John Judge

by Michael G Franks

  ***

  To Graham John’s great surprise, he was promoted to Superintendant. It was done to try and quieten him down after the Kenny killing. He had been extremely vociferous about the two killers escaping justice and wasn’t letting go. He was becoming difficult for his superiors to ignore. He took the promotion and welcomed the opportunity to get closer to the higher echelons of the force. Graham also knew that John and his men were now on the trail of the two officers responsible for Kenny’s murder. They would meet justice full on soon enough. So by gradually softening his approach towards questioning what had happened to the two thugs he sought to let his bosses believe that their promotion strategy had done the job. His target now was to get closer to the top table.

  Meanwhile, John was discussing the next target with his section commanders. ‘We know that the killers of young Kenny have been shipped away to a very quiet police station in north London near Southgate. We are led to believe that there are others there who are part of the hit squad, which is called upon from time to time to carry out Garside’s dirty work. As the justice, we should expect in our society clearly does not work then we have to step in when that justice fails and ensure that they never commit any other crimes...ever. Does anyone have any questions?’

  Paul asked ‘do we know how many others are at the station?’

  ‘There are six including the two we specifically want. I am told that they do not carry out normal policing duties but sit around playing snooker, watching porn movies or sleeping while they wait for a call. If a message has not been received before 5 pm then they settle down for the night knowing that they are not going to be called upon until the next day. They are invariably drunk by midnight.’

  Terry said ‘given their lifestyle it might sound easy, but I would advise extreme caution. Their behaviour is likely to be erratic and we can’t guarantee that they will be where we expect them to be.’

  John agreed ‘this is not going to be an easy operation. We will have no idea of the target situation at the point of attack so I intend to use a bigger force than usual. I also want maximum activity in every other sector. Terry, will you coordinate that?’Terry acknowledged with a nod.

  Plans were put in place and two days later two battle groups, each of twenty armed men, emerged from Southgate Underground. At the same time, Police Stations, Government offices and selected banks were being attacked. Birmingham, Leeds, Manchester and Liverpool all experienced similar activity. Just as John had planned, Police and military resources were being pulled in every direction.

  Derek Farson took his section into positions completely surrounding the police station while John entered the station alone. His men covered him from the porch entrance and were to wait for his signal to enter. The place was a mess with half-eaten takeaway food trays and empty beer cans strewn on the floor and tables.

  A slurred voice shouted from an open office just the other side of the reception desk ‘what do you want, we’re not open. Now get the fuck out of here before I come over and kick you out.’ It was accompanied by loud laughter and one of the officers throwing an empty beer can towards John.

  John had had sufficient time to count numbers and assess the general condition of his adversaries and gave the signal. His men quickly entered the office taking the occupants completely by surprise. There were six uniformed men in total in general states of undress and all had been drinking heavily judging by the empty bottles and cans lying around. It took them some time to realise what was happening but long enough for their weapons to be removed out of reach. For the moment, they were speechless until John entered and took up a central position in front of the quickly sobering up police officers.

  ‘You’re... you’re... that guy who’s been causing all the trouble.’ One of them stammered. Another attempted to stand; he was a big guy and appeared to be the leader. Alan Walker slammed his rifle butt into his lower back forcing him to sit down. Through gritted teeth, he said ‘I don’t know what you want here we’re just a small unit. Whatever it is, you won’t get away with it. We’ll hunt you down like all the scum we eventually catch up with.’

  John spoke quietly but with menace in his voice ‘I will tell you what I want and then we will decide what comes next. As a starter, I want you to point out to me the two individuals who were responsible for the death of one of my men. His name was Kenny but, of course, you wouldn’t know that because two of you here beat him to death because he wouldn’t tell you his name. Now, you big man,’ John pointed at the apparent leader, ‘which two of your colleagues are they?’

  The big man spat at John and said ‘go get fucked I’m telling you nothing.’

  John fired just one shot, hitting the man between the eyes. The big man fell backwards and still attached to his chair came to rest in a sitting position on the floor.

  ‘I shall ask this question only one more time, which of you was responsible for the death of the young man you had in custody?’

  One of the officers vomited another wet himself. Another pointed to the two officers who had recently been drafted into their group ‘they’re the ones you’re looking for. We had nothing to do with that lad’s death. We’ve never even been at police headquarters... it’s them you want.’ He said quivering and pointing to the accused.

  ‘Alan, cuff them and make them comfortable while we deal with these other pieces of dirt.’ John commanded

  ‘Now just a minute Judge, we’ve given you what you came for, you have no beef with us’ the bearded Officer pleaded.

  ‘Is that so?’ John said almost mockingly. ‘I have good intelligence that tells me you and your friends here are part of a special squad. Am I right?’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about. We just man this cop shop and do as we’re told.’

  One of the two handcuffed officers a tall man named Adam French puffing out his chest in defiance said, ‘he’s telling lies. We were told when they sent us here exactly what the team did that we would be joining.’

  ‘And what was that?’ John asked.

  ‘We would be given targets, individuals to be arrested then discreetly disposed of. These individuals were considered a threat to the regime and we are paid to see to it that the threat is removed; no questions asked.’

  ‘Don’t believe him; he’s full of shit and just trying to save his neck.’ The panic in the bearded one's voice was palpable.

  Adam French responded, ‘no I’m not trying to save my neck. I gave up any right to being saved the moment I helped kick that young lad to death. So I personally don’t give a shit what happens to me and I certainly don’t give a damn what happens to you.’

  John asked ‘how do you get your orders?’

  The cuffed officer replied ‘we don’t know because we haven’t been here long enough to be privy to that information, but the bearded wonder over there is the one who takes the order. He’ll know for sure.’

  John turned to the beard, ‘so, who gives you your orders and how do you receive them? And by the way, your beard will stop growing immediately you try to bullshit me.’ John raised his pistol and moved the muzzle close to the man’s face.

  Beads of sweat ran down the police officer’s face and he could taste the salt and fear trickling down through his beard and into the corner of his mouth. He hesitated, frantically trying to assess his options. He knew that John Judge wanted the information he could give him and so assumed he that he could negotiate a deal. ‘If I give you what you want, what’s in for me? Will you let me go?’

  John backhanded the man across the side of his face with the barrel of his pistol, which slammed him against the wall. Blood spurt from his mouth. Pointing to two of his men John said ‘pick him up and sit him down.’

  Judge looked squarely into the dazed man’s eyes and said ‘there will be no negotiation and you have one more opportunity to answer my question.’

  The bearded one answered slowly and with difficulty, ‘I only know his name is Winterton. He phones and we agree a mee
ting place. It’s a different place each time. He gives me the target name and a photograph and nothing else is said. The rest is left up to us, no questions asked.’

  ‘Who does Winterton work for?’ John asked; his eyes fixed firmly on his victim.

  ‘I swear, I don’t know,’ he spluttered.

  John looked squarely at the two officers that were responsible for Kenny’s death. ‘Which of you two made the decision that the young lad in your custody was to receive a beating?’

  The older of the two spoke, ‘There was no decision it just happened. I swear we were only going to rough him up a bit, it just got out of hand. I promise we never intended that he would die. It was a horrible mistake and I’m sorry.’

  John asked ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Charlie... Charlie Metson.’

  ‘Alan, you and your section escort Mr French and Mr Metson outside and wait for me.’ John commanded. ‘I’ll be with you shortly.’

  John was soon alone with the three remaining members of the illegal assassination squad. ‘How many targets did Winterton give you?’ he asked the perceived leader of the group.

  ‘I don’t know... maybe a dozen or so, I wasn’t counting,’ the bearded man muttered through the side of his mouth that wasn’t swollen.

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t take the time to count, maybe you would have been aware of the wrong you were doing. Maybe you might have remembered the uniform you wore and what it stood for.’

  Three shots rang out in quick succession and John Judge emerged from the building grim-faced. Alan Walker knew exactly what had happened. ‘Alan, take your section and return to base. I want a lock up prepared for our two guests where they will be secure until it is decided what is to be done with them. The remaining section and I will follow you. The prisoners will be hooded so we will travel much slower than you and that will give you time to prepare their accommodation.’

  The journey was uneventful for Alan and his section but for John with his hooded prisoners it was problematic. They needed to be guided every step of the way and constantly tripped and fell. John decided it would take far too long so they were unmasked until just be before they reached Goodge Street when they were hooded again. He arrived just one hour after Alan, who had completed a holding cell for the two prisoners. Once the two captives had been installed in their accommodation, their handcuffs and hoods were removed.

  Immediately Charlie Metson started bleating ‘where are we, what are you going to do to us?’

  ‘Shut up Charlie and be thankful we’re not already dead’ his partner snapped.

  Their captors left without speaking, closing the heavy iron door behind them. An armed guard stood outside the door. Inside the cell there was no light, it was cold and each had a wooden framed bed with a thin, coarse blanket. John had been specific with his instructions ‘they are to get similar home comforts to what they provide their inmates in the Conpens and I want no one to speak to them at all. I will let you know when I wish to see them. In the meantime let them sweat a bit.’

  The next 24 hours saw the two captives becoming more isolated. No one spoke to them and after 12 hours a plastic jug of water with some bread was passed through the door. The guard shone a torch on the food in the centre of the floor and left closing the iron door behind him. Adam French lay on his bunk with his hands behind his head, unmoved by the delivery, while Charlie scrambled over to the water and bread. He guzzled and chomped his way through it not thinking about his partner until there was nothing left. Realising what he had done, he said ‘I’m so sorry Adam I took all the water and bread. I was so hungry and thirsty I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’m really not bothered Charlie; we’ll both be dead long before we die of starvation.’

  ‘Do you really think they’re going to kill us?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t they? We brutally murdered one of their own. At least when they kill they have a cause, a reason and I suspect they don’t enjoy it. So, why shouldn’t they kill us and make us suffer a bit before they do? I really don’t care; we’ll get what we deserve. We shouldn’t have beaten up that young kid Charlie just because we had the power to do it. I don’t know how you feel, but I know that I am deeply ashamed of what I have done.’

  Metson was silent and reflected on what his partner had said. He felt the fear rising in his throat on the realisation that they weren’t just being incarcerated here but would eventually be executed. As he sat on the edge of his bunk, he shivered and trembled as a sharp pain blasted up his left arm accompanied by constriction in his chest so violent that it took his breath away. He grasped his chest and tried to cry out, but no sound came from his mouth. All he could do was gasp for air as he fell to the ground.

  Adam heard the thud of his partner’s body hitting the floor and scattering the food dishes but couldn’t see anything. He called out ‘Charlie, what’s the matter...Charlie, can you hear me?’ he reached over and touched the crumpled body of his colleague who was now lifeless. He undid his shirt collar and felt for a pulse...there was none.

  Adam got up and banged on the cell door ‘you had better get in here; you have a dead prisoner on your hands.’ He thought it ironic that he should be using those words.

  John Judge and Terry were summoned and quickly came on the scene. The door was opened and a light turned on. Adam French had now resumed his reclined position on his bed. The body of Charlie Metson lay where it had fallen. ‘Get a medic in here fast’ he said to Terry ‘What happened?’ John directed his question to Adam French.

  ‘I don’t know. It would seem like he had a massive heart attack, but at least that’s saved you a job eh?’

  ‘I don’t know what you think we had in mind for you two, but I can tell you that I had no intention of killing you. My intention was to show you a new way. I was convinced early on that you particularly, deeply regretted what you did to Kenny and believe me Mr French that was more important to me than taking your life.’ John turned to Terry, ‘get Alan Walker to escort Mr French to the nearest washroom, get him some fresh clothes and a decent meal. I will talk to you later Mr French and we’ll discuss where we go from here.’ John turned and left at the same time that two medics removed Charlie Metson’s body from the room.