Say You're Sorry: A Gripping Crime Thriller (A DCI Campbell McKenzie Detective Conspiracy Thriller No 1)

by IAN C. P. IRVINE

Who was behind it all?

  And what was going to happen next?

  It had to be Petrovsky’s organisation. Only they could be so organised and have the capability to this.

  Surely it had to be them.

  Tommy had to stop it before it got any worse!

  Pulling out his phone from his pocket he called his new 'boys' and told them to meet him in his office at his Gentlemen's Club in Leith, near the old docks. They had some planning to do...They had to do something to regain control. Obviously, they weren’t doing enough. Petrovsky was getting the upper hand.

  "Shit... no... forget that... I have to go the police station..." he remembered. "Tonight, when I get back. We need to do some thinking. We need to step this war up. Take some revenge for Rab and Dougie. Phone around the boys. I want a team ready for tomorrow night. Five people. You choose, but make sure Smithie is one of them. Got it? Good..."

  McNunn had not felt fear in years. For the most part, he had long ago been able to dissociate himself from such feelings. Fear served little purpose. It was just a warning that something bad may be about to happen, and in his experience, bad things either did happen or they didn’t. If you were in control, and you made sure that bad things happened to other people first, then they didn't happen to you.

  In other words, Tommy had to take charge of events. Find out who the hell was behind all the weird shit that was happening to him.

  And kill him or her. Soon.

  Feeling more positive, because now he had the justification he wanted to take the war to the next level, he revved his engine and pulled out into the road.

  He probably just had time to head home and have a shower before going to the station to make his statement.

  He also needed to talk to his wife about the statement he was about to give.

  As was usual, she was going to be his alibi.

  Realising that perhaps he should call her first to make sure that she was at home when he got there - and not drinking coffee or getting her nails done somewhere - he picked up his mobile and flicked through the screen to find her number.

  Ahead of him, a car pulled out from a side street and approached the lights in front, which started to change colour.

  McNunn found his wife's number and pressed the dial button, looking up just in time to see the car in front stopping.

  "Shit...." he swore, dropping the phone onto the seat beside him, grabbing the steering wheel and hammering on the brakes.

  Overreacting, the wheels on his car locked just as he drove over a pile of wet leaves, his car skidding towards the car in front, which was now stationary.

  As it was happening, Tommy felt as if the world around him and time itself had begun to slow down. Thankfully, at the last moment, the tyres found traction on the tarmac on the other side of the leaf pile and his Porsche began to slow down, almost coming to halt before it ploughed into the back of the other car.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  His Porsche hit the other car in the rear at ten miles an hour.

  Not too fast. But enough to wipe out its bumper and force the car in front to lurch forward.

  "SHHHHIIIITTTT!" Tommy swore aloud, hammering his fist against the steering wheel, and accidentally blowing the horn. "Shit," he swore again.

  At that point, the world around him started to speed up again, and things began to happen uncomfortably fast.

  The lights on a car passing by on the other side of the road started to flash, and the sound of a siren ripped through the air.

  In his line of business, Tommy would recognise those lights and the sound in his sleep, possibly even in a coma, and every nerve in his body came alive.

  A man stepped from the car in front, put a hand up to his neck and rubbed it. He looked across at Tommy then came towards him.

  At the same time the car with the flashing lights drove past them, slowed down, and did a U-turn in the road, coming up behind Tommy and parking, the lights still flashing, but the siren now mercifully turned off.

  Tommy opened his door and stood up. The driver of the car in front walked towards the back of his car, and looked at the remnants of his bumper, then looked furiously across at Tommy, before turning his attention to the police officers who had just got out of their police car.

  "Good evening," the officer nearest to them said. "Was anyone injured? Is everyone okay?"

  "I'm fine." Tommy nodded, then turned to the driver in front who was bending down with his hand on his neck, and was inspecting his bumper. He stood up and stepped slowly towards them both.

  "I'm not. My neck is knackered. What the hell happened? How come you didn't see me?" he asked Tommy.

  "I did, but my wheels locked, and I skidded on the leaves right into the back of you. You pulled out too fast from the side. It was your fault, not mine." Tommy immediately, stupidly, accused the other driver.

  The police officer coughed.

  "Actually, we saw it happen, and I think both my partner and I saw it rather differently. But first, do we need an ambulance, or are you okay?" he said, looking at the other driver.

  "I'm fine, but bloody furious, and I've got bloody whiplash. I might need one of those brace things to go around my neck. And a new bumper... look..."

  The two officers, Tommy and other driver walked towards the front of the car and inspected the damage. Tommy's front bumper was smashed and hanging off, as was the bumper on the car in front.

  "Not good," said the officer.

  "It certainly isn't," the other officer, a Detective Sergeant from the CID, said. "Especially since it appears you were on the mobile at the time you hit the car in front. And from what I can see here, the line is still open..." He pointed in through the window to the mobile that was lying on the passenger seat, face up, a picture of his wife on the screen. Even from where they were standing they could all hear her shouting on the phone, "Tommy? Tommy? Are you there?"

  The Sergeant smiled.

  "You wouldn't happen to be Mr Tommy McNunn would you?"

  Tommy swallowed. This would either be good, or bad. Depending if the sergeant was one of the many fine upstanding members of the police force who were on his books or not.

  "Yes," he acknowledged, but saying nothing more until he knew where the land lay.

  "Excellent," the DS replied, smiling. "I thought I recognised you. I'm Detective Sergeant Wilson. And this is Police Constable McKay."

  Tommy looked across at the other police officer.

  He was smiling too.

  Chapter 33

  Andheri

  Near Mumbai, Maharashtra

  India

  Wednesday

  11 p.m. India Standard Time (IST)

  Anand had had a rough day.

  Another very successful day.

  But he realised that things could not continue at this pace.

  He was feeling sick. Dizzy. Exhausted. And his legs ached from sitting for hour after hour on the floor of the bedroom, glued to his laptop.

  Plus, he was a little scared.

  What had started as a way of atoning for his own sins, had somehow, incredibly morphed and evolved into something far more serious, sinister, and potentially dangerous.

  His instincts were screaming at him to close the laptop lid and to stop everything.

  Walk away. Go back to work. Forget revenge and any form of retribution, and just accept that he'd tried his best.

  His conscience, however, was not on the same page.

  Firstly, although he had started to wreak significant damage to Mr McNunn's life, he had only just started. There was more, far more, that he could do.

  Secondly, McNunn had not yet said he was sorry. Which was the whole point, was it not? To make him say 'sorry'? To make him beg for forgiveness?

  And lastly, was the discovery that Anand had made yesterday morning. An unfortunate discovery that had changed everything.

  It had started quite positively, and perhaps rather innocently.

  Until this had all
started, Anand had never ever seriously broken the law. He'd always been a hacker, but he'd never actually done any damage. Not really...

  However, when he had made the decision to remove all the money from McNunn's bank accounts, he knew that he was in danger of committing a serious criminal offence. Okay, so they would never be able to track him down, and he was breaking the laws of a country thousands of miles away, but what he was about to do, was, technically, wrong.

  Anand's conscience had had some serious conversations with himself over that one.

  In the end, he had only managed to justify his planned actions by the accidental discovery and identification of Andrew James Burns as being Mr McNunn's accountant.

  Looking at the emails exchanged between them, and then hacking into his accounts and looking at who he was and what he did, he was excited to discover that Mr Andrew Burns was responsible for all McNunn's financial affairs.

  After that discovery, it was a no-brainer for Anand to transfer all... most... of McNunn's money into his account.

  It was brilliant! He could make the money disappear, but would he really be doing anything wrong?

  He hadn't stolen it. He'd just reallocated it to the person who was legally entrusted to look after it anyway.

  The problem was, that after he'd done it, Anand had become more interested in learning just what it was that McNunn actually did.

  So, he'd hacked into the accountant's servers, downloaded a ton of information and looked at all of it.

  At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do.

  Looking back, however, Anand wondered if it was perhaps the biggest mistake he'd made in his life.

  For upon opening one of the accountant's files and looking at its contents, Anand had come to realise that he had accidentally opened Pandora's box.

  By having seen the contents of the file, his life would now be in danger.

  The only way to survive would be to cut off the head of the monster.

  From this moment on, only one of them could survive: Tommy McNunn or Anand Mhasalkar.

  Anand was only a small, insignificant person in India, and Tommy McNunn had now revealed himself to be a giant of the crime world.

  It was little David versus the ‘Goliath’.

  Thankfully, history was on his side.

  -------------------------

  Tommy's Car.

  The Grange

  Edinburgh

  6.30 p.m.

  "Can I get some details from you both please?" PC McKay asked, taking out his notebook and a small tablet.

  "You first, sir, if I may?" the PC asked the other party very politely, recording his name, address, car details and insurance company. The officer then typed some details into his handheld tablet and announced, "Yep, that's all fine. I can see that the DVLA is confirming it has your insurance details and that you're up to date with your car tax."

  The PC turned his attention to Tommy.

  "And now you, Mr McNunn. Your personal details please, your number plate and your car insurance company?"

  Tommy rattled them off.

  The PC busied himself for a few moments, writing and then tapping away on his handheld. At one point, he stared at it and laughed, and then gestured for the DS to take a look too.

  The DS also laughed.

  "Well, this is excellent, Mr McNunn. Unfortunately, the DVLA seems to have no record of your car tax having been paid for your vehicle. In addition, it would seem that there are no records of any up-to-date car insurance existing for the same vehicle."

  Tommy stared at him.

  "What? What did you just say?"

  "I think you heard me, Mr McNunn. According to the DVLA records, you've been driving an untaxed, uninsured car on the public highway, contrary to ..."

  And the police officer then took pleasure in reciting a whole series of laws that Tommy McNunn had broken.

  "But that doesn't make sense! I just checked the car tax a few days ago, and everything was in order!"

  "Well, that's very interesting Mr McNunn, because the DVLA says that isn't the case. I think you must have made a mistake earlier on. We can check again, if it would make you feel better, but if the outcome is the same, I'm afraid we'll have no choice but to arrest you."

  "Check it again. And then I'll accept your apology afterwards..." McNunn almost commanded him, leaning over towards him so that he could see the tablet too.

  Even the other driver was intrigued, moving closer towards them.

  Humouring them both, the DS repeated the query of the DVLA records which the police system had access to, but the answer was the same. No records existed.

  At this point, PC McKay, who was now the nearest to the DS, spoke.

  "Mr McNunn. May I ask, have you been drinking alcohol? As you leant past me just then, I was sure I could smell whisky?"

  Tommy straightened up, swearing to himself under his breath.

  "Yes, I had a drink about fifteen minutes ago, at the golf club. It was just a wee dram. A single." He lied. It had been a large double, swigged back in anger before he stormed out of the club.

  "You won't object to me administering you with a breathalyser test then, will you?"

  Tommy started to object, but then realised it would be pointless. His best plan was to go along with it, but insist that it was a single malt, drunk very recently.

  "And..." the DS piped in, while the PC prepared the breathalyser test unit, "I also wish to inform you that I will be charging you with dangerous driving and driving whilst making a phone call on a hand-held mobile device."

  "What?" Tommy almost shouted.

  "Here, please breathe into this. Do you want me to explain what to do?" the other police officer interrupted him before he had a chance to get going.

  "Don't bother," Tommy replied. "I know the score...", and with that he almost snatched it out of the officer's hand.

  Tommy took a deep breath in, blew out as slowly and for as long as he could, turning slowly red in his face.

  "Thank you, Mr McNunn." The PC indicated that he'd done enough and that the test was over. "Mr Thomas McNunn, I'm afraid that you have failed the test. I will now have to arrest you for driving while under the influence of alcohol, and ask you to accompany me to the station, where we'll take a blood sample or a urine test to confirm the result. We will also charge you there with all the other offences...dangerous driving, talking on a mobile, driving without insurance, and non-payment of car tax."

  "What about my car?" the other driver suddenly spoke out. "Who fixes my car if he hasn't got any insurance?"

  Tommy turned to the other man and swore, not at him, but at the world in general, at the same time reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of notes. Turning away from the policeman and the CID officer, he peeled off a number of fifty pound notes, counted them quickly and held them out to the other driver.

  "Four grand. Probably about three times as much as it will cost to fix your car. If I give it to you, will you swear now to these officers and myself that you won't bother with any insurance claims and you'll sort it out yourself? You can keep whatever is left over. Deal ...or no deal?" Tommy asked.

  The other driver stared at the money in Tommy's hand, not believing what was being offered to him. As Tommy slowly began to pull the hand back and away from him, the other driver quickly reached out and grabbed it.

  "Deal!" he said loudly, grabbed the cash and stuffed it into his pocket. "Officers, I'll fix the car myself. I won't need Mr McNunn's details. Don't worry about it."

  Then he turned and walked back to his car, got in and drove off before the officers could say anything more.

  "So, what happens to my car?" Tommy asked.

  "You leave it here. You can't drive it. You're over the limit."

  "If I leave it here, it'll get nicked!"

  "Not our problem. Call one of your monkeys to come and get it if you wish. They can either pick up the keys at the station, or you can leave the keys on top of the rear tyre.
"

  Locking up the car, Tommy called one of his men and told them to meet him at the station. Pronto. The longer the Porsche was left alone at the side of the road, the more likely it would get stolen or deliberately scratched.

  Edinburgh was full of thieves nowadays.

  You couldn't trust anyone.

  As Tommy sat in the back of the police car being driven down to the station, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

  Thanks to his lawyers, fast thinking and the ability to blackmail or bribe whoever he could, until today Tommy had never ever been charged with anything.

  Thanks to Petrov's team, this evening they were going to throw the book at him.

  Admittedly, the drinking and talking on the mobile were his own stupid fault, but the rest - no insurance and no car tax - that was the work of Petrovsky's gang again.

  He had to admit that they were good. Very good.

  It seemed that everything that Tommy touched was no longer real. His life was dissolving around him and there appeared to be nothing he could do to stop it.

  For a man who liked choices, Tommy was running out. More than ever he only really had one option: to find the person behind all of this and kill them. And soon. Otherwise, with almost every passing minute, some other aspect of Tommy's existence could probably disappear.

  Before, Tommy had been a little scared.

  Now he was angry.

  Really angry.

  This was war.

  -------------------------

  St Leonard's Police Station

  Edinburgh

  Wednesday

  7.00 p.m. G.M.T.

  DI Wessex knocked on DCI McKenzie's door and walked in before he could reply.

  He was busy speaking on the phone to his wife, explaining that he would be home late again. "I'm sorry, but it's going to be a busy night. Someone important is coming in to make a statement, and afterwards there will be a lot of paperwork. I may pop out for a quick drink afterwards. You don't mind, do you?"

  "As long as it's only a couple. Remember your promise, Campbell?"