Feeling exhausted, exasperated and dying for a drink, Jack grunted, ‘Look, just keep following that shiny trail of diesel in the middle of the road. You should be able to see it okay, as long as the moon’s out. Where the trail goes, we go.’
After ten minutes, still driving blind, they negotiated a sharp bend and almost ran straight into the back of the lorry, which was stationary without any lights showing. Annie had to stamp hard on the soft brake pedal to avoid a collision.
Jack exclaimed, ‘Shit, that’s weird. They can’t have run out of fuel already. Do you think they’ve seen us?’
His question was immediately answered as the transporter’s rack of high-level, loading lights suddenly came on, brilliantly illuminating the Land Rover and dazzling Jack and Annie. Then with an ominous grinding of gears and a roaring engine, the huge truck thundered backwards towards them.
‘Go Annie! For fuck’s sake, go!’ screamed Jack.
Crunching and cursing, before successfully engaging reverse gear, Annie backed wildly along the narrow road, bouncing off the earth embankments on either side, with the huge lorry in hot pursuit, its rear bumper only inches away from crushing the ancient Land Rover.
Through clenched teeth, Annie gasped, ‘They’ve still got a bit of fuel left then.’
‘I don’t know how, but they must’ve spotted us following them. The bastards are trying to kill us.’
Panicking as she weaved the Land Rover from side to side, flat out in reverse gear, Annie then screamed, ‘I don’t sodding believe it, I can see headlights behind us now. It must be the buyer, or the rest of the gang. Oh my God, they’ve got us, boss, we’re trapped!’
‘Okay, we’re not finished yet. Remember what I said before about improvising. Just get ready to bail out, when I give the word, and then stick close to me.’
The rear bumper of the lorry edged closer still and then thumped against the front of the Land Rover, with a tremendous crash, as the blinding headlights from the mystery vehicle closed at speed from their rear.
Annie was almost at the end of her tether and wailed, ‘Boss, I’m sorry. I just can’t do this any longer. I’ve always been hopeless at reversing and I really, really need a pee.’
Jack looked behind and saw a farm gate coming up fast on the left. Telling Annie to hold on tight, he then pulled down violently on the steering wheel, which sent the Land Rover spinning wildly backwards straight through the wooden gate and into a muddy potato field. In the absence of its intended target, the huge lorry then crashed head on into the front of the other vehicle, a police car. A second police car, coming from the opposite direction, then screeched to a halt in front, effectively trapping the lorry.
Almost crying with relief, Annie slumped over the steering wheel and gasped, ‘Oh thank God, it’s the police.’
However, relief immediately gave way to terror as the three hulking Barlow brothers came lumbering purposefully through the broken gate, pursued by two policemen. Sensing that the occupants of the Land Rover were responsible for their imminent detention, the Barlow boys were clearly intent on exacting revenge.
Jack shouted, ‘Run for it Annie! Don’t worry about me, I’ve still got my knuckle duster. I can slow them down.’
He then jumped out of the Land Rover and was immediately flattened into the mud by the elder Barlow brother’s huge protruding stomach. The giant was then poised to deliver a vicious kick to Jack’s face when Annie hit him on the back of the head, with a shovel grabbed from the back seat. Meanwhile the Barlow twins, seemingly oblivious to clouds of pepper spray and multiple blows from extended police batons, were in the process of administering a serious beating to the two slightly built young policemen. The thunderous blast from both barrels of a shotgun brought this sudden eruption of violence to an end.
Lying on his back in the muddy field, Jack swore later that he clearly heard the opening few bars of High Noon as Thomas Kemp, the farmer, came striding purposefully into the field, in the manner of Gary Cooper himself. He expertly broke and then re-loaded his shotgun, before commanding the brothers, ‘Just give me the excuse you ba ba bastards, and you’ll be getting both fa fa fucking barrels right up the arse. I mean it, get down on the ground and eat dirt, now!’
The Barlow boys were entirely convinced by the threat and immediately slumped face down in the muddy earth, like three beached whales. The farmer was beaming with delight and announced, ‘I’ve always wanted to say that.’
Annie was relieved, but puzzled, and asked him, ‘But how on earth did you know what was going on?’
Smiling as the brothers were handcuffed and then led away, the farmer replied, ‘The police at Kirkcudbright have been contacting all the local farms, with their knickers in a complete twist, saying they’ve had a mad man with a Glasgow accent on the phone, screaming about cattle rustlers. So when they phoned me and asked if I was missing any stock, I checked my fields then phoned them back and got over here as quickly as I could.’
Then, still smiling broadly, he shook both Jack and Annie by the hand, and confessed, ‘To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think that two private eyes from the big city had a cat in hell’s chance of ever catching the Barlow boys, but you did it. You two are the best and, by the way, that was a terrific bit of stunt driving. How you timed it perfectly to spin through the gate like that, it must take a lot of practice.’
Annie smiled modestly, then winked at Jack before replying, ‘It’s nothing really, Mr Kemp… it’s just how we roll, you know.’
Then reverting back to type, farmer Kemp switched from fulsome praise, which doesn’t cost any money, and brought Jack and Annie, who were basking in the praise, suddenly back down to earth with a jolt. ‘Anyway, because it’s all turned out so well, I won’t be charging you for the damage to the front end of my Land Rover.’
Chapter 30
Next morning, back at the beach hut, Jack was sitting at the MacBook reading an email. He was evidently disappointed at the contents, and muttered, ‘Bugger me, I don’t believe it. This email’s from the cops in Glasgow, but it’s not from Andy. He’s such a busy man, he’s delegated writing it to some twat who calls himself the customer liaison manager, for CID Service Delivery in Glasgow. It sounds more like he works for bloody Tesco than the cops.’
‘So what’s happening?’
‘It says they can only continue surveillance on the office and both of our flats for another couple of days. If Burke hasn’t showed up by then, “future deployment on this investigation will be wholly dependent on intelligence led lines of enquiry, consistent with current operational demands and service delivery targets.”’
Annie was thoroughly confused by the explanation and asked, ‘What does all that mean?’
Disgusted, Jack answered, ‘It means they don’t have a fucking clue where he is and, because there are loads of other bampots in Glasgow that they need to worry about, which is true, they don’t have any more time for this one. It’s not looking good, Annie, I mean if Burke’s dropped right off the radar.’
Trying to look on the bright side, Annie speculated, ‘Maybe he’s gone back to Ireland.’
‘No way. What he did back in Glasgow was just the beginning. He wants to enjoy making me suffer, before he gets bored of pulling my chain and then tries to finish me off.’
‘You’re sure about this?’
‘I’m as sure as I can be. Look, Burke’s spent the last eighteen years banged up, which won’t have done anything to improve his sunny disposition. I reckon he did every day of his sentence promising to make me pay when he got out. You have to admit he’s not made a bad start, considering he only got out last week.’
‘So the police search won’t scare him off.’
‘Definitely not. He’s a man on a mission Annie, to kill me, and anyone who’s close to me. You should leave. It’s not too late. You need to get as far away from me as possible until this thing is finished, one way or another. That’s not what I want, because I’ve enjoyed having you around for the last
couple of weeks. It’s been really good.’
Annie responded without hesitation, ‘I’m not going anywhere, boss. Although I’ve not been paid yet, this is still the best job I’ve ever had. So I’m staying, okay? Like that cheesy Hank Williams song you keep playing in the car, what’s it called, “How can I miss you, if you won’t go away?”
Jack smiled ruefully, ‘Old Hank didn’t write that one, Annie. But he would have, if he’d thought of it.’
Leaving Annie to read the email for herself, Jack lit a cigarette before surreptitiously lifting her phone. Still muttering darkly about the incompetence of the Glasgow police, he headed purposefully round the back of the cabin towards the lean-to toilet. Ten minutes later, Jack returned with a broad grin and said, ‘I think I’m really getting the hang of all the new technology on your iPhone, Annie. It’s very impressive, but there is a little bit of bad news.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t drop it into the composting toilet,’ asked an alarmed Annie.
‘No, it’s quite safe. But while I was listening to the BBC news on the radio app, I was playing around with the camera at the same time, and I accidently took a photo of me sitting on the bog. Now I’m not sure, but while I was trying to delete the picture, I think I’ve maybe sent it by mistake to everyone on your contacts list. Sorry, I didn’t have my reading glasses on.’
‘Give me that, you old fool, and don’t take it again without asking, okay?’ Annie snatched back her precious iPhone, texted furiously for two minutes and then sat back and sighed with relief, ‘It’s okay, panic over. I’ve just told everyone that I’m temping in a care home and one of the old nut job residents had locked himself in the bog with my phone and taken a selfie.’
‘Cheers for that, Annie,’ replied Jack, suitably chastened.
She continued to peer at her phone and continued, ‘But it’s a bit worrying, because there are three “likes” already for your selfie on my Facebook page. You didn’t log on to Grindr as well as, did you?’
‘What’s Grindr?’
Innocently, Annie replied, ‘Oh, I think it’s one of these websites that makes it easy for people in cities who are maybe on their own to arrange to meet up, have a drink and talk about all the latest technology and any other stuff that’s on their minds. It’s mainly a man thing, I should think.’
‘What a great idea,’ said Jack enthusiastically, ‘I mean at my age you tend to be stuck with your own little circle of acquaintances, so it would be really good to meet some interesting new people and learn about new things. You must show me how to sign up for that, when we get back to Glasgow.’
I definitely will, Annie thought to herself, if you don’t stop messing around with my bloody phone.
Chapter 31
Later the same day, Jack and Annie were back in the Land Rover following a sleek silver convertible Mercedes SLK, driven by Helen Blake, the alleged errant wife, who had just pulled out of the driveway of her home.
Jack was feeling relaxed and happy. ‘Okay, one job done and dusted, one still to go.’
Annie nodded in agreement and said, ‘Yeah, we did good last night, the farmer is really pleased. Apparently he phoned Emma to say that there’ll be a nice bonus in it for us.’
Jack was unconvinced and replied, ‘Would that be like an actual money bonus?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Bloody farmers, it’ll probably be a couple of second-hand boiler suits.’
As she drove, Annie brought Jack up to speed on her search of Helen Blake’s bedroom. ‘Well first I checked a big chest of drawers she has under the window and, no big surprise, all the sensible Marks and Spencer pants and thermal vests seem to have been dumped and she’s got quite a collection of new sexy lingerie. You know, the expensive lacy basques, crotchless panties, g-strings and loads of different suspender belts.’
Jack began dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief and, with a glazed faraway look in his eyes, muttered softly to himself, ‘If I shut my eyes and concentrate really hard, I can just about remember suspender belts. Oh my God, those were the days.’
‘Easy there, tiger. I don’t know if I should tell you any more details, but she also has enough sex toys and vibrators stashed in her wardrobe to keep the local women’s guild bright eyed and rosy cheeked for the next ten years. Then I had a quick look at her laptop, which was charging on her dressing table, and that was the real clincher. Her browsing history is filled with online hook-up sites and links to dogging locations. She’s also got a hilarious folder on the desktop, marked “To Do List” which doesn’t contain any lists of shopping, or jobs to do in the garden, but is filled with pictures of men dressed in BDSM gear.’
‘I’m nodding my head, Annie, but I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Jack. ‘You lost me back there at the suspender belts. Did you say BSM gear? So are all these guys driving instructors?’
‘No, it’s not BSM, boss, it’s BDSM. That’s a whole different thing altogether, trust me. You don’t need to have L-plates, or know how to do a three-point turn, to get involved in BDSM. Although, now I come to think about it, being able to execute a really fast emergency stop might be very useful.’
‘Excuse my ignorance, Annie, but what is BDSM? I’m not familiar with the term at all.’
‘Oh dear, where to begin? It might be easier, if I just showed you what the well-dressed BDSM man about town is wearing this summer? I took a few pictures with my iPhone, of some of the images on her laptop.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Jack, hesitantly. ‘Remember, I’ve not had my lunch yet.’
Annie then passed him her phone showing several images of men wearing bondage and fetish outfits. Made of black leather or rubber, they featured numerous zips, chains, buckles and metal studs and, to enhance their bizarre appearance, the men all wore some form of face mask and sported elaborate cock rings.
‘It’s incredible, no?’ said Annie, shaking her head.
‘Bloody hell, I have to say, this is not a good look,’ replied Jack. ‘It’s just wrong on so many levels.’
‘It certainly doesn’t do anything for me, but if it’s all consensual and no one’s being forced to do anything against their will … hey, why not? Whatever floats your boat, right?’
‘Honestly, Annie, I think if I’d stepped out of the bathroom on a Saturday night, wearing an outfit like that, my wife would probably have dived straight through the bedroom window and ran off screaming down the street.’
‘You never know, boss, she might have liked it. But the idea, as far as I know, is that all of the participants wear the same kind of kit. It’s for people who like to be different, kind of edgy. Like the song says, take a walk on the wild side, you know. I‘ve heard that a few clubs, and even pubs, in Glasgow now have regular themed BDSM nights.’
‘It’s bloody different all right,’ spluttered Jack. ‘I’ll tell you something, for nothing, I can see major problems trying to hail a taxi, outside the Royal Bar at chucking out time, dressed like that.’
Up ahead the little convertible indicated a right turn and then swung off the main road into a deserted Forestry Commission car park, which was encircled by mature pine trees. Annie drove fifty yards past the entrance, parked on the grass verge and said, ‘If I stop here, we should be able to double back through the trees and see what’s happening.’
Ten minutes later, well hidden in the dense undergrowth surrounding the car park, with cameras at the ready, they observed a white plumber’s van, driven by a strapping young man, pull into the car park right alongside the Mercedes. The van’s unique signage proudly proclaimed, “Call me day or night if your U-Bend needs rodding”.
Jack whispered, ‘Okay then, Annie, lights camera … action. Which one’s your money on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well there’s not much room in the back of the Merc, is there?’
Catching on, Annie paused before saying, ‘Oh right, well the van then I suppose. Not very romantic though, is it?’
/>
‘I don’t think this is about romance,’ said Jack, thoughtfully. ‘It’s all about trying to recapture lost youth and a craving for excitement, in an otherwise dull, grey existence. Apparently, for some people, having a good sweaty shag in the back of a workie’s van does the trick.’
Annie then asked innocently, ‘That was very perceptive, boss, for you. You sound like you know a fair bit about this sort of thing.’
‘Not really,’ said Jack. ‘I always pay my plumber in cash.’
As the randy plumber opened the back door and thoughtfully spread a dust sheet over the floor
of his van, Annie nudged Jack and pointed across the car park. ‘I don’t believe it, I think there’s somebody else with a camera over there in the bushes. I saw the sun reflecting off the lens … see, there.’
‘Christ you’re right, what the hell’s going on?’
‘It can’t be another private detective, can it?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.’
Jack then crawled away through the undergrowth and eventually squatted down beside the stranger with the camera. The man appeared quite unconcerned by his arrival and nodded in greeting, then smiled and enquired, ‘All right mate? I saw you and your pal over there but, believe me, this spot gives you a much better viewing angle.’
He then proudly showed Jack his compact video camera and said, ‘My new toy. This little baby’s got a thirty times optical lens, so I should be able to see the back of her tonsils with it. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, have I?’
‘No, I’ve never, ahem …’
‘Thought so, never forget a face. Or a fanny.’
Sniggering, he went on, ‘Yeah, that’s my specialist subject, faces and fannies.’
Still not sure what exactly was going on, Jack prompted, ‘So you’re a regular here, then?’
The man with the camera was happy to explain and give some tips to the new man, ‘Well you need a hobby when you retire, don’t you? I mean, I tried golf but I was useless at it. Anyway, this is much more sociable. You can get half a dozen regulars here sometimes, if the weather’s nice. I usually come on Tuesdays and Thursdays and often make a day of it with a picnic. My wife thinks I’m away bird spotting, which is kind of true, I suppose. Oh, but you have to remember to check the website every day, you know, to see if there have been any last minute changes.’
Fire in the Blood Page 13
