Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance

by Denis Byrne

  As soon as they got the nod, both leapt to their feet and faced one another, snarling at each other like a couple of wild animals. ‘What did yar say?’ Harrington roared into the Superintendent’s face from a distance of about ten inches. ‘Yah puffed-up, musclebound, knock-kneed kin of a slitherin snake? Yah say another word about me Ma and I’ll swing for yah, so I will!’

  ‘Yah will, will yah?’ the Superintendent yelled back, rolling up the sleeves of his ragged jacket in readiness. ‘Come on then, yah flea-ridden miscalculatin upstart, for I’ll not take a single syllable back! Yar Ma and all the rest of yar family aren’t fit to sit on nothin nor lily pads, so them aren’t! Descended from tadpoles, the lot of yah!’

  Harrington hurled himself forward. The Superintendent caught him in midair, and the pair of them dropped to the ground and started to wrestle each other as though their lives depended on it, snarling insults at one another as they did so. Mr. Pearson and Danny, pretending to be totally unaware of the extinguisher-carrying figures standing in the gateway, jumped to their feet, rushed over to the frenzied combatants, and made as though to try to pry them apart.

  Dapper thought it was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen in his life. He remained where he was to enjoy the entertainment, going so far as to hold out an arm to stop Needles in his tracks as he tried to struggle past him to put out the fire. ‘My money’s on the muck monster,’ he said under his breath. ‘That’s if he doesn’t pass out first from the pong of the other one breathing down his throat. Fifty euros says the big smeller comes out on top.’ He looked at Needles enquiringly. ‘You gonna to take on the bet?’

  But Needles wasn’t even listening. He was staring at Danny, trying to figure out where he’d seen him before. Something smelled, and it wasn’t just what Dapper was talking about. Needles racked his brains, watching Danny hop about the pair on the ground, pulling vainly at an arm or a leg, trying to untangle them. Mr. Pearson was doing the same thing, but Needles hardly noticed him. Danny had all his attention. And then it hit him. Holy - -. It couldn’t be! Not the same kid - -.

  Needles pulled himself together fast. He tapped the grinning Dapper on the elbow, at the same time easing his handgun out of his shoulder-holster. ‘There’s something fishy going on,’ he whispered as soon as he got Dapper’s attention. ‘I saw that kid earlier from my bedroom window.’

  ‘Fishy ain’t the word for it, ‘Dapper grinned back at him, pinching his nose meaningfully, before noticing the gun in Needle’s hand. ‘What’s with the shooter all of a sudden? You know the rules. You don’t make with the artillery unless you have to.’

  ‘Just like you in the old guy’s room,’ Needles couldn’t resist throwing back at him. ‘I heard the Boss gave you an earful sent you crawling out on your hands and knees that night.’

  Dapper’s face darkened. ‘That was different,’ he said defensively. ‘Pops was trying to break down the door. Only for - -.’

  ‘You’re not listening, Dapper,’ Needles hissed, still convinced their presence hadn’t yet come to the attention of the tramps. ‘I’m telling you I saw that kid before.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ Needles said quickly, aware he’d be in for ribbing if he told the truth. ‘All I know is that something’s out of kilter here.’

  ‘Good old Needles!’ Dapper chirruped. ‘Always on the lookout for sugar in the petrol tank.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Put the shooter away, for Pete’s sake, and let’s go. First we smother that fire, then we send these smellers on their way. Okay?’

  Needles sighed. Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what it was. The wrestling match was still being vigorously contested. Dapper made a nonchalant detour around the entwined bodies, one hand holding the extinguisher, the other still up pinching his nose to block any ascending pong he thought might make him nauseous if it invaded his nostrils.

  Needles, his knees like jelly under the weight of the extinguisher, struggled in his wake. Maybe he was mistaken. Neither the pair on the ground or the other two trying to pull them apart appeared to even know they’d been rumbled. The nearer he got to the fire, the more his lungs began to suffer. He knew the smouldering fumes were enough to put his lights out if he was stupid enough to go too close. But he needn’t have worried. Dapper had come prepared. He had one of those smog masks covering his nose and mouth, and already had the foam from his extinguisher trained on the fire by the time Needles had set his down on the ground and was trying to figure out how to get it working. Dapper did the job all on his own, making him look foolish yet again. Before Needles knew it, the fire disappeared under a hillock of foam, and the dirty black smoke had been buried under what looked like a mould of snow. Needles grimaced, annoyed Dapper hadn’t mentioned the fact he’d brought a mask along. But Needles didn’t get the chance to dwell too long on his annoyance before something happened to concentrate his mind on other things. Like a familiar voice coming from behind him he hadn’t ever expected to hear again in his life.

  ‘I wondered where you two had disappeared to,’ the Superintendent said casually, making both of them wheel around in astonishment. ‘I’d no idea you’d joined the Fire Brigade.’

  ‘Clifford!’ Dapper snarled, immediately recognising who it was, despite his dishevelled state. He hurled the extinguisher with all his might at the Superintendent, at the same time fumbling frantically for his Glock beneath his jacket. ‘This is one time you ain’t gonna stick me back in no prison cell.’

  The Superintendent took the full force on his left arm. There was a sickening thud and he fell to his knees, his face a mask of pain, his arm deadened and hanging uselessly by his side. He knelt there gritting his teeth. Dapper laughed triumphantly, pointing the gun at his helpless victim’s head. ‘How you like the shoe being on the other foot for a change, Clifford? You got any last wishes before I send you to the police station in the sky? Maybe you wanna to say a prayer to the patron saint of coppers, tell him to have some beans on toast ready for when you arrive?’

  The swiftness of Dapper’s action had momentarily stunned the others into shocked impotence. Things hadn’t been supposed to work out like this. ‘Well?’ Dapper demanded, enjoying himself thoroughly now. ‘You just gonna kneel there like a dumb schmuck and say nothing at all before I whack you?’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Dapper,’ the Superintendent managed to say through his pain. ‘There won’t be anywhere small enough for you to hide if you murder a police officer.’

  ‘But who’s gonna know about it? Huh?’ Dapper sneered, looking meaningfully in the direction of Harrington, Danny and Mr. Pearson. ‘There ain’t gonna be no witnesses. We got plenty of shovels and a whole heap of waste ground inside just waiting to be dug up. You see what I’m saying here?’ He took careful aim dead centre of the Superintendent’s forehead and squeezed the trigger. ‘So long, copper!’

  *

  Anna Conway heard the gunshot and couldn’t believe her ears. It shattered the comparative silence inside the house with its deadly message. She knew the Boss wouldn’t have heard it from his soundproofed office. Anna raced to her outside monitor and switched it on. If she had doubted her ears at what she’d heard, she now began to have the same problem where her eyes were concerned. She gasped in astonishment at what she saw.

  *

  Ten past five and Myles Moran had received an email at precisely five o’clock from his off-shore bank informing him that the ransom had still not been transferred. He phoned the manager and made a personal request that a vigil be kept until midnight, explaining the importance of the transfer, and ensuring that the manager would receive five million euros for his personal attention to the task. The manager had complied without argument. He was an extremely wealthy individual in his own right, but like all people who dedicate their lives to the accumulation of riches to the exclusion of everything else, he wasn’t about to spurn another five million for a mere six or seven hours of his time. He was sure his wife would forgive him for being unabl
e to take her to the opera this evening as they’d arranged.

  After speaking to the manager, Myles spoke to the Minister of Justice on his untraceable phone. He was extremely polite. He reminded the Minister of his obligations. The Minister assured him he was only too well aware of them, at the same time frantically gesticulating at the circle of police officers who strove in vain yet again to trace where the call was coming from. All he received in return were the usual sighs and scowls of disappointment.

  ‘You do realise, Minister,’ Myles purred down the line,’ that time is rapidly running out? It would be extremely unfortunate should it be allowed to fizzle into extinction like a damp firecracker.’

  ‘I’m doing everything I can!’ the Minister said desperately. ‘Everything! I’ve just this minute stepped out of a cabinet meeting to take your call. My colleagues are in full agreement that the transfer should be made within the next few hours. The Central Bank has been instructed, and all avenues of communication remain open as we speak. You have my word of honour on the matter.’

  Myles smiled to himself at this. The man was obviously fighting for his political life, still unsuccessfully trying to convince the rest of the cabinet to pay the money and have the hostages freed once and for all. He could almost picture the scene inside the cabinet room. The obdurate Minister for Finance defending the State coffers as though it were his own personal property, while at the same time attempting to assure everyone in attendance he was every bit as concerned about the Governor and his granddaughter as the ordinary man and woman in the street. ‘A grave and terrible situation,’ Myles could all but hear him intone, ‘but really, five hundred million would all but bankrupt the country. Surely there must be some way of convincing these – these heartless criminals to accept a lesser amount.’

  The man Myles was speaking to would have to resume the battle on his behalf. Myles knew that he was so addicted to power that the very notion of being dumped from his post at the next election would be about the worst possible disaster he thought could ever befall him. Therefore, it looked as though the game of poker would be stretched out to the very last hour. The Minister for Finance must be persuaded to change his thinking. Myles held all the aces. ‘I’m pleased to hear you’re working so assiduously on my behalf, Minister,’ Myles said sarcastically. ‘It’s comforting to know.’ He paused for a mere second before adding, ‘But just in case you’re unsuccessful and your Mr. Moneybags Minister is more interested in preserving the nation’s nest egg than the welfare of innocent lives, I think now is as good a time as any to inform you you’ll shortly receive information regarding where the bodies may be collected from. A double funeral would enhance your prospects of election quite splendidly, I should imagine.’

  Before the Minister had time to make any further appeal, Myles rang off. The Police of Chief, who’d been listening to the exchange in an outer office, wiped the perspiration from his brow before desperately trying to contact Superintendent Clifford on his mobile. But there was no answer.

  *

  At the precise second Dapper Desmond squeezed the trigger to assassinate the Superintendent, two things happened simultaneously. Needles, horrified at the unthinking stupidity of his companion, flung himself bodily at Dapper to try and knock him off balance. He was only partially successful, due to his lack of bodyweight. It was Mr. Pearson’s quickness of thought and action that saved the Superintendent’s life. He’d already been easing his gadget out of his pocket as Dapper had been taunting his victim. He had to be extremely careful to ensure he wasn’t spotted. The exact second Dapper fired, Mr. Pearson pressed the freeze button. The bullet had already left the muzzle of the gun, but the beam caught it in its vicelike embrace and it hung in the air, frozen in position. Then Mr. Pearson directed the beam at both Dapper and Needles.

  If the situation the team were involved in hadn’t been so serious, there’s little doubt that they’d all have burst out laughing. As it was, it was difficult not to smile at the creation Mr. Pearson had brought about. Even the Superintendent, his arm still throbbing painfully, and only narrowly having missed being shot dead, couldn’t resist the tiniest of smiles. Michelangelo himself would have applauded the tableau had he been taking a stroll in the vicinity.

  Dapper, a sneer distorting his handsome face, was standing like a statue, bending forward slightly, the gun still in his extended hand, aiming it with evil intent straight at the Superintendent’s forehead, the bullet he’d fired suspended in the air no more than an inch beyond the muzzle. But what caused the suppressed smiles wasn’t anything to do with Dapper’s stance. It was the look of startled surprise on Needle’s frozen little ferret face when the beam caught him and glued him to Dapper’s side as he was trying to prevent him shooting the Superintendent. He was about three feet off the ground, trapped in mid-flight just as he came into contact with Dapper. He really did look comical. Mr. Pearson had been responsible for creating the most unlikely set of Siamese twins in the history of the world. But what really mattered was that they were both now out of commission.

  ‘Two down,’ the Superintendent said grimly, gritting his teeth as he rose to his feet, ‘and heaven knows how many more to go before we complete our rescue mission. At least it’s a start. Thanks, Mr. Pearson. That’s the second life you’ve saved in the last few days.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Mr Pearson replied modestly. ‘It was nothing. I’m only too glad I’m helping in some small way.’

  Danny shook his head in disbelief. Mr. Pearson was really something else. Only for him, they’d all probably be dead by now.

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ Harrington asked, concerned. ‘Your arm isn’t broken, is it?’

  ‘Just bruised, Harrington. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. As soon as the numbness goes away, I’ll be as good as new. I think you should disarm our two friends here before we leave them. Just in case the effect of the beam wears off.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no fear of that, Superintendent,’ Mr. Pearson assured him. ‘They won’t be able to move again until I release them.’

  ‘I’d still like to take their guns away, Mr. Pearson. Merely police routine where armed criminals are concerned. All right? Eh?’

  ‘Whatever you say, Superintendent. I’ll just unfreeze the big one’s hand and Officer Harrington will be able to remove the gun quite easily then.’

  *

  A few seconds after hearing the gunshot, Anna was standing staring at her outside monitor, watching every thing as it transpired. The second tallest of the tramps was taking Desmond’s gun out of his hand without the slightest show of resistance from Desmond. She couldn’t understand what was going on. None of the tramps were armed, yet there was Desmond, standing stock-still, letting his weapon be taken away as though he couldn’t care less. One of the tramps had a television remote control trained on Desmond. What was that all about? And where was Needles? She adjusted the setting on her monitor, and her mouth fell open. She shook her head to clear her eyesight, but it didn’t serve to change anything. Needles was attached to Desmond’s side. Both of them looked as though they were frozen solid. The tramp who’d confiscated Desmond’s gun was now helping himself to Needle’s, sliding his hand in under his jacket and removing it from its shoulder-holster. He pocketed it before handing the Glock to the big tramp. Anna was so surprised at what she was watching, it had slipped her mind to turn on the sound. She did so now to listen through the many microphones hidden in the hedges.

  There was a remarkable alteration in the accents she now heard from what she’d heard earlier when listening to the awful attempts at singing, etc. The head tramp was issuing orders. ‘Unfreeze Nelligan, Mr. Pearson, if you please. I want to pick his brains.’

  Anna had to think for a few seconds before she realised who he was referring to. Then it struck her. Patrick Camillus Needles Nelligan. The only other person she’d ever heard calling him Mr. Nelligan was the Boss. But it was ages since she’d been present when he’d done so.

  The thin rake of
a man aimed the remote at Needles and he fell to the ground, dazed and blinking, looking around him in bewilderment, like a particularly surprised ferret trying to figure out what was going on. As he struggled to his feet and stared at the tramp who’d given the order to restore him to consciousness, he gave a long drawn-out sigh of relief. ‘Welcome back, Nelligan,’ the tramp said, giving him a friendly smile as he did so. ‘And thanks for your earlier intervention. I’ll make sure it’s mentioned in your favour when you’re up before the beak for this one.’

  Needles still looked like a fish out of water. He gazed at Desmond, still stuck in his frozen pose, the sight only serving to increase his perplexity. ‘What – what in the name of tarnation’s happening, Superintendent?’ he asked foolishly. ‘One minute I was - -.’

  ‘No time to explain now. I want information, and I want it fast. Where are the old man and the girl being held?’

  A look of fear flashed into Needle’s eyes. He knew he was more than likely being watched and listened to from inside the house. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he managed weakly. That was as far as he got. Harrington strode over to him purposefully and stuck the muzzle of his gun to his temple. ‘Talk, you little creep!’ he growled. ‘I’m going to count to three. After that I’ll pull the trigger.’

  The Superintendent eyebrows arched in surprise. He knew Harrington was bluffing, but still! ‘Okay! Okay!’ Needles said. ‘Take it easy!’ Whether he was being viewed from the house or not suddenly seemed irrelevant now. It looked like he was going to get it just that bit sooner if he didn’t squawk. Some gratitude, he thought, flashing the Superintendent a resentful look and me after doing my best to save your skin earlier. But this lulu with the shooter looked like he means business. ‘They’re in separate sections of the house. The old guy’s locked in a bedroom and the kid’s in there somewhere else.’