Vengeance

by Price, Roger A

  ‘How long have you known him?’ Quintel asked.

  ‘‘bout a year, maybe longer. He started coming into our boozer, The Fox and Shovel way back. He’s always in there.’

  ‘How do you know he’s to be trusted?’ Quintel asked.

  ‘Well, he was always telling tales about the jobs he’d done, and he often brought dodgy gear in to sell. Don’t take my word, ask anyone in the Shovel.’

  Quintel didn’t answer but looked at Jason, who shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Said he’d done time for murder in Birmingham, but didn’t get lifed-up as he got it reduced to manslaughter on appeal. Said he only did six for it.’

  Quintel beckoned Jason to follow him to the door of the garage, where he spoke quietly, ‘That the same script Charlie gave you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jason said, ‘I even rang a mate in the Midlands who made some calls and Charlie was known down there as a bit of a handful, but on reflection my mate didn’t know of anyone who’d actually worked with him.’

  ‘What about anyone who’d served time with him?’

  Jason shook his head, before adding, ‘But that’s not too easy sometimes; as a Cat A prisoner he’d have been shipped from nick to nick.’

  Quintel knew this would have been true at the start of Charlie’s sentence, but at some stage towards the end of his time he would have been downgraded, and more likely to have been left in the same jail, unless he’d kicked off or something. He could see a look in Jason’s eyes, a sort of apology, but he didn’t blame Jason. It was as much his fault for trusting an outsider.

  ‘I reckon Charlie was either a cop or a snout. Or perhaps not, but the filth caught wind and gripped him, giving him only one way out.’

  ‘Hence the mock execution,’ Quintel said.

  ‘What about Dumpster here?’

  ‘I’m tending to believe him, what about you?’

  ‘Yeah, I agree. Do we need him again?’ Jason said.

  ‘Might do, but can we trust him?’

  ‘I think he’s properly shit scared now, but I can knock a couple of teeth out if you want me to, to reinforce things,’ Jason offered.

  Quintel considered things. They couldn’t afford to make another mistake, but Dempster had his uses. It was a case of weighing the uses up against the drama that might follow if they offed him. He walked back over to the end of the garage. ‘Ok, let’s say we believe you, that it was all down to Charlie, though we can’t really ask him now, can we?’

  ‘Honest, Boss, I’m not shitting you, and I’ll do any other stuff you need me to do. I’ve not let you down before, have I?’ Dempster said, aiming his last remark at Jason, who was now stood next to Quintel.

  ‘Ok, but if you breathe a word about this to anyone, or any of our business dealings with you for that matter; it’ll be more than your other ear that you’ll lose,’ Quintel said.

  Dempster nodded enthusiastically, and Quintel nodded for Jason to follow him outside. Once in the fresh air, he told Jason to clean Dempster up and drop him off with a bung, then to set fire to the garage, just in case, and see him back at the hotel. It was a lovely spring day, so he’d enjoy a walk into the town centre, where he’d grab a cab. Jason nodded and Quintel set off without turning around.

  *

  Vinnie had rung Harry first to update him on his chat with Reedly, and though Vinnie hadn’t known Harry for too long, he really liked the guy, and when he roared with laughter on hearing of Vinnie’s direct approach, he made himself even more endearing. Harry told him to stay on Reedly, as he was sure he would “remember more” at some stage. But the fact that he’d not thrown Vinnie out and had not reached straight for the phone to make a complaint, suggested that they were on the right track. Their suspicions seemed to be right, but just how right, only time would tell.

  Secondly, he’d rang Christine, and they’d met at four at the same pub they’d had a nightcap in. They’d both just finished a late lunch, or early tea, when they sat back and started to chat.

  ‘So, what was your appointment then?’ Christine asked.

  Vinnie brought her up to speed and enjoyed it when she rocked with laughter; he enjoyed her approval even more than Harry’s.

  ‘And you’re still in a job? Amazing.’

  ‘Not a hundred percent sure on him yet?’

  ‘What, you mean corrupt?’

  ‘Could be. Until he fully opens up, or “remembers” why someone is trying to kill him, I’ll keep an open mind.’

  ‘I’ve worked with many editors over the years that I’d love to have spoken to like that. TV editors are a different breed from other media editorial. Don’t ask me why.’

  ‘Anyway, what have you been up to?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Out meeting a source, regarding the exposé I’m working on.’

  ‘You sound like a cop.’

  ‘I’m starting to feel like one. I guess there are a lot of similarities between investigative journalism and detective work.’

  ‘Can’t you give me a hint about what you’re doing? It sounds intriguing.’

  ‘Ok, but only a taste. I’m looking at things in Northern Ireland since the peace process, in particular how an advancement of Catholics into prominent public positions might perversely be creating a reverse discrimination against the Protestant majority.’

  ‘That sounds like one documentary I’d like to watch. But isn’t such an in-depth look fraught with danger?’

  ‘There are still tensions on both sides, and it is difficult trying to navigate through it while ensuring impartiality.’

  ‘I bet it is.’

  ‘Whenever I speak to someone of one particular view or religious persuasion, they automatically assume I am either on their side, or against them.’

  ‘Tricky. What has your “source” told you today?’

  ‘Let’s just say he’s very high profile, and has certainly added ink to my pen.’

  ‘Come on, Christine, you know all my secrets; give. I promise I won’t tell.’

  Vinnie could see Christine wrestling with her decision, before finally speaking.

  ‘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 da
iry 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 waited. 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.’