‘Of course you had a choice, Jimmy, you moronic bastard!’ snarled Callum, pocketing the revolver.
‘They might have seen something,’ said Jimmy.
‘There’s nothing to see. What did I tell you? Christ!’ he said, lifting his eyes.
That’s when Trudy started screaming.
‘Shut up, lady,’ warned Jimmy. ‘No one can hear you out here.’
She continued, consumed by hysteria.
Callum was studying Josh. ‘Is he dead?’
Jimmy lifted a shoulder. ‘Maybe.’
Callum clamped a large hand over Trudy’s mouth, stifling her screaming. ‘Shut it. Like he says, no one can hear you.’ He grabbed her by the arm and handed her over to Jimmy just as two more men came running out of the farmhouse. ‘Take her inside.’
Trudy began to beat at the young man, regaining her senses, her fury rising. ‘You shot my husband, you bastard! You bastard!’
Jimmy clouted her across the head a number of times until she fell silent. ‘Do you want me to give you some more?’ he said, his spittle landing hot on her cheek. ‘Give it a rest if you know what’s good for you!’
‘My husband needs help!’ she wailed softly, looking back at him as she was dragged away.
‘Too late for that,’ said Callum, who was bending over Josh and feeling his pulse. ‘Nothing you can do for him. Looks like’s already dead.’
‘No!’ screamed Trudy. ‘No, he can’t be!’ She tried to pull away from Jimmy. He hauled her back.
‘Give me a hand with this bitch!’ Jimmy said to one of the two men who had now reached them.
‘Jesus, Jimmy, have you done that?’ the man said.
Like Callum, the man was somewhere in his thirties, bald on top, unshaven, doleful eyes and wearing a ragged blue jersey with holes near the neck.
‘Just help me get her inside, Spud,’ Jimmy said. The two men took hold of an arm each and pulled Trudy towards the farmhouse.
‘I’ll deal with you later, Jimmy,’ said Callum, his eyes fierce. ‘And you don’t hurt her, you hear? Put her somewhere safe.’
‘Is he dead?’ said the second man. He was stocky, more fat on his bones than muscle, a man fast approaching or just into his fifties.
‘As a bloody door-post, Tom,’ said Callum rising to his feet. ‘What did I tell you? Keep an eye on Jimmy for me, I said.’
‘I was, Callum, but your brother ain’t no baby. I can’t be watching him every minute of every day.’
‘Who gave him the damn gun?’
‘Nobody gave it to him. He must have taken it for himself.’
‘I locked the things away, damn it!’
‘You know what Jimmy’s like,’ said Tom. ‘Who are they?’ He nodded at Josh’s still body.
Callum shook his head. ‘How the hell should I know?’
‘So what’re they doing here?’ He sounded nervous. ‘You said this place was well off the beaten track.’
‘It is. No one ever comes here. No one.’
‘Well, these two sure did.’
Callum breathed heavily down his nose. ‘They look like hikers. They’ve got backpacks and things. She didn’t sound local, so I guess they’re tourists. Jimmy should have just kept his head down and let them pass through then none of this would have happened.’
‘Jimmy’s the problem…’ said Tom in a low voice. ‘He’s unpredictable and this proves it. I never signed up to murder.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s my brother…’
‘That doesn’t mean a thing, Callum,’ said Tom. ‘Not to me. Not when we’ve got what we’ve got at stake. It could all collapse around our ears because of him. You should do something about the little runt before it’s too late.’
Callum grabbed Tom’s jumper near his throat and scowled at the man. ‘Don’t ever tell me what to do, you hear me?’
Tom nodded sharply. ‘Just saying…’
‘Well, keep it to yourself.’ Callum released the man. ‘I didn’t sign up for murder either. Bloody kid…’
‘We could hang for this, Callum, all of us.’
‘No one’s going to hang, because no one is going to find us and catch us, are they, Tom?’
Tom slowly shook his head. ‘If you say so, Callum.’
‘I do say so,’ he said decisively. ‘Get rid of this body,’ he ordered.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. Somewhere where it will never be found. Take everything, don’t leave anything lying around, and clean up that blood. We don’t want any more hikers coming along and seeing that.’
‘You think someone else might come?’
‘Who knows?’ he replied. ‘We can’t take any more chances. I want you to get that truck back into the barn. It should never have been out.’
‘We were doing repairs on it,’ said Tom. ‘It’s too cramped and dark in the barn.
‘I don’t care how dark or cramped it is, do as I tell you.’
‘Okay, boss,’ he said. ‘Callum…’ he added.
‘What?’
‘What if they’re not really hikers?’
Callum narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Like I say – what if they’re not really hikers.’
‘Coppers, is that what you mean?’
‘He could be.’
Callum fell thoughtful for a while. ‘No, they’re not coppers. It’s too soon, and no one will ever be able to trace us to this place.’
‘If he’s a copper, we’ll hang for sure…’
‘Did you hear me, Tom? This man isn’t a bloody copper. Just get rid of him. There’s a patch of boggy ground behind the farmhouse, try dumping him in that.’
‘What about her?’ Tom nodded at Trudy, who was being forced through the doorway of the farmhouse.
Callum looked across at the threesome. ‘I don’t know.’
‘She saw what happened. She’s seen us.’
‘I thought you hadn’t signed up for murder.’
Tom wrinkled his nose. ‘I hadn’t. But that fool of a brother of yours has ripped up the bloody contract hasn’t he? There’s a man lying dead; we’ll all get it in the neck if we’re caught…’
‘We aren’t going to get caught,’ said Callum stiffly.
He grunted. ‘So you keep saying. Fact is, we’ve got ourselves a problem, like it or not, and it’s up to you, as boss of this outfit, to put things right. You know what I’m saying?’
‘I hear you, Tom, loud and clear.’ He pulled the lapels of his trench coat up to shield his neck from the snapping wind. ‘I’ve gotta think about this.’
‘He’s going to be heavy to move…’ said Tom, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
‘Then get someone to help you, damn it!’ Callum burst. ‘I’m going inside. Christ, I turn my back for one minute and the entire thing starts to fall apart!’ He stormed to the farmhouse, his hand on the revolver in his pocket.
She had little time to take in her surroundings: Trudy Garner was manhandled through the dimly lit farmhouse to a flight of rickety old wooden stairs.
‘Where are you taking her?’ said the man called Spud.
‘I’m going to lock her in one of the bedrooms,’ Jimmy said.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to take her to the cellar?’ Spud suggested.
Breathlessly, Trudy slumped, her arms feeling bruised from the harshness of the two men’s grips. The horror of the situation was still flooding in, causing her head to spin.
Jimmy thought about it. ‘Is there a lock?’
‘Sure. And a key. Anyway, we ain’t got a spare bedroom.’
Jimmy grinned. ‘She could share mine,’ he said, his breath warm on her ear. She pulled away from him.
‘I’ll kill you,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Sure you will, lady,’ he said. ‘Okay, let’s dump her in the cellar.’
They dragged her through an almost empty living room, consisting of a few chairs and a sofa, a blanket or two over the backs of chairs, coats and other clothes piled into co
rners, the remains of food congealing on unwashed plates that had been placed on the bare floorboards. A strong smell of male sweat clotted the air. They reached a wooden door and Jimmy shoved it open. A stench of dank air and mould puffed out of the opening at them.
‘Get me a bloody torch, Spud; I can’t see a damn thing down here,’ Jimmy ordered.
‘You okay with her for a minute?’ Spud said.
‘Sure. Not going to cause me any trouble, are you little lady?’
Trudy stared wildly at him, breathing deeply and rapidly through her nose.
Spud ran off and left them alone.
‘You’re gonna like it here,’ said Jimmy. ‘Got it all fixed up nice for you.’
‘You killed my husband…’ she said in a whisper.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. He only had himself to blame. You been married long? You can’t have, looking at you. Christ, you still look like you’re a virgin!’ His eyes widened. ‘I like virgins…’
Spud returned with a torch. ‘Batteries are playing up,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Need new ones.’
‘Here, let me help you off with that backpack,’ Jimmy said to Trudy. ‘A little thing like you lugging that lot around. He wasn’t a very considerate hubby, was he?’
Trudy lashed out with her hand and caught the side of Jimmy’s face with her sharp nails. She felt some satisfaction when they dug deep into flesh and she heard him yelp.
‘You bitch!’ he said. He was about to land a punch on her when the sound of his brother’s voice caused him to freeze his blow midair.
‘I thought I told you not to hurt her,’ Callum said.
‘The bitch scratched me!’ Jimmy whined.
‘Just get her downstairs and lock the bloody door.’
Jimmy mopped at the bleeding slashes with the back of his hand. He scowled briefly and began to haul Trudy down the steep stone steps of the cellar.
‘And make sure there’s nothing down there that she can do any damage with,’ said Callum. ‘You can manage that, can’t you, without it turning into a bloody disaster?’
Spud gave a little smirk.
‘Go outside and give Tom a hand, Spud,’ Callum said.
‘He can manage.’
‘Just do as I say, Spud,’ he said.
It was Spud’s turn to scowl. ‘It’s gonna rain.’
‘Tough. Take a bloody coat.’
Spud grunted and turned on his heel.
Callum rubbed a finger over his forehead. He had a headache coming on. ‘Careful with her, Jimmy!’ he called.
‘It’s too bloody dark down here!’ Jimmy called back up.
‘Leave her and get your arse up here!’
He heard the clatter of Jimmy’s shoes on the stone steps. The young man emerged from the cellar, grinning. Callum grabbed him by the throat and thrust him against the wall, slamming the cellar door shut as he did so.
‘You crazy little bastard!’ he yelled. ‘What were you doing with the bloody gun? It was locked away with the others. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gone sniffing out those damn guns again!’
Jimmy struggled to breath. He clutched at his brother’s meaty hand. ‘Jesus, Callum, you’re throttling me…’
‘Throttling you? I should choke the bloody life out of you!’ Callum took the revolver out of his pocket and put the barrel under Jimmy’s chin. ‘You like guns, Jimmy? You like being this close?’
Jimmy closed his eyes. ‘It was an accident.’
‘You were the bloody accident, you moron. You should never have been born!’
Jimmy smiled weakly. ‘You don’t mean that, Callum…’
‘What have I told you about guns, Jimmy?’
‘I just wanted to see what it felt like.’
‘I had enough of them during the war, Jimmy. Trust me; you don’t want to know what they feel like.’
‘Well, we’ve got them, ain’t we? Why have them if you’re so damn scared of them?’
Callum tightened his grip and the young man gasped. ‘I’m not scared of them, Jimmy. We needed them to carry out the job. They’re a threat, that’s all. They weren’t supposed to be used. Not on people. Never on people. I’ve seen the damage they can do.’ He let his brother go and looked away. ‘Now look at the damage you’ve caused. You’ve jeopardised everything.’
Jimmy rubbed his throat. ‘I haven’t, Callum. Everything’s just dandy. No one need find out what happened.’
‘Really? And what about her, Jimmy? What about the bloody woman?’
‘You’ll think of something. You always do.’
Callum clenched his teeth. Stared at his brother. ‘This gun stays with the others, you hear me?’
‘I hear you, Callum.’
‘No more fooling around with it. No more guns.’
‘No more guns. So what are you going to do with her?’
Callum glanced askance at his brother before walking away. ‘Make sure the door is locked,’ he said.
4
Three Days Earlier
DCI Hawthorne dropped the half-smoked cigarette stub on the floor and immediately lit up another. Smoke curled into his eyes, but it wasn’t this which caused them to narrow. He bent down, looked at the hole that had been made in the wall, the bricks carefully removed one by one, it seemed, and arranged in a neat pile. He peered through the hole and into the room beyond.
‘And no one ever thought to check what was on the other side of this wall before they put ruddy safes in here?’ he said, his voice raspy with years of chain smoking.
‘The attached buildings are now redundant, but belong to us,’ said the suited man, his round spectacles reflecting the harsh light of the bare light bulb. He moved aside as a police constable sought to ease past him to one of the two large safes, both of which had their doors open, and both of which were empty of everything but a single ten-shilling note, a scattering of coins and a few envelopes and ledgers. He mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. ‘What are you implying? That we’ve somehow been negligent in all this, that it’s our fault?’
‘You never thought that someone could enter this room through the old storeroom next door?’
The suited man puckered his mouth as if he’d tasted something bitter. ‘The walls are extremely thick. And the buildings, though no longer in use, were secured and patrolled every night by a night watchman, sometimes two. As one of the major steelworks in Sheffield, we naturally have much that would interest thieves on our quite extensive site. We spare no expense when it comes to security.’
DCI Hawthorne grunted disdainfully, puffed out smoke. ‘Yeah, well you’re paying the wrong guys. Exactly how much are we talking here, Mr Grainger?’
‘You know how much, Inspector,’ Arnold Grainger replied, putting his hands behind his back, expanding his chest and exposing the gold chain of his pocket watch which dipped into the pocket of his grey waistcoat.
‘Exactly how much was in these safes?’ Hawthorne pursued. ‘No estimates. You know what was in there to the penny.’
‘Two hundred thousand, three hundred and fifty-six pounds, ten shillings and threepence. Is that exact enough, Inspector? Never mind the questions. When are you going to catch the blighters?’
‘They left you the ten shillings and threepence,’ said a young constable kneeling by one of the safe doors. He failed to hide his smirk.
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Hawthorne, flicking ash off his cigarette with a delicate tap of his little finger, ‘you had nearly a quarter of a million pounds in here.’
‘Didn’t I just say that?’
‘Quarter of a million? That’s a hell of a lot of dosh to be left in one place. Ever thought of using a bank?’
‘I’ve already given a statement as to why it was there. Grainger Forges constitute thirty-two percent of Sheffield’s entire steel production. We have six factories based here. Do you know how many thousands are employed by us?’
‘I don’t need the lecture, sir,’ said Hawthorne shortly. ‘What w
as such a large amount of money doing here in the first place?’
‘Wages for all our factories have always been held here before payday, every week for as long as we can remember.’
‘Wages wouldn’t account for a quarter of a million, sir. If so, I‘m in the wrong job.’
The young police officer by the safe grinned again and turned away.
‘We were in the closing stages of a deal with a West German company, supplying much needed building materials,’ said Arnold Grainger. ‘Look, does that really matter?’
Hawthorne raised his brows. ‘Cash deal, was it?’
‘I really think that is none of your business, Inspector. And it really has no bearing on you finding the money that’s been stolen.’
‘No? You think so? How long have you been managing director, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?’
The man frowned deeply. ‘I took over from my father ten years ago. Why?’
‘You learn a lot about the steel business in ten years, Mr Grainger?’
The man straightened. ‘Of course! A great deal!’
‘I’ve been in my business over thirty years,’ said Hawthorne, ‘and you know what? I’ve learnt a lot about my business too. I’ll be the judge as to what’s important or not. Cash deal was it?’
‘Perhaps cash was involved. I don’t know the full ins and outs of it. That’s not for me to say.’
‘As managing director you don’t know the full ins and outs of how a quarter of a million pounds of company money is to be spent?’
The man shuffled uneasily. ‘I rather take offence at what you might be implying, Inspector Hawthorne.’
‘I rather think you do, sir. Sorry. No offence meant.’
The man opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut immediately. He composed himself. ‘Do have any leads – that is what your sort say, isn’t it?’
Hawthorne shrugged. ‘Our sort are still looking, sir. Thank you for your time this morning. I shan’t keep you from your work any longer. Though I shall be looking to ask more questions later.’
The man scowled. ‘Please hurry and find that money.’
ARCHANGEL HAWTHORNE (A Thriller) Page 3
