The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  ‘What rubbish is this?’

  ‘The fact that you plan to announce today that you are ending investigations into the actions committed by the forces of law and order, is simply a smokescreen to your true political agenda.’

  ‘Get these out of here,’ he said, turning to two minders who were stood back from McConachy.

  ‘Actions, which only this morning, you still described as “atrocities”.’

  ‘Get that camera,’ McConachy barked at his minders.

  Christine told her crew to run as she stepped forward to block the advancing minders in an effort to give her crew a head start. She knew she’d gone further than June had told her to, but she couldn’t help it.

  *

  Quintel could see the three-person TV crew head up the driveway towards their target as McKnowle spoke. ‘We go now while McConachy is distracted, so get ready.’

  It was the first time McKnowle had used their target’s name, not that it made any difference, it still meant nothing to him. Quintel wound down the passenger window and held onto the grenade tightly as he pulled the safety pin out.

  McKnowle drove at normal speed as they approached. Then, as they neared, Quintel got a side-on glimpse of the woman in the TV crew asking the questions. It was that bitch Christine Jones. What was she doing here? And then he smiled to himself. He could kill them both in one go and McKnowle would never be the wiser. Both jobs completed, no problems. Money in the bank.

  ‘Get ready,’ McKnowle said, adding, ‘I’ll slow right down as we pass the back of the crowd, every fucker’s watching that twat. Make it a good one.’

  Quintel reckoned their target would only be between fifteen and twenty metres away at the most. If he hit the driveway at five metres prior or better, it would be good enough. He remembered at Blackley cemetery when Jason had told him about the three meter zone – within that there was no chance of survival.

  He turned to face the window as the car slowed down, and kept a firm hold of the blue painted weapon in his right hand.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Vinnie had turned back onto the main road that the Barracks were on, done a U-turn, and was headed in the general direction of the A6 for a further drive past. He slowed down, as he wanted to be able to take it all in, see if anything had changed since a few minutes ago. The crowd were slightly larger and First Minister McConachy was stood at the podium nearest to the Barracks. He had grey hair with a suit to match. It looked as if he was being interviewed by a three-person camera crew. McConachy was waving his arms aggressively; he guessed the interview wasn’t going too well. He’d got quite a shock when Harry had told him that this ex-terrorist was now the First Minister of the Northern Irish Assembly. No wonder the local uniform superintendent was harassed at having this dropped on him at the last minute, and no wonder he was coy with Harry as to the man’s full identity.

  Although this had to be the target, and acknowledging the fact that according to what Crompton had told Harry that he had took over from McKnowle and had then taken the IRA in a different direction, there had to be more to it. McKnowle had spent God knows how many years fermenting his hatred of McConachy, a man whom he once must have stood with as brothers-in-arms. There had to be more.

  Vinnie slowed as he started to pass the back of the crowd, albeit from the opposite side of the road, scanning their backs, looking for anything that could construe the start of a hostile act. His last contact from Harry had been to tell him that the ARVs had arrived and were decamping in a side street, their instructions being to mingle among the crowd.

  He looked forward again and then saw it. The blue Nissan approaching from the opposite direction. It too was starting to pass the back of the crowd. It too was slowing. He was fairly sure that the driver was the same man who’d been the car’s passenger when he and Christine had seen it in Blackpool. That must be McKnowle. And he was sure of whom today’s passenger was, Quintel. And he was winding his passenger window down.

  Fifteen metres between them and not a moment to lose, Vinnie hit the accelerator of his Volvo as hard as he could and aimed at the front of the Nissan. It was all he could do in the time. He glanced back at McConachy and saw two of the camera crew running away and the anchor, a woman, being bundled by two minders back towards the cordon by the road. She had her back to him.

  He turned back to face the Nissan and braced himself for impact. The front of his car missed the front of the Nissan, as McKnowle must have seen the threat at the last minute as the car swerved. Vinnie didn’t have time to alter his course and the front of his car hit the driver’s side of the Nissan. Horns blazed all around from other motorists as the crowd turned to face them, Vinnie saw a blue object fly out of Quintel’s window in a looping arc towards McConachy. His own window was down and all he could do was shout ‘grenade,’ as he watched the small round death-giver fly through the air.

  He then realised that the grenade was going to fall short. The collision between the cars must have altered Quintel’s aim. Vinnie was horrified as he realised that the grenade was now headed towards the crowd. He wasn’t sure in this time-lapsed moment whether people had seen the approaching object or heard his shout, or both, but some had reacted and were fleeing in all directions, star-bursting across the lawn perimeter with some running wildly into the road. Then Vinnie saw the TV anchor turn around. It was Christine. What the hell was she doing here? Then remembered what she’d spent months working on.

  Vinnie felt sick as he realised what his intervention had done. The grenade was past its highest point and heading straight towards Christine. Time caught up as he helplessly watched in horror as the device landed at her feet.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Christine tried her best to stall the two burly minders but knew she was no match for them, but what she had done was to buy her crew a couple of vital seconds, and they were off and through the crowd before they could be stopped. Job done. She stopped resisting as the two goons frog-marched her to the outer cordon by the pavement and then gave her an unceremonious shove towards the main gathering. Then she heard an almighty crash, a road accident beyond the crowd. She couldn’t see the vehicles clearly because everyone had turned to look, but two cars had definitely collided right behind where they were. She hoped no one was hurt.

  Then she heard someone shout what sounded like the word “grenade”. People started to flee; they must have thought they heard the same word. But it couldn’t be. Why would someone shout “grenade”? She turned around, towards where the two cars which collided had slithered to a halt, and that’s when she saw something flying through the air towards her.

  It took a second to register. It was small, round and a vivid shade of blue. And it was headed straight for her. It had obviously topped-out within its trajectory and was looping down towards her at a fast rate. Her brain assimilated everything in a milli-second. Then flight mode kicked in as she started to leap, but in a further milli-second her brain had also told her that it was hopeless. The grenade was only feet away.

  As she started to jump, it hit the ground right in front of her. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  *

  Vinnie watched the grenade as it hit the ground right in front of Christine. Then nothing. Nothing happened. The blue object bounced up into the air before hitting the ground for a second time. Still nothing. It just rolled to a stop. Vinnie screamed, ‘Christine here, run.’ He saw her head spin around, and through the thinned out crowd their eyes locked in mutual recognition.

  Vinnie was out of the car by the time Christine arrived. He didn’t know why the device hadn’t gone off, or whether it still would. She flung her arms around him and he hugged her like he’d never hugged anyone in his life. No words were spoken. None were needed. Then a familiar cry brought him back to the initial matter in hand. ‘Armed police; put your hands where I can see them, do it now.’

  Vinnie turned to see several of the surveillance team’s ARV crews with weapons drawn approaching the Nissan. The dri
ver suddenly leapt from the Nissan and opened fire with a handgun before he grabbed hold of one of the last members of the crowd. He backed off across the road with his gun to the terrified man’s head. Then Vinnie recognised the scared man from the crowd. It was Major Crompton, in civilian clothes. But he was playing along, shouting and wailing as one would expect. Three armed police followed the retreating McKnowle at increasingly widening angles, until his back was up against a wall on the opposite side of the road next to a small pub.

  ‘Stand the fuck down or this twat gets it,’ McKnowle shouted.

  But the armed police continued until they were only twenty feet away, but covering a wide arc. McKnowle couldn’t watch them all, and he must have known it.

  ‘Just put your weapon down and no one needs get hurt,’ the middle cop said.

  ‘I knows how you fuckers work, I put the weapon down and yous kill me,’ McKnowle said.

  ‘Even if that was true, which it’s not, would we do such a thing with all these witnesses?’ the same officer said.

  McKnowle looked as if he was taking in his environment for the first time. The crowd had re-formed, albeit at a safe distance. Amazing how bold the inquisitive mind could be, Vinnie thought.

  McKnowle took the gun away from his hostage’s head. Crompton was still playing his part, wailing and muttering. McKnowle said, ‘Just so yous know who the feekin boss is here; I’ll lame this fucker.’ McKnowle then started to move his gun arm towards Crompton’s right leg. The moment of impasse was clearly not one which the experienced soldier was going to let pass. He balked back, knocking McKnowle backwards into the wall with a look of genuine surprise in his eyes. He’d clearly not seen his hostage as a threat due to his excellent playacting.

  Crompton kept himself bent double as he rushed forward, in a zig zag pattern. Vinnie watched as he saw McKnowle rebound off the wall before he started to raise his gun arm again, clearly trying to track Crompton’s movements as his arm swung to and fro. Then two shots rang out and McKnowle went down. He’d given the police no choice, as the middle cop started to run to McKnowle’s aid.

  This had all gone off in seconds, but had seemed like minutes to Vinnie. He spun around to look for the Nissan, but it was gone, and so was Quintel.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  As Vinnie spun around to look for the Nissan, he also saw Christine approach McKnowle with her soundgirl and cameraman following on. He reckoned that they were recording as the light was on above the camera. He quickly pulled Christine to one side. ‘Did you see where Quintel went?’

  ‘Quintel?’ she asked.

  ‘He was just here in the Nissan.’

  ‘Sorry, no I didn’t.’

  Two paramedics arrived and started to work on McKnowle, who was awake and swearing. Vinnie stepped forward. ‘Will he be alright?’

  The paramedic nearest to Vinnie said, ‘Looks superficial, once we staunch the bleeding he’ll be in no danger. He might need minor surgery to his wounds, but he’ll live.’

  Then Major Crompton approached and that reminded Vinnie of the unexploded grenade. ‘The grenade?’

  ‘Worry not Inspector, I’d been keeping an eye from beyond the gatehouse and saw the attack. But the fools used a training ground grenade. That’s why they are painted bright blue – no explosives in them. One of my men has already recovered it; and before you say anything, it’s preserved for forensic examination.’

  ‘Thanks, Major,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Looks like whoever sold that munition to your man knew he was not ex-military so ripped him off,’ Crompton said.

  ‘Brick dust,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Pardon?’ Crompton asked.

  Vinnie quickly explained that if a heroin dealer thought he was dealing with a patsy he’d sell him brick dust instead of heroin, as it looked like the real thing.

  ‘I thought heroin was white?’ Christine said.

  ‘Only on the telly, Vinnie said, ‘or if it is pharmaceutically produced in a lab,’ he added.

  ‘Brick dust it was then,’ Crompton said.

  Vinnie realised he’d yet to ask Christine if she was alright, and did so apologetically.

  ‘I’m fine, but it has been a hell of a few days, Vinnie Palmer, I can tell you that,’ she answered.

  Vinnie could see that the paramedics were preparing to take McKnowle away, so he grabbed one of the guarding armed cops and stepped forward. ‘I understand you spent twenty years in a Locked-in Syndrome,’ Vinnie started.

  ‘What the fuck is it to you,’ McKnowle answered.

  ‘Well, you can now look forward to the next twenty in a locked-up syndrome,’ Vinnie said and then spoke through the obscene response to let McKnowle know that he was under arrest for murder and conspiracy to murder, and that was just for starters. He cautioned him but didn’t bother noting the indecent reply. He told the armed cop to stay with him, but as McKnowle was being stretchered towards the rear of the awaiting ambulance, fast movement caught Vinnie’s periphery vision.

  He turned to see McConachy making straight towards the stretcher. Before anyone could react he was there next to it. He looked down at McKnowle and reeled back with astonishment all over his face. ‘You?’ he said.

  ‘Yes it’s freekin me, who the fuck did you expect?’ McKnowle replied.

  ‘But why?’ McConachy asked.

  ‘Why do you think? For selling us out to the Brits, for sticking your brown nose up their arses; anything for power.’

  ‘You stupid bastard,’ McConachy started, his visage now one of rage. ‘I wasn’t selling out, I was playing the long game to return the six counties to the Republic, but thick gun-happy eejits like you could never see that. I’m not brown-nosing these; I hate the fucking Brits,’ McConachy finished before standing back, apparently stunned by his own outburst. He then turned and pushed his way back through the enclosing crowd as his police escort arrived.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Vinnie asked of no one in particular.

  ‘I think I know,’ Crompton said, as Vinnie turned to face him. ‘It’s not exactly a secret, in fact it is on public record, as I only discovered thirty minutes ago,’ Crompton said.

  ‘What is?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘No offence, Inspector, but I’ll need to make a call first, in order to put some context to it. But if I’m right, it would explain a lot. I’ll ring your superintendent later.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Vinnie answered.

  ‘You get all that?’ Christine asked her crew just as Paul Bury joined them. They said that they had, and Vinnie asked Christine, ‘what next?’

  ‘I need to get back to Manchester, get this ready for broadcast and get going on the end of the documentary. After today, I could do with the documentary airing within the next 24 hours, whilst the events of today’s broadcast are still current.’

  Vinnie asked Paul if he’d take Christine back, which he readily agreed to. He then headed over to a plain BMW which was one of the surveillance gunships still with its three-man armed crew on board. He identified himself to them and told the driver to jump in the back. ‘You’re with me; we’ve got a Nissan and a nutter to find.’

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Quintel couldn’t understand why McKnowle had run at the cops like a demented leprechaun, but he was grateful for the diversion. It was each man for himself now. He’d sped off behind the backs of the cops as all the attention was trained on the mad Irishman. The backed-off crowd, backed off some more as he accelerated through them and through the traffic lights outside the Barracks. He then went straight through the next set and as soon as he was out of sight he threw a right turn into a wide urban road that he noted was called Cromwell Road. A hundred metres in and he screeched to a halt, got out and ran to the boot. He shoved his handgun down the back of his waistband as he delved into the holdall.

  He pulled the remaining grenade from the bag; it was one of the original two that he’d bought with Jason. It was green with yellow markings on it and he instantly realised why the
other one had failed to go off. ‘That Birmingham bastard,’ he shouted out loud. Once he was clear and away he’d pay that fat, hairy lump of lard a visit, and clean him out of all his cash before killing him, and it would be slow. He was already out of pocket to the tune of a hundred and ten grand. All this effort and drama for absolutely nothing. He’d never felt madder as he pulled the pin from the grenade and lobbed it into the Nissan.

  He then pulled his mobile phone from his pocket as he ran, and three seconds later he felt the heat of the blast hit his back as a deafening noise rang in his ears. He threw himself onto a grass verge between the road and the footpath, as small pieces of debris flew past.

  A few seconds later he picked himself up and calmly kept on walking without looking back. He dialled a number into his phone, but couldn’t hear the ringtone as he put it to his ear.

  *

  ‘Any of you see which way the Nissan went?’ Vinnie asked as he started the BMW’s engine. All three said that they hadn’t. Then just as Vinnie was about to move off he heard an almighty explosion from somewhere in the foreground. It was followed immediately by a plume of dark smoke rising up above the rooftops. ‘I’m guessing it went that way,’ he said to himself, but before he could set off, his phone rang. It was Harry.

  ‘Be quick, Harry,’ Vinnie opened with.

  ‘I’m in comms at Preston so monitoring, but listen,’ Harry said, who then lowered his voice to a whisper before continuing, ‘The line on Quintel’s phone is now live, and he’s just put a call into an unknown mobile demanding he be picked up. Says he’s on Cromwell Road. I’ve got the surveillance team en route, you grab a gunship and go.’ Harry then raised his voice to normal, and gave Vinnie directions.

  ‘On it,’ Vinnie said before ending the call, and putting the car into gear.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine