Cog in the Machine

by Nigel Shinner

  “Got it.”

  Gary dropped the keys in Dom’s lap and got out of the car. His final comment was the most worrying statement Dom had ever heard.

  “People will try and take the money from you. Do not let them, whatever it takes. Do not let them.”

  “What if-”

  “What they will do to you is nothing compared to what we will do to you if you lose it. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Not since he had heard the key lock his cell door on the first night in prison had the thought hit home so hard that he had made a genuinely colossal mistake.

  Chapter 48

  The air-conditioning was on and the blowers were set to maximum. But it couldn’t stop the paranoia-sweat oozing from his pores. The surge of adrenalin, mixed with a large dose of anxiety, was enough to melt glaciers. Dom was drifting through the traffic – overtaking, undertaking, switching lanes, slowing down and speeding up without taking the car over the ton. He was aiming for invisibility but a nervous heart pumped his blood too hard and was resulting in a less than stealthy passage through the thinning evening traffic. He even pulled off at the slip-roads, doing a few circuits of the adjoining roundabout, only to re-join the motorway at the same junction. It was his way of seeing if he was being followed.

  So far, so good.

  Maybe the threat of interference had been thrown at him for caution’s sake. Making him more wary than he would normally be. That was the only problem with criminal gangs. With so much to lose, everyone was overtly paranoid. That paranoia was passed on like the baton in an illicit relay where Dom was the anchor. He was running the last leg and had no trust that the runners before him had made the best start.

  As he switched from the M5 to the M4, the flowing traffic started to build up again. The junctions on both motorways were still active around the Bristol area well after the rush hour had been and gone. Dom dropped the BMW into the left-hand lane, taking the speed down to fifty. It was a calculated risk, but then again, he wasn’t sure if there was a risk at all. He was only going on the words of a stranger and making decisions based on that information.

  Once the traffic had subsided, and he was on sparsely covered motorway, Dom started to relax. The satnav bonged out a marker, the automated female voice informing him that the next junction to take was so many miles away. Dom could forget about everything for the moment, except the possible threat.

  Mile after mile cruised by. The canopy of night was already up when Dom caught something out of the corner of his eye.

  He gunned the engine, taking the car up to a hundred miles an hour. Weaving between the few cars on the road, he tried to keep a vehicle between him and the headlights that appeared to be matching his path.

  The paranoia-sweat, which had eased somewhat, was starting to leak through again. Could it be the police? Or was it the aforementioned threat that Gary, warehouseman and firearms expert, had warned him of?

  The car was keeping pace.

  Dom had a choice.

  He could blast the throttle to the floor and take his chances against the traffic ahead, or he could drop back and see for himself. Toying with the idea of seeing what top speed he could get out of his ride, another option presented itself. A sign for the services loomed out of the dim twilight, stating that the next service station was just a mile away. Dom eased up and pulled into the left-hand lane, waiting for the green reflective markers that highlighted the slip-road.

  Ahead, a Citroen people carrier was indicating toward the service exit. Dom dropped a gear, swiftly overtaking the vehicle just at the exit road. He wanted a buffer between him and the car he thought was sure to follow him.

  Ignoring the services speed limit, Dom raced the BMW around the curve of the approach into the car park, hiding his intentions from anyone viewing from the slip-road.

  There was a blue Transit van parked at the far corner of one of the parking bays. Dom switched off his headlights and pulled in alongside it so he, and his ride, were sheltered from view.

  He watched the Citroen drive all the way to far end of the car park. The vehicle directly behind it was creeping along the edge of the car park. Dom imagined the occupant’s eyes scanning for him, wondering where he was hiding.

  That was soon forgotten. He recognised the car.

  It was time to be seen.

  Headlights flicked on as the tuned engine roared through twin exhausts. Dom aimed toward the pursuing car. Racing at it. Pouncing like a predator surprising its prey.

  The familiar car slammed on the brakes. Dom slammed on his own, while tapping his full-beam to blind the occupant.

  In less than a second he was out of the car and at other vehicle’s driver’s side door. He wrenched it open.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Dom had to wait a while to get an answer.

  Chapter 49

  “He’s stopped!” Wade informed the Boss.

  “Where?”

  “Not far. The services, I think.”

  “Perhaps he needs to take a piss.” The Boss smiled to himself. Maybe this would be easier than he first thought.

  The dirty white Transit van had been trundling along the motorway, following the progress of the car driven by Dom.

  Loyalty was a commodity in the criminal world. It could be bought and sold to anyone who had enough cash and enough clout to make a difference. The Boss paid cheap but only because the loyalty he bought was backed up with a guaranteed threat of violence if that loyalty was ever called into question.

  The Boss had paid for information and paid for favours. One of those favours was to have a GPS tracking app installed in the car. Nothing too high-tech, just a cheap phone secreted somewhere in the car, revealing its position as long as there was mobile signal.

  “How long till we get there?” The Boss wasn’t about to endure a night of cat and mouse if he could end the games and force his career-making gambit early.

  Wade flashed the phone screen at Gibbo, who was driving.

  “About five minutes,” Gibbo answered.

  “Step on it!”

  In the dim glow of the van’s cab, the Boss looked down at his right hand. There was a swelling forming on the outer edge of his fist, where he had punched the bound figure. It was not like the Boss to bear any injuries after dealing out a beating, even when the victim could defend themselves. He was smarting at his own misfortune and the wound on his knuckles, without sparing a thought for the poor wretch bleeding just a few feet away.

  Fists were for the thugs. Fists were for the lower league players in this game. It was time for the Boss and his ‘organisation’ to step up to the big leagues; to play with the big boys. This time fear and menace were not enough to secure the reputation he wanted. There was a threshold to cross and he was ready to make that transition. Ready at all costs.

  He pinched the catch on the glove compartment, dropping down the door. A quick twist and pull and the base of the compartment lifted out completely. The Boss sank his thick hairy arm into the hole, grabbing hold of a cloth sack, pulling it into the cab.

  A grin swept across his face as he spilled the guns into his lap. He handed one to Wade. Without hesitation, Wade tucked it into his jacket.

  The Boss did no such thing. He gazed at the gun like a child with a new toy, feeling its weight in his hand, touching the contours with his thick fingers, breathing in the smell of oil.

  If this was his toy, nobody else was going to play with it. He traced the name Beretta with his thick finger. This was his ticket to the big leagues. This was the game changer, and he was playing for keeps.

  Chapter 50

  The occupant of the car didn’t move, frozen by surprise, momentarily.

  “I’ll say it again,” Dom roared. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  She stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. “Trying to keep an eye on you.” Georgia was angry too.

  “I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I need you to go home and keep yourself safe.”


  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Her voice calmed a little. “You’re the one in the middle of all this shit. You’re the one who’s going to take the fall if it all goes wrong.”

  “What do you mean – ‘take the fall’?” Dom also eased up on his rage.

  “This had all been planned out to keep as much distance as possible between my father’s business and the deal that’s going down. That includes the scapegoat to blame if it all goes south. That would be you!”

  “Yeah, I get that but I’m not going to get caught.”

  Georgia looked at him with incredulity. “What if you do?” Her tone was softer, voice breaking, as though on the edge of tears.

  He couldn’t answer her. He didn’t know.

  An eternity passed without a word being exchanged.

  The glow of headlights broke their attention on the silence between them. A toot of a horn re-focused them on the present. They were blocking the centre of the car park.

  In unison, they both jumped into their vehicles and parked up in adjacent bays.

  Georgia got out of the car swiftly and jumped in alongside Dom.

  “Get out of the car.”

  “No.”

  “Georgia, get out of the car. I’m not messing around.” Dom was as a firm as he dared be.

  “No. Not until you listen to what I have to say.”

  “Get out, now.”

  “No, no, no!” She looked as though she was going to start beating her hands like a child mid-tantrum. “You will hear what I have to say and then I’ll get out.”

  “Make it quick!” Dom was losing what little patience he had.

  “This is a dangerous game you’re playing. These people play for keeps, don’t you know that. They won’t smack you about and steal your pocket money. They’ll kill you and dump the body somewhere.”

  “I get it! It’s dangerous. But I’m good at what I do. Why do you care all of a sudden?” The words were bellowed from frustration.

  “Of course I care!” Tears were flowing freely now. “If I didn’t care I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Why didn’t you say something back at the track, or at the services? Why did you have to chase me here?”

  “I didn’t know how serious the threat was. I didn’t know it was going to be dangerous. I didn’t know until I saw Gary show you the gun.” She sobbed.

  He just hugged her. Wrapped his arms around her and wished for them to be in a different time and place. A time where there was no urgency, in a place where there was no danger.

  He could wish all he wanted, but he’d played his hand and he was all in. It was time to play.

  “Don’t doubt me. I’m not planning on getting hurt, or getting caught. You have to trust me.” All traces of anger were now banished from his voice. He reined in his frayed emotions to demonstrate he was in control. That he was stronger, and more able, than she was giving him credit for.

  “I do… I do.” It was as much as she could say. She pulled him close like he was the air of her next breath.

  He could feel her yearning from within, the authenticity of her embrace putting questions into his brain he dared not answer. It was time to go.

  “Let me go now.” He released his arms. “The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back.”

  She let him go, her steel blue eyes streaming as she went.

  Watching her go, he buckled up and started the engine. There were no more excuses to stay. No more reasons to delay. The deep growl of the tuned machine cut through the twilight. In a squeal of tyres and a diminishing glow of tail-light, Dom was gone.

  Chapter 51

  The road before him invited speed, willed it, demanded it. There were just a few cars trundling along the left-hand lane, the occasional articulated lorry and the obligatory white van man tearing up the middle lane.

  Dom held a position in the outside lane, razor reflexes choosing his path through any obstacles. A car, a van, a motorbike – whatever ventured into his domain was swiftly overtaken or undertaken, the glowing neon headlights of his ride illuminating the cat’s eyes like spectral breadcrumbs on the route he was destined to follow.

  The satnav gave its instruction and Dom altered his trajectory, sweeping across three carriageways into the exit lane. As he tucked in behind an Eddie Stobart wagon on the downward slip-road of junction fourteen his personal mobile bonged.

  He tapped the screen to reveal two messages on his lock-screen. One was from Georgia. It simply said ‘Be careful xx.’ The other was from a withheld number but there was no text.

  Dom swiped open the phone, tapping into the messages while steering around the roundabout toward the exit. There was no message, just an image.

  Dropping a gear, he powered the BMW past the wagon before he looked more closely at the image.

  He tapped the screen. The image opened out.

  Dom nearly threw up. The car swerved, clipping the grass verge.

  He forced the car into a layby on the opposite side of the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car.

  Looking at the image once more, there was little he could do for this stomach this time. Kicking the door open, Dom threw up onto the side of the road. He retched again and again, the painful spasm of an empty stomach almost throwing him from the car.

  He eased back into the driver’s seat. The phone’s glow lit the cockpit. Glancing down, he was too scared to stare too long, but he had to. The person in the picture was barely recognisable. Blood covered the face from the nose down; a nose that was normally situated in the middle of the face. Now it was a flattened mess veering to the right side. Both eyes were blackened and swollen. It didn’t look like a face anymore. It resembled a deflated football that had been kicked too many times.

  Dom winced at the brutality that must have meted out on the face he knew so well. It used to be a face that smiled and frowned at him with an equal measure of love. He didn’t know if that face would ever smile again. He prayed it would. He prayed for a lot of things in a few short seconds. He prayed that he could have done everything differently.

  It was Bob’s face.

  Before his fragmented brain could throw the questions of where and why, his phone rang, a withheld number thankfully blotting out the image.

  The caller was the who.

  “Hello, Dominic.”

  As low as he felt at the sight of his beloved Bob’s beaten face, the sound of that voice sent him lower. He recognised it. What had he done?

  Chapter 52

  The weight of his despair was pushing him into the dry soil of the desolate field. Dom had never felt so completely at the mercy of another’s actions as he did now. During the phone call he was given instructions of where to go. After the phone was hung up and all hope was obliterated, a text with the same instructions was delivered to his inbox.

  He’d kept his end of the bargain and was at the location. A field in the middle of nowhere just off the A338.

  Under any other circumstances, it might have been the perfect place for a secret liaison. For Dom it was the kind of place where a dead body could lay undiscovered for quite some time before being stumbled across by a random dog walker; the kind of place where crimes could be committed with impunity, without witnesses or CCTV.

  Every now and then he could hear a vehicle from the main road. They all seemed to continue past the junction leading to the narrow lane adjacent to the field. Over the distant hedgerow, the headlight glow could just be seen filtering through the foliage, indicating a presence.

  Dom tapped his jacket, the bulge inside the pocket giving little relief about what was to come. He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t going to have a positive outcome regardless of the precautionary firearm.

  The cool night air suddenly felt infected by the drone of an approaching van. All the other traffic noise had been the soundtrack of his solitude in this strange place. But now, something was drawing near. The rattle of a diesel engine was about to intrude. Headlights were cutting into the dar
kness. A Transit van pulled in.

  Both doors opened, and three figures decamped.

  “Hello, Dominic.” The large figure of the Boss stood silhouetted against the glow of the van’s dimmed lights.

  Dom gauged his response. He was outnumbered, which probably meant he was outgunned too. Many years had passed since these two men had last seen each other. A lot had changed. They had changed. Dom knew in himself that he was definitely a different man. He didn’t doubt that this man, larger than he remembered, was as ruthless as he had been back in the day. Probably worse.

  “Cat got your tongue?” The Boss walked a little closer, eyeing Dom and recalling the old days. “You’ve put on a bit of weight. You needed a bit of weight on ya. Always a bit too skinny, I thought.”

  “You’ve put some on too.” It was a cheap shot.

  “Life’s been good – so good that I keep a little around my waist to keep me warm in the winter.”

  “Whatever works for you, Kevin.” Dom noticed a glance between the two henchmen at the mention of a first name.

  “They call me ‘the Boss’ these days. You’d best remember that.” The Boss was now just a foot away from his former driver.

  “It’s less of a mouthful than Kevin Dunstan, I suppose.” The bravado was wearing thin. ‘Less for you to remember?’

  A swift right hand to the jaw dropped Dom into the dirt.

  “Is that a better mouthful for you? Learn some respect, you little shit. I made you the legend people believe you to be, just you remember that.” The Boss spat on the floundering figure in the dirt to punctuate the sentence.

  After a moment, to regain his composure, Dom got to his feet, spitting out a mixture of blood and soil.

  “What do you want? You said you wanted to talk – so let’s talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” the Boss sneered.