The Hard Way

by Duncan Brockwell

  That was a good question, Hayes thought, putting her own cosh away. “I don’t know. Maybe we should look at their phones, call some of their friends and see if they’ve heard from them, but I don’t think they will have.”

  “Do you think they’re dead?” Miller asked.

  Staring at the huge unslept-in double bed, Hayes agreed with Miller’s question. “Like Mrs Parekh said, they’re clearing house. They’ve tried to make Parekh look like an accident, and Richard Fisher look like a paedophile. Personally, I don’t think we’ll ever find Paula Lang, or the others. They’re erasing all connections to the project.”

  “We’re going to have to bypass their passcodes somehow. We need a tech head in here who’ll open the phones for us.” Miller led their way back downstairs, where Hayes picked up Mr Lang’s phone with gloved hands.

  Two hours later, Miller joined her in the kitchen after the IT guy they called in opened both phones in no time at all. SOCOs were busy dusting for prints in their coveralls. “Nothing?”

  Miller said, “Nope.”

  “I managed to speak to Paula’s sister, who said she was here yesterday afternoon having a barbecue with the family. She last saw or heard from her sister in the evening, but she did say they weren’t close.”

  “Most of Mr Lang’s contacts are work related. Although, when I spoke to one colleague, he did say he’s not expecting to see Mr Lang until next Monday. He’s on holiday this week. Is there any chance they had three vehicles and are on holiday?”

  “Wishful thinking, Miller,” she said. “Who goes on holiday and leaves their front door unlocked, and phones and wallets on tables? Nah, they’re missing. If only this place had CCTV, or something.”

  51

  “What the fuck are we doing here, Sarge?” Walker sat in the driver’s seat of the black VW van. He knew full well what Sarge had in mind but didn’t want to acknowledge it himself. “We’ve been here for hours. They’re obviously not coming.”

  “Ah, they’ll be here all right.” Sarge leaned back in his seat.

  Vodicka leaned in between them, sat on her knees in the back. “This is where they come every Monday night. I trust my guy. If he says they’ll be here, they will. Be patient. I know how much you want to pay them back for Zuccari.”

  In front of them, on Walker’s right, was a kebab shop, the owner of which owed protection money to Yasin and Unar Inan, Melodi Demirci’s cousins. Being quiet on a Monday night, very few people were out walking along the high street, which was fortunate.

  “Of course I do, but it doesn’t look like they’re coming, does it?” He wanted to be anywhere but here. Walker had no intention of getting involved in giving the Inans a beating; it wasn’t why he joined the police force. He tilted his head back. If he had the balls, he would tell Sarge and Vodicka he was out.

  “There they are!” The sarge was excited. “I brought these along.”

  Walker stared, dumbstruck, at the balaclava his superior handed him. “What the fuck’s this? I’m not wearing a mask.” He threw it back at Sarge, who glared at him.

  “You’ll wear it if you want to be a part of this, Luke.” He handed it back. “I’m not going in that shop showing them my face and making myself and my family targets. No, we’re going in there, we’re going to bundle these pricks into the back of this van, we’re going to drive them out to a farm I know, beat the shit out of them, and drop them off in the woods somewhere, got it? It’s too late to back out now.”

  Reluctant, Walker sighed, put the mask on his head as a beanie hat and nodded his understanding of the situation. “And that’s all you’re going to do? Just beat the shit out of them, nothing more? You’re not planning on taking fingers, or anything like that?”

  His sergeant looked at him like he was an alien. “I’m a fucking police officer, Luke, not a thug. If I did that, I’d be no better than them. No, I’ll leave it up to Zuccari to decide how far we go, though, but it won’t be further than beating them up, okay?”

  Alarm bells rang in his head. “Zuccari? Where is he?”

  The sarge gave him a strange, “You know where” look. “He’s with the others, picking up Melodi. Tonight’s going to be a lovely little family reunion for them.”

  Vodicka, her mask as a beanie, patted him on the shoulder. “Give us a minute, then pull up outside the shop, got it? Let’s go get these bastards!”

  How had this all happened so quickly? Only this morning they picked up Zuccari in his flat. How was he now sat in a van waiting to hurl two psychopathic Turks into the back, ready to cart them off to God knows where to give them a hiding they wouldn’t forget? Sarge gave him no time to think; he came and found him in the changing room earlier and gave him instructions to meet at his house. “Oh shit!” He stamped his feet, watching Sarge and Vodicka approach the kebab shop.

  If it had been anyone other than Vodicka with Sarge, Walker would have offered to go in their place, but he knew just how tough she was. If one of the Inans gave her trouble, she would drop them before they knew what happened. “Shit, shit, shit!” He banged his hands on the steering wheel, watching his colleagues go inside.

  He switched on the engine. With visions going through his mind of Vodicka drop kicking one of the Turkish brothers, while Sarge had the other at his disposal, Walker saw the shorter Vodicka tying one of the thug brothers’ hands behind his back while the Turk was forced over a table. Sarge had the other one on his front on the floor, tying his wrists behind his back with plastic cable ties.

  Walker got out of the van, pulled the mask over his face, and slid open the van’s side door. He stood waiting for his colleagues. The first out was Vodicka; she used all her core strength to fling the Turk into the back of the VW van. Then she climbed in after him.

  The Sarge came out second, wrestling with the enraged Inan brother. “Get the fuck in that van!” He punched the thug in the face, kneed him in the balls, then bulldozed him into the rear of the van, where Vodicka kicked him in the face. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Walker slammed the side door, yanking it shut with brute strength, showing his colleagues how pissed off he was. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He kicked the side of the van, before hopping on the driver’s seat. “Which way now?”

  He followed his boss’s directions out of the city, along dual carriageways for about an hour. Every now and then he would hear Vodicka keeping the brothers quiet with brute force. She was brutal, he thought, hearing one of the thugs cry.

  Sarge turned to his captives in his seat. “You’re in trouble now, boys. You’ve made a career of hurting people. Now you’re going to know what it feels like.” He turned back to Walker. “You’re right, though, they’re pussies. Bullies, huh?”

  Another punch for the Inans was Vodicka’s reply. Walker never wanted to piss her off, ever. Vodicka was without a doubt the toughest woman he’d ever met, in every way, emotionally, and physically. He wanted to say Rachel was, but he suspected that the shorter, squat Vodicka would have Rachel for breakfast, and the leftovers for lunch.

  “It’s this turning here,” Sarge said, as Walker indicated left.

  He drove them along a country lane, until Sarge ordered him to take another left up an even thinner track. There were potholes everywhere. Fortunately, the farm, their destination, wasn’t far along the track. Walker parked outside a barn.

  “Let’s get these bastards out of here.” Sarge jumped out of the van.

  The farm’s owner joined them. He opened the barn door and switched on an overhead light. “Good to see you, brother.” The farmer hugged Sarge.

  Walker wanted to know what Sarge’s name was. The whole unit wanted to know. They’d all tried everything to find out, but their boss wanted it kept quiet. He liked the title too much to end it. Opening the side door, Walker grabbed one of the brothers’ ankles, yanked him out, grinning when he landed on the dirt with his face. When the Inan brother cursed him, he accidentally kicked him in the balls. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

  Vodicka pulled the
other brother along the dirt into the barn. When everyone was inside, the farmer closed the barn door. Walker stood back, not wanting to get involved, as much as he desired to. His mask shielded him from reprisals.

  52

  Charlotte saw the headlights coming a few seconds before Hayes parked up behind her. When she arrived, she saw the police cordon tape across the entrance to the courtyard, and decided to park across the road from the workshop instead. With excitement mixed with fear, she opened her door and rose slowly. The two detectives joined her. “How are we getting in?” she asked Hayes.

  “With this.” Hayes held out what looked like a straight paperclip.

  “So you do have a pick-lock thingy. I asked you earlier and you looked at me like I was mad.” She took the thin metal slither and held it. “Is it hard to do?”

  “Not once you know how to use it.”

  “Can we do this and get the hell out of here, please?” Miller walked away.

  Charlotte followed Hayes, who followed her partner.

  Miller held the cordon up, allowing her and Hayes under without bending too much. Charlotte kept her eyes open for approaching cars, of which there were none. “Let’s get this done as quick as we can. It gives me the creeps being here.”

  Miller stood to the side, allowing Hayes access to the thick wooden door. Charlotte glanced from left to right several times in the time it took the detective to open the door. “Good work,” she said in genuine amazement. “I’ll have to get me one of those.”

  Inside, she waited for the detectives to join her before she closed the door behind them. Miller brought out a pen flashlight, which lit up parts of the large workshop at a time. Charlotte was surprised to find the floor space empty. “I see they’ve taken everything, even the Fiesta.”

  Hayes took charge, using her own flashlight to find the drain in the centre of the floor. “Your brother must’ve put it in there. It’s the only drain I can see.”

  Crouching, Charlotte opened the small drain cover with a bit of bother. She lifted the cover and took the torch from Hayes. “There it is!” A white envelope.

  Handing the flashlight back, she tore open the envelope. “What’s the second key for?” She held it up to the torchlight. “Ford. It’s the key to the Fiesta. I wonder why he stuffed this in here too?” She held the locker key.

  “Right, let’s get out of here before someone sees the lights in the window.” Miller turned hers off, headed for the door, with Charlotte following.

  “Go now, go,” Hayes ordered, as she followed them out onto the courtyard.

  Charlotte walked fast, her shorter legs struggling to keep up with the Amazonian Miller. With an eye on the entrance to the courtyard, she saw the coast was clear and made a move towards her car.

  The road was bathed in white light, as headlights lit them up.

  Charlotte froze, deer-like, in the lights. “Oh shit!”

  “Run to your car, Charlotte, we’ve got your back,” Hayes ordered.

  When Hayes and Miller ran, Charlotte shot into hers, fumbled with her keys, and turned on the engine. Up the road, the headlights kept her well lit.

  Looking through her rear windscreen, she saw Hayes making gestures with her hand to go.

  Charlotte put her foot down, hearing the tyres screeching, and shot off along the road, Hayes and Miller’s car directly behind.

  With adrenaline kicking in, she drove as fast as she could without crashing, until she was on Ampere Way, and then the A23, Purley Road. Then she opened up the throttle, watching the Peugeot behind swerve, blocking the van from overtaking.

  53

  “What’re you waiting for, man? You’re in this, too.” Vodicka punched one of the brothers on his chin, snapping his head to the left sharply. She stood up straight, stared into him. “Well?”

  With Sarge’s eyes on him, Walker stepped up to the other brother – he didn’t want to know which one – brought his fist back and punched his cheek, the flesh breaking, claret pouring down his face. He forgot he was wearing a ring. He gasped when he saw the welt he’d created. “Oh man! I’m so sorry!”

  Sarge, Vodicka and the farmer laughed, hard. Mainly at him apologising, but also partly at Yasin Inan’s bloody face, his expression solemn. “Good job. Couldn’t have done it better myself. But I think now’s the time to start proceedings.”

  Vodicka’s phone rang. Walker listened, knowing the new information wasn’t good. How could it be? Zuccari was on his way here with the rest of the unit. “And?”

  “Five minutes, and your darling cousin’s going to be joining you,” she said to the gagged prisoners, who’d both received quite a beating already. “And we’ve got a surprise for you two. You’re going to love it.” If her mask were off, they would have seen her grinning from ear to ear.

  “It’s time.” Sarge took a knife out of his pocket, walked behind the Inans in turn and cut the cable ties. “You boys want out of here, you’ve got to come through us.”

  Walker saw the fear in their eyes; they weren’t getting up.

  “But here’s the rub, if we catch you, we’re going to hurt you, do you hear me? And it won’t be a subtle beating. No, it won’t be as soft as that. So, who’s going to get up first? Huh?” Sarge kicked the brother on the left. “No? What, you’re not a tough guy now?” He kicked the other one. “I heard you’re big tough guys like me, but clearly you’re not.”

  They sobbed at the thought of being beaten up. One screamed into his gag.

  Stepping up to the one on the left, Sarge picked him up, withdrew his fist and punched the Turk so hard, he sent him flying over a bench, onto the hay-strewn floor. “Where do you think you’re going?” He found the prisoner and kicked him in the face. “That felt good. You should give this a go, Luke. It’s cathartic. Should’ve done it a long time ago.”

  “Come on, man, he’s had enough, look at him.” Walker just wanted out of this nightmare. He wasn’t some vigilante wannabe cop. He joined the police to help people, not beat the crap out of them.

  “I say when they’ve had enough, not you.” Sarge stepped up to the second brother, still sat on a rickety wooden chair, and punched his cheek. “Come on, don’t just stand there looking pretty. Kick him in the head or something.”

  Walker stared down at the semi-conscious Turk. “I’m sorry!” He swung his boot forward and cracked the guy’s face. “There, happy? It’s done. Let’s put them back in the van and dump them somewhere, yeah? No harm done.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Help me put them back in their chairs for their cousin’s arrival.” Sarge stooped over, grabbed the thug, and put him in the chair with little effort.

  The farmer opened the wooden door, bathing the barn in white light.

  “See that, you piece of crap? Your cousin’s here. Now we can start the reunion.” Sarge spat at the brothers.

  Walker made out people in silhouette form, one pushing another, until he saw the one being pushed was Demirci. And Zuccari had already had fun with her; she was bleeding.

  “There! Sit down on this chair, love,” Zuccari said through his mask.

  Walker glanced at the farmer, the only guy not wearing a mask, who looked nervous. Zuccari’s stance and demeanour was intimidating. Walker noticed his “friend” was wearing gloves, but nothing could disguise the fact two of his fingers were missing on his hand. “Take it easy.” He was ready to jump on Zuccari.

  “Easy? You want me take it easy when these fuckers are here?” Zuccari’s eyes blazed at him through the holes in his mask. He reached behind him and produced a pistol.

  The atmosphere in the barn changed.

  Sarge, Vodicka and his two other colleagues gasped, before Sarge tried to intervene. “What the fuck’re you playing at? Put that away before you get someone killed, you sick maniac.”

  Zuccari whipped round and pointed the pistol at Sarge, who froze. “I won’t be needing this anymore.” He pulled the mask off. “Or these.” One by one, he pulled his gloves off, training his pistol on Sarg
e. “You thought we’re here to beat these bastards up? Oh no, we’re here for a lot more than that.”

  Melodi Demirci stared up at him. “You’re police officers. Do something!”

  “Hey mate, how about you put that gun down, huh?” Walker stepped closer to him from behind. His charge turned to face him, the pistol pointed at his chest. “I know you’re pissed off with these two, and I get it. But please don’t do anything you’ll regret. We’re not past the point of no return yet.”

  “Oh no?” Zuccari marched forward, put the muzzle of the pistol against the Inan brother on the left, and pulled the trigger.

  The Inan brother fell backwards in his chair, a red mist hanging in the air.

  Stunned silence filled the barn.

  Zuccari spat on the corpse of his tormentor. He raised the pistol at Sarge once more. “He took my fingers with a circular saw. He deserved it.”

  Everyone present, including Walker, knew they were in shit, accomplices to murder. Angry, Walker rushed Zuccari from behind, grabbed him around his neck and put him in a stranglehold, making sure he grabbed his gun hand with his free arm. “You fucking psycho.” He crushed Zuccari’s windpipe until his colleague collapsed unconscious on the hay-covered ground.

  “You killed my brother.” Yasin Inan glared at him. “You’re bent coppers. Murderers. You’re all going down for this.”

  “Yasin, do us both a favour and shut the fuck up.” Demirci tried to kick her cousin, but her restraints prevented it. “Don’t listen to him. We won’t say a word about this, ever. I’m a businesswoman. Let’s talk terms and conditions, yes? We all want to get out of this alive, and not in prison, don’t we?”

  Sarge took the gun from Walker. He stepped up to Demirci. “Do you really think we’re taking advice from the likes of you? You’re scum! We decide what happens from here.”

  “You know what happens from here,” Walker shouted. “We have to call this in, right?” He didn’t like the glares he received from his team. Sarge whipped his mask off. “Sarge? What’re we even thinking about this for? Call it in!”