With a torch in hand Vinnie made his way straight to the rearmost building. He was hoping he could help extract Charlie from whatever drama he was in, covertly, by bundling in as a night security patrol starting his round. That way, Charlie could get out without the whole job being blown. If it was too late for that, then he’d just go noisy. His sudden change of character would buy him a few seconds to call for back up. He was no expert when it came to these sorts of jobs but he’d met a few police undercover operatives in the past, and Charlie looked the real deal to Vinnie, so he was still hopeful the delay wasn’t a problem.
As he neared, he could see that the main entrance to the building was open; one of the two main doors was slightly proud of the other. He also noticed a light on upstairs in the middle office. Previously gathered intelligence told him that there should only be Quintel and his minder in there with Charlie. Vinnie was about fifty metres away now and felt his own pulse starting to rise, though he tried to keep a calm visage in case he bumped into anyone. Years of experience had taught him how to foul himself while appearing to enjoy it. He also knew that a calming demeanour had a mirrored effect on others, too. The misreading of a potential threat to an adversary could save your life in the moments of advantage it could give. He unzipped his jacket halfway to speed up his access to the Glock. He glanced up at the lit window, the blinds were drawn, but then he saw something which made him stop to re-evaluate. The blinds were horizontal and they had just moved. He watched as they rolled up, disappearing as black smoke belched through the space against the glass.
Vinnie started to run; he was twenty metres from the double doors when an explosion ripped through the upper floor. The shockwave hit him and propelled him backwards across the grass frontage. A weird sensation of being stopped, picked up, and then thrust backwards against his will. He felt a hot air-blast race over his face as he landed hard on his back. A moment later he put his hands over his face as broken glass peppered him. Seconds passed and he realised the glass shower had stopped. He pulled his hands away from his face; they had protected it but at a small cost as blood ran down his arms from what seemed like a hundred tiny stab wounds across their backs.
He gathered his senses as he rose to his feet. Then a second explosion hit. Not as violent as the first, but as Vinnie instinctively tried to turn his back to the building the effects hit him side on, and decked him where he stood. He was straight back to his feet this time and could see that the ground floor was ablaze. Entry via the front was impossible, as flames roared through the entrance in their hungry pursuit of oxygen.
He dialled three nines on his phone as he ran down the side of the building, alerting the emergency services. At the back he could see an open rear fire-door and instinctively looked across the grass away from the building. After 150 metres or so the flat turf disappeared downhill, towards the embankment of the northbound carriageway of the M6, and out of sight. Vinnie thought he glanced two figures vanishing into the darkness beyond the building’s security light’s reach. He went cold at the thought. Maybe there were three but he’d only seen two? Momentarily unsure what to do, he turned back to go to the rear of the building, but could see thick black smoke rolling out of the open fire-door. The building was becoming engulfed, and he knew he wouldn’t last seconds inside without breathing equipment; he’d been in similar situations before, years earlier when he’d been in uniform. It always shocked him how quickly the thick acrid smoke would cause your windpipe to constrict as if some invisible hand had your throat in a vice-like grip. Most fatalities in building fires were caused by the smoke, long before the flames got to work. But he also knew he would have to try. He ran through the doorway but immediately faced a furnace. The whole building was alight now and the flames darted and danced at him, forcing him back outside with spear-like jabs. It was like looking into the gates of hell, but not being allowed in.
Back outside he gasped for air as the invisible hand let go and he turned back towards the darkness but saw no one. He prayed Quintel and his thug had taken Charlie with them, albeit under duress, because if they hadn’t and he’d been left inside, Vinnie realised he would already be dead.
What the hell had happened in there?
Chapter Four
The shockwave from the first explosion hit the back of Quintel about the same time as the heat. Perversely, it propelled him forwards, helping him cover the ground more quickly, while still keeping his footing. He didn’t look around. Jason was ahead and he saw him disappear down the embankment. Quintel made it over the edge as he heard the second set of charges detonate. He was over the verge before the blast reached him. Slipping and sliding down the grass he came to an abrupt halt as he reached the hard shoulder as Jason stopped him falling into the main carriageway. He instinctively looked around but could see no attention from the passing traffic, which was light.
It was fully dark now, and this section of motorway had had its lighting turned off, some pathetic attempt to save money by the local council no doubt. But the benefit was his; he doubted if anyone had seen either of them coming down the bank. He jumped into the front seat of the waiting Ford Mondeo. He knew Jason had arranged for its delivery only ten minutes earlier to limit the chances of any passing filth picking up on it; he’d even had a made-up sign put on the front windscreen with the words, “Awaiting Tow Truck” written on it. Jason took the cardboard sign and threw it onto the back seat before retrieving the electronic key from above the driver’s side sunshade.
‘You were right, Boss, to be worried about Charlie after all,’ Jason said.
‘I wish I hadn’t been. This will balls-up our plans a bit now. Reedly will be tucked away somewhere all nice and safe. We’ll have to leave him for a while. It puts us back, and I hate disruptions.’
‘So what do we do now, Boss?’
‘Just get us out of here. Reedly will wait; in fact I rather enjoy the thought of him shitting himself. I’m more concerned at how they knew of our plans? And what else they might know?
‘Does that mean you want us to postpone things?’
‘We can’t, even if we wanted to, Jason. No, we press on; we’ve just got to be extra careful from here on in.’
Jason accelerated onto the main carriageway, and they were soon approaching Junction 32 of the M6, where the M55 – Blackpool – motorway commenced.
‘Head to Blackpool, Jason, we can book into a hotel and stay anonymous there.’
‘Yes, Boss.’
As Jason got busy with the driving, Quintel thought back to how they had come across Charlie Parker. He had been recommended by a supposedly solid bloke. ‘The guy who put us onto Charlie?’
‘Dempster. Yeah, don’t worry, Boss. When I get a chance he’s gonna get a visit.’
‘No doubt, Jason, but the problem I’m wrestling with is this: Was Charlie just a chancer who went to the filth, or…,”
‘The filth themselves? I know, Boss, I’ve been wondering the same, but after Dempster gave us Charlie’s details I did some digging around.’
Quintel was impressed, he hadn’t asked Jason to do that, as he hadn’t seen the need. Initially he never intended to let Charlie walk away from the gig; that was until he witnessed the job being “apparently” done. He’d been so impressed, the thought of letting him live and using him again had taken root. Until he’d seen the pigs heart.
‘What did you find out?’
‘That Charlie Parker existed. He was a mean bastard who was muscle for hire with no scruples.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘Either Dempster went straight to the cops and they provided an undercover cop posing as Charlie before we’d first met him, or…,’
‘Or Charlie himself saw a way to get two pay days, and blew us out.’
‘We won’t know which until I get hold of Dempster.’
‘Either-way we are partly compromised, though the cops’ knowledge of us will be very limited and they’ll have no idea of our agenda. I don’t see why they shouldn’t jus
t think it all begins and ends with Reedly.’
‘Makes sense, Boss.’
‘In fact, how do you fancy earning some extra cash?’
‘Sure, what is it?’
‘Can you still shoot straight?’
‘I keep it up, and if I’m thinking right; I told you I could have done Reedly.’
‘I know, Jay I just wanted some distance between the target and us. But we carry on.’
‘Ok, Boss, but I thought you said Reedly would have to wait?
‘I did, but that could change; there’s a reason sometimes that I only tell you stuff when you need to know it; it’s not that I distrust you, it’s to protect you, now I need to make some calls, so just drive, will you.’
Quintel wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He’d done it for the right reasons, rather than not valuing Jason’s abilities. He knew he’d spent six years in the army, and he trusted him as much as he’d ever trusted anyone. It was more about distance, keeping them away from the smelly end of business, but needs must now, and it would be the lesser of the risks. He hoped the real Charlie had been the one to do the dirty on them off his own back. That way they could use Dempster again, he had his uses as a local dirt bag – come – dogsbody. The two cars they’d used today being a prime example. But if it was Dempster who’d betrayed them, then he’d pay a heavy price, and not just with his life; a message would need to be sent into the criminal community.
Overall though, no real harm had been done. Reedly would be harder to get at in the short term, but his end would still come, and he could spend the time in-between adding to his grey hairs. There was a still lot to do.
Chapter Five
Vinnie met Harry Delany at Preston Central Police Station at 7 am the following day; it was a newish built nick in the city centre with a purpose-made incident room, which made a pleasant change from having to set one up in a gym or in whatever space one could, which was the norm.
Vinnie’s injuries were limited to superficial cuts to the back of his hands and arms, and by the time he’d left the local hospital, he couldn’t be bothered driving back to his home in Manchester so he’d booked into a city centre hotel. It wasn’t as if he’d had anyone waiting for him since he and Lesley had split up.
It was his first time working in Preston. Since he joined Greater Manchester Police’s Major Incident Team, the police forces of the north west of England had formed a jointly staffed Regional Homicide Unit, a further collaboration between forces made necessary by all the budget cuts. Harry reckoned it was just another step on the way to amalgamating all forces into larger regional outfits. Like they had in Scotland.
He hadn’t slept well, especially after he’d received Harry’s call while he was at the hospital. It hadn’t taken the Fire Brigade long to find poor Charlie’s body. According to preliminary findings, he’d died from severe neck wounds, but the fuller details wouldn’t be known until after the post mortem examination. And as of now the body was still in situ in what was now a huge crime scene. At least he’d died quickly, before the smoke and flames got to him, Vinnie thought, and then immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing.
He’d spent most of the time since wondering what had gone wrong. And what, if anything, he could have done differently.
Having found the incident room on the ground floor, Vinnie soon found the SIO’s – Senior Investigating Officer’s – office. He pulled up a chair and waited for Harry. He knew he was already here as his jacket was on the back of the chair behind the desk; he’d probably been here most of the night.
Vinnie stared through the glass walls at all the activity going on in the main spacious office as terminals and office furniture were being arranged. He usually loved the feel of the frenetic activity that always happened on day-one of a murder investigation, but not this time.
He saw Harry’s portly figure and ruddy face as he walked across the floor toward the office. He kept getting stopped but eventually he made it there, entered and closed the door behind him. Vinnie felt a feeling of relief as the ambient noise dropped to a background level.
‘How are you, this morning?’ Harry asked.
‘I’m fine, I told you on the phone last night.’
‘I know you did but I just thought I’d ask.’
‘Thanks, but more importantly, what about Charlie’s family?’
‘He was single and unattached as you know, so his parents are next-of-kin. I had the task of going to see them last night with the chief from Lancs.’
‘How did that go?’ Vinnie asked, immediately regretting the stupidity of the question.
‘They’re in bits, and they want answers.’
‘Sure. How did we not see this coming?’
‘A question I keep getting asked by all the senior-ranked soothsayers.’
‘Most of those dozy bastards have spent all their lives behind ever increasing desks, having never met an angry man,’ Vinnie said, feeling the emotion in his voice.
‘Now, now Vinnie, we have to tread carefully.’
Vinnie knew this, but hated those who had never been anywhere near a difficult or dangerous operation and then suddenly thought they were experts simply because they’d achieved a certain rank. He knew the operational strategy had been to go through with the mock execution and then on “proof of death” get the payment and leave. That way, Quintel and his goon friend couldn’t try and claim “agent provocateur” later at court by alleging that they only went along with the killer/undercover officer. Or that he had been the leading figure or the driving force behind it all, as was often the case in contract killing undercover sting court cases.
‘What about the strategy, not to have an arrest team ready to go straight in at the meeting and arrest them all?’ Vinnie said.
‘You questioning our strategy?’
Vinnie instantly realised how his question had sounded, and held his hands up in the air, before adding, ‘Of course not, Harry, I was just paraphrasing what we might be asked.’
Harry’s hackles seemed to descend before he carried on. ‘Yes, I’ve already had that one from the Lancs chief. I had to explain the rationale to follow rather than arrest.’
Vinnie knew that the evidence against Quintel and his goon was in the bank, but as they didn’t know who was behind the threat to Reedly’s life, they had decided to postpone their arrests in the hope that a surveillance team would be able to follow them away from the meeting with Charlie, and lead them to the top man. If they jumped too soon, there would still be an ongoing threat to Reedly.
Of course, Vinnie knew that the strategy hinged on the assumption that Quintel and his goon were just middle men. ‘But what if Quintel is the man behind it?’
‘He might be, but until we know for sure we can’t risk it. If we pull them in and they say jack shit, it’ll leave the main player out there to start over.’
Vinnie knew all this of course, but sometimes asking the questions out loud helped the thought process. That was one of the difficulties with undercover jobs; no black or white, but lots of grey. He moved on. ‘How did the surveillance team get on? he asked, more in hope.
‘That was the chief’s next question. And unfortunately they hadn’t planned on the bad guys leaving the estate from the rear; they must have had a car waiting on the hard shoulder of the M6.’
Vinnie had guessed as much. He’d have heard by now had it been any different. ‘We should have thought of that.’
‘That’s what the chief said.’
‘What about the car that they didn’t leave in? The one they’d left parked in the estate being watched by our surveillance team.’
‘PNC – Police National Computer – says it’s a local rental. As soon as they open I want you down there.’
‘Not a problem, Harry, but how do you plan to run this whole job?’
Vinnie knew that with a murder investigation, once all the detectives had been drafted in from divisions, the job would be run as one team with no secrets. But this job was ver
y different. Not least because of the sensitivities surrounding the intended target, but also because an undercover officer had been deployed and now had sadly lost his life.
‘We’ll keep the undercover side of it to ourselves for now, and get the detectives to follow the initial clues to try and capture all the evidence at the scene, and to trace Quintel and his sidekick.’
‘Obviously they all know that Charlie was a cop on duty, but not exactly why he was there, I guess.’
‘It won’t last long, Vinnie, but the longer we can hold back on the undercover side of things, the longer we can keep the details of the operation, and therefore the identity of the intended victim, a secret. We don’t know why Charlie was rumbled; so we don’t know what other dark forces are in play.’
Vinnie knew it wouldn’t take too long before it became known in the incident room that Charlie was operating undercover, and then all the obvious questions would follow. He just nodded.
‘Which is why we are against the clock, and you can’t use any of the normal detectives to help you. We need to find these bastards quickly, of course, but you need to find out who is behind it. I’ll give you all the help I can, but am restricted in that I’ve got to deal with the reactive side of the investigation, act as head of the enquiry and keep the bosses happy.’
‘Are you saying what I think—’ Vinnie started to ask?
‘I’m saying, use whatever resources you have to, Vinnie, but start on that hire car first.’
‘What about the intended victim?’
The deputy chief constable of Manchester, Mr Jim Reedly, has been whisked away to a safe location, but leave him to me, for now. We need to have a lengthy chat as soon as I can arrange it, and see if he can help us anymore in identifying exactly who this Quintel and his mate Jason are, and what the motive is? We still have no idea why.’
Vengeance Page 2
