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

by Edward Holmes

  “Then what about killing that couple? That doesn't fit with his MO,” asked the West Indian man.

  “You're right, it breaks from his pattern. This poses more questions than it answers. He could be devolving and simply escalating his violence or it could have been a mistake. There is of course the possibility that it wasn't him at all. This killer is breaking a lot of the standard rules that apply to LDSKs.”

  “You saying he is on acid?” questioned the second tracksuited dealer.

  I shook my head, “No, it stands for long distance serial killer. They are much more prevalent in the US than over here. They tend to contact the police, showing off their intelligence. This man has finally done that, so we might start to see some mistakes from him.”

  “So what can we do to stop him?” the bald dealer asked.

  That was the million pound question and at that moment I didn't have a friend to call to help me with the answer, “At the moment, just keep indoors. With the increased police presence after shooting the civilians, he should keep his head down. If he does come out then it will be to attack someone major. So far shooting the dealers on the street was more aimed at inciting some sort of gang violence between the warring factions. The football shooting was more towards attacking higher level members of the gangs, as far as I am aware. He's slowly gone up the chain of command which leads me to believe that, although he has some training, he isn't necessarily a trained military sniper.”

  “Why?” the bald man continued.

  “A military man would go for the lieutenants or the main guys,” Saul answered, “albeit it would be more difficult since we are more protected and don't go out on the street but it would cause more damage to target the command structure.”

  I nodded, once again impressed with Saul, “This gunman is intelligent however and he will come after you in time. I don't want you to start a witch-hunt within your own communities but look for someone with military training or skill with firearms,” I realised the stupidity of those words when a titter of laughter escaped from most of the group, “Look for someone who has a grudge against you and maybe has trouble holding down a job. More often than not they move professions. However that isn’t always the case they could also be very methodical in what they do, so be vigilant.”

  A few of the faces nodded slightly as if they were thinking of possible suspects or taking on board what I said. I had delivered speeches like that before and knew how to convey the information in a manner that would convey the importance but also bring a sense of entertainment to the proceedings. They had to be interested in what was happening, so as to ensure that they were vigilant against any attack.

  Saul stood up next to me, “I thank Mister Harper for enlightening on this matter. I think I can speak for all of us present that we wish you the best of luck in finding this gunman and the sooner the better. Now if you would kindly leave us, we have business to discuss and it would be best if you were not present.”

  Nodding my agreement, I shook his offered hand and nodded in the direction of the table. Before I walked out the kingpin leant in and whispered into my ear, “Just because I’ve put the order out doesn’t mean they will all adhere to it. Best to keep away from Elsworth and Kai Nelson’s group if you can.”

  I thanked him, stepped out of the room and collected my things from the front desk. I left the snooker hall and was confronted by fading light and a waiting taxi, thankful that I had made it out of the inner sanctum alive.

  Chapter Forty Two

  He waited patiently beyond the treeline. The ghillie suit he was wearing was remarkably comfortable. It was essentially homemade and he had used it before whilst stalking pheasant and, on the odd occasion, fox. With the addition of some of the local flora, he was confident that he was completely hidden from view.

  There was no need to create a complete hide, and he didn't intend to leave any evidence that he had been there. All of his waste, be it his own effluence or wrapping from prepared food and water, was bagged and placed inside the small bag next to him. He ignored any odour coming from it as his attention was focussed on the driveway and front garden of the house before him.

  It was less of a house and more of a mansion. A newly built building with terracotta coloured brickwork and sandstone pillars used as a decorative feature. It was not a particularly nice domicile to look at, ridiculously grandiose and with additions from a variety of other homes. Outside in the garden stood an old gas lamp used for street lighting and off to one side near the garage, a red telephone box. Flanking the doors stood marble lions with their mouths open. During the night he had placed his crosshairs between their eyes and envisioned pulling the trigger, watching the stone shatter as if it were the skull of his target.

  He knew what it was like to watch a head explode due to the power of his rifle. There was nothing particularly special about his weapon. It was modified for his personal use, and with the camouflage taping and additional pieces of shrubbery attached to it meant that, it was ideal for this role. The rifle rested comfortably on a moss covered tree stump, the butt in his shoulder as he lay prone.

  He had been there for over twenty-four hours, waiting patiently. The range from the treeline was nothing compared to the distances he had practised over but was still far enough for him to remain completely unseen when he pulled the trigger. He was at least twenty yards into the woodland but had a very clear field of vision for the driveway and the door.

  Getting into the grounds was easy; although there were some security systems years, of neglect around the perimeter meant that there were three possible ingress points that he knew of. This location had been known to him for at least two years which meant his preparation for this attack was as good as he could have wanted. The timing for this attack was now perfect and he knew the target would be arriving soon. Nothing had been left to chance for this assault.

  The property was nearly entirely surrounded by woodland as it was near the grounds of one of the local Earls. That meant there were no satellite images of the grounds itself within the public domain to look at. Finding out who owned the property had presented a problem as well but once he found out who lived there, the planning had taken over. Motion sensors and cameras couldn't protect every inch and with the lack of maintenance, he had been able to locate the weaknesses and over multiple trips through he had found the best possible locations to set up. Now, on a cold winter night, he lay as close to the ground as he was humanly able, secure in the knowledge that he could not have done any more.

  He rested his cheek on the wooden stock and closed his eyes, letting his heart rate settle again as he had momentarily got excited at the prospect of opening fire. His breathing was measured and he held it when he thought he heard the sound of a car engine. The distinctive noise reverberated through the trees and he needed to calm his breathing once more.

  The weight of one car and then another crunched on the stone before stopping at the main gate. He couldn't see it from his position but he didn't need to. The gatehouse guard opened the metal barrier and in drove the two vehicles. A small smile crossed his face and he made himself comfortable. Checking for windage with a practised ease, he set himself ready to take the shot.

  Lights flooded the garden but he was ready for that and allowed his eyes time to adjust as the first car disgorged its passengers. Four men dressed in suits raced to the front door and created a sort of perimeter defence. From the second car one man stood out and went to the rear driver’s side door, which was unfortunately away from the shooter's location. He would now have to fire across the car roof or wait for his target to come out from behind the protection of the vehicle, which presented the problem of being a moving target. It was a variable he was prepared for, but he would prefer going for the head shot on a stationary person.

  Delicately, he flipped up the lens cover on his scope, although he was in shelter he did not want to risk any stray light creating a reflection off the glasswork. He quickly found the perfect position for his eyes an
d levelled the crosshairs where he expected a head to be raised. His breathing became longer, his heart rate slowing and in the silence of the woods he could hear it beating in his ears. His finger moved to the trigger and he felt the comfortable weight, with his left hand he removed the safety.

  No thoughts entered into his mind, a calm serenity of supreme focus was all he felt. This was it, in seconds he would change the lives of hundreds of people. He saw a grey haired head slowly appear from behind the car, inch by inch it rose, millimetre by millimetre it filled the scope. Breathing out, he stopped and held his breath, ready to fire. His finger tightened but noise filled the air and it wasn't his rifle discharging.

  The blaring of a car horn filled the night but he couldn't let him distract him any longer and the gunman fired. However the source of the beeping was hurtling down the driveway having knocked through the gate, sheering one of them from its hinges. The distraction had caused the target to turn towards the noise and duck slightly, which meant the bullet that should have destroyed his brain missed its intended mark and slammed into the shoulder of one of the bodyguards.

  The car, which was still honking its horn, came to a quick halt, spraying stone over the back of the target's vehicle. The protective detail from the front of the house ran towards their employer, weapons in hand, one of them loosing off shots towards the newly arrived vehicle, hitting it with dull thuds. The driver opened his door and dived out of the car.

  Although he knew he should leave after missing with that one shot, the gunman was angered that he had not been able to hit his target first time and opened fire on the bodyguards. He hit the first one in the chest sending him flying to the stone, colouring it crimson with his blood as he skidded along. The second man to fall in quick succession was hit in the thigh, his screams echoed in the night as he crumpled to the ground. A third victim stood out in the open as if he stunned by the sudden carnage, a pistol in his hand, but he didn't know where to point it. The gunman looked at the man's startled face through the scope before firing, the bullet smashing between the eyes and destroying the bodyguard's features.

  The fourth bodyguard stayed near the house behind one of the pillars, his pistol the only thing visible as he fired off rounds into the night. None of them were close to the gunman but, not wanting to put himself in any danger, he turned slightly towards the bodyguard and fired. The bullet hit the gun and sheared through metal and then flesh, severing the trigger finger of the bodyguard and dropping him to the ground and into view, which lead to another shot, this one through his temple. Blood splattered over the white marble lion statues.

  With no more guards, the gunman reloaded his rifle, chambering another round and aiming it towards the car his target had come out. He fired once, shattering both of the back seat windows. The next round was into the passenger rear door but neither shot did anything to move his target from behind cover. The gunman heard the guard from the gatehouse running up the driveway, his route serpentine to try and give himself some protection. However the rifleman was experienced at shooting live game and, with two shots, dispatched the last of the protective detail.

  All of this had happened in only a couple of minutes and now he lay there wondering if his target would move. Surely he had called for help by now but how long would it take to arrive? He knew the woodland well and could easily get to another position without being seen but with the way the cars were parked there were few locations he could reach to make an accurate shot.

  There was a strong temptation to stand up and finish the job with the pistol currently strapped to his leg in a quick release holster, but there was the question of the driver who had arrived. As if in answer a pistol fired from beneath the target’s car and a bullet whistled past and into the trees above him. Four more shots rang out, each of them much closer than the earlier shots from the bodyguard had been.

  With a little more from the accurate return fire, the gunman zeroed in on the pistol flashes and fired back. He heard a yell and a smile crept across his face but suddenly the driver stood up, firing across the boot of the car. A bullet hit the log the rifle was resting on, splintering it and startling the assassin.

  Rolling away and behind the cover of a tree, he took aim with the rifle and squared the scope on the defined features of the driver, for a brief moment recognising the man, and then he pulled the trigger. However in the heat of firing he had very unprofessionally lost count of how many rounds he had fired and instead of the crack of the rifle firing he was greeted by a dull click as there was no bullet to be expelled. The driver was now once again behind cover and the gunman decided against reloading and continuing. He was angry with himself for not counting his shots, for wasting rounds firing on the car, and that his target had got away.

  He picked up the expelled shells from his rifle, making sure to count each one as he placed them in his pocket. All of this was done in a low crouch through fear of being hit by any fire from the driver. Only a few parting shots were sent in his direction and the gunman left by the way he had entered, already plotting his next attack.

  Chapter Forty Three

  After the taxi dropped me off at the hotel, I went for a quick meal in a local pub. The food was decent and filling but I was distracted and still recovering from the day's excitement. My head was also rather sore, which went well with the injuries I'd sustained. I decided against any alcohol, even though there were a number of excellent real ales on offer and I even saw a bottle of my favourite bourbon behind the counter, which showed my determination to the job.

  Instead I went back to my room and once again looked through the photographs and reports. My trusty notebook was added to as well whilst I sat cross-legged on the bed. I went through what I had said to the dealers before and nodded to myself. Sometimes it was better to discuss things out in the open with others to understand it better yourself. Having a partner could be useful but it was unlikely I would ever feel comfortable bringing Harris out in the field with me.

  I did a quick internet search of drug dealers or suspected ones in the area, to try and put names to the faces I had seen but there was little to help other than the more obvious of criminals such as Kai Nelson and Josh Murray. Those two had been the tracksuited individuals in the meeting and they were regarded as the leaders of the Elsworth Warriors. Most dealers that were photographed were now in prison. Still I wrote down what I could remember about their features as it might come in use in the future.

  I was tempted to ring Spencer to see what he knew and if there was any news on the gun. He had also taken a couple of the bullets I had taken out of the gym wall and I was interested in seeing if there was anything worth noting about them. Normally it would take a while for such information but with the scrutiny over the shooting I thought he might be able to rush the labwork, even though Spencer wasn't particularly happy with taking something I found. He had however had to do something similar in Hollingswood so deferred to my better judgement.

  Giving in to the temptation, I called him, “Hello, Harper.”

  “How's it going, Spencer?”

  “As well as you can imagine. We’re no closer to finding this bastard and the press is all over this case, which in turn means that every single superior officer is looking at everything we do and then giving their two pence worth of thought. Hell, we’ve even got the Prime Minister himself saying how terrible it is.”

  “Not the best of situations I guess,” I managed to say, shrugging, “Has there been any developments though? Any leads to help you out?”

  “You mean what information has come about from the gun, so as to help you?”

  He couldn’t see me but I’m sure he knew I was shrugging, “Something along those lines. Helping me helps you, Spencer.”

  “I know you’re right, it just pains me to admit it. The gun had nothing on it, no fibres or fingerprints but we’ve got it down as definitely being the murder weapon in the couple’s shooting.”

  “It’s a start then. Do you have any records of it?�
�

  “Yes, not that it does us that much good. You were right about it being an ex-service weapon, something from the war. Unfortunately the records from back then aren’t complete so we can’t track it down to the original owner, other than to say it has popped up recently,” Spencer stopped for a second and I could hear the rustling of papers on the other end of the phone line, “We’ve got a ballistics match here for it being used in a couple of other offences a while ago. The most recent one was nearly ten years back; a post office clerk took a shot to the chest in an armed raid. He survived but the gang got away.”

  “That’s a shame, the getting away part not the clerk surviving.”

  “Well there’s actually some good news on the gang front, the raid was one we have managed to attribute to a certain group of men out of the Elsworth Warriors a few of years ago. They were on the periphery of the gang but acted as muscle and enforcers. The four men did a number of raids, even got hired out for a couple around the country when the heat was on them up here. Took us a couple of years but they finally went down; two of them wound up getting shot dead in a bit of a turf war with another gang. The other two both ended up getting nicked on different charges.”

  “So you’re working on the theory that they sold the guns on,” I said. My thoughts on the way the guns and victims surrounded Elsworth. I was certain that there was more to this than gang warfare but the evidence kept my investigation close to that theory.