The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  Jason continued, ‘You’re not mad at me then, Boss?’

  ‘No, if you are right and it was the plod at the door, they’d have come straight in on hearing gunfire.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Jason said.

  ‘But you’ll have to go back at some stage and sort it permanently.’

  Christine shivered on hearing the last. The conversation ended then, and she tensed as she was slung to one side, again. She then spent the next few minutes searching her space for a weapon of some kind but wasn’t having any immediate luck. She did notice a change from the road noise though; it was louder and more uniform. She also noticed that the car was staying on a straight course. They must be on a dual carriageway, or a motorway she reckoned. They were obviously going on a journey; it would give her more time to keep searching. Then she remembered her phone, but a quick search proved negative, not that she’d held out much hope on that one, so she returned to groping around the inside of the boot space.

  *

  Vinnie started with a gentle knock on the half-glazed door, but received no answer. He stood back to take in the narrow town house and noticed that the upstairs window curtains were closed. And even though it was still quite light outside, he could tell that the electric light in the room was switched on. The sun had disappeared over the rooftops behind him now and was starting to cast long shadows where he was stood. The electric light was clearly emitting around the curtains’ edges. Someone in? Or had the lights been left on? He decided it was the former as the sun had only just gone over the rooftops; twenty minutes earlier and the front of Lesley’s house would still have been bathed in sunlight. He knocked again. No answer.

  He bent down and opened the lateral letter box which was in the centre of the door, and thought he saw a shadow cast down the staircase. Well, not a shadow as such, but a change in the ambient internal illumination. He called through the letterbox saying he was a friend of Christine’s, he’d guessed what he’d seen was someone opening the upstairs door onto the landing, so knew someone was home. He held back from shouting “Police”, as he didn’t want to scare Lesley. Hopefully using Christine’s name would be enough. Then he saw the light darken slightly. Had she returned to the bedroom? He stood up and banged louder this time, even if it scared her, he knew she was in and he had to speak to her. She’d obviously made a conscious decision to ignore the front door. He knocked once more. Nothing.

  He banged again, louder this time, and was considering now using the “Police” line when he saw a shadow coming down the stairs. He couldn’t see clearly through the frosted glass but it was definitely a “someone”. He stood back and reached in his pocket for his warrant card, but noticed the figure turn at the bottom of the stairs and head toward the rear of the house. He bent down to the letter box again but got a shock when he looked through it. The figure was the back of a large man in casual clothes. Vinnie shouted but the man didn’t look back - instead he started to run.

  The front door swung open at the first kick, and Vinnie was about to tear after the man when he heard a muffled cry of anguish from upstairs. It’s inbuilt in cops that their first duty is to protect life; arresting offenders and preventing crime come after that. He bounded up the stairs and was in the front bedroom in seconds. He saw the originator of the cries bound and gagged on the bed, and presumed it was Lesley. He told her who he was and carefully pulled back the tape from her mouth first, but before he could ask her anything, she spoke.

  ‘I’m ok, you’ve just missed them, go, go, they’ve taken my sister.’

  Vinnie was down the stairs in seconds and through the kitchen and the open back door seconds later. He could hear a car engine revving and rushed to the gate which led into a narrow, single track rear alleyway. As he ran through the gate, he could see the rear of a blue saloon, possibly a Toyota, screeching out of the end of the back entry, and then turning left from view. He couldn’t see the rear number plate clearly due to all the dust whipped up by the speeding car’s tyres, but he did see two Zs together as part of the number. He considered running through the house to get into the Volvo to try and give chase, but they were long gone, and he needed to help Lesley. He pulled his mobile phone out and dialled three nines.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Thirty, forty minutes passed, or was it longer? To Christine it felt like she’d been in there for a couple of hours, so she reckoned on an hour. She tried to see the time on her watch, but it was too dark. Then the car started decelerating and the turns, lefts and rights, resumed. She felt her heart rate quicken. Wherever they were going, they were nearly there. Then the car slowed some more, and then it stopped. She heard one of them get out and then heard the unmistakable sound of a steel roller shutter door. The car door shut and the car was driven into a building. The boot was filled with slices of light from around its sides and she heard the engine stop, and the car rocked as both men got out. She’d not been able to find a weapon earlier, so quickly used the extra light to search properly. Something moved under her hip. She could hear Quintel and Jason talking quietly, as if they didn’t want her to hear, which she couldn’t, but it struck her as daft as they’d talked normally when they’d been in the car. She paid no attention; she was more interested in why the floor had moved. Then it struck her, the spare tyre bay.

  How could she have not thought of that before? She’d have to move fast, and she did, but desperately trying to do so without alerting her kidnappers. She found the tyre underneath a piece of hardboard which had been under the carpet she’d been laid on. And thankfully, what she was searching for was on top of the tyre and not beneath it. She quickly pulled the short-handled wheel brace out and put it in the inside pocket of her jacket. She then put everything back in its place and still had the presence of mind to pull her skirt down. She listened as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

  She could only hear one voice now and it was Quintel’s, he was talking in between pauses; he must be on the phone. And thankfully, he was one of those annoying people who subconsciously talk loudly when on a mobile. Those people annoyed her in normal life; but she was grateful now. She listened in.

  ‘Look, it’s only a small favour, not like the last one,’ Quintel said, followed by a pause.

  ‘And you were fucking paid well, don’t forget that.’

  Pause.

  ‘There is someone who seems to know our business, and I want to know how, and how much?’

  Pause.

  ‘Of course I’m going to ask her, I just thought you might help me judge if she bullshits me.’

  Christine felt a stab of fear as she heard Quintel pass her details and that of her employer to whoever he was talking to.

  ‘I know they are supposed to report the facts, but you said the clowns had no idea where we are, or what we’ve done, apart from that undercover twat, Charlie or whatever his name was? The one you knew fuck all about. Yeah, yeah. Never mind that now.’

  Christine was shocked, and then she heard Quintel again.

  ‘But she mentioned one of my dogsbodies, and I thought you said they know fuck all – er, it was Dempster’s name she used. She’s obviously spoken to him, and he’s not told me the press were sniffing around.’

  Pause.

  ‘Yeah, Dempster.’

  Pause.

  ‘You leave that twat to me, he’s already had the hard word, and it’s about to get harder.’

  Pause.

  ‘No, don’t shit your pants; I’m not going to kill him. You just find out from the top pig what you can and ring me straight back.’

  Christine then heard Quintel’s voice lower again; he was off the phone and probably speaking to Jason.

  ‘I know it might be nothing, but Dempster knows a lot about you, and that could lead to me.’

  ‘Look Boss, Dempster’s no hero, he might have had the press nosing around but so would a lot of scrotes on that estate,’ Jason said.

  ‘Yeah, but she obviously knows he’s linked to us.’

&
nbsp; ‘Yeah, that’s a worry.’

  ‘Look, I’m going for a shit; get the bitch out of the motor, and tie her to that chair, then we can have a little chat with her before we slot her,’ Quintel said.

  Christine heard two sets of footsteps, one going away from her, and the other getting louder. She kept her eyes shut and played dead as the boot lid opened. Through her closed eyelids she could see bright light invading her pupils.

  ‘Wakey, wakey,’ Jason said in a singsong way, just before he slapped her hard across her face, reawakening the sore nerves from the earlier strike at Lesley’s. She couldn’t help but cry out as she opened her eyes and blinked against the bright lights.

  ‘Think I’m heaving you out of there? You must be joking. So get out, nice and easy, or I’ll hit you properly.’

  Christine moved as slowly as she felt she could get away with, as if she’d just come round. Jason stood back as she carefully orientated herself out of the boot space while trying to keep her skirt at a dignified length. She didn’t want to give either of these monsters any ideas.

  She took in her environment as quickly as she could; they were in a small one-car sized motor garage with work benches by two walls, and a door covered in oily handprints leading to somewhere in the rear. The walls were made of grey and blue breezeblock and the steel roller shutter door behind the car was closed, though she did notice a normal sized steel door next to it. It looked as if the lock on it was a Yale type one.

  ‘Come on hurry up and get your arse on that chair,’ Jason said, pointing to an orange coloured plastic chair in front of the car; the ones with a large hole at the back of the seat that had been all the rage in colleges and schools twenty years ago.

  Christine walked towards the chair, her back to Jason, as she felt the wheel brace with the elbow of her left arm. She knew it wouldn’t be too long before Quintel returned. She saw some rope thrown over the back of the chair. Jason obviously intended to tie her to it; it was now or never. She knew she was no match physically against Jason, so had to make the first strike count. She slipped her right hand into the inside of her jacket while her back was still to Jason, and took a firm grip on the cold steel shaft. As she turned to sit down she launched her attack.

  She pulled the bar out as she swung around and kept her right arm swinging in a wide arc towards Jason’s head, hoping the movement would enhance the power of the strike like some demented shot put thrower. She could see the look of surprise in Jason’s eyes, but knew that the advantage would be short lived. The L shaped end of the bar – the bit that normally fastens onto the wheel nut itself – was the business end of her weapon and missed Jason’s head as he started to react, pulling his head backwards, away from the arc of attack. But he didn’t manage to get completely out of the way, as the end of the brace smashed into the side of his nose.

  Christine heard the satisfying crack of breaking cartilage as her arm continued on its orbital path past Jason’s head. He screamed out as a jet of blood shot from his nostrils down his front. He staggered backwards, dazed, and Christine brought her backhand into play as she returned the brace in a reverse motion. All those years playing tennis as a teenager were now paying off; she’d always had a strong return serve.

  This time she stepped towards Jason as she struck and the end of the brace caught Jason squarely on the side of his head, somewhere near his temple, and he went down fast. She could see a nonplussed gaze in his eyes before he hit the ground. Euphoria and adrenaline coursed through her as she turned to face the door with the Yale lock. She was towards it before Jason was fully grounded. She dare not look behind her as she reached the door and started to turn the Yale lock and pull the heavy steel door open. She couldn’t believe she’d done it, all ten stone of her against a large ape like Jason.

  She pulled on the door as it started to open wider, and then she heard a deafening sound. A roar of gunfire, which seemed incredibly loud in the confined space of the garage. She heard it at the same time as she saw sparks fly off the door towards her and the door fly out of her hand back into its frame.

  She frantically reached for the door once more.

  Chapter Forty

  By the time Vinnie had untied Lesley and removed the gaffer tape, the first of the cop cars arrived, followed by an ambulance which took a very shaken Lesley away. The local on-call DI was next to land and Vinnie quickly gave her the details of what happened and the background to it. He said he’d sort out a written statement later and send it to her but for now he was more worried about Christine. The local DI said the description of the vehicle including the part registered number had been circulated across the region. She said that an analyst would be playing around with the ZZ to try and identify all blue Toyota saloons which had a double zed in their number, but it would take time, and there might be quite a few nationally but hopefully only a few in the Manchester area. He just hoped it was a Toyota, he wasn’t 100 per cent sure, but didn’t say so.

  ‘Why take her?’ the local DI had asked. Vinnie only wished he knew.

  Then the local DI’s personal radio burst into life. CCTV at a nearby motorway junction had seen a blue Toyota with at least one Z in its number plate join the M6 north. The operator hadn’t been able to see anything other than one Z, but would review the tape shortly. M6 North; Preston? They now knew Jason hailed from the city, it was thirty to forty miles away from Manchester, and he’d have contacts there. Vinnie said his goodbyes as the local DI’s attention turned to preserving the crime scene, and he legged it to his Volvo.

  Ten minutes later, he was on the northbound carriageway which was fortunately quite light of traffic as the rush hour was long over. He floored the motor and kept the speedometer in three figures. He had no idea exactly where he was going, but it felt good to be doing something. He put his mobile into the car’s hands free Bluetooth device and called Harry, who was still at Preston having just finished his first meeting. He said he’d hang on there in case Vinnie needed any help. Preston is served by five motorway junctions and as Vinnie neared he was wondering which to take. Then he remembered Dempster, he wouldn’t bother ringing ahead and spooking him, he would have a face to face with him; he might have an idea where they’d take Christine, if nothing else. But none of this made any sense. Though at least one thing seemed obvious; if they’d meant to kill her they would have surely done it at Lesley’s, why go to the trouble of taking her with them otherwise?

  Vinnie aimed for junction 31A which was the Longridge turnoff that served numerous commercial estates in the vicinity. It was also the nearest to Ribbleton, where Dempster lived. Then he got a call from Harry.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘CCTV has sighted a possible; it’s a Blue Toyota with two Zs,’ Harry said before giving Vinnie the full registration number.

  ‘Seen leaving the M6 ten to fifteen minutes ago-ish at junction 31A.’

  ‘I’m just approaching there now.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ve also put a call into Major Crompton and he says according to Jason’s old military personal file he had a relative who ran a small motor garage on an industrial estate near to junction 31A.’

  Vinnie felt his mood soar on hearing this. Harry gave him the address and said he’d meet him there. He asked Vinnie to identify an RV nearby so they could have a stealthy look before sending in the boys and girls in blue.

  Vinnie agreed, although his heart was telling him just to get there and get inside with no delay, but his head agreed with Harry. A covert recce was needed until they knew what they were facing. He just hoped they were guessing right.

  Vinnie’s first stop was at a large controlled entrance to the estate. It had barriers across the road in and out, but they were both up. He quickly identified himself to a bored looking security guard, who did say that the last vehicle to enter the site had been a blue one with two blokes on board, but more than that he couldn’t say, but it had been about twenty minutes ago. He then gave Vinnie directions to the garage unit and five minutes
later Vinnie pulled up short on a cul-de-sac which was off one of the main perimeter roads. It was poorly lit in the twilight, but Vinnie guessed it would perversely become easier to see as darkness fell properly and what lighting there was could take some effect.

  He pulled up by unit 41B which was set back from the road. He could see that there were several units on both sides of the narrow road leading to a free-standing brick built unit at the end, with a large steel up-and-over door. Behind it was a thicket of established trees. He texted Harry his RV who rang him straight back, and said he had uniform on stand-by at Junction 31A awaiting confirmation and instructions. He told Vinnie to sit tight as he was only a few minutes away.

  Vinnie ended the call and then turned the ringer off, before quietly alighting and walking towards the garage at the end, sticking to the shadows as he crept.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘I just hope for your sake that no nosy fucker heard that gunshot. Because if any security guard comes prying then their death will be down to you, bitch,’ Quintel said.

  Christine couldn’t believe how her fortunes could change so dramatically in an instant. Getting the better of Jason had been more about good luck and surprise, she knew, but seeing the door shoot out of her hands like that had been a shock. She’d frozen on hearing the gun and the hesitation had cost her dearly. She tried to make her herself comfortable, but gave up. Jason had tied her to the chair with vigour. He was clearly embarrassed. He kept pacing up and down across the front of the car as Quintel addressed her.

  ‘Tell me again about how you know Dempster, and don’t bull me or your other cheek will match the red one.’

  She repeated how she’d just been doing her job as a reporter, going on the knocker, and how someone had told her that Dempster was the local oracle. Christine had hardly finished her sentence when Quintel made good his threat with a stinging backhand across her face. It hurt like hell and would have knocked her onto the floor but for her restraints. She took a moment to recover the worst of the blow and then said, ‘You should take up tennis.’ She’d be dammed if she was just going to sit there and whimper in front of these bullies.