Suits and Bullets

by Alfie Robins

  ‘Bob, got a proposition for you,’ said Warren.

  ‘One that doesn’t involve me doing a spot of line dancing I hope?’ trying to do his best at humour in the crap situation he found himself.

  ‘Maybe, when your foot’s healed. Seriously, I want you to come with us when we go back to the office.’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘Not if you want medical attention, on the other hand gangrene will have set in before anyone finds you.’

  ‘Well seeing as though you put it like that, how can I refuse? I will be delighted to accompany you.’ He said through a grimace. The pain was now intense – he didn’t know how he would get through. It wouldn’t be long before shock set in.

  ‘Jimbo, get Bob a Scotch, make it a large one.’

  ‘Thought we needed one as well,’ said Jimbo as he passed out the glasses.

  Chapter 36

  A crappy Transit van with three men sitting in the front, driving into Gemmell Strategies car park in the dark of night, couldn’t have looked anything but suspicious on the site security camera.

  ‘We’ll have to move pretty quick Greg, it’ll only be a matter of minutes before security come to check things over.’

  ‘How quick we are depends on you, Bob.’

  Jimbo opened the nearside door and jumped down to the floor, Warren, leaving the keys in the ignition climbed out and walked around the nearside and between them they helped Bob out and to the entrance porch. Warren unlocked the door and immediately the alarm box flashed and gave out a high pitched whine.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Bob said as he hobbled over to the box and punched in the code. ‘The safe’s in the office – upstairs.’

  ‘Might have bleedin’ known,’ grumbled Jimbo at the thought of having to get Bob up a flight of stairs.

  With Bob sandwiched between them they struggled, pausing every couple of steps. It was only one level up but they were panting and puffing by the time they reached Bob’s office.

  ‘Thank fuck there’s only one floor,’ said Jimbo as they manhandled Bob into the office.

  ‘Key.’ Warren held out his hand as Bob dropped down into his own chair.

  ‘Safe’s in the floor behind John’s desk,’ he said as he passed it over, then sat back in the chair with his hands on his knees under the desk.

  ‘Keep an eye on him, Jimbo.’ Warren dropped to his knees behind John’s desk, pulled back a rug covering the safe, put the key in the lock and turned. He was half expecting an alarm to go off as he pulled the door open. ‘So Bob, you can tell the truth,’ he said from behind the desk.

  ‘In the state I’m in there wouldn’t be much point in lying.’ Bob lay back with his eyes closed, the pain showing in his face.

  Inside were the diamonds, the drugs and the cash plus an unexpected bonus, an extra ten thousand pounds in crisp fifty pound notes.

  ‘Is it all there? asked Jimbo.

  ‘And a bit more,’ said Warren. ‘Pass me the bag.’

  Jimbo took off the rucksack he’d brought and passed it over.

  Warren filled the bag. ‘Time to go.’

  Taking an arm each they helped or more like trundled Bob down the stairs. The alarm was reset, and they left locking the door behind them. The entire escapade had taken them less than ten minutes.

  ‘Does it register with the security office when the alarm is deactivated?’ Warren asked Bob.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Bob was sweating, the pain was getting worse.

  ‘So we can assume John will know someone’s accessed the office.’

  ‘Normally security wouldn’t bother, but with what’s been going on we have to assume the worst.’

  Once again luck was with them, the security van was driving into the estate as they left.

  Chapter 37

  They drove out of the business park and onto the Clive Sullivan Way, heading towards the city. The Transit definitely wasn’t built for comfort; Bob felt every jolt and bump as they bounced them along on shock absorbers that barely did the job. After a couple of miles Warren turned off into the McDonald’s parking area, pulled up and switched off the engine.

  ‘I need a piss,’ said Jimbo opening the door and dropping down to the floor.

  ‘Bring some coffees back with you,’ Warren called after him as he fished in his pocket for his mobile. ‘Just going to send a text.’ He was contacting John. ‘Sent, just have to wait,’ he said placing the mobile behind the steering wheel on the dashboard. ‘Look Bob, I never meant for this to happen, well, I mean, putting a hole in your foot was power for the cause, right?’

  ‘You may well look at it that way, it’s more a matter of opinion,’ Bob answered.

  The mobile vibrated on the dash, he picked it up and checked the display. It was John. Warren opened the cab door and dropped down. ‘About time,’ he said into the mobile as he walked around the back of the van. John tried to take the advantage by setting the location for the meeting. ‘No,’ said Warren, ‘we meet on my terms,’ he gave him the location. ‘And be alone, no surprises.’ He hung up.

  ‘Things look like they might be coming to an end and the three of us are still alive aren’t we, that’s got to be a bonus?’ Warren said when he climbed back into the Transit.

  ‘So far, Greg, as long as you keep that gun in its holster, I can live with a hole in my foot and about that…’

  ‘I can’t take you to the infirmary, you know that. Not with a gunshot wound? You know the protocol, the medics will be onto the police in a shot, no pun intended. On top of that, how do I know I can trust you not to turn us in yourself?’

  ‘Have you heard yourself? When we were at the office I had my hand on the panic button. If I’d pressed it you would have been no wiser until an Armed Response Unit blew your head off. BUT I NEVER. You can trust me. Give me a pad and paper.’ Warren fished about in the glove box and found an old petrol receipt and biro and handed it over. ‘When you leave for the meet, call this number and tell them where to pick me up, there’ll be no questions asked, just say an officer requires medical attention and give them the location. Don’t worry I’ll keep quiet. I want to keep my job, I can worry about my pension fund another day.’ It was clear as the minutes went by Bob that was getting worse, Warren knew he needed medical attention as soon as possible.

  Jimbo came back with a tray of cardboard cups of coffee and handed them out. ‘Heard from Bobby’s mate yet?’

  Warren looked at the dashboard clock. ‘Yep, it’s on for tonight. In about an hour but I want to be there early, so we’ll go as soon as we’ve finished the coffee.’

  Bob sat between them, occasionally wincing with the pain. He popped another couple of paracetamol and washed them down with the coffee. It was obvious over the counter painkillers didn’t do much good for a gunshot wound. Warren and Jimbo sat quiet, each with their own thoughts.

  ‘Ok Bob, it’s time for us to go, I have your word you won’t try to contact John?’

  ‘You have my word Greg. John and I are partners in a business sense only, he would do the same if it meant saving his own skin. Just get me to a doctor.’

  ‘Jimbo give me hand getting Bob out. Going to sit you over there ok?’ Bob just winced an acknowledgement. Carefully they assisted Bob from the van and they helped him over to a slatted bench outside of the restaurant. ‘I’ll make the call in ten minutes,’ he told Bob.

  ‘Take it easy Bobby,’ Jimbo said as they got back in the van. They drove away leaving Bob close to passing out.

  Chapter 38

  Back on the Clive Sullivan Way they headed into the town centre.

  ‘Now will you tell me where we’re going?’

  ‘Pryme Street, the multi-storey car park. We’re – I’m meeting John on the top deck in the open. Once I get the letter we’re out of there.’

  The rush hour was just about over and the traffic was reasonably light through the town centre one-way system. Warren drove along Ferensway, past the new Transport Interchange and turned down by what use
d to be the Circus-Circus Bar, left past the Farm Foods store and then right into Pryme Street. Once inside the car park forecourt he stopped the van.

  ‘So far so good Jimbo, drive up to the top deck and park up out of the way, but make sure you have a good view in case we have to make a quick exit. I’m going to take a look around. First I’ve got to make that call, get Bob some help.’

  He took the Sig from the shoulder holster, checked the weapon and released the safety catch and re-holstered the weapon then climbed out of the van. Warren took out his mobile and dialled the number Bob had given him. The call was answered almost immediately. ‘An officer needs urgent medical attention for a gunshot wound, McDonald’s on St Andrews Quay, Hull.’ He hung up before there was any chance of a being trace being made. Slowly and carefully he checked each level of the multi-storey, he didn’t put it past John to have an armed response team lurking in the shadows.

  On each level he wove between the parked vehicles checking the shadows. He reached the top deck without finding anything suspicious. Plenty of vehicle still remained parked giving him ample cover. The Transit was visible parked up between and Ford and a Citroen, he saw Jimbo slink low behind the steering wheel.

  Warren made his way to the maintenance shed in the centre of the top floor parking area. He checked his watch, five minutes to go, he got out of sight and waited. A black four-wheel drive appeared. John was on time and he looked to be alone. The 4x4 came to a stop, John leaned forward over the steering wheel checking for anything untoward. Warren walked into the open and showed himself, arms outstretched showing he was unarmed. John flashed the vehicle lights and slowly edged forward. Two car lengths from Warren he stopped, switched off the ignition and climbed out.

  ‘Where’s your young colleague?’ he called over.

  ‘Just you and me John, just you and me.’ Warren was tempted to take the Sig from its holster but didn’t want to provoke the situation – yet.

  ‘Have you brought my disclaimer?’

  ‘I have indeed, right here in my pocket,’ he patted the left breast pocket of his suit jacket. ‘But first I believe you have something that belongs to me?’

  ‘You give me the statement and I give you Bob. That was the deal.’

  ‘Ahh but that was before you felt that you had to steal the diamonds, why?’

  ‘Not steal John – reclaim. You’d never have given them up, let’s face it the trust is no longer there, John.’

  Warren walked closer, holding out his left hand. ‘The statement?’

  ‘You have the diamonds with you?’ John asked as he reached into his inside pocket for the statement.

  ‘I have. Stop – use your left hand, slowly.’ He didn’t want John’s hand suddenly appearing holding an automatic weapon. ‘But like I said, they were part of the original deal.’

  John reached awkwardly reached into the jacket pocket. He withdrew his hand and brown envelope.

  ‘Before I hand this over I also need assurances, assurance that our extra-curricular activities won’t be revealed.’

  ‘You have my word, I’ll keep my mouth shut, you’ve no worries on that score.’

  ‘Why don’t I believe you Greg?’

  ‘It’s just your devious nature getting the best of you. You’re not used to dealing with honest people.’

  John laughed. ‘When you’ve been in this game as long as I have you believe no one, not even yourself.’

  ‘You’ve never asked about Bob?’

  ‘Yes, how is Bob? Still alive?’ He sounded as if he couldn’t care less one way or the other.

  ‘Still alive, hand over the statement and I’ll tell you where to find him.’ He wasn’t about to say Bob was probably receiving treatment as they spoke.

  John took two steps forward, the statement in his hand. Swiftly, with the skill of a professional, his right hand reached around his back. The next thing Warren knew he was facing the barrel of a 9mm Glock. Warren took a half a step forward in a futile attempt to disarm him.

  ‘Easy, Greg, take out your weapon and lay it on the floor in front of you, carefully.’

  Warren didn’t have much of an option, he knew John would use the weapon – was going to use it.

  Then the unexpected happened, he heard the rough sound of the Transit’s engine. Bob turned – too late, the front of the van knocked John to the floor, he dropped the gun and the letter as the bumper smashed into his legs and continued going forward.

  The engine was turned off and Jimbo climbed out to see his handiwork. ‘Jesus, the brakes are knackered, I only meant to give him a nudge. Is he dead?’ Jimbo asked as he went down on one knee and retrieved the Glock.

  Warren dropped to his knees next to Jimbo. John’s lower body was hidden underneath the Transit. He looked unconscious – or dead. He put two fingers to John’s neck and felt for a pulse. ‘He’s a lucky bastard, still breathing. Thanks for that by the way, another couple of minutes and I’m sure he would have used the Glock.’ He picked up his own weapon and the envelope from the floor, opened it and quickly scanned through the document. He was surprised; it actually did clear them both, stating they were operating lawfully on the instruction of Gemmell Strategies. ‘Right, pal, we’re in the clear. See if you can reverse that heap off him without causing any further damage.’

  ‘Why don’t we just take the 4x4?’

  ‘I think we’ve had enough problems with GPS trackers don’t you? Right, get it off him.’

  Jimbo climbed back in the cab of the Transit, started the engine, the shift gear crunched into reverse and then the van very slowly reversed, revealing John and his mangled legs. Warren climbed into the passenger seat, took out his mobile and made an anonymous call to the Emergency Services. It was becoming a habit. ‘Ok, matey, time to get out of here.’

  Chapter 39

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Jimbo.

  ‘Mate, you’re such a worrier,’ Warren replied as he looked over his shoulder for anything untoward.

  ‘Yeah but I know your plans, they don’t always work out.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger, get on with it.’

  ‘I don’t like this one little bit Greg. Mick will go ballistic when he finds us in here.’

  ‘Yeah well, maybe – just get the lock open.’

  Jimbo concentrated and with practised fingers he manipulated the lock-pick. It was a simple job for someone with his skills to open the back door of Mick Conway’s house.

  ‘Ok we’re in,’ he said, relieved. ‘I’d have thought Mick would have had something a bit more sophisticated than this,’ he said as he opened the door, not sure if the alarm would be set or not – it wasn’t.

  ‘Good man, let’s get into the warm and go find a drink while we wait.’

  Warren thought this was one of his better plans, an unannounced visit. Although Jimbo was right, Conway wouldn’t be very happy at having his home broken into, especially by the man whose legs he wanted to break. The house was in darkness but posed no problems, Jimbo knew it as well as he did his own small flat. They made their way into the living room and helped themselves to Conway’s best malt whisky. Then with a glass of Conway’s single malt they sat in the darkness of the living room and waited.

  Two glasses of whisky later they heard the front door being opened. ‘Stay cool Jimbo, let me do the talking,’ Warren said in a low voice. A minute later Conway walked into the living room and flicked the light switch.

  ‘What the fuck…’ Warren smiled. Conway on the other hand looked as if he was about to have coronary. ‘How the fuck did you two get in here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Through the back door? No damage done. I tell you what Mick, you should really upgrade your security and remember to switch on the alarm, any undesirable could have got in here. Now why don’t you just get yourself a drink?’

  Conway walked further into the room. ‘I can see you two have drunk half the bottle already. You know how much that cost? He pointed to their glasses. ‘Forty-five fucking quid a bottle that’s how mu
ch, and you’re knocking it back like it’s Asda’s own.’

  ‘Don’t be such a tight arse, I – we’ve got a proposition to put to you.’

  Conway looked towards Jimbo, daring him to speak so he could shoot him down.

  ‘Proposition? What can you fucking offer me?’

  Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope containing the cash and tossed it over.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That Mick – is the twelve thousand pound you were going to buy the “H” with from the Dutchmen. Minus some expense money of course.’ Conway ripped open the package. ‘I think you’ll find there’s ten grand, give or take.’

  ‘What’s the catch?’

  ‘No catch Mick, I said we’d get your money back, didn’t I?’ Conway visibly mellowed. He picked up the bottle of Scotch, poured himself a large one and offered the bottle over. ‘Don’t mind if we do.’

  Conway had already picked up on the strange partnership between the tough black man and the young scally.

  Jimbo was next with a surprise for Conway.

  ‘We thought you might be able to make use of this Mick.’ He stood up and walked over and handed over a taped up Tesco carrier bag, then returned to his seat.

  Conway took the offered ‘gift’ and ripped off the tape to reveal another sealed up parcel.

  ‘Well I fucking never – it’s almost like Christmas. This the “H” from the Seabird?’ Jimbo nodded and smiled. ‘You going to tell me what the fuck’s going on here?’

  ‘You’ve heard that saying, “if I tell you that I’ll have to kill you”?’ Warren half joked.

  ‘You mean that don’t you?’ His face suddenly sullen.

  ‘Mick, let’s just say there’s a lot of stuff gone down over the past weeks and you really don’t want or need to know about it. Honest.’

  ‘How much do you want?’ he asked, suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing, it’s a gift from me and Jimbo.’