The Child Taker Is Criminally Insane Box Set

by Conrad Jones

Gus ignored the outstretched hand and spat over the railings into the murky water. The fast flowing river whisked the phlegm away in seconds. Sami looked annoyed at the action, and the big Turk stepped forward, but Zamir held up his hand to placate him. Gus laughed. In comparison, Gus’s build dwarfed Sami, and his minder was bigger still. “If you fancy an early swim, kiddo, let me know,” Gus smirked and pointed to the dark water below them. He laughed dryly, “You wouldn’t be the first one we’ve dumped in there, so have a word with yourself before you get hurt.”

  He stopped laughing as he spoke and his face turned into a snarl. “If you want to sell your gear in this city, fine, but let me explain how it works.” Gus maintained eye contact with Sami although he was speaking to his boss. “Your shipments come through me, if I hear it’s coming in elsewhere, the deal is off.” He pointed to Zamir’s chest with his index finger. “I’ll pay you the wholesale price of the drugs plus ten percent; if I think you are taking the piss, the deal is off. My network distributes the gear to my dealers and dealers sanctioned by me; if I hear you are selling outside of my network, the deal is off.” Gus looked from one Turk to the other. “If you move any further north, the same deal applies, or the deal is off; take it or leave it.”

  “Tell him to get fucked, Boss,” Sami growled. “We don’t do business like that!”

  “It’s the best offer you’re going to get,” Gus smiled at the minder. “You’ve lost five kilos plus so far this week, I promise you that you will lose a lot more if you try to move into my city. Nothing moves here unless I know about it.” He turned his attention to the old man. “Ten percent and you don’t have to worry about a thing. You ship the stuff into the docks. I’ll pay you for it, job done. It’s a good business proposition.”

  “Maybe it is.” Zamir looked away across the river. A tanker drifted in the distance, headed out to who knew where. The wind blew stronger and he shivered. A black cab appeared from the direction of the Albert docks, its diesel engine rumbling as it ambled past. The driver glanced at the four men and looked away when they returned his glance. Whatever the men were doing at this time in the morning, it wasn’t something he wanted to witness. He accelerated toward the city to pick up nightclub stragglers who needed a ride home. Across the road was a coach park, which serviced tourists, visiting the Beatles museum at the docks. The coaches were long gone and none would return until much later in the day. It was deathly quiet as they watched the taxi trundle away. Zamir looked thoughtful. “Fifteen percent on top of the wholesale price and five percent of the final retail figure. If just one of my shipments goes astray, the deal is off as you say.” Zamir held out his hand again. “If I think you are taking the piss, the deal is off.” Zamir tilted his head questioningly. “Take it or leave it!” he smiled.

  “You have a deal.” Gus gripped his frail hand and shook it firmly. “I think we can work well together.”

  A nine-millimetre bullet punched through the back of Gus’s leather jacket, and he looked down at the gaping hole the flattened slug had made as it exited his chest. Blood spurted across Zamir’s face, and broken rib bones protruded. Gus’s eyes widened in shock, and his hands reached up for Zamir’s throat. He thought the old Turk had set him up, until a split second later the old man’s left eye exploded in a shower of vitreous jelly. The back of his skull burst and the contents of his head sprayed over the railing and into the dirty water. As his knees buckled, Gus saw Sami blown backwards by a maelstrom of hot metal. He hit the railings and tumbled head first over them, falling face down in the water with a huge splash. Four more bullets slammed into Gus, smashing bones and ripping his internal organs to shreds. His spine shattered and his body seemed to fold backwards on itself. Two bullets to the face dropped Gus’s minder, the first shattering his cheekbone and ripping the top of his skull off, and the second tearing his lower jaw apart, leaving his tongue dangling from what was left of his face. In a matter of a few seconds, a full clip from a Mach-10 had ended four lives.

  Chapter Eighhty-Three

  Alec

  Alec awoke from a shallow sleep. He looked at his watch through bleary eyes and cursed the ringing phone. “What, what, what,” he muttered. “Ramsay,” his voice sounded rough and thick with sleep.

  “Sorry to call you so early, Guv,” Smithy apologised. “There’s been a shooting on the river.”

  “What time is it?” Alec fumbled for his wristwatch.

  “It’s six.” The detective sounded nervous. “I thought you’d want to know straightaway.”

  “Don’t worry, if it’s important.” Alec sat up and switched on the light. The other side of the bed was unruffled. He still slept on his side of the bed, as if Gail was snoozing next to him. His mouth was like sandpaper. He rubbed his eyes as he spoke. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been a shooting on the prom, Guv,” Smithy explained. “Get this, Zamir Oguzhan, his minder Sami Ahmed, Gus Rickman and a meathead called Darren Howes were blown away about forty minutes ago.”

  “Where?” Alec swung his legs out of bed and scratched his testicles with his free hand. He caught his reflection in the mirror. It reminded him of a chimpanzee at the zoo. It was no wonder Gail had fallen into the arms of a younger man. He suddenly felt very old and lonely. Fifty-two wasn’t ancient these days, but he felt older, much older. His reflection backed up his feelings.

  “On the promenade near the coach park, uniform found their cars a few hundred yards away parked up near the kerbs.”

  “Can we tell what happened, have they shot each other?” Alec thought aloud.

  “Doesn’t look that way, Guv.” Smithy sounded certain. “It looks like they’ve been sprayed with at least one machinegun from across the road. They found the bodies in a group next to the railings. Ahmed was in the mud over the wall. Rickman was armed, but his gun was still holstered, Guv.”

  “Sounds like someone caught them with their pants down?”

  “Definitely.” Smithy sounded nervous again.

  “Well, my money is on Nate Bradley, have you spoken to his observation team?” Alec stood up and climbed into a pair of worn black underpants. His legs looked pale in the mirror. His potbelly protruded over the elastic. He sucked it in and turned sideways. Alec felt the anticipation of closing a case inside his stomach. He wanted Smithy to tell him that they had caught Bradley red-handed with the smoking gun in his hand.

  “As soon as we identified the victims, we sent them in to Bradley’s house, Guv.” Smithy paused. “Bradley was unconscious in the armchair with two empty bottles of whisky next to him. They’re adamant he hasn’t moved all night, Guv.”

  “Are they positive?” Alec was amazed and disappointed at the same time. “Could he be faking it?”

  “They’re sure, but they thought the same and breathalysed him just in case. He’s five times over the limit, Guv,” Smithy stuttered a little nervously. “They found a copy of Oguzhan’s police file on the coffee table, too.”

  “What?” Alec frowned. “How the bloody hell has he got a copy of that?” Alec opened the wardrobe and fumbled for a clean shirt. His dirty ones were building up into a pile on the floor waiting for the tidy fairy to arrive. They would be waiting a long time. She was dead. “I don’t think we can charge him with that. That man is either incredibly good or incredibly lucky.”

  “Maybe a bit of both, Guv,” Smithy said ironically. “At least that bastard Oguzhan is dead. That’s payback time.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is, Smithy,” Alec said quietly. He looked at a photograph of Gail he kept next to his bed. She was smiling and happy. “I guess what goes around comes around, eh?” Alec thought that he should feel a sense of satisfaction, but he didn’t. Gail was gone and he missed her terribly.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Epilogue

  “Hey Deano, great news about the kids.” The sun was shining and the view across the river was breathtaking. The view from the balcony was the reason he had bought the flat. It overlooked the water and a yacht marina, an
d on a sunny day, it was a little piece of paradise on the edge of the big bad city.

  “Yes, they pulled through, man.” Dean Hines sounded tired. “I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”

  “I am made up for you.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Dean sounded cautious. “That’s all the bullshit out of the way, what do you want?”

  “I’m letting you know that when your kids are better, there is a job with me for you. Leon got greedy, Dean, and teaming up with the Turks would have ended up in a bloodbath eventually.”

  “Leon was an arsehole,” Dean grunted. “I heard the Turks got whacked with Gus Rickman.”

  “Yes, I heard that too. Rumours are that Gus was going to jump into bed with the Turks. He was a two-faced bastard, no one trusted him. If he’d done a deal with them, the other gangs would have turned on him and each other, fighting over the scraps.”

  “He would have been massive with the Turks behind him,” Dean said. “Now that would have ended with tears.”

  “Blood and tears, Deano, greed always ends that way. That’s why you should work for me.”

  “Why would I want to work for you?”

  “What are you going to do, Deano? How are you going to feed your kids and pay the mortgage?”

  “I need to get away from all that shit, man.” Dean wasn’t convinced.

  “You know me. I have fuck all to do with drugs, Dean. I know the kids want to get high, that’s fine, but I didn’t like the way Leon was force-feeding the weak ones who couldn’t pay for it, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I know. Let me think about it.” Dean sounded keen. “I’ve got your number. I’ll call you.”

  “Make sure you do.” The line went dead. A yacht drifted silently below the balcony, hoisting its mainsail as it headed out to the river. The water was calm today. Jinx Cotton reached down and picked up a bundle of rags from the decking. He tossed the bundle over the balcony into the river. There was a dull splash and the concentric ripples appeared to move with the fast moving water. The tide had turned, allowing the fresh water to flow at speed into the Irish Sea. The rags sunk quickly, weighed down by the Mach-10 machinegun hidden inside them. “Greed kills them all eventually.” Jinx raised his face to the sun and let its warmth soak through him. Today was the start of new era, and he felt good inside.

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