She took the message in silence, watching Terri, Taylor and Harris chatter their way towards her. As they reached her she closed the mobile. “Cheers, Guv. We’ll be there.” To Harris, “Jez, any luck with Mrs. Ellis?”
“Nothing, ma’am. She was out all that evening. Me and Baz are gonna try some more of the flats before our shift finishes.”
“Put that on hold,” Red said firmly. “Barry, I need you to round everyone up. Let them all know that OT is authorized for this evening. Compulsory overtime, Jez. Your girlfriend can wait.” To Terri, “Hope you didn’t have any plans tonight. You’re coming on a raid.”
Chapter 66.
“You did what?” Pippa glanced from right to left between Red and Jack, oblivious to Darren hovering in the doorway.
‘It was so cool, mum. Especially when Re… I mean Cass, put the cuffs on Darren and pretended she’d lost the key. He was bricking it!”
“No I weren’t,” Darren protested. “I knew it was an April fool’s joke.”
Pippa turned back to the sink, wringing her hands together frantically under the hot water, pumping copious amounts of soap out of the dispenser. “I don’t believe this, Cassandra. You actually took my son to the station and locked him in a cell?”
Red dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, helping herself to a biscuit from the plate in the centre before shoving it toward Jack and Darren. “Well, I wouldn’t say locked…”
“So how else do you put someone in the cells?” Pippa rounded to face Red again, lips set in a straight line.
“Look, mum. I took some pictures on my phone.”
Tearing four sheets of kitchen towel from the stand, Pippa dried her hands and leant over to glance at the phone Jack was holding up. “Oh my God! He’s standing next to the cell toilet, Cass! The germs!” Pippa grabbed the phone from her son, flicking to the next image before dropping it onto the table as it if was radiated. “And this was April first? That was three days ago. Why is it I’ve only heard about this now?”
“Because you’re always too busy,” Red bantered back, enjoying the controversy.
“Supposing a senior officer had found them there?”
“I am a senior officer.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
Red thought of how close the Super had come. She thought of Harris, now evens with her. The bastard. “Anyway, what’s done is done, Pip. It was a little treat, seeing as Darren won’t be joining us at the weekend.”
Pippa cast a guilty look at Darren. He grinned back.
“You’d best be going now, Darren,” she said over her shoulder. “Jack will see you when he comes back from his break.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. CW,” Darren said. He held a fist out to Red over the table, his knuckles facing her.
Red winked, touching her fist to his.
“You’re alright, for a copper,” Darren grinned. To Jack, “Later, dude.”
As the door slammed Red said, “Jack, I need to talk to your mum a minute, okay?”
“Sure.” Jack made his way forlornly to the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
Red waited until he pulled the door shut, then, “I might have to give next weekend a miss, Pip.”
Pippa turned dark eyes on Red. “I think not, Cassandra.”
“You don’t understand. Your friends the Burns thugs have put another pensioner on the critical list.”
“They are not my friends, Cass, as well you know, and I’m sure your colleagues are quite capable of handling matters while you have a few days off.”
“Pip, we’re on a raid tonight. If all goes well we’ll have that bloody pomme-rouge back where it belongs and there will be extra manpower and resources available for the rest of the month to nail Tommy Burns and his cronies. I’m not gonna pass up on that.”
“You most certainly are. You know it’s almost impossible for us to coincide our holidays. And besides, Richard and Lucy will be there. I certainly can’t handle them on my own.”
“Pip, you don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?” Pippa dragged a chair out, letting herself slump into it, eyes blazing at Red, her voice barely controlled, the barrister’s mask slipping. “Cassandra, you keep telling me how much you want to be part of my family. This is your chance.”
“But Pip, if I can nail those thugs –”
“But Pip, if I can nail those thugs,” Pippa mimicked. “And when you do, what next? Cass, there will always be criminals out there needing to be caught, just as there are always accused criminals needing to be defended. You can’t live your life around your job.”
“Said Counsellor Crichton-Ward, QC, with the huge pile of legal folders in the corner that she will spend all evening going through.”
That’s different, Cass. I’ve booked time off for this break especially to be with the children, and you. Nothing will prevent that happening. And nothing will prevent you being there. That is, if you’re really serious about us being one family.”
Pippa stood up, shunting her chair neatly into place before turning her dark eyes on Red a final time. “Let me assure you this, Cass. If I have to go to the Lakes with the children on my own I will take that as a clear sign you do not want to be part of my family.”
Chapter 67.
Red scanned the occupants of the unmarked van outside the Prince’s Club, the team wired and ready to move. Her eyes settled on Terri Miller, make-up prefect, hair immaculate. Red smiled to herself. Terri couldn’t look less like a cop if she tried.
Terri caught the smile, quickly returning it.
Red found herself warming to a blush. She gave a self-conscious cough. “Nervous, Terri?”
Terri nodded. “Sort of. It just seems crazy making a raid when we’re not armed. ”
“That’s Britain for you. Just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”
Terri smiled her thanks, holding Red’s gaze slightly longer than necessary.
The linked phones lit up. “Taylor. Jez and I are ready to go in.”
DCI Bill Andrews responded. “Southgate is on his way. Ten minutes max if he doesn’t detour. Best get settled and look comfortable.”
“We’ll have a couple for you guys, don’t worry.”
“Take it easy, Barry,” Andrews warned. “Southgate is no push-over. Keep your wits about you. Besides, if this goes well the drinks are on me the rest of the night.”
“That’s the sort of incentive me and Jez like, Sir. I guess the sooner we nail Bernie the sooner we get to take you up on that offer. Putting you on silent.”
Andrews glanced at Red as the contact ended. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Too early, we could blow the whole thing.”
“If anyone can balls it up, Guv, Taylor can.”
“Why do I get the uneasy feeling you meant that?” To the team, “Stand by.”
The team exchanged nods and eager smiles. Terri caught Red’s eye again, giving her the biggest smile of all. Red suddenly found her fingernails of keen interest.
Chapter 68.
The Huntsman scanned the bar for a man fitting Southgate’s description. Fat, balding with a small goatee, Queenie had said. Several of the fat and bald types were present. Not too many goatees.
The bartender plucked a disposable drinks coaster from the pile, setting a scotch down.
“Thank you.” The Huntsman slid a ten pound note across the bar. “I’m supposed to be meeting a Mr. Southgate in here this evening?”
“Bernie? His office is upstairs, but he’s not in yet.” The barman’s eyes shot to the wall clock. “Any time now. I’ll call him over when he shows.”
The Huntsman extracted a wad of notes from his pocket, peeling off a twenty. “Just point me in his direction when he comes in, okay?” He tipped his drink in the bartender’s direction, then swung around on his bar stool as the door opened. He watched indifferently as Taylor and Harris ordered drinks.
Chapter 69.
Fat, bald, and a goatee. The second of the three men who had just entered matc
hed the description perfectly. The Huntsman took in the Armani suit that hid the flab so well. His eyes lingered on the small leather briefcase. A glance at the barman confirmed. Southgate.
The Huntsman swivelled on his stool, using the bar mirror to watch his target. He noted Taylor and Harris had also turned away and appeared to be using the mirror to view the room. Interesting.
Southgate talked with the animated hand movements of a south Londoner – Wandsworth, the Huntsman guessed. Born and bred. To the initiated, each London borough had its own tribal features.
The Huntsman checked the time. Less than ten minutes. Through the mirror he could watch both Southgate and Taylor and Harris. Harris drew his attention. Too many anxious glances at the mirror in Southgate’s direction.
The Huntsman downed his drink, making for the gents. He ran cold water into a cracked basin, splashing his forehead and cheeks, admiring his own reflection in the mirror on the wall. High cheekbones and a strong jaw-line stared back. He thought it made people take him seriously. He smoothed perfectly shaped eyebrows with his index fingers, peering back into his own, dark eyes.
The door opened behind him. The Huntsman watched Harris move past the cubicles, indifferent to his presence. He bent into the basin again, splashing water with his hands, watching Harris assumed the position at the urinal. Without looking up, the Huntsman said, “Not seen you here before, mate?”
Harris turned his head awkwardly, worrying about his aim. “Just popped in for a quick one. How about you?”
The Huntsman brought his head up to the mirror, watching Harris. “Waiting for someone. Bernie Southgate?”
“Never heard of him.”
The slight flinch and the delayed response told the Huntsman otherwise. He moved to the drier. It burst into life, gratifyingly loud. He moved silently behind Harris, watching his movements. The shake. The reverse pelvic thrust to put it away. The upwards movement of the zip. Always wait for that. The side of the Huntsman’s hand came down sharp on the back of Harris’s neck, catching him beneath the arms as he slumped, dragging him into the cubicle.
The pockets revealed the phone and Police ID. The Huntsman smiled. He dropped both down the pan and hit the flush. He propped Harris up on the seat, turned and bolted the door, then climbed into the empty cubicle next door and casually made his exit.
Taylor glanced indifferently his way as the Huntsman left the gents. The Huntsman looked around the bar. No Southgate. An inquisitive glance to the steward. The barman motioned eyes upwards. The Huntsman nodded.
Taylor watched disinterestedly as the Huntsman went through the rear door, then returned to his third pint, patiently waiting for Harris.
Chapter 70.
The Huntsman stood ear to the door, trying to make out the voices. At least three. He stepped back and rapped his knuckles loudly on the wood. “Drinks for Mr. Southgate.”
“Who in blazes is that?” The angry voice came loud and clear through the door. “I ain’t ordered no drinks. Get rid of him.”
The door opened. “Mr. Southgate ain’t ordered nuff—”
The Huntsman waved the man back in with the barrel of the Glock. “Don’t even think about it, sunshine.”
Southgate jumped up from his seat as his goon backed into the room. “What the hell’s going…” The Huntsman’s gun rendered the question redundant. Southgate remained standing, hands against the desk, taking his weight on his arms. “Who the hell are you?”
The Huntsman eyed the two goons, moving in on the one closest, gun steady. “You and me need a little chat, Mr. Southgate.” As he frisked the first goon, retrieving a gun, the second bodyguard went for his weapon. The Huntsman’s bullet tore through the goon’s cheek and out the back of his head before he could remove his hand from his jacket, the phut from the silenced Glock barely audible.
The Huntsman bent to retrieve a pistol from the dead man, gesturing for remaining bodyguard to move behind Southgate. Southgate remained motionless, angry eyes staring back.
The Huntsman moved to the sash window, looking out. First floor. Two cars parked below. He forced the window up. “Don’t know about you, but I think it’s kinda stuffy in here.”
Southgate watched him warily. “Should I know you?”
“Know me? No. Heard of me, yes. The Huntsman.”
“The Huntsman. Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Am I supposed to be impressed?” Southgate jutted out his jaw. “Take a look. Is this the face of concern?”
The Huntsman smiled. “I could kill you right now, Bernie.”
“But you haven’t. If I was on your hit list we wouldn’t be having this conversation, so forget the bullshit. And it’s Mister Southgate to you. Only my friends get to call me Bernie. An’ let me tell you now, sunshine, you ain’t one of them.”
Chapter 71.
Taylor drained his glass, one eye on the clock, one eye on the door to the gents.
The barman hovered by the empty glasses. “Same again?”
“Thanks. I’ll just see where my mate’s got to. Probably got his dick caught in his zipper again.”
Taylor glanced over the empty urinals as he entered the washroom, his eyes settling on the cubicles. “Jez? You’re not tossing yourself off over Texas Tess again, are you? I’ve told ya. mate. You’re not her type. She likes blokes with some meat on them.” He stared at the closed door. “Jez?”
No response.
“Jezza?” Taylor dropped to his knees, peering beneath the door. He rapped his knuckles hard against the frame and got up. “I’ve just got a round in. Put it away and let’s knock ‘em back quick before we make the move.”
Silence.
Taylor hurriedly entered the next cubicle, clambering with ungainly movements onto the rim of the toilet, peering over the wall. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” He reached for his phone. “Guv, get in here fast. I think they’ve killed Jez.”
Chapter 72.
The Huntsman stared at Southgate. “You’re still alive, Bernie, because it’s not your time yet. That’s all. Besides, you happen to have something I want.”
“Is that so?” Southgate sat back in his seat, calm and confident.
The Huntsman produced the velvet bag from his jacket pocket, sprinkling the shattered coloured glass onto the desk. “Mr. Jones won’t be here tonight. Let’s just say I’m his stand-in.”
A smile of recognition spread across Southgate’s face. “I was planning on terminating his contract anyway. So he tried to palm you off with the dummy, huh?”
“Someone did, yes.”
Southgate shrugged. “You know what it’s like in this business. You just can’t be too careful. Did you reach a deal?”
“My client offered five million.”
“Get real. It’s worth twenty.”
“I believe I just said five?”
“Ten and it’s yours.”
“I didn’t realize you were in a position to negotiate.”
Southgate shrugged. “Whoever it is you’re working for, you can tell them ten is the price.”
“I’m not here to haggle, Bernie boy. I’m just here to collect the apple.”
“Collect? What. you think I carry it around with me? It’s worth a small fortune!”
“That’s exactly why I think you carry it around with you. Who else could you trust with it?”
Southgate’s eyes darted fleetingly to the case, telling the Huntsman everything he needed to know. “I suggest you sit down, Bernie. Hands on the desk, where I can see them.” The Huntsman stood the case upright on the floor in the middle of the room. A single shot took the lock out. The valise fell open, revealing a leather pouch. “Oh look. The pomme-rouge, unless I’m very much mistaken. Queenie will be so pleased.”
Southgate eased himself into his chair, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Soho Queenie?”
The Huntsman smiled smugly. “How many Queenies are there?”
“You are joking? This is way out of her league. She’s just a two-bit –”
“Po
lice! Nobody move!” The shouts from down below and heavy feet on the stairs interrupted Southgate’s words.
The Huntsman quickly eyed first the window then the door. He moved to the door, stepping behind it just as it burst open, Andrews, Taylor and Terri Miller barging in, badges held high, batons drawn.
“Police! Nobody move!”
“Game’s up, Bernie. I’m arrest…” Andrews voice tailed as he saw the goon slumped by the wall, a pool of blood slowly spreading across the floor. “What the…”
Terri raced to the body, looking up at Andrews as her fingers confirmed no pulse. “Dead, Guv.”
“So we can add murder to the charges as well, Bernie?” Andrews shook his head in disbelief. “You really are getting careless.”
“He’s one of mine, you idiot.” Southgate’s smug expression made Terri feel uneasy. She watched as Andrews picked up the case, retrieving the leather pouch.
Andrews looked from Southgate to Terri and back again, his face crumpling into a smile. “Is this what I think it is?” The jewel slid partially onto his hand. He let out a low whistle. “Bernie, you’ve just got yourself an invite to my retirement party. Shame you won’t be able to attend. Still, if you’re lucky you could be out in ten and...” Andrews followed Southgate’s smug gaze, turning back towards Taylor.
“I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.” Taylor felt the cold muzzle of the gun beneath his chin even as the Huntsman’s other arm came up around his neck in a stranglehold.
Chapter 73.
The Huntsman eased into the middle of the room, Taylor’s fear-ridden face leading the way. “Just leave the apple on the desk and step away. Detective Chief Inspector,” the Huntsman said quietly.
Andrews let the jewel slide back into the pouch and gently placed it on the desk top. “We have armed officers outside. Put the gun down and no-one will get hurt.”
Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set Page 18
