned you’ve paid for what you did to me by what we’ve done to you. It could be that your leg is so badly broken that you’ll never be able to walk properly again, which could well put you out of the hitman business. No one hires a cripple for a hitman.’

  ‘They’ve not told me that.’

  ‘Well, they don’t know for certain yet – it’s only wishful thinking on my part, but I’ve seen your X-rays and I know a bit about broken bones, so I think I’m on a winner.’

  Sep was lying about seeing the X-rays, but in essence he was telling a truth, albeit by lucky guesswork, which would stand him in good stead for when the doctor came and confirmed his prognosis.

  ‘So, do you have anything for me?’

  ‘I think yer lyin’ ter me.’

  ‘Aw, come off it, man! What have I got to gain by lying? If you don’t know anything, you don’t know anything. Me lying isn’t going to make you know what you don’t know.’

  It was a statement that had Wolf confused. Sep was an expert at such convoluted language. A doctor arrived. Sep and the uniformed officer stood back as he drew the curtains around Butterbowl’s bed. Sep stood close enough to the curtains to be able to hear the doctor confirm the prognosis that Sep has already given.

  ‘I’ve been in consultation with the surgeon who’s going to fix your leg, but the prognosis isn’t good, I’m afraid. It’s so badly damaged by bullets that he was considering amputation, but he’s giving you the option of him operating and putting it back together as best he can. If he’s successful, you just might be able to walk on it after several weeks of fairly intensive physiotherapy but it’s unlikely that you’ll ever be able to walk properly again. Unless of course you agree to amputation and having a prosthetic leg fitted. I know it sounds drastic but sometimes it’s the best option. There are some excellent prosthetics available nowad—’

  ‘How much of me leg are yer talkin’ about?’

  ‘All of it unfortunately. It would be taken off just below the hip and a full prosthetic leg fitted.’

  ‘You what? Have all me leg chopped off! Bollocks ter that! I want it put right.’

  ‘I see. I’ll inform the surgeon. He’ll need to operate as soon as possible. It’s just a question of how soon we can get a theatre slot.’

  Sep and the constable stepped back as the doctor opened the curtains and left the ward. Sep then moved back to the bed.

  ‘So what’s the story with the leg?’

  ‘They were talkin’ about cuttin’ it off.’

  ‘Really? In that case, me and you are straight. I won’t be pressing any charges for the damage you’ve done to me, providing you’ve got something of interest for me. That leg of yours might well be the price you pay for escaping a life sentence. Not a bad swap, I’d say. A leg for a life.’

  The bitter expression on Butterbowl’s face wasn’t one of agreement.

  ‘I might have summat,’ he said. ‘But it might be summat or nowt.’

  ‘Look, Mr Wolf, as long as I know you’re on my side and not taking the piss I’ll keep my side of the bargain and not press charges. I can’t help your mate Roscoe. He doesn’t seem to know anything, but I’m thinking you’re the type who the boss would confide in.’

  ‘Well, he did a bit, yeah.’

  ‘You know he’s dead, don’t you?’

  ‘Redman’s dead?’

  ‘Yeah, he died back there. Only you and Roscoe are still alive. Lucky boys, eh?’

  Sep drew up a chair and sat down, leaning his crutches against the bed. ‘OK, tell me all you know.’

  ‘Well, it’s not much, but you bein’ a copper might be able to make summat of it. I know Redman were doin’ jobs for a bloke who worked for Santiago.’

  ‘Would this be the man who killed Santiago?’

  ‘No idea who killed him, but I know after Santiago died the bloke Redman were workin’ for took over some sort of scam Santiago were runnin’, and Redman wanted a piece of it himself.’

  ‘What’s Redman’s first name?’

  ‘Carl … Hey, you don’t know much about him, do yer?’

  ‘I know enough. What do you know about the scam?’

  ‘Nuthin’. Redman were a real secretive bastard. He only told us what we need to know. I do know it’s to do with stocks and shares and all that bollocks.’

  ‘Is there a woman involved that you know about?’

  ‘Woman? Not that I know of.’

  ‘What about the Piper brothers? Have you heard of them?’

  ‘Oh, them two gormless twats? Beats me why Santiago had ’em workin’ for him.’

  ‘They told me
about a woman called Mrs Hardacre who was with you that day.’

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head at first then, ‘Oh yeah, I remember. No idea who she was. She weren’t with us. She just turned up when we did. I thought she was one of Santiago’s punters. Mind you, she were a looker, so she might have been one of his tarts.’

  Sep pondered on what he’d been told as Butterbowl looked up at him.

  ‘Well?’ he said.

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘Have I given you enough?’

  ‘It depends on what I can do with it, I need to find out who this bloke is who worked for Santiago and who Redman was working for.’

  ‘Was working for. I reckon he still is.’

  ‘Jesus! Have you been listening to me? Redman died last night, along with one of his men.’

  Butterbowl grinned. ‘That’ll be Animal. He’s the one what burned your place down. Dead man Redman, eh? Serves the bastard right.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘So I’ve already given you enough to nail him.’

  ‘You haven’t given me anything I didn’t already have.’

  ‘Well, he had this place on Water Lane.’

  ‘The old jam factory, I know. I assume the late Bazz worked for Redman.’

  ‘He did. Good lad, were Bazz.’

  ‘Not good enough. A woman took him out and you weren’t good enough either, trying to take out a cripple in his bed. So far we’ve whipped your arses, Wolf. Bazz is dead, Animal’s dead, Roscoe’s laid up in another ward, you’re crippled for life and now Redman’s dead. He wasn’t exactly Al Capone, was he? That’s the sort of firm you’ve been working for. What the hell have you got to lose by coming over to my side?’

  Butterbowl made no comment because Sep was right.

  ‘Had he lived would Redman have helped you out in any way at all, considering your leg injury, I mean?’ Sep asked.