‘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
Minutes later, Vinnie turned into Cromwell Road and could see the burning wreckage of the blue Nissan up ahead. A number of bystanders were starting to gather and he could hear distant sirens approaching. He had to slow to drive carefully past the blaze to ensure he missed any burning debris, which was scattered everywhere. After negotiating his way past the worst of it, he accelerated hard along the straight avenue.
‘Boss, boss,’ one of the armed cops in the back seat started, ‘it’s on the radio. The surveillance team have picked up their target in a Black VW Golf and are inbound from the other end of Cromwell Road. They are screaming for armed back up.’
‘How long is this road?’ Vinnie asked, as he floored the accelerator.
‘‘Bout a mile,’ the cop answered.
The BMW almost took flight as Vinnie hit seventy as the road rose up over a small hill. But as soon as he cleared the brow and all four wheels were back on the ground he had to stamp hard on the brakes.
Fifty metres ahead a number of plain cars surrounded a black VW which was trying to turn left into a side road, and they were forcing it to halt. Vinnie managed to bring the BMW to a stop in time as the cars ahead also stopped. He and his crew jumped out and all four of them drew their weapons as they approached the VW, which was only feet in front of them.
Vinnie immediately recognised the front seat passenger - it was Quintel, with Blister behind the wheel. He also saw a handgun on the dashboard. He shouted, ‘weapon,’ as he watched both Quintel and Blister make a grab for it.
Blister got to it first and pointed it at Quintel.
Vinnie’s three armed cops moved in, but Vinnie held one back as Blister got out of the car and ordered Quintel to do the same.
As the two armed cops cautiously approached, Blister spoke, ‘I heard the call so attended, saw the suspect so pretended to offer him a lift, I’m arresting him.’
‘You little shite,’ Quintel said, ‘how fucking dare you?’ he added. But before he could say anymore, the two advancing cops grabbed him, searched him for weapons and han
dcuffed him.
Vinnie approached as two police vans joined them from up ahead. ‘Jack Quintel, I’m arresting you for murder, conspiracy to murder, God knows how many firearms offences and anything else I think of later.’ And then he told the two cops to take him away and they led him towards one of the vans, as he continued to shout accusations towards Blister. Vinnie re-holstered his weapon.
‘Good try,’ Blister shouted back as Vinnie approached him. He touched the remaining armed cop’s elbow, signifying to follow him.
He stopped in front of Blister, who said, ‘Those fucking criminals will try anything to get themselves out of the mire, claiming I’m in on it indeed. As if?’
‘Yeah, nice one,’ Vinnie said as he pulled a plastic exhibits bag from his jacket pocket and put his hand out for Blister’s gun.
‘Oh yeah, of course. It’s Quintel’s; I had to wrestle it off him when the cars surrounded us,’ Blister said as he handed it over.
‘Very brave of you,’ Vinnie said, as he made the gun safe before putting it into the bag, sealing it and putting it into his jacket pocket.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t give me a commendation and a promotion after this,’ Blister continued.
Vinnie then punched Blister in the face as hard as he could before grabbing hold of him by his shirt and whispering in his ear, ‘That’s for Charlie and Christine, you bent pond life. You’d have sacrificed her, just as you were no doubt involved in the sacrifice of Charlie, just to gain brownie points with Quintel. You make me sick.’
Vinnie then stood back and told Blister out loud that he was under arrest for conspiracy to murder and for misconduct in public office, and for being a shit. Blister didn’t answer, he just looked shocked.
‘I saw you go for the gun, which was idly lying on your dashboard,’ Vinnie said. He knew he couldn’t reveal anything from the line, nor could any of it be used in evidence. So he used what he had just seen by way of explanation, for now.
Vinnie turned to the remaining armed cop and told him to take Blister away and lock him up.
‘But sir, don’t you know who he is?’ the cop said.
‘I know who he was; now just get him out of here.’
Chapter Seventy
Forty five minutes later and Vinnie was nursing his second mug of tea in the SIO’s office at Preston as he finished briefing Harry on all that had taken place.
‘Interesting you ended up on the quaintly named Cromwell Road, like a modern version of the English Civil War,’ Harry said.
‘Sorry?’ Vinnie said, and then regretted asking. He’d forgotten that Harry was a bit of a history buff as he then went on to explain about the Battle of Preston in the 1600s between Oliver Cromwell’s model army and the Royalists backed by the Scots. Trying to steer Harry back on subject, who to be fair was clearly starting to relax for the first time in days, for which he couldn’t blame him, Vinnie said, ‘What do we know about this McKnowle character? Other than he is one angry puppy.’
‘Well,’ Harry said, who took a sip of his tea before he continued, ‘Apparently, he was a senior member of the IRA’s ruling Army Council.’
Vinnie knew he was an ex-terrorist but little more. ‘Well ok, but what’s his beef with McConachy?’
Harry said he’d had one call from Major Crompton and was expecting a second, and then reminded Vinnie that Mathew McConachy was the First Minister of Northern Ireland.
‘That’s obviously why Christine and her crew were there. He’s the bloke she has been doing her investigative documentary about,’ Vinnie said.
‘Quite. But what Christine doesn’t – and can’t know – is that according to the Major, McConachy is not only suspected of being the ASU Commander on that fatal ambush in West Belfast twenty odd years ago, when McKnowle was left in the lurch; but that he then went on to take over from him within the IRA’s top brass, and led the organisation into the peace process.’
Vinnie nodded and said, ‘No wonder he wanted McConachy dead, all that bitterness. But you said, “not only” is there more?’
‘I’ll come to that, but obviously as he wanted McConachy dead that’s why he hired Quintel and Jason; he had to use unknown assassins. Carstair and Reedly were just for starters, though it appears that their, or should I say Reedly’s investigation, was straight.’
‘I should think so; the bastards were about to murder an innocent man before the SAS intervened.’
‘And his family, according to the major, if McKnowle had got his way,’ Harry added.
Vinnie sat back in his chair and considered just how lucky they had been today, before he remembered what McConachy had said to McKnowle before he was taken away in the ambulance. He reminded Harry of it.
‘Perverse, isn’t it? Everything McKnowle thought that McConachy had become was wrong. They were on the same side but McConachy’s approach was just more subtle.’
‘True,’ Vinnie said, adding, ‘plus, I think he is obviously enjoying the power kick in being the First Minister.’
‘Let’s see how long that lasts once his real aims are aired via Christine’s programme.’
‘Should prove interesting viewing,’ Vinnie said. He then asked Harry what Darlington thought.
‘He hasn’t got the whole story yet, but as you can imagine he’s well-relieved, he should be here soon.’
‘And what about that dirty bastard, or should I say, the soon to be ex-Chief Inspector Russell “Blister” Sharpe. Have we got enough evidence to charge him?’
As you know we can’t use phone tap intelligence in court, but I think we’ll have plenty. He’s already started to sing, trying to say Quintel was blackmailing him,’ Harry said.
Vinnie knew that was a good start; Blister was admitting his actions, so they just had to prove the real motive. A quick look at his bank account should help do that.
Then Harry’s desk phone rang and Vinnie drained his mug as Harry listened for several seconds, before thanking the caller and putting the phone down. ‘Looked serious?’ Vinnie said.
‘It was. That was Crompton. He’s been granted permission to tell us officially why McKnowle was so extra bitter towards McConachy.’
‘The “not only” bit?’
‘Yes.’
Vinnie thought he’d already heard reason enough, but let Harry elaborate.
‘Mathew McConachy is Bobby McKnowle’s brother,’ Harry started.
Vinnie was shocked.
‘According to Crompton they were dead rivals within the IRA which is probably why McKnowle went on that fatal job, just to give his brother who was leading it, grief.’
‘So is he some sort of step-brother?’ Vinnie asked.
‘Apparently not. Blood. But soon after McKnowle went into his Locked-in Syndrome, McConachy was promoted and could obviously see the way things were going, so changed his name by deed poll in 1998 before the Peace Process was signed. Crompton says he wanted to distance himself from his terrorist past.’
‘Crafty bastard,’ Vinnie said.
‘Indeed,’ Harry said, adding, ‘It’s on public record, but just not obvious, it was forgotten about during the transition from armed struggle to peace. But it’s there if anyone cares to look.’
‘That would have just made McKnowle worse, no doubt,’ Vinnie said.
‘And he’s had twenty odd years to fester on it.’
They then agreed that Vinnie could tell Christine this last bit, as it was on public record, but would have to hold back the bit about McConachy being the ASU Commander on that fatal evening. That couldn’t be proved, openly. Then Harry told Vinnie to get off home; he could wait until tomorrow before all the post arrest paperwork needed to be started. He’d already instructed two interview teams who had made a start on Quintel and Blister. McKnowle would have to wait until he was discharged from hospital of course.
Vinnie thanked his boss, and then put a quick call into Christine before leaving. She told him that Paul had dropped her off before heading to the airport, and she was r
elieved to hear of Quintel’s arrest, but shocked to hear of Blister’s. ‘Look, I know you are dead busy, but I could do with seeing you tonight,’ he said. He sensed a rejection coming from the pause that followed, so added, ‘Two reasons, both very important.’
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘One, that I need to buy you that dinner, and to avoid confusion I’ll be treating it as a date.’
‘You will, will you? Ok. But the second reason better be as good.’
‘I think I have a superb ending for your programme, which you are going to want to hear, but not over the phone.’
Christine agreed, but said they should meet soon, as in a couple of hours’ time, as she would probably have to go back to work after they’d eaten. He agreed and ended the call, and then remembered he didn’t have a car, well, not one that was drivable. He turned back to face Harry. ‘Just one last favour?’
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Acknowledgements
As always, I wholeheartedly thank my advance readers who give up their time freely to read through an early draft of my work to advise me on the story itself. What they see from their objective positions really does make all the difference to the finished work. They volunteer as I never ask so thanks again to David Price-Williams, Chris Wells, Chris Hughes and Nick Wells.
You can find out more about me via my website: www.rogerapriceauthor.com for which my continued thanks goes to Ivor Wood for his techno-wizardry. You can find me on social media (links displayed on my website) or email me at [email protected] . Please do get in touch I’d love to hear from you. I could even add you to my email list, or you can subscribe direct via www.rogerapriceauthor.blogspot.co.uk so as to ensure you never miss out on updates or giveaways.
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