The Fighter

by Robert White

  “Naming you and finding you are two very different things, pal,” I said.

  Des knew that too. The thing about disappearing, is you don’t have to travel far to do it. All you need to do is follow simple rules, like, use a car not registered to you, don’t use your credit or debit cards, turn off the GPS on your mobile, that kind of thing. You only need to move a few miles away, keep your head down, ignore your old life for a while and you were incredibly difficult to find.

  I heard footsteps from above. The girls were awake. Des stepped into the lounge and gave Forrest a wobble. “Brew, mate?” he asked.

  I heard Forrest yawn. “Cheers, pal.”

  Ten minutes later we were all sitting around our small kitchen table. Forrest’s face had bruised nicely. He must have been in some pain, yet he hadn’t mentioned it once since I’d caused him the damage.

  I gave the team the news about the Buxton Gazette and Larry Simpson’s antics.

  Lauren was the most troubled. Moments later, I found out why.

  “He called last night, Larry I mean,” she said. “Well, he messaged first, he was playing with me, trying to get under my skin, you know. He said he was watching me, when really all he was doing was reviewing the footage from the Flat Iron.”

  “Did he mention me?” asked Forrest.

  Lauren nodded. “He asked why you left with us. I said that you were the reason that we were all there, that you’d applied for a job with our firm.”

  “And he swallowed that?” asked Des.

  Lauren shrugged. “Hard to say. He can’t prove otherwise at the moment.”

  Sellers sipped her tea. “Do you think he’s lost the plot, darling?”

  “Sounds like it to me,” muttered Des.

  Lauren pursed her lips. “Who knows? I’m not a psychologist. When I saw him that night in the Ostrich, the night Maggie was taken, he was stressed, no doubt. He’d been drinking heavily for several days, but I just figured that he’d be strong enough to come out the other side. Then, when we met the next time, he seemed fine.”

  “The night you slept together,” said Sellers.

  There was a collective intake of breath around the table at that one. Victoria was not noted for her delicacy, that was for sure. I felt my guts churn with jealousy. I was growing to hate the bastard. Any more of this shite and he’d have me to answer to. Lauren looked almost as angry as I felt. Des and Forrest suddenly found something interesting to look at outside the kitchen window.

  “Come on,” said Sellers, exasperated. “We’re all friends here. You know, ‘Let him that is without sin cast the first stone.’ Jesus, if you weren’t such a twat, Fuller, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  Lauren gave Sellers a withering look. She then turned to me, her face full of pain and soldiered on.

  “Then, of course there was the night of the proposal, and the napkin.”

  “The threat,” said Des coldly. “That was a fucking threat.”

  Lauren nodded. “I agree with you now, Des, and last night he made a comment about Rick, too; something about, living by the sword. It was only when I told him I’d to go to the complaints department that he backed off.”

  “Anything else?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “I think he’s been to my flat to look for me.”

  I found myself tapping the table with my fingers, my fury raging inside me. I did my best to keep my voice level.

  “I need to make a call,” I said. “Clear something up.”

  Stepping into the yard, I opened my phone and dialled.

  “You know I hate mobile phones, Richard.”

  Cartwright sounded as if he was outside. I could hear birds chirping and the sound of children playing.

  “Well, I’m sorry to spoil your morning outing in the park, but unless I’m very much mistaken, this job has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Ah, you read the mail I sent you.”

  “Of course.”

  “It was a necessary evil, Fuller. We’ve had an issue or two this end, you see.”

  “What was a necessary evil? Why the fuck do you talk in riddles all the time?”

  “Releasing the boy’s name to the reporter, of course.”

  “So that was you? You gave Siddique’s details to the press?”

  “We created that leak, yes.”

  “Why?

  “Because …our initial plan is no longer viable, and time is now of the essence.”

  “What?”

  “Doctor Hamid Shah was interviewed at length regarding the goods found in the hold of the boat in Ireland. It would seem that the vessel was indeed to be met by a second craft that was almost certainly scared off by your gunfire. The drugs, and you, were initially bound for Belfast, where the transaction was to be completed between Al-Mufti and the buyer.”

  “So Abdallah is in Belfast?”

  “Was, anyway, listen up, Richard. From there the cocaine was to be split into three consignments. The first to remain in Ireland, whilst the other two were to be transported to Glasgow and Manchester respectively. However, despite the spread of locations, Shah insisted that there is only one buyer. The cities are all controlled by the same person. This oligarch of the drug world has three head men, one in each location. He simply bankrolls the deals and takes his cut.”

  “And he is?”

  “He didn’t know his name.”

  “Really?”

  “We believe so… Shah was only aware that this mystery man’s three subordinates went by pseudonyms, nicknames. Mr Punch, Belfast. The Fortune Teller, Glasgow, and The Jester, Manchester.”

  That pricked up my ears.

  “I know that name. The Jester. He’s in Strangeways, doing ten to life. He’s connected to a company called Big C Securities. They had a hand in the shooting of Sean Ryan and are connected to the guys we’re targeting next, Jonas and Jacket.”

  “That’s helpful, Richard. I’ll make some enquiries with HMP Strangeways. However, you do realise, that young Sean was not called Ryan at all?”

  “Really?”

  “Sean Patrick Donahue, to give him his full title, Fuller.”

  “So why did our secretary, Estelle tell Des he was her brother?”

  “Maybe you should ask your employee that same question, Richard. And with that in mind, the good Doctor was also questioned regarding Al-Mufti’s intelligence gathering capabilities.”

  “And?”

  “And as we suspected, the Egyptian has spies in our camp… as do you, Richard.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Again, he didn’t know the identity of the person, or persons, but he believed it was someone very close to you. Someone who knew your movements.”

  “Sounds to me like he was keeping you dangling. Feeding you the titbits but keeping hold of the good stuff. Either way, Estelle’s out of the country. Majorca, out of the picture.”

  “Nice, this time of year, I believe. Anyway, you know me, Richard. I was born cynical, and of course, anything is possible, but as the Doctor is no longer any use to us, it is a moot point. He suffered a fatal heart attack yesterday. The point is things are moving on a pace.”

  “So you decided to up the ante?”

  “Exactly, Richard. With the current information in my possession, I had to inform the powers that be of our mission. They have decided that our plan is no longer of use. This operation is now being measured in hours rather than days. Hence the fake coroner’s report naming Siddique, being leaked to the press.”

  “Well, that press release will have Abdallah and half of Yunfakh printing their boarding passes to Manchester as we speak.”

  “That was our sole intention, Fuller. Young Mr Willets was most resourceful. He moved very quickly to link the Ancoats incident with the vehicle fire. Al- Mufti would need to be in a cave not to
have received that information.”

  “Okay, but now we have another problem this end. Larry Simpson is breathing down our necks. Or to put a finer point on it, Lauren’s.”

  “This is indeed true, Richard. We didn’t expect Willets to involve SOCU so soon. And, of course, your friend Chief Inspector Simpson was very keen to help the young chap by issuing him with Mr Cogan’s description. A minor irritation, and one I’m sure you can deal with, but all the more reason to dispatch this matter with most haste.”

  “So, where do we go from here?”

  Cartwright was silent for a moment. I knew the old spy well enough to realise this only happened in conversations for one reason. He was considering exactly what I needed to know.

  “Fuller, old faces come back to haunt us more often than not. Now, as I said on the boat in Ireland, as soon as I knew exactly why the Americans wanted the vessel sunk, I would tell you. Therefore, I want you to think of the connection that is at the heart of all of your recent operations and what binds them all together.”

  “Drugs,” I said. “Weapons and drugs.”

  “Partly, Richard. Drugs and the men that sell them are definitely a major contributory factor here. However, cast your mind back to poor Todd’s murder. You met JE Blackman as I recall?”

  “I had the dubious pleasure, yes.”

  “Of course, well… despite the setback of losing his son, you will be unsurprised to learn that his campaign to become president of the United States, is now in full swing. Campaigns like his cost a lot of money, Richard. Millions of dollars a week.”

  “You’re not suggesting that JE is selling…”

  “Not at all, Fuller, heaven forbid. No, Blackman comes from old money. He can afford to campaign from now until doomsday, however, his nemesis…”

  “Khalid Kulenović.”

  “Correct, Richard. Kulenović is a self-made millionaire but does not have the kind of resources that JE Blackman has at his disposal. He quickly realised that he needed other income streams to enable him to keep in the race, hence…his allegiance to Yunfakh. Now, whilst we are on the subject of arch enemies, if you recall, it was Stephan Goldsmith who gave me the information about this new gang muscling in over the pond, kicking out the Italians, even the Albanians. It was he who told me how Yunfakh operated, how Al-Mufti was at the helm and exactly where the Egyptian’s political loyalties lay. As you know only too well. Al-Mufti dispatched his son and a few handpicked members of Yunfakh to travel to Manchester, kill Todd Blackman and ruin JE’s reputation, all whilst laying down the infrastructure to begin trading in narcotics here in the UK.”

  “When are you going to tell me something I don’t know?”

  “Your lack of patience is sometimes irritating, Fuller. So… the good Doctor Shah, was initially enmeshed between Kulenović and Al-Mufti to supply the Taliban and their Baltic allies with weapons.”

  “So the PIRA’s AK’s were helping to fight the good fight.”

  “Exactly, Richard. However, Doctor Shah intimated that more recently, he had been tasked with another role. As a result of the failure of Yunfakh to make any headway at street level in the UK, Al-Mufti decided to change tactics and attempt to sell large quantities of pure cocaine to already established dealers across the Union. Khalid needs cash for his campaign, and he needs it quickly. So, despite the setback of losing their most recent cargo, Yunfakh have not been dissuaded in their quest to see their most glorious leader elected by any means possible. According to our CIA friends across the pond, there is a new consignment of cocaine on its way. Indeed, we believe it is already in the country. I need you and your team to find out who the intended recipient is and terminate the transaction… permanently. Call it a favour to our allies.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be forever grateful… and Al-Mufti?”

  “Our understanding is that he has been tasked by Kulenović to ensure the deal is done.”

  “So you think he’s here? He’s travelled with the cargo?”

  “Our intelligence tells us he left Belfast for England last night. He will complete the transaction personally, the titbit we dropped to the newspaper was simply a belt and braces exercise, to ensure that the deal was done in Manchester, rather than elsewhere. After all we can’t have our Celtic cousins having all the fun, now can we? Your tactic of clearing the streets of product and destabilising the local trade was a good one, Richard, but now time is of the essence. We can no longer sit back and wait for our prey to come to us. You need to discover the identity of this modern day drug lord, before the new transaction is completed. Find him by any means possible. Scared people tell tales, Richard. Instil fear and you loosen lips. Strike terror into Mr Big’s customers and find this man who controls three cities. Do this and be rid of your enemies forever.”

  I closed the call and stepped back into the kitchen. All eyes were on me. I rubbed my face with my palms and sat.

  “Okay, as you all know, our initial strategy was to make it look like we had possession of the coffin, stake our claim and wait for the big boys to come to us, but there’s no time for that now. Things have changed. We need to make some real noise.”

  Forrest screwed up his face.

  “Hang on, Rick. We’ve already got this Simpson bloke properly on our backs. As soon as we start throwing our weight around, he’ll be on us like a rash.”

  “I’m aware of that, Mickey,” I offered with no small amount of irritation. “The fact that the cops would be involved was always factored into the equation, and yes, I agree, as Simpson seems to be obsessed with Lauren, it makes things,” I fought to find the word I wanted. “…Delicate. But this job is changing by the hour. The Firm have already upped the ante and released a fake coroner’s report naming Siddique Al-Mufti as a victim in a fatal car accident. It’s made the local press. Abdallah will know his son is dead, and there’s no way he’ll believe it was an accident.”

  “Jesus,” whispered Lauren. “He’ll come for us now, won’t he?”

  “And that is exactly what we wanted,” I offered. “Now Al-Mufti knows Siddique is gone, he will want to be right here where he knows our team are based, take his revenge and be on his toes before anyone knows he’s been on British soil. However, he has to complete the deal that we foiled. There is a second consignment of cocaine already in the country. The CIA believe that the profit from the deal will go towards Khalid Kulenović’s presidential campaign fund and want it stopped. We need a rethink. We haven’t got time for subtlety. This deal can’t happen.”

  Des pulled his pipe from his pocket. “I was never one for being subtle, pal.”

  Running my hands through my hair, I carried on. “Cartwright wants the recipient of this cargo out of the game, and fast. Apparently, he controls major slices of three cities, Glasgow, Belfast and here in Manchester. And, Mickey, guess what? His contact here, is the Jester.”

  “Who?” asked Lauren, a puzzled look on her face.

  “He’s the guy who put me in touch with Big C. The guy in Strangeways. No one ever called him anything other than, Jester. Not even the screws.”

  I nodded. “The Firm are already looking into his real identity, but as he’s locked up, and Al-Mufti will want to do the deal here in Manchester, the hope is that our Mr Big will be visiting the city, and soon. With luck, we can find out where that deal will be done and spoil everyone’s party.”

  I pointed.

  “So, we start on Jonas and Jacket today. Find out what they know. Are they expecting a delivery? If so, who’s selling? You know the script. Now, when I worked for Joel Davies…”

  Forrest almost dropped his tea. “You worked for Davies? The Joel Davies?”

  “In another life,” I said. “Anyway, in those days, I always figured that the accidental death of a drug dealer would be treated with a little less gusto by the cops. So, Lauren, Victoria, scope out Murphy’s Sports Bar on Stockport Road. Try a
nd set up a small buy from Jonas. Oh, and by the way, he’s a paedophile. He did time in Hungary for sexual assault on a little girl. I’m sure you can use that snippet to loosen his tongue.”

  “I already have a plan, darling,” smiled Sellers.

  “Good,” I offered. “You concentrate on him. We’ll look at Jacket.”

  Des found his tobacco. “I’m just in the fuckin’ mood fe these wee boys.”

  Lauren North’s Story:

  Sellers pulled a white t-shirt over her head and flicked out the strands of hair that were caught in the neck.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “About the Larry calls, you mean?”

  “Of course.”

  I shrugged. “Strangely better now that the whole thing is out in the open.”

  “And Fuller?”

  I picked up the photographs and intel reports of Jonas and Jacket and waved them at her.

  “The matter at hand is the important thing right now, Victoria. Not my love life, or lack of it.”

  Sellers turned down her mouth and nodded.

  “Fair enough, I was just making conversation, darling.”

  We sat together at the kitchen table and spread out the papers between us. Sellers was scanning Jonas’ antecedence report. It had been clumsily translated from its original Hungarian, but still made very disturbing reading.

  “I can’t see how this didn’t find its way into the hands of the authorities here,” she said. “In fact, I’m mystified that this animal has ever been released into the community. This psychologist’s report is pretty damning. It clearly suggests that shortly prior to his discharge, he was still a danger to young girls.”

  There was little doubt that Jonas was a predatory paedophile. I read alongside Sellers, and my stomach churned. Prior to my specialisation in HDU, I’d spent three very disturbing years in casualty and had dealt with just about every injury you could possibly imagine, including those inflicted by adults on children. What Jonas had done to that little girl was as bad as anything I’d ever witnessed.