A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)

by Edward Holmes

  His pale face had gone even whiter at my threats and I lightly slapped his face twice before he stumbled off. Looking up at the crowd, I shrugged my shoulders, “You’ve had your entertainment for the night; just go before the police arrive.”

  Quickly they dispersed but I remained standing in the same place. Waiting till they all left I wiped the knife grip of my fingerprints and placed it in a plastic bag before putting it in my jacket pocket. Tony guided me to the back of the sports centre and we left the area in a shared taxi as the police and emergency services finally arrived. They would find no one willing to talk and the only evidence off the fracas outside would be the smashed window and some pools of blood. Mercifully it was quieter for them than the previous night.

  Chapter Forty

  The next morning I woke with the thoughts of the night before heavy on my mind. Alex had slashed someone across the chest and although my assessment of the injury lead me to believe it would be non-fatal, it was still a terrible action and I had let the young man get away with it. My thoughts on the matter were simple; I was showing some consideration for the circumstances in which the attack had happened. Morally I should have stopped him and waited for the authorities to take him away. I was, however, walking a thin line with morals at the moment, happily breaking into someone's property one minute and then lecturing a drug kingpin the next. It was a grey area that, as a private investigator, I had to live with but it wasn't necessarily something I had to enjoy.

  To clear my head and for a little exercise I decided on a light walk. After showering and other ablutions, I dressed in a black suit with a white shirt under my long black coat and my comfortable loafers. I was feeling the after-effects of a couple of drinks the night before and my body was still recovering from my encounter with Micky which made the decision against going for a run.

  Walking the cold winter streets, I made my way towards the docks and the river. The city centre was busy; my immediate thoughts turned to the resolve of the British character. Be it the Blitz of World War Two, the terror attacks of 7/7 or a crazed gunman on the loose, the people of this rain swept island would go about their business as usual. The large television screen near St. John’s Shopping Centre scrolled with news reports and police warnings but few looked up at the information, already knowing what it said. Deeper into the city I went, till eventually I was free and in front of the Royal Liver Building. Crossing the road, I admired the architecture, the surrounding buildings beautiful to even my untrained eye.

  Walking away from the famous structure with its stoic birds, I found a spot to look out across the Mersey. I stood by the river side letting the wind billow around me. The grey and brown waters churning away. I thought about the case in starts, thinking about the revolver and why it had been turned in. Personally I would have thrown it into the Mersey like so much other rubbish, let it rust up and be forgotten. Giving it in like that was a statement, you wouldn't risk anything else by doing that.

  With the thought of rusting detritus I took out the plastic bag in my coat pocket and removed the knife from the night before careful not to get any blood on my hands. It was a short stubby blade but still long enough to be illegal in Britain. The edge wasn't particularly sharp and I wasn't impressed with the manufacturing quality. My opinion however didn't matter; it was still a deadly weapon and the dried blood on the side was a reminder of that. Looking around and seeing no one near me I dropped the knife into the water. The harsh winter sunlight reflecting off the metal briefly before it disappeared beneath the waves.

  Although I don't smoke, I'd taken to carrying a lighter with me. It had become more of a survival instinct thing with me, that I liked to have on hand a number of things that might be of use in certain circumstances. Turning my back to the wind and sheltering the flickering flame I lit the plastic bag on fire from the bottom. I did my best not to inhale any of the noxious fumes and let go of the burnt plastic as it melted away; the last of it fluttering away on the breeze and out to the middle of the river.

  I breathed a heavy sigh which you could say was one of relief as I turned and walked back towards my hotel. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tucked my chin to my chest as the cold winds sent a shiver down my spine. My vision was focused more on the floor and as such I didn't notice the black car that pulled up in front of me as I went to cross the road till it was too late.

  Two large gentlemen who both lacked any visible neck or any hair on their heads moved surprisingly quickly for their size and bundled me in the back of the vehicle. One of them hit me on the back of the head for good measure and I was busy reeling from the blow as the car sped off.

  With my hand still on the back of my head I glanced around the darkened interior. It wasn't the first time I'd suffered this treatment and I doubted it would be the last. There was a flutter of fear in me which reminded me of the night when I was shanghaied into the back of a waiting car in Ireland and beaten bloody in attempt to make me break my cover. I however saw Saul sat comfortably in the far side of the vehicle and did my best to sit up and mask the obvious pain. He was dressed in a grey suit with a white shirt which further enhanced his deep tan with the contrast.

  The car wasn't a limousine but I could tell it was expensive from the spacious leather interior. I was still close to the drug kingpin but was very aware of one of the skin-headed thugs in the front with a pistol pointed at me from the front passenger seat.

  I shook my head which was a bad idea but I was trying to show I could shrug off the pain, “You know you could have just asked me to get in the car.”

  “Yes, my boys do tend to get a little carried away but I wasn't sure you would willingly get inside,” Saul said in an even manner but there was an edge that reinstated my previous feeling of trepidation.

  “Well why wouldn't I? It's not like you would want to get rid of me when I'm helping you now, would you?” I asked with a smile on my face.

  Saul looked at me for a moment before speaking. He was skilled at intimidation and even with my experience I was not immune, “No, I wouldn't, it would be a waste of a valuable resource like that. I heard about your attempt at riot control last night.”

  My eyes narrowed at his words but I remained silent.

  “You handled that situation very well and I appreciate you not handing over anyone to the busies. Things are getting out of hand and fighting like that will only ensure more trouble.”

  “You could have just called me with this information.”

  Saul laughed lightly, “I could have, but I thought you should be rewarded for your efforts.”

  “With a smack to the back of the head?”

  “No, with a visit to the inner sanctum.”

  Chapter Forty One

  I did my best to relax as we drove, looking out of the window and trying to get my bearings in the city. It was extremely difficult as I wasn't that familiar with the area but what I could do was note landmarks and then I could work it back later. We seemed to be circling around a number of times from the things I could see, and since I wasn't blindfolded I doubted it was to confuse me; much more likely it was to avoid being under surveillance.

  My work in narcotics had given me a great understanding of these types of men and their paranoia, not that in all cases it was a delusion. If Saul was as powerful as people said then there would be a team investigating him and they would surely know by now that he was in the country. This was also an interesting way of thinking about any investigation due to the current climate in the city. With so many police out on the street and the shootings being the main priority, would the detectives usually involved in following Saul be reassigned or would they think that the arrival of the man to the country proves that there is a link and they should continue their efforts?

  It was obviously an interesting dilemma for the drug men and they as always would err on the side of caution. Their efforts to remain free from interference from the law always astounded me. The ones who were caught often aided to their own downfall with m
istakes that the likes of Saul just didn't allow.

  For his part during these driving manoeuvres, Saul just sat with his head facing forward and his fingers linked together. He didn't offer any conversation and I was not inclined to try, so we sat in silence until finally we arrived at our destination. The door was opened for Saul and he stepped out into the cold air with two more men flanking him. One of the men beckoned me forward and I followed Saul into the building.

  I was stopped in the foyer and patted down. Everything I had in my pockets was taken from me, and locked away in a small box before being placed behind a counter. My phone was dismantled and placed in another such lock-box. The lighting was low and the décor dark as we moved towards another room and I immediately recognised the soft plinking noise that emanated from within. It was the sound of a snooker ball hitting another and the hall we entered was busy with players. Most of them stole glances at the new entrants but all of them quickly ignored whatever they had seen. I counted at least eighteen people who had just caught sight one of the most dangerous people in Liverpool but didn't bat an eyelid.

  With two of Saul's minders behind me, I didn't stop to dwell on the patrons as I was ushered into yet another room. This was a smaller and quieter meeting room, to one side a well stocked bar that was open with an old man waiting for drink orders. A large circular table was the main centrepiece with at least twelve chairs arranged around it. Seven of those chairs were taken. They ranged in appearance from respectable well dressed older gentlemen like Saul to two tracksuit wearing young men that looked like they were strung out on some narcotic. This was a round table meeting of the head dealers and as an ex-copper I felt rather privileged and also even more intimidated. As one they looked at me, staring at the man who would enter this select room, but since I was with Saul no one spoke, which was becoming a recurring thread.

  Directly opposite the main door there was a chair free and Saul walked straight to it. I followed in his wake and stood to one side like his bodyguards. However once he was seated, he turned around and beckoned me to sit next to him on his right hand side. I hid my surprise; it was a place of honour in etiquette circles and with the way Saul acted, I was sure he would know that. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak and since they all knew each other, I doubted I would be introduced to them all. That was also a safety issue, I was certain, ensuring that I couldn't use anything I heard in there against them.

  A glass of water was placed at Saul's side by one of his bodyguards and after a delicate sip, he spoke, “Thank you all for coming.”

  One of the younger members of the group rolled his eyes and in his thick accent replied, “We're here every week.”

  Saul glared at the man who surprisingly didn't look away, “Well I appreciate you letting me join your meeting. You may like to know it was myself who started this tradition of meeting regularly to pool our resources and ease tensions.”

  It was if someone had opened all the windows in the place and let in the winter air, the mood had cooled that much. The young dealer turned his body slightly away from Saul before saying, “Thanks for the history lesson. Could we just get on with this?”

  “Yeah, no disrespect, Saul, but with all the added heat I don't really think we should be meeting like this especially if you're bringing in outsiders,” said a rather large, bald, middle aged man waving an arm in my direction. He was more smartly dressed compared to the young dealer but didn't have the sartorial elegance of Saul.

  Saul turned his head towards me before answering, “This man, gentlemen, is John Harper and he is going to help reduce this unwanted attention from the law. I've tasked him with finding this shooter so that we are free to carry about our business in relative peace.”

  “What makes him so special?” asked a well dressed West Indian man.

  A moment passed where I thought Saul was going to make me explain who I was, but luckily he spoke which I'm sure reduced some of the ire in what was said to the amassed drug pushers, “Mister Harper here used to be a detective for Greater Manchester Police.”

  The sudden movement of all of the men in the room other than Saul and myself was something akin to a scene of someone releasing a swarm of killer bees into a room. People stood up in disgust and shock, a couple went for the door but it was barred by two of Saul's bodyguards. Other men on protective detail went to their pockets for weapons. I tried to look as calm as possible, my hands flat on the table before me to show I did not pose a threat, my face passive as at least five people studied me with looks of hatred on their countenances.

  “What's the meaning of this, Saul?” one of the older men shouted. He had remained seated, his eyes not leaving me since my former profession was revealed.

  Saul opened his hands wide and smiled, “Gentlemen, can I have your attention,” He raised his voice; it wasn't loud enough to be considered a shout but conveyed authority that quickly reverberated around the room. Everyone stared at us now and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the old barman place a shotgun on his work surface, “Now you know that there is no love lost in my relationship with the police. I live outside of this country for most of the year to avoid their interference. You also know that I have spent a great deal of money to ensure that this location is free from their surveillance techniques. In my time I have hired experts in many fields to ensure the protection of my business and by extension, yours. The products that you are able to sell with relative impunity is due to this business model and development.”

  “Don't make out like it is all you. I have my own resources and suppliers we all do,” said the young man who had spoken earlier.

  I was close enough to hear the exasperated sigh come from the drug kingpin, “So be it, but I have done my best to make this a contained business, protected from the mistakes many make.”

  “What's that got to do with letting a copper in here?” the other young tracksuited dealer asked, obviously emboldened by seeing his counterpart speak with such venom towards Saul.

  “Mister Harper here is an expert in catching serial killers. Some of you who read newspapers may remember he was involved in that recent business in Hollingswood. He was already investigating the shootings before he came to my attention. With his help, we can hopefully get rid of this bastard who is terrorising the city and with that the unwanted extra attention of police.”

  “That still doesn't explain letting him in here. This is a sanctuary from their interference,” said the old man who had remained seated during the commotion.

  Saul nodded, “I appreciate that bringing him here isn't what many of you would have done. I however don't need to justify my actions to any of you. Harper is here to help us and he didn't know this meeting was taking place. I brought him here so you would see there is help and that we do not need to escalate the violence. With everything that has been going on, it would be easy to point fingers and turn on one another or bring in the heavy hitters. Harper is our chance at solving this problem peacefully.”

  “What's to stop him turning on us when this is all done? Just because he says he has stopped working for the busies doesn't mean we should trust him,” the first young dealer said.

  Saul turned towards me and spoke in a low voice, “I think you should answer this.”

  With that prompting, I stood up. It had been an unusual scenario being talked about as if I was not in the room but now I had to address these men, gain their cooperation and trust as well as pacify them to the extent that I wasn't going to be killed within the next couple of days, if not hours, “Firstly let me say that it is something of an honour being in a room like this. I don't mean to flatter you at all, during my work into narcotic investigations I would have loved to be in a meeting like this, but that isn't what I do any more and to be honest I couldn’t care less what your business is. Secondly I have retired from active investigations; before I left I worked homicide cases so again, I'm not interested in what you do. I worked in Manchester most of my career, I don't know any of you by name or sight
but do know that I should be intimidated by the jobs you do and the power you wield. I was hired by a concerned citizen at the start of these shootings and I intend to find this culprit.”

  “Harper was involved in the chase and eventual death of Leo Ambrose earlier this week,” Saul added.

  “Unfortunately he wasn't the gunman who is terrorising this city. Now I understand if you don't want me interfering with your business and that you don't want to give me any help but I will still be here doing my job as a private investigator to stop this madman.” With that, I sat down and folded my hands, my chin raised high in an act of defiance.

  No one seemed keen to speak but the old gentleman who had first questioned Saul on my attendance at the meeting finally broke the silence, “I don't trust you Mister Harper, I doubt anyone here does, not even Saul, but we do need to stop this man. I trust Saul when it comes to business decisions, he's made me a very rich man so I accept that if he has brought you in, it is for a good reason and that you must also be very good at what you do. With that in mind, I'd like you to tell us what you do know.”

  I was in two minds whether to stand up again or not but decided on the formal approach, “This gunman has some skill. The likelihood is that the person is male, very clever and somewhat of sociopath. He is resourceful; he has used a number of different weapons and has been very clever in his approach, masking his killings and disposing of certain pieces of evidence. Before the slayings the other night it appeared he had a very specific set of targets; that is people related to the drug trade in this city. It could be perceived that he is attempting to clean the streets and is acting as a vigilante. Some information the police have yet to release is that the pistol used in the recent shootings has been handed in. This suggests a mocking of the police's failure to capture the gunman. It also indicates to an extent that he believes the police cannot do the same job as himself.”