by Alfie Robins
‘Doesn’t really matter where I am.’
‘You got my gear back?’
‘Working on it, that’s why I’m calling – need to borrow Jimbo for a couple of days.’
‘Time’s running out Ray, I can’t wait forever… know what I mean?’
‘Look, give me a break, can I have Jimbo or don’t you want your money?’
‘Break? I’ll break your fucking neck. Yes, you can have him, just get what’s mine, sharpish.’
Warren smiled, finished the call and dialled Jimbo’s number.
‘Jimbo, how’s the head?’ He didn’t wait for the reply. ‘Fancy earning some beer money?’
‘No thanks I’m busy. If I remember rightly, the last time I worked with you things didn’t exactly go as planned, and I had my head caved in.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that, look I need someone I can trust – I’ll make it worth your while, what do you reckon?’ Warren said, trying to cajole Jimbo into accepting.
‘Am I likely to get bashed again?’
‘Can’t lie to you Jimbo it’s more likely than not. What do you say?’
‘When?’
‘Good man, what are you doing tonight?’
‘Seems I’m working with you. Must need my fuckin’ head looked at – again.’
‘Cheers pal, I’m staying at the Shangri La on Springbank.’
‘Bloody hell, you really know how to live the high life, staying in that dump. What is it you want me to do?’
‘It’s a long story, the short version goes something like this…’
Warren’s stomach thought his throat had been cut. He hadn’t eaten since his greasy breakfast in the hotel’s lounge-cum-breakfast-room. In light of what Grimes had told him, he didn’t fancy being too far away from the hotel in daylight hours, he decided the best option was to keep a low profile. His only option to eat was a burger bar 200 metres down from the Shangri La. With more greasy food in front of him, a double cheeseburger and fries, he was considering the feasibility of his next move, a night time visit to Gemmell Strategies. His mobile vibrated on the table next to his coffee. He picked it up, recognised the caller displayed and pressed the accept key.
‘You do know there’s some bloke tailing you?’
Across the road from the burger bar, browsing at the goods offered for sale in a charity shop, Jimbo was doing as instructed, watching Warren’s back.
‘If I’d known that I wouldn’t have to pay you,’ he replied light-heartedly.
‘He was thirty seconds behind you coming out of the hotel – mind you he’s good.’
‘He came out of the Shangri La?’
‘Yep, hot on your heels.’
‘What’s he look like?’
‘Smart bloke, sharp suit, collar length hair combed back, I reckon he’s around thirty, thirty-five. You know him?’
‘Can’t say I do, keep an eye on him.’
‘That’s what you’re paying me for.’
The cogs turned around in Warren’s brain. If he was a cop they would have picked him up by now, the alternative, which didn’t bear thinking about he was one of Gemmell’s men.
‘I’ve been careful, can’t work out how whoever he is found me. You reckon on him coming in here?’
‘Only if you stop in there too long, I reckon he might come to have a ‘look-see’.’
‘Ok, I’ll slip the waiter a tenner and come out through the service door, reckon you can delay him if he heads this way?’
‘No problem, hey up I think he’s thinking about moving, didn’t think he’d be that quick. Where’s the car?’
‘Car park back of the hotel, I’ll meet you there.’
Warren stood up casually and walked across to the counter to pay the bill, adding a ten-pound tip and nodding towards the kitchen. The waiter smiled, pocketed the note and stood aside to let Warren pass. He looked over his shoulder to see Jimbo taking up position, that of a dosser begging in the doorway.
Jimbo played the aggressive beggar, sitting on the floor in front of the entrance to the burger restaurant. ‘Giz a quid mate,’ he said as Staples approached.
‘Fuck off.’ He expected Jimbo to move.
‘Fifty pence then,’ he edged further in blocking the doorway completely.
‘Tell you what I will give you – a fucking good kicking if you don’t move.’ Staples took half a step forward until his feet were touching Jimbo.
Slowly, very slowly Jimbo moved away. ‘Bastard,’ he said to Staples back.
Staples hesitated, wondering whether to turn and give him a kicking anyway, thought better of it and opened the door and went inside. He stood looking around, there was no sign of Warren. ‘Bloke who was in here, where is he?’
The waiter shrugged his shoulder, all the man had to do was cross his palm with silver and he’d have told him.
Warren had gained an extra three or four minutes. As soon as Staples was in the door, Jimbo leapt to his feet and legged it down Springbank. Ten minutes later they were heading down towards the Hessle Foreshore in the Fiesta.
‘Don’t know how the fucker found me.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Take your pick, maybe a cop, he could be being paid by someone I upset while I was in the nick, and there was a few of them. On the other hand, he could be the bloke we ran into on the Seabird.’
‘That’s it!’ Jimbo exclaimed. ‘His aftershave, I thought I recognised it, he’s the fucker who bashed me head in.’
Brilliant, that’s all I need now, some fucker putting a hit on me. You reckon he could have recognised you?’
‘I wouldn’t say so, the day he clobbered me he came at me from the back, never clocked me face.’
Warren pulled up the Fiesta below the towers of the Humber Bridge and both men climbed out of the low sprung car.
‘Might be fast but it’s not very comfortable,’ grumbled Jimbo as he stretched his long legs.
Warren ignored him and walked across to the river’s edge, staring across to Barton on the far side. He turned to face the young man, the man who for some strange reason he trusted.
‘Look Jimbo if this bloke’s after topping me, then I reckon you could be putting yourself on the line. I’ve changed my mind and want you to walk away. No hard feelings and all that.’
‘Yeah like fuck, what are mates for?’
‘I don’t want to be visiting you in the Infirmary – or the cemetery.’
‘Like you mean me cousin?’
‘He’s dead?’ Warren asked, seriously.
‘No, the Infirmary.’ He seemed to have enjoyed seeing the worried look on Warren’s face.
‘Sorry about that, but it was either him or me.’
‘Yeah, he told me, he’d have done you if you hadn’t got in first. Water under the bridge and all that,’ then laughed when he realised where they were standing – directly under the Humber Bridge.
‘If you insist on hanging around I’ll make sure you get a good pay day out of it.’
‘Whatever, give us the car keys.’ Warren passed them over. ‘Let’s see if they put a tracker on the car.’
‘Already been over it, you won’t find one.’
He stood to aside and watched Jimbo work. Bonnet opened and every inch of the engine space was inspected, nothing, as Warren expected. Next the younger man was doubled in the foot-well of the car checking under the dashboard, nothing.
‘Can’t work it out,’ Jimbo said, ‘got to be somewhere, how else did he know where you were?’ He stood back with his hands in his pockets as the wind blew in gusts off the river. ‘Unless,’ he said as he walked around the front, dropped to his knees and reached under the car, arm bent at the elbow he felt the full length of the inside of the bumper, nothing. Not saying anything, he stood up and walked around to rear, again he dropped down and lay on his back and shuffled underneath, there it was, a twinkling blue light between the petrol tank and the underside of the Fiesta. ‘Got ya, ya fucker,’ he said as he yanked it free and separated
the wires to prevent a short circuit. Still on his back he shuffled out. ‘There you go Ray,’ he said as he stood up and tossed the tracking device to Warren.
‘Good man, never thought about under there.’
‘That’s because you’re a “proper” crim not a common thief like me.’ He took the tracking unit back and threw it as far as he could into the river.
‘Come on, there’s something I’ve got to do.’
Back in the tracker-free Fiesta, Warren drove to Gemmell Strategies on the Priory Park Business site, a matter of minutes away. He pulled up some 200 metres away.
‘What we doing here?’ Asked Jimbo.
‘That office over there,’ he pointed towards Gemmell Strategies. ‘I need to be inside, reckon you can get me in?’ Jimbo didn’t answer, just gave Warren one of those ‘looks’.
‘The security is pretty good, no it’s more than good, it’s first-rate.’
‘Ray, you do ask some stupid questions.’ Both men laughed.
‘There’s an on-site security office with a couple of numpties in charge, the bigger problem is that the alarm system is linked to the security’s main office and the police.’
‘Ok, that just means we’ve got to use our noddles. Can we take a look?’
Warren slipped the Fiesta into gear and did a steady drive past, not too fast, not too slow as to arouse suspicion, twice around the block as if they were looking for a particular address.
‘Right,’ said Jimbo ‘the way I see it we’ll have to go in from the roof.’
‘The roof?’
‘Yeah, notice most of the snoopy cameras are on the front of the building? They’re covering the car park and there’s a couple on the sides, but ’cos there’s no windows round the back they’re aimed down the sides of the building towards the front. Now the rear of the building is a different kettle of fish, no doors, no windows with a two-metre service gap between them and the building they back onto. And guess what?’
‘No cameras?’
‘Yep, and even better it doesn’t look occupied, if I’m right and it’s not there’s more than an even money chance their surveillance cameras won’t be working.’
‘Any way we can check?’
‘Not without dropping ourselves in it, but my guess is they won’t be working, what’s to guard? Bugger all, the place looks as if it’s been shut down for months, they won’t want to pay for security to guard fuck all. Take us for a drive around to check it out.’
‘So how does it work getting in through the roof?’
‘Air-con, no units on side of the building so it stands to reason they’re on the roof.’ Warren was surprised, for such a young bloke Jimbo was a fountain of knowledge when it came to breaking and entering. ‘Also no fire escape ladder on outside of the building, so my guess is there’s got to be some hatch on the roof to let the engineers service the air-con units.’
‘What if there’s no hatch?’
‘We unfasten a few bolts, move the unit and we’re halfway there, open the hole up a bit, then we’re in the roof-space, kick out the ceiling and we’re in.’
‘As easy as that?’
‘Yeah well, sounds easy, but the bigger problem will be once we’ve gained access, we won’t know what cameras or sensors there are inside. Cameras, ok we can deal with them with a bit of spray paint on the lenses, won’t give us long, only minutes till security notices they’ve been blacked out so you’ll have to work fast.’
‘The sensors?’ asked Warren.
‘Just have to take a chance and be ready to do a runner. When do you want to do this?’
‘Sooner rather than later – tomorrow night?’
‘Ok, that’ll give me time to sort some gear out.’
‘In the meantime, this bloke who was tailing me, let’s see what that’s all about. But first, you fancy a burger?’
Warren drove to the McDonald’s Drive Thru on St Andrews Quay. Armed with paper bags of burgers and fries, they sat in the parking area near the Sailmakers pub. Warren put his paper package on the dashboard top.
‘Just give me a minute will you,’ he climbed from the Fiesta, took out his mobile and walked around the back of the car, holding the phone close to his ear. ‘It’s me,’ he said into the receiver. The call was to Inspector Bill Grimes. ‘Do you know if there’s a tail on me?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware, why what’s happened?’
‘Looks like my acquaintance from the yacht might have me in his sights.’
‘Any idea who it is?’
‘Working on it.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Nothing yet, just wanted to be sure. Cheers mate.’ He hung up and returned to the car.
‘Gonna tell me who it was?’ Jimbo asked as he got back in the car.
‘You really don’t want to know Jimbo and that’s the truth. The top and bottom of it is it’s not the police tailing me. Reckon it’s time I moved on from the Shangri La.’
‘You can sleep on my settee if you want,’ Jimbo offered.
‘Are you sure mate? The way things are going it’s not looking too good and I don’t want to bring more trouble to your doorstep.’
‘What are mates for? Let’s go get your stuff.’
Chapter 26
There was no problem checking out of the hotel as he’d already paid up front. All he had to do was collect the Sig and his belongings and walk away.
But he had something to do first.
‘Anyone been asking about me?’ he asked ‘Miss Couldn’t Give A Toss I’m Doing My Nails’, on the reception of the Shangri La. Warren took out his wallet and opened it so the contents were clearly visible and lay it flat on the desk top. He took out a twenty and placed it on the desk. Miss Disinterested looked at the money and back to Warren, holding his gaze. Another twenty was placed with the first, still she kept her gaze. ‘Alright, you win,’ said Warren as he picked up his wallet and counted a further sixty pounds.
‘Now you mention it, there was a man asking about someone who fitted your description, he even booked a room.’
‘What room is he in?’
‘Fourteen, the room next to yours.’
‘Name?’
She flicked through the registration cards. ‘He’s booked in under the name G. Emmell.’
Warren smiled. ‘Is he in?’
‘No, not at the moment.’
‘Do you have any idea what kind of car he drives?’ She looked into his eyes again and smiled.
‘It’s a dark blue BMW.’
He took a further two twenty pound notes out of his wallet and put it with the one hundred already on the desk. He didn’t have to say anything else, she reached under the desk and handed him a master key.
With the key in his hand Warren took the stairs two at a time. The corridor was empty, but then again, even if anyone saw him it would appear as if he was going into his own room, after all, he was using a key. Outside room fifteen he stood and listened. No sound. He put the key in the lock and turned, still no sound from inside. Now with no need for caution he opened the door quickly, entered and closed the door behind him.
The layout of the room was pretty much the same as his own, standard Ikea furniture and fittings. So who are you? he whispered, the room looked almost unused, no sign of anything personal was on view. Warren opened the bedside cupboard drawer, nothing but the standard Gideon Bible. A search of the wardrobe and drawers revealed about as much, a couple of shirts, socks and underwear. There was nothing in the room to give an identity to the man who had been following him. Just the trapping of a man used to travelling light. Finding a laptop or PDA would have been too much to ask. He thought about removing the bath panel, as he knew that was the most secure place to temporarily leave anything valuable or incriminating but he was pushing his luck, time was against him. He made sure everything was as he’d found it, double checked and then quietly left the room and locked the door. In his own room he removed the Sig from the bathroom, placed it in the bottom of the ruck
sack and covered it with his meagre belongings – he wasn’t coming back.
In the reception area he dropped the master key on the desk. Little Miss I Couldn’t Give A Toss didn’t even raise her head, she was probably already planning what to spend the one hundred pounds on.
‘Have you a sheet of paper and an envelope, please?’ he asked.
She reached under the desk, opened a drawer then passed the paper and envelope across. Warren picked up a pen off the desk and wrote a quick note. ‘Be seeing you soon, be lucky’, placed it in the envelope and sealed it, and scribbled ‘Room 15’.
‘When he comes back give him this will you?’
Warren smiled to himself as he walked out of the hotel. He was looking forward to the meeting.
‘You took your time,’ Jimbo said as Warren open the car door.
‘I’ve just been on a recce, the cheeky bastard following me had the room next to mine. Let’s pay a visit to the “offy” and get a couple of bottles,’ he said, as they drove away. ‘You think you can lay your hand on a GPS tracking unit?’
‘Yeah, but not until the morning.’
‘That’ll do nicely.’
Back in Jimbo’s living room, Warren filled him in on the details of his search of the ‘tail’s’ room. and they discussed what he intended to do with the tracking unit, attach it to the BMW, and turn things around to their advantage.
Chapter 27
‘We’ll stand out like a couple of spare pricks on that roof in this moonlight,’ Jimbo grumbled.
Warren looked at his watch, it was 1.30am. They had been in the service gap at the rear of Gemmell Strategies for the past two hours, gradually getting colder in the near-freezing temperature as they waited for the moon to disappear behind the clouds, before risking their necks climbing the plastic service pipe to the roof.
‘Where’s the bleedin’ clouds?’
‘Won’t be long now.’
‘Hope not, I’m freezing me bollocks off.’
‘Not being funny Jimbo, that pipe might take the weight of a skinny fella like you, but I don’t reckon I’ll get very far before it comes away.’
‘Thought about that, that’s why I brought this,’ he produced a heavy-duty nylon line from his backpack. ‘I’ll shimmy up and drop you a line.’
