Dead Watch: a fast-paced thriller you don't want to miss

by Steve Liszka

  The sun was already rising when they finally got back to station. It was nearly five o’clock, but no one bothered trying to squeeze in an hour’s sleep. After such an incident, most people just wanted to sit down, have a cup of tea and put it behind them.

  When he’d finished his brew, Lenny got off his seat and headed for the toilets. As he passed the ladies’, he heard a strange heaving noise coming from within.

  ‘Jo, is that you?’

  He knew it was a pointless question; she was the only woman on the Watch. When she’d disappeared five minutes earlier, he’d assumed she was off for a shit. Women didn’t usually like to inform you of such things, he’d learnt that much about them. The sounds from the room stopped for a few seconds, then an even louder one that sounded more like a snort, erupted from the toilet. She had been unsuccessful in keeping in her cries.

  ‘Jo, I’m coming in. Make sure your knickers are up.’

  Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped in. Jo was standing in front of the mirror, the little mascara she was wearing had run, leaving thin tracks down her cheeks. She smiled at Lenny then from nowhere, she let out another cry that sounded like she was gasping for air.

  ‘You all right, girl?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Don’t feel bad about being upset. That was a pretty horrible thing you had to see back there.’

  ‘Thanks, Len, but that’s not why I’m crying.’

  ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. Shit like that’s not normal.’

  Jo shook her head. ‘I said that’s not why I’m crying, didn’t I? Seeing the body didn’t bother me. It’s what happened that I can’t get my head around. Why the hell would anyone want to do that to another human being? Tell me, Len, ’cos I can’t work it out.’

  Lenny shrugged. ‘It’s a fucked-up world out there, that’s all I know. But I don’t expect that helps much, does it?’

  ‘Not really, but you know something, when I see shit like that, it just makes me feel glad I never had kids.’ She used her hand to wipe away the snot from her nose. ‘Why would anyone want to bring them into this crazy fucking place?’

  ‘I can’t answer that.’ Lenny shrugged again. ‘My little girl was an accident. But what I can tell you is I don’t regret her being born for one minute. There’s a lot of bad out there, but there’s a lot of good too. I guess we’ve just got to make the most of the good stuff.’

  In a move that was extremely delicate for Lenny, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave Jo the warmest of smiles. Then, just to make sure he’d done nothing to damage his reputation, he rubbed her hair roughly and patted her on the shoulder with force. ‘Come on, you daft cow. I’ll make you another cuppa.’

  As they headed back to the canteen, the phone went, almost knocking Dylan off his chair as it woke him from his slumber.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Wes said, not that anyone else was showing any intention of doing so. ‘It’s probably Phil telling us we’ve left some kit up there. Green Watch can get it later. There’s no way I’m going back now.’

  His time on the Watch had ignited a little fire in his soft belly.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘That guy you found tonight,’ a voice said, ‘old headless Harry, it was a shame what happened to him.’

  Wesley didn’t bother asking who it was; he recognised the voice straight away as the one that had intruded on them at the station the night before.

  ‘Thing is, it wasn’t even him who shot Tony. But I’m fairly certain he knew who did. Never said a word, though. Not a fucking dickie bird. Can you believe that? Not giving up his mates, even though he had a pretty good idea what was going to happen to him if he didn’t spill the beans. I didn’t warn him about the whole beheading thing. Mind you, I didn’t even think about it until after I done him in. It just seemed kind of appropriate, if you know what I mean.’

  Wesley didn’t, but it felt, at that moment, like he’d lost the power of speech. All he could do was listen to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  ‘If ever there was a case of misguided loyalties, I’d say that was it. Anyway, my point being I was willing to kill that poor fuck because he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know. Now, with that in mind, can you imagine what I’d be prepared to do to you and your boys if you decide to do anything silly, like, I don’t know, maybe speak to the police about the things that have gone on between us… You still there, boss?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wes just about managed to answer.

  ‘Good man. So, that’s all I wanted to say, other than good job back there. Your team dealt with the fire very professionally. You should be proud of them.’

  ‘I am,’ Wes answered, surprising himself when he found his voice.

  ‘Get some sleep, then, chappy, you deserve it.’

  He hung up before Wesley could say anything, not that there was anything to say. The man had made his point.

  Part II

  A Debt Repaid

  Three Months Later

  ‘Come on, Jimmy,’ Wesley said. ‘I’ll explain later, I promise. But we need to get going, or mobilising will start asking questions.’

  Jimmy sat in the driver’s seat of the fire appliance, unaffected by Wesley’s pleas. ‘I don’t give a fuck what mobilising have got to say. You tell me what’s going on, or I ain’t going anywhere.’

  Harrison leant over from the back of the engine and placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘Please, Jim, I think you need to listen to Wesley. It’s for all our sakes.’

  Jimmy looked to his old friend then back to Wesley. ‘Okay, I’ll do it. But it’s for their benefit.’ He directed his thumb towards the crew. ‘Not yours.’

  He drove out of the bays and begun the short journey to their destination. The marina was less than half a mile from the station.

  Jimmy had known something was wrong from the off. When Wesley put the phone down, his face was rinsed of colour, and when the bells went down two minutes later, he almost jumped out of his skin. The others were no better. Dylan and Lenny, who normally wouldn’t shut up, had suddenly lost the ability to speak and even Harrison wasn’t his normal self. The only person not acting strange was Bodhi, who, in his usual laid-back way, just sat there and said nothing. When they got the call and the others were flapping around, he strolled to the pump like he was heading to the shops to pick up the morning paper.

  Jimmy said nothing else on the short journey. He just wanted to get the call out of the way as quickly as possible so he could find out why the hell everyone was acting so weird. If he had to kick a few arses to find out, well, that was just fine.

  The Marina was situated directly south of the fire station, and unlike many other areas of Brighton that carried their own unique charms, the Marina was pretty much devoid of any such personality. The place had been built at the tail end of the seventies and, like many other construction of the time, was a testament to the ugly functionality of breeze block and concrete. It was based at the bottom of the chalk cliffs that lined the area and much of the South East coast. Other than sheltering hundreds of boats and yachts, the place was also home to a supermarket, cinema, ten-pin bowling centre and a host of shops that sold cheap clothes, books and stationery. The half-dozen restaurants and pubs there all played up their nautical settings with names that involved sailors, ships and marine life.

  After descending the ramp, they drove straight past the shoppers until they reached the area where the boats were anchored. Only the boat owners could enter this area, with a swipe of a security card that raised the barrier arm. Usually, if they had an incident there (and there had been a number of boat fires over the years), a security guard would be present to open it up for them. On this occasion, they were met by an army of police officers, riot vans and cop cars. It looked like they meant business.

  Behind them, and in plain view, one of the yachts, a forty-two-footer, was ablaze with the flames ten feet in the air. The heat was so intense the main sail on the boat to its l
eft (or maybe that should be its port) had blackened and was catching alight around its edges.

  They pulled up at the barrier, and Wesley got out, heading toward the most senior looking of the police officers. Just like with the fire service, it happened to be the man with the most stripes on his shoulder and markings on his cap.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Wesley asked. ‘And are we okay to get in there?’

  The officer nodded. He was pushing sixty but had that stern look that would have made a man half his age and twice his size wither. ‘Drug raid. We’ve had intel that one of the yachts has smuggled a shitload of cocaine in from Europe, and it’s still here. When we shut the place down and started our search, that boat went up in flames. We think the owner panicked and is trying to destroy the evidence.’

  Wesley nodded, wondering when he would encounter their newfound friend.

  ‘We’ve evacuated the area, and I’m happy for you to put the fire out,’ the officer went on. ‘But do you think you can save the boat? We need to try and get any evidence off it that we can.’

  Wesley pursed his cheeks and blew, like a mechanic just before quoting a job. ‘I don’t know. It’s going to take a lot of water to knock that thing down, and boats prefer to be on water than carrying it. They’ve got a tendency to sink when we start filling them up.’

  The officer bit his lower lip, unimpressed. ‘Do your best. We want to save as much of it as we can.’

  When Wesley got back to the lorry, the lever arm went up, and they drove through, parking a few feet from the water’s edge. When you were fighting a serious fire, it was important to secure a water source as early as possible. If the crews were using the high-pressure hose reel, the two thousand litres they stored on the appliance would last twenty or so minutes before it ran out. If they used a jet from the lay flat hose, it would last for less than five.

  As they had an endless supply of water right next to them in the form of the sea, they could have set in to that, but it would have taken a few minutes to get the large-diameter hard-suction hose to work and involved a small degree of fannying around. Luckily for the crews, from the drills they did at the marina, they knew there was a hydrant situated less than one length of hose away from the appliance. It would take them a minute or two to access Sussex’s finest drinking water.

  As Harrison and Lenny put on their BA masks and went under air, Wesley turned to his driver. ‘Jimmy, you and Bodhi stay here, set in to the hydrant and get a jet run out. Me and Dylan will go up the jetty and see what needs doing.’

  Usually only one crew member, usually the driver, would stay at the lorry and do the tasks Wesley had requested, as well as act as the pump operator, but on this rare occasion, there were six of them riding the appliance. Normally, it was only five, or more likely four, if people were sick or on leave. With the luxury of an extra crew member, Wesley was able to keep Bodhi and Jimmy away from the boat.

  He had only taken a couple of steps and had not even passed under the police cordon tape, when he heard someone call him. He looked to his left and saw their agitator staring back at him. It was only three months since he had seen him last, but Mac looked different. Maybe it was the suntan or lack of the plaster across his eyebrow, but he oozed healthiness and vitality. He smiled at Wesley like they were old acquaintances finally catching up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Wesley asked.

  Mac looked to the burning boat. ‘Unfortunately, I lack your firefighting knowledge, but I think I’m going to risk it and say that boat is on fire.’

  ‘What I’m asking,’ Wesley said, ‘is other than put it out, what do you want us to do? The police said they think there are drugs on the boat. Is that right?’

  The man laughed. ‘Now why would I burn my own drugs?’

  He nodded at the boat downwind of it, the one whose sail had caught alight and whose bow was also beginning to blacken as it absorbed the heat.

  ‘No, that’s the one you need to worry about. What I need you boys to do is get my product off it and out of this marina before the police get their mitts on it. Do that, and your dealings with me will be over.’

  Wesley wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, that he must have been mad if he thought that he was going to help him shift his drugs right under the noses of the police. He wanted to say that, but then he remembered the headless Albanian they had found, and the words deserted him.

  ‘It’s under the seats in the galley, the ones facing the TV. Lift the cushions and the wooden board underneath, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.’

  ‘How much are we talking about?’ Wesley asked. ‘Can two people carry it on their own?’

  The man smiled. ‘You’re big strong boys. I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.’

  With Dylan in tow, Wesley went through the charade of walking up to the jetty and taking a look at the situation. He knew exactly what his crew were going to do, he’d already decided on that, but he needed to appear like he was considering his options.

  When he got back to the appliance, he beckoned Harrison and Lenny towards him. They had donned their BA masks and handed their tallies to Bodhi, who was wearing the black and yellow-checked tabard of the Entry Control Officer. The jet they would be using was charged and ready. Jimmy had already set into the hydrant and, along with Bodhi, had moved towards Wesley to hear the brief. When he saw the look of panic on his boss’ face, he grabbed Bodhi by the shoulder and held him back. It was clear whatever was being said wasn’t meant for their ears.

  ‘And you agreed to do it? You’re a bigger idiot than I thought,’ Harrison said after Wesley had instructed them of his plan. Wearing his breathing apparatus, he sounded like an asthmatic Darth Vader.

  ‘I didn’t really have much choice,’ Wesley said. ‘You were there that night, you know what this man is capable of.’

  Harrison shook his head. ‘Once this is done, I swear, I’m over with this shit.’

  With Dylan’s help, they manoeuvred the hose down the jetty. Moving a charged jet around was always tricky, but the line bags that both men had draped over their shoulders made things even more difficult than usual. The bags were about the same size as a sports holdall and were used to hold the two lines (or rope, in layman’s terms) that were kept on each appliance; one fifteen metres long, the other thirty. It made good sense to take them. Lines had a multitude of uses on the fire-ground, and no oncoming crews would think it strange to see both men carrying the bags, especially as there was a chance some of the boats might come loose from their moorings and need tying down. If the plan went right, by the time they got off the boat, it would no longer be lines that filled the bags.

  As they got closer to the fire, Harrison opened up the branch and hit the flames that engulfed the boat. As the water made contact, something went bang, making both of them jump and bring their hands up to protect their faces. The smoke was now pouring over the yacht they were about to board, which meant they’d have to be extremely careful not to fall off into the water. Visibility was going to be pretty awful. On the plus side, the smoke would act as cover for them to get the drugs and not arouse the suspicions of the police.

  With Harrison fighting the fire from the jetty, Lenny clambered onto Mac’s yacht and, doing his best to keep his footing, made his way to the hatch, before disappearing below deck. Technically, he had left his BA partner, but given the circumstances, he was willing to overlook their faux pas. The galley of the yacht was a sight to behold; all teak and mahogany and impossibly clean. It was more spacious than the one bedroom flat he called home. He headed straight for a built-in sofa and as instructed, removed the cushions and wooden panels below.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he said when he saw his prize. There were at least twenty packages stacked under there that he could only guess must weigh a kilo each. He had never touched the stuff himself, but he knew from his work on the doors that a kilo of coke had a street value of at least thirty to forty grand in Brighton. He was no mathematician, but he was pretty sure the gear he w
as looking at was worth hundreds of thousands at least. He tipped both lines out of the bags, and as quickly as possible, replaced them with the packages. When they were packed to the point of bursting and he could only just do up the drawstrings to prevent anyone seeing its contents, Lenny swore again. ‘Fuck me.’

  There were two packages still left, and as he was pretty sure their new friend would only be happy if he had them all in his possession, Lenny tried to figure out the best way to store them. Looking around the cabin, he became aware of the two large pockets located on the thighs of his leggings. They were designed to hold any equipment a firefighter might need on the job, but cocaine was unlikely to have been on the designer’s mind.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he said again, then stood up and stuffed the remaining two bags into each of his pockets. It made his leggings bulge, but if anyone queried it, he would tell them, in true Lenny style, it was his massive balls that were creating the lumps. Before leaving, he put the lines in the storage area the drugs had once been in, then replaced the cushion and returned the boat to its pristine condition.

  When he dumped the line bags on the jetty, he could see that even though it wasn’t quite out, Harrison had kicked the bollocks out of the fire. The yacht had also sunk an extra couple of feet below sea level due to all the water it had taken on. Looking across to where their appliance was situated, he could also see that Central’s pump had arrived, and a couple of the crew were heading toward them with a charged jet in tow.