The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  ‘Ok Vinnie Palmer, I know I can trust you, and I might need your help at some stage. I’ll leave any names and exact positions of those in authority out of it for now, but it’ll give you a good overview nonetheless. But you’ll need to fill that empty wine glass first.’

  ‘On it,’ Vinnie shouted as he grabbed the glass and his own and headed to the bar.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Why has he got to work as a bastard milkman?’ Quintel muttered, looking at his watch.

  ‘Not sure, Boss, but at least it’ll be quiet,’ Jason replied.

  ‘True, but are you sure this is the best spot?’

  ‘Not really, but I thought if we followed him from a safe distance, we could map his route, and then come back and pick a good place.’

  ‘Well, at least we won’t lose him,’ Quintel said, before Jason went into painstaking detail to explain how it was much harder following a slow-moving target than a faster one. Greater risk of being noticed. He realised this; he didn’t need to be surveillance trained to work it out. He brought the lesson to an end. ‘Yeah, yeah, look it won’t be the end of the world if he does clock us; we’ll just do one.’

  ‘And then what, Boss?’

  ‘Then we just pick another one, Milky’s wife, or another family member, it’s all the same to me.’

  ‘Look,’ Jason said, pointing ahead.

  Quintel looked at his watch, 2.30 am; he didn’t think he’d ever started a week so early. He looked at where Jason was pointing. He could see the milk float reversing out the driveway onto the street. They were parked thirty metres away in the shadows. At least it wasn’t one of those electric vehicles - even Jason with all his skills might struggle then. It was a converted Ford Transit flat-back, and although it had a diesel engine, it would still be travelling slowly, well once it had started it’s deliveries it would. Initially, Jason had suggested they follow the vehicle from the dairy after it had collected its load, as the best opportunities would no doubt be while it was stop-starting on its round. And although this would probably be so, Quintel wanted to follow the truck from the off, get the whole picture.

  It took only about ten minutes to the dairy, which was a farm on the eastern outskirts of Preston. Quintel knew that doorstep deliveries were almost a thing of the past, but this place looked busy, so they left the flat-back to run in and pulled off it a few hundred metres short. They then plotted up on the same road they had followed it in on hoping it would return the same way, people were usually creatures of habit, unless they had reason to be careful, and this milky looked anything other than a criminal mastermind. ‘Did you text Dempster this morning before we left?’ Quintel asked as they waited.

  ‘Yeah, and he responded pretty quickly, given the time. I told him to get to the hotel this morning and pay our tab in cash. Told him to stand it out of the bung I gave him yesterday when I dropped him off.’

  ‘How much did you give him?’

  ‘A grand wages and a grand for his ear.’

  ‘Fair enough. We can send him a bonus when the whole job’s over, keep him sweet, after all, we’ll be rolling in the stuff.’

  Fifteen minutes passed where neither spoke, before the fully crated-up vehicle they had followed passed them. They were set back from the road, but effectively on its return route. Quintel and Jason had now changed seats, and although one or two possibilities had become apparent on the way to the dairy, Quintel knew Jason would be right about there being more once Milky was on his round. He also knew that they had the right man, as his name was written on the Transit’s doors, followed by the words ‘Home Dairy Deliveries’. As a target, Milky would do nicely.

  ‘Is it still just a dry run today, Boss?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Probably for the best. Let’s just identify possible locations for use, but I’ve got it with me, just in case. I’ll let you know if it changes. But for now, we’ll just follow,’ and with that, Quintel pulled out of the turnoff and started to tail the van from a safe distance.

  ‘Do you think he’ll give us what we need, Boss?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Like I say, either him or a member of his family will do,’ Quintel answered, as he pulled over and killed the lights. Up ahead he could see the brake lights come back on the pick-up as it pulled over. From the shadows, he could see Milky jump out and carry two bottles of milk to an old stone cottage on the opposite side of the road. The lane they were now on had meandered from the main road, and he suspected it would reconnect to the A road further on. Milky had by-passed this on his way to the dairy. It was a quiet, sleepy turn-off, maybe a possibility? On their side of the lane Quintel could make out a long, high wall from where the pick-up had stopped. Its exhaust spooled through the glow of the vehicle’s rear lights, giving the place an eerie feel that was quite appropriate.

  Milky walked back to his vehicle but didn’t get in. He put two empties into a crate, but then pulled out two more bottles of milk. Quintel couldn’t see any other houses, and as he looked around, Jason spoke.

  ‘Behind the pickup, Boss, there’s a break in the wall, it must be a driveway.’

  And as Quintel watched he could see that Jason was right. Milky walked ‘through’ the wall and was gone. Leaving their car lights off, Quintel drove off and a moment later passed the pick-up, but he glanced through the opening in the wall first, where he could see Milky walking half way down a long private road towards a converted barn. Perfect. He pulled over and, using as few revs as possible, he reversed the car until they were right in front of the pick-up.

  Turning to face Jason he said, ‘This will be a perfect spot.’

  ‘I agree Boss, but shouldn’t we do one before he comes back?’

  ‘Fuck it. Let’s do it here. It’s pitch black, the only other house is that cottage opposite and that’s facing at right angles to the road, just the gable end towards us, it’s ideal.’

  ‘I know Boss, but—’

  ‘I mean do it here, and now,’ Quintel said, as he reached for the glove box.

  ‘I told you I had it with me,’ he said as he pulled the large stun gun out and handed it to Jason, who took it and smiled as he turned it around in his hand.

  ‘I’ve never seen one this big before,’ Jason said as he orientated it in his hand.

  ‘Chinese made, not strictly for human use,’ Quintel said, and they both laughed. ‘You know exactly what to do, Jason?’

  ‘Sure do,’ he replied as he slowly got out of the car and walked towards the idling pick-up truck.

  Quintel smiled to himself as he watched Jason in his door mirror as his shadow hugged the wall close to the entrance. The sound of their car engine was masked by the noisy rumble of the pick-up’s diesel note. Milky was in for a surprise.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was 10.30 before Vinnie arrived back on the estate in the Ribbleton area of Preston. The traffic from Manchester hadn’t been good, though to be fair; most of it had been going the other way. He’d rung Harry en route and neither had anything to add since they’d last spoke. Other than the fact that the post mortem examination had been completed on Charlie and he’d definitely died from catastrophic blood loss as a result of his neck wounds, as opposed to from the fire itself, apparently there was no evidence of smoke in his lungs, not that they’d expected the result to be any different. Harry was apparently hoping to get Carstair’s body moved sometime today, just as soon as the forensic scientists had finished examining the inside of the car – not that there would be any doubt about his cause of death. Vinnie told Harry where he was going, and that he’d ring him again later.

  Vinnie drove onto the estate and recognised it, as the houses were all painted the same putrid colours of dirty cream and lime green – there must have been a special offer on where the council bought their paint. He pulled up short of the address, and walked to the front door. There were no obvious signs of life, but it was hard to tell as all the front windows had dirty net curtains across them. He banged on the door like a policeman and wai
ted. No answer. Standard response. He banged again, louder. No reply. He knew that if he was in then eventually his annoyance would bring him to the door. Then he had an idea. He bent down to the letter box which was half-way down the door and opened it. The offensive waft of stale air made him cough, before he shouted through the opening. ‘If I keep banging like this, the whole street will know it’s the filth at your door.’ He then stood up and waited. Two minutes later the door opened and Dempster was stood there, still with that AC/DC T shirt on, but with added dark stains over his left shoulder. Plus, he had a bandage around his forehead and a wider one going from under his chin around the top of his head. He looked as if someone had started the process of mummifying him but had taken a break.

  ‘For fucks sake, keep your voice down and get in before any of those grassing bastards I call neighbours clock you.’

  It had worked, and Vinnie quickly complied as Dempster closed the door behind him. He noticed something else about Dempster too, apart from his distinctive aroma. Terror. In his eyes, on his face, and in his scent. ‘What the hell happened to you?’

  ‘Look, your other lot said they had a duty of care to me when they signed me up.’

  Vinnie knew that he was referring to his handlers when they had recruited him to introduce Charlie to Quintel and Jason.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Well, why is it then that every time I try their number it’s switched off.’

  ‘Ah,’ Vinnie said. He knew that as soon as the handlers had finished working with Dempster, and he’d done his bit introducing Charlie to the undercover bloke, then they would break contact with him for safety’s sake. He tried to explain this to Dempster, in principal of course, as he wasn’t supposed to know that Dempster had been an intelligence source.

  ‘Fat lot of good they were to me then.’

  ‘I’m guessing by your dressings, all’s not well.’

  ‘You got that fucking right. Jason and his boss paid me a little visit.’

  ‘What, here?’ Vinnie said as he instinctively looked around. Not sure what he was really expecting to see, but if they’d been here then there might be forensic opportunities.

  ‘No, not here. Jason rang me to meet him before I was taken somewhere else.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I’m not telling you. It took all I had to satisfy them that I’m not a snout. I managed to put it all on Charlie’s shoulders, but it cost me an ear to convince them.’

  Vinnie felt sorry for Dempster; he hadn’t deserved any of this. ‘Why don’t you make a formal complaint?’

  ‘Are you fucking mad? Look, no offence, but just tell those other twats to pay me what I’m owed and then we can go our separate ways. You catch and convict those two bastards and I’ll think about making a complaint, not that it’ll make any difference if they’ve both been lifed-up for murder, but just so I can have a go at the CICA.’

  Vinnie knew he was talking about the Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority; Dempster was truly driven by greed, but then again, so were most informants. ‘Just tell me where they are.’

  ‘Can’t, they checked out of their hotel earlier on. I had to settle the bill for them.’

  ‘Which hotel?’

  ‘Not saying, it’s too dangerous, but it’s local.’

  Vinnie then tried to reassure Dempster that if he told him it would be off the record, he wouldn’t just go straight there, he’d visit a couple first, but he was having none of it. He said they’d suspect him and he couldn’t take the risk. Vinnie didn’t blame him. ‘What if we have every major hotel in the Preston area spoken to with their descriptions?’

  Dempster didn’t answer.

  Vinnie continued, ‘It would just look like a blanket enquiry in an effort to establish whether our murder suspects had been staying in a local hotel. Nothing to do with you, then.’

  ‘Good luck, but I’m too scared that if I tell you, you’ll just go there first. I can’t take that chance.’

  ‘I understand,’ Vinnie said, and he did. He went on to reassure Dempster that if they found the correct hotel and he appeared on any CCTV footage paying their bill, that the CCTV and information would be kept out of the evidence chain.

  ‘What, you mean you’ll bin it?’

  ‘No, I’m not bent, we’ll just show it to the trial judge in private and he’ll order it be kept secret to protect you, trust me this is not bullshit.’

  ‘I do, but you’ll have to find the hotel the hard way, now if we’re done here, do me a favour and leave via the back alley.’

  Vinnie agreed and told Dempster to get his ear looked at before it became infected. As soon as he was back in his motor he gave Harry a bell with the update. Harry said he’d get the house-to-house team’s DS on it straight away. They could narrow it down on the phone first and only visit those premises that had had two males checking out earlier today, there shouldn’t be too many to then follow up with a visit. Vinnie agreed but asked Harry to pass any possible results to him, that way he could ensure Dempster was kept out of it and therefore safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Quintel was pleased the unexpected opportunity had presented itself. After they were done, they drove straight to Manchester before the morning traffic arrived, and dumped their motor at a city centre drop-off park for the vehicle’s hire company. They then strolled onto the concourse of Piccadilly railway station and had an early breakfast at one of the many twenty-four hour food outlets. It was 5.30 am by the time they sat down to eat, and the vast concourse was already starting to get busy.

  He hadn’t told Jason the significance of Milky, just that it was necessary to further their aims. And professional to the end, he hadn’t asked other than to hope that what he’d done would obtain what Quintel needed. He was sure it would. Over breakfast in a quiet corner he had filled Jason in. He could see he’d been impressed.

  They grabbed the morning’s newspapers and more coffee to while away the clock until it was eight, when he sent Jason off to a different national franchise to get a new set of wheels. He’d have to use his own details now, but as no one knew they were in Manchester, that shouldn’t present any problems. They’d just keep hiring different cars from different firms, all with national coverage dropping them off in different places every few days until the job was over. That was the thing about leaving footprints; as long as they weren’t connected, who could ever place them together. Too many villains were lazy, and that was often their downfall.

  While Jason was sorting the car out, he’d speak to the client. He’d use one of the many public phone boxes in and around the railway station, but ensured he found one with no apparent CCTV coverage. He sent two texts to the client; the first said “C - 0161” and the second contained the rest of the number.

  He got a text back saying “Give me 10 mins to my A”. After nine minutes he was about to pick up the phone to ring the client’s A when the public phone rang, making him jump. He answered it, and it was the client.

  ‘I hope you’ve got some more good news for me? You’ve just interrupted my Monday morning fun, so you have.’

  Too much information, Quintel thought, but he was sure the client’s inflatable friend would wait. ‘Ah right, look I’ve had a diversion to attend to—’ But before he could explain further the client started on one of his rants. Quintel cut back in, ‘If you’d fucking let me finish.’

  Silence, followed by the client, who was calmer now. ‘This had better be fucking worth your cheek, go on.’

  Quintel did. He explained his other business that morning, its relevance and the significance of what he’d planned next.

  ‘I fooking love it. It reminds me of the old days; before half my life was robbed from me by those Brit bastards, that is. But where will you get the kit from, or the knowhow?’

  Quintel hadn’t wanted to tell the client that Jason was ex-British Army; he thought it might cause cultural difficulties, so he said he’d served in the French Foreign Legion, and had seen active service
in Africa protecting French interests. He seemed to buy it.

  ‘So he can get his hand on grenades, still?’

  ‘He says so, which will be a lot easier than homemade stuff,’ Quintel said.

  ‘We could have done with him back in the day, and maybe we can still use him come the tomorrow,’ the client said.

  Quintel didn’t say up the revolution, but closed by adding he’d bell him again in a couple of days.

  ‘Just before you go, I may need you to fit an extra target in, say for ten large?’ the client said.

  Quintel hadn’t expected this; the business plan was working already.

  ‘It’ll be a piece of piss, no bother, I promise – if at all,’ the client said.

  ‘Unrelated?’

  ‘Yes, there’s talk of someone sticking their nose into our business, which isn’t that rare, but if it’s true then they are over on the mainland, so you may as well have it.’

  ‘No problems, just let me know,’ Quintel said, before they ended their call.

  He smiled as he walked away, at least now he knew where the client was, though it would have been easy enough to trace from the telephone number. Not that it really mattered, but it was nice to know. Now, he’d head back to the concourse and wait for Jason. They had a busy couple of days ahead of them, and it was time to use his contacts to get hold of the hardware, and then explain to Jason exactly what he wanted him to do with it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vinnie spent the rest of Monday chasing dead ends fed from the DS running the house-to-house team – via Harry. Eventually he landed on the correct hotel around teatime. It was part of a national chain in Leyland, close to the motorway network. The uninterested youth on reception had been on duty all day, and had been there when Quintel and Jason arrived, though they hadn’t booked in under those names. Regardless of the lack of information the receptionist was able to provide, Vinnie was sure it was the right hotel. He showed the youth a photo of Dempster and he confirmed that he was the one who’d paid the bill. He hadn’t realised that they’d left before then. He showed Vinnie a copy of the CCTV at reception when they first arrived, but both had been wearing baseball caps pulled down to obscure their faces. No court of law would allow a positive identification from this partial view, but Vinnie was certain it was them. The youth gave him copies of all the CCTV covering the relevant times, for what that was worth, but someone would have to check them over, they may be on record at an unguarded moment. Not that it would lead them any closer to them.