by Roger Hurn
Hammond sat back in his chair and looked thoughtful.
‘Wha’ a loada fuckin’ tosh.’ Kenny was not impressed but Al said nothing. He was waiting to take his cue from his boss.
Hammond sniffed again. It was really getting on my nerves.
‘So how come a two bit PI like you gets to work for the spooks?’
I nodded like this was the best question he could have asked and, as far as I was concerned, it was. ‘Because I’m ex DPG and have worked protecting Her Majesty and top government ministers. The secret squirrels know I’m damn good at my job and so, when they want a freelancer they can trust, they come knocking on my door.’
Well, I’d baited the hook and cast it in the water. Now I needed him to bite. He did.
‘What? You’ve met the Queen?’
I nodded. ‘I have had that privilege, yes.’
Hammond smiled like a five year old who’s just been told it’s his birthday.
‘Really! What’s Her Maj like?’
‘She’s a very gracious and dignified lady – as you would expect.’
I had no idea if she was or she wasn’t. The only time I was at Buckingham Palace was as part of a backup team when she was meeting the US president. I was so far down the pecking order that I didn’t even hear her cluck.
Hammond seemed impressed and I reckoned his pride in the Queen would be matched by his contempt for politicians. It always is with blokes like him. So I threw another titbit his way.
‘Yes, she’s a real credit to the country, which is more than I can say for the government ministers and politicians I’ve had to risk taking a bullet for. In my view the country would be way better off if she could just sack the lot of them and rule on her own.’
OK, so I was less than impressed with the politicians I’d met in the course of my duties, but only a complete nutter would want a bloody King or Queen bossing everyone around and shouting “off with their heads” every time someone upset them. But I was betting that this Neanderthal philosophy would be right up Hammond’s street.
He took another slug of brandy and nodded. ‘You got that right.’
‘So, when we were asked to undertake this mission, we were proud to accept it. Not because of the government, but because of our loyalty to Her Majesty.’
Hammond had a “well you can’t argue with that” expression on his ugly mug. Then he pointed at Carly. ‘Where does the bird fit into all this? She ain’t ex DPG.’
‘No, she isn’t, but she’s loyal and an excellent investigator.’
Hammond smirked. ‘And it don’t hurt that she’s a looker either, I guess.’
‘It helped with our cover story. The runaway scientist had a weakness for blondes.’
‘He ain’t the only one!’ Al obviously felt the conversation had been missing his input.
‘Shut it, Al!’ Hammond’s voice was sharp as a blade. Then he chewed his lips for a moment before saying, ‘So what makes you think it was the russkies who whacked him?’
Carly answered for me. ‘That was what he said as he was dying.’ She looked straight at Hammond as if defying him to contradict her. ‘He died in my arms.’
‘Lucky man.’ He pulled at his chin with his hand. ‘But why did the Ivans kill the egghead and why are they still after you?’
‘They killed him after he’d given them a fake memory stick. They had no intention of paying him for it.’
Hammond laughed. ‘No surprise there then. Those geezers’d slit their own mothers’ throats for the change in her purse. You can’t fuckin’ trust ‘em an inch.’ Then a sly glint appeared in his eyes. ‘But you’ve got the real memory stick have you?’
For a split second my heart plummeted. But the stick wasn’t on the sofa with the other stuff from Carly’s bag so I shook my head. ‘No, but they don’t know that – which is why we can’t afford to take chances.’
Hammond’s eyes narrowed. ‘So who has got it then?’
‘A bloke called Dalrymple. He’s a guy from the SIS station in Tangier. We were going to take it back to London and give it to our MI5 handler, but you know how the bloody secret squirrels fight amongst themselves.’ Hammond nodded slightly as if he did. I was playing to the man’s ego and it seemed to be working. ‘Well, Dalrymple insisted we hand it over to him so MI6 can get all the glory.’ I shook my head and looked mightily pissed off. ‘We risked our flaming necks for that stick only for some public school wanker to pull rank on us and then leave us to fend for ourselves.’ I gave Hammond a frank look like one patriotic working class boy to another. ‘Now, even if we make it home in one piece, I bet the bastards at MI5 will try to wriggle out of paying us.’
‘Bloody typical!’ Hammond looked furious on my behalf. ‘Country’s gone to the dogs ever since Maggie got the boot, god rest her.’
‘You can say that again,’ I said. Though I wondered just exactly what mythical version of England it was that Hammond seemed to remember so fondly. ‘Though I’m sorry that Carly and I have inadvertently involved you in our troubles, Mr Hammond.’
Hammond shook his head. ‘Nah, you’re alright, son. Call it a bit of a misunderstanding and no harm done.’
I thought Kenny was going to choke on his own spittle when Hammond said this, but Al just smirked and winked at Carly.
‘Oh and it’s Mr H by the way, Ryan. There’s no need to stand on ceremony.’
I forced myself to look chuffed. ‘Thanks Mr H. That’s generous of you.’
Hammond spread his arms out. ‘Don’t give it a second thought.’
Then he turned his attentions to Carly. He looked at her like he had X-ray eyes. ‘And Carly, you can call me Des.’
I could almost hear what Carly was calling him in her head, but she gave him the kind of enigmatic smile the Mona Lisa would have done if she’d been a 21st century street vixen and not a 16th century silk merchant’s wife. And even though he must have known he was about as sexually attractive as a skid mark, Hammond preened himself like a turkey cock.
‘If you ever get tired of the detective business, sweetheart, I could use you in my organisation.’ Carly cocked an eyebrow at him which he took as his cue to carry on. ‘You see, we make a lot of movies for the adult market and you’d be perfect for ‘em.’ He waved his hand airily as if batting away her unvoiced objections. ‘Oh don’t worry, they’re classy with proper stories and costumes and all that old toffee, but they’re also sizzling hot if you know what I mean.’ He grinned at her. ‘But I pay my girls top dollar and you’d definitely be getting a nice little earner out of it.’
It seemed to me that every bloody crook and wide boy I came across made it a point of honour to try and poach Carly away from me. I didn’t blame them but it was getting tiresome and, anyway, I was scared she might accept one day. Though I didn’t think being a porn star for Desmond Hammond was her career of choice. At least I hoped it wasn’t.
‘That’s sweet of you, Des, but I don’t fuck for money – only love. But if that ever changes I’ll be sure to give you a call.’
Des looked a bit miffed. ‘Oi, don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for this geezer.’ He pointed at me with his brandy glass.
Carly giggled. ‘What Ryan? No way! He’s so not my type.’ Then she stopped giggling and became serious. ‘No Des, what I love is my job and I don’t need any guys to help me with that.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s bad enough having Ryan trying to boss me around but I put up with him ‘cos he knows what he’s doing. Or at least he does most of the time. Now can I use your bathroom?’
Hammond drained his glass and sniffed yet again. ‘Yeah, go on, sweetheart, use the one upstairs – that way you won’t have to worry about us all listening in.’
He couldn’t have been any more boorish if he’d tried but Carly grinned at him and shimmied out of the room. By the time she returned I was sitting in an armchair clutching a bottle of Cruz Campo and entertaining Hammond and his boys with tales of my time in the DPG.
‘Yeah, so the Duke of Edinburgh say
s to me, “And as for my bloody daughter, Kyd, if it doesn’t fart or eat hay, she isn’t interested in it!” I tell you Mr H that bloke is a law unto himself! He had us in stitches. Mind you, talking of horse lovers, Her Majesty keeps a pretty tight rein on him I can tell you.’
All the royal family stuff was nonsense but Hammond was lapping it up. He glanced up at Carly. ‘There you are, girl. I thought you’d got stuck on the khazi and we was gonna have to send a search party up to rescue you.’
Carly opened her mouth to reply but, before she could say anything, a loud alarm started screeching like a banshee.
Chapter 19
‘Sounds like we got company.’ Hammond clicked his fingers. ‘Go check the monitors and see who it is.’
Kenny and Al shot out of the room. Hammond eyed us coldly. ‘Looks like somebody knows you’re here. How did they manage that do you reckon?’ He nodded at Carly. ‘Did you give ‘em a bell when you were up on the crapper? You was gone long enough.’
Carly shook her head. ‘Course not. My bloody phone’s still there on the sofa where you tipped my bag out.’
‘And so are mine.’ I stood up and pocketed my phone along with the phone Greenstick had given me. Hammond tossed Carly’s over to her.
‘Believe me, Mr H,’ I said, ‘we’ve not spoken to anyone since your lads collared us. And, truth to tell, I doubt very much that we’d want to speak to whoever it is who’s coming calling now.’
‘Yeah, alright, fair enough. But it don’t alter the fact that we got visitors. The question is, who are they?’
Before I could answer, Al and Kenny came back.
‘There are four geezers carrying shooters coming through the trees. What do you want us to do?’
‘Put the fuckin’ shutters down and get me a bleedin’ Uzi.’
Hammond smiled grimly at us. ‘I had the house modified so it turns into one big panic room. That way, the bleedin’ bad guys can’t get in. Well, that’s the theory anyway. I’ve never had to put it to the test before.’
Al and Kenny dashed off and in seconds steel shutters slid down over all the windows and doors. When they came back, Al handed Hammond an Uzi-pro sub machine gun. He and Kenny were both armed with semi-automatic pistols and they looked hyped up and ready to roll.
‘Get upstairs Kenny and give ‘em a taste of what they can expect if they try to break in. Oh, and get on the blower to Alfie. Tell him to get over here pronto all tooled up and mob handed.’
Kenny nodded and went out of the room at a run. Hammond turned to Carly and me. ‘Bastards are gonna learn that an Englishman’s home is his bleedin’ castle. If they wanted you two they should’ve asked nicely. I might’ve done a deal but now all they’re gonna get is a whole load of grief instead.’
It wasn’t exactly reassuring to know that, despite my hugely entertaining stories about the royal family and my close personal acquaintance with them, Hammond had still been considering doing a deal with the Russians. It only goes to show that you really can’t trust anyone these days. But then there was a burst of gunfire from upstairs and some answering shots and that concentrated Hammond’s mind on the problem of what to do with us.
‘The thing is though, I dunno how long it’ll be before Alfie and his mob gets here. And, as I say, this place has never been under siege before and I don’t want to find out the hard way that its defences aren’t as secure as I’ve been told. So, I want you two gone asap.’
He stared at us like he was expecting us to argue. We didn’t because, either way, we were caught between a rock and a hard place and I knew that whatever it was he was planning, we had no choice but to go along with it.
He nodded. ‘Right, here’s the thing. There’s no point in you tiptoeing out of here on the QT, I need you to draw that bunch of arseholes away from here. But I’m gonna give you a sporting chance to outrun ‘em.’ He walked over to a desk, took out a pistol and handed it to me. ‘Here you are, Ryan, you’re gonna need it.’ He glanced over at Al. ‘Take ‘em down to the garage and give ‘em the keys to the old Land Rover.’ Al nodded and Hammond continued: ‘There’s an underground exit that’ll bring you out about half way up the hillside in a clump of trees. They’ll see you and give chase as soon as you break cover but at least you’ll have a head start.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the best I can do for you. Don’t screw it up.’
Chapter 20
Al took us down into the underground garage and gave me the key to a Land Rover that had definitely seen better days. I told Carly to get in the driver’s seat. She seemed a bit surprised but she did as she was told without arguing. I clambered into the passenger seat and gave Al the thumbs up. He pressed a button on the wall and the garage doors rolled up to reveal a long tunnel. Carly revved up the engine, slammed the motor into gear and we kangarooed off out of there. The steel doors rolled down as soon as we were gone. There was no way back.
After about a minute we came out of the tunnel into a clearing between some trees.
‘Kill the lights, hun,’ I said.
‘You’re kidding me, yeah? It’s bloody dark, Ry. I can’t see where I’m driving.’
‘Yeah, well I’m hoping they won’t see us either.’
By now we’d emerged from the trees and were bumping along some rough ground on the side of the hill. The sky was cloudy and there was no moon. I hadn’t a clue where we were going but that was the least of our worries. All we had to do was keep on until we found a dirt road, follow it until it led to a proper one and then we’d go hell for leather and put as much distance between us and the bad guys as we could before they realised we’d gone.
Well, that was the plan, but I hadn’t reckoned on the bloody spotlight on the top of Hammond’s house suddenly switching on and illuminating us like the bloody lights on the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square. Hammond hadn’t been joking when he said he wanted the opposition to know we were getting away. I guess his idea of giving us a sporting chance had very strict limitations.
Carly put the pedal to the metal and we hurtled forward. But it’s not like in the movies. There the heroes’ cars are indestructible no matter how hard the terrain but in real life axles break, tyres burst and teenage drivers lose control of the vehicle. Carly was no exception. She swerved to avoid a large boulder and careered towards a tree. She stamped on the brake but we still skidded into it. It could have been worse. The bumper absorbed most of the impact but we were badly jolted and the engine stalled. Carly tried to restart it but it just wouldn’t catch. The thing had been knackered to start with and now I reckoned it had finally given up the ghost. If it had, then it had picked a bad time to die because we heard the sound of a car racing up the hill towards us. Someone was leaning out of the passenger window and was firing at us with what sounded like an MP5. The car was rocking and rolling all over the shop so the chances of them hitting us from that range were remote but they were getting closer with every heartbeat.
Thankfully, Hammond chose that moment to wash his grubby paws of the whole situation because he, or one of his boys, killed the spotlight and we were plunged into darkness.
Yelling at Carly to get the hell out of the Land Rover, I jumped and rolled over to a spot a few feet away. OK, so I may not always be the sharpest crayon in the box but I can shoot a pistol. I got top marks every time on the range but doing it for real is a totally different kettle of fish. For starters, the targets don’t shoot back at you and these guys were blazing away like it was going out of fashion but all those hours of practising hadn’t been in vain. Because, although every nerve in my body was dancing an electric tango, my training took over and my hands stayed steady as I took a bead on the incoming bandits.
I reckoned I had a max of ten seconds to stop the bastards in their tracks. If I failed we’d be dead meat for sure but the smart money was on them because I’d never had an SUV packed with trigger happy arseholes coming at me full tilt before.
But it was now or never. I leapt to my feet and fired at the tyres to disable the vehicle. I did
n’t bother checking to see if I’d succeeded – there wasn’t time. Instead I put a couple of shots through the windscreen to try and take out the driver and the shooters. The glass shattered and I rolled and took a pot shot at the radiator in a desperate attempt to kill the engine.
The tyres shredded and the car swerved wildly then smashed into a bloody great boulder. The bonnet crumpled, the rear wheels left the ground like a bucking bronco and the driver’s head smashed through the remains of the windscreen. The rear wheels came crashing back down and the whole vehicle was forced out of shape as hinges sheered off and the doors flew open. I figured nobody could have survived an impact like that. I felt a wild kind of elation but we weren’t out of the woods by a long chalk.
A guy spilled out of the rear door and went to ground. I was hoping against hope he wasn’t the guy with the MP5 because I didn’t fancy my chances against him if he was. I couldn’t see him in the dark so I held my breath the better to hear him but then the engine of the Land Rover roared into life and Carly reversed it and swung the old heap round. I opened my mouth to yell at her ‘cos she was a sitting duck.
But then she snapped the headlights on full beam and the shooter was caught in the glare. The bastard had somehow snuck up on me. He did have the MP5 and it was pointing right at me but he seemed momentarily paralysed by the bright lights. That split second’s hesitation was the only break I needed. Before he could cut me in half with a hail of bullets, I fired and hit him in the chest. It sent him flying backwards like he’d been swiped by an invisible hand. He hit the deck and lay still.
