Go Out With A Bang!

by Gary Weston

  Crowe said, 'What exactly was said?'

  Marlow explained, 'About twenty minutes ago. To my phone here. He said explosives were in place all around the stadium. We have until the end of the game to agree to pay thirty million or the lot goes up.'

  'Shit!' said Crowe.

  Morris asked,'How did you find us?'

  'The man knew where you were sitting. He said you would tell me to take this seriously.'

  'I do,' said Morris, then on his phone. 'Dale. Me and Vince are at the big game. The gang has it loaded with explosives. Yes. the entire stadium, they say. We have until the end of the game to agree to pay thirty million. Shall we try an orderly evacuation? Dale? Right. Sit tight. I'll be right here.'

  'Well?' said Crowe.

  'D I Andersen is already out with Tactical at the old Darlington factory. That's full of explosives too, apparently. He's with Tiffin. He's organising Hancock to surround the stadium.'

  'They're hitting two places at once?' said Crowe.

  'Looks that way. They've already had one explosion over there just to prove a point. But that's just an empty factory. Nobody will get hurt. Here we have eighty thousand people.'

  Marlow said, 'It isn't just the explosives. A stampede will see many people killed and hurt.'

  'We're aware of that, Mr Marlow,' said Morris. 'For now, we need to stay calm. Do you make this decision about payment?'

  'Me? I take care of the stadium. Everything from arranging the games to making sure there's enough toilet paper. I do not approve payments of thirty million to criminals. The directors are in their own box.'

  'Then I suggest you get busy talking to them. He said we have until the end of the game, right?'

  'Yes,' said Marlow.

  'Then we need a longer game. Vince. We need to talk to the ref. Extend the game.'

  They left Marlow to find the directors and made their way to the tunnel entrance.

  Crowe said, 'We can't just go out there. This is being televised. They see us two trying to influence the game, boom boom.'

  'Good point.' Morris saw a hot dog seller with a tray of dogs. 'Oi. You. Come here.'

  'One each? Ketchup? Mustard?'

  Crowe grabbed a couple of dogs.

  Morris said, 'Go get the ref. Tell him to come over here.'

  Dog man scratched his head. 'What? There's a bloody game on.'

  Morris flashed his badge. 'You. Ref. Now.'

  'Are you paying for those?'

  'Send us an invoice,' said Morris. 'Move it.'

  Dog man walked to the end of the tunnel. Before him were three separate fights going on. The ref was kicking a Blue's player in the ribs when the dog man walked up. The ref grabbed a hot dog.

  'Thanks. What?'

  'Some bloody cops over there want a word.'

  'Yeah? We got the final going on here, in case they hadn't noticed.'

  Dog man shrugged. 'I'm just the errand boy.'

  'Okay.'

  The ref ignored the bedlam on the pitch and walked up the tunnel.

  Dog man shouted, 'Hey. You gonna pay for that dog?'

  'Send me an invoice.'

  'Didn't you have mustard on that?' Crowe asked the ref.

  'Can't stand the stuff. You wanted something?'

  'Yes,' said Morris. 'The stadium is full of explosives. It's due to go off at the end of the game. We'd like the game to go on a bit longer. Can you manage that?'

  The ref thought it over. 'Yeah, okay.'

  'Good man.'

  Ref went back to the carnage and the Red's captain approached him. Ref smacked him in the mouth with a right hook and showed him the red card.

  'What was that for?'

  'Having a bad haircut. Bugger off. You there. Penalty.'

  'I never laid a hand on him, Ref.'

  'That's why it's a penalty. Make it count, it goes into extra time.'

  The Blue's striker shrugged but wasn't going to let the opportunity go by. The crowd hushed, collectively holding their breath. Striker crossed himself, ran at the ball, kicked hard, it sailed through the air, hit the post, but went in. Goal.

  Ref blew his whistle. 'Extra time. Off for fifteen minutes.'

  Morris said, 'That gives us a fifteen minute break and another half hour of play. Let's see how Marlow's getting on.'

  Chapter 28

  The Chief looked at the damaged factory window. 'Dale? Which is the target? Here or the stadium?'

  'Both,' said Andersen. 'They're dividing us up. Laughing at us.'

  'Hancock?'

  'Surrounding the stadium. But he may as well not be there. Look at that window. They are not messing about.'

  'So what do we do?'

  'Do? There's nothing we can do. We need a bloody miracle.'

  'Short supply,' said the Chief.

  * * *

  Rod Marlow said, 'Detectives. This is Mr J. J. Pullman and Mr Sandy Shaw. The stadium directors.'

  'We are not happy, detective's,' said Pullman.

  'Neither are we,' snapped Crowe. 'We're missing the end of the game.'

  Morris jabbed the big man in the ribs. 'We've bought us some time. Another forty minutes max. Sir. Mr Pullman. Mr Shaw. I would not usually advocate this, but are you in a position to buy these guys off?'

  'We could do that, Detective,' said Shaw. 'But doing that is so wrong on so many levels.'

  'I couldn't agree more. But I have seen the devastation these people can do. As we speak, they are watching our every move. We can't try to get the people out, because they'll blow the place up and those not hurt in the blast will be hurt and possibly killed in the bedlam. We have half an hour before the call. I leave the decision to you. No pressure.'

  Chapter 29

  Sergeant John Hancock had been teaching sixteen year old students self defence when he'd had the call. Half hour later, he had his officers in position. Every available fire appliance and ambulance was either ready and waiting or on its way.

  'What are we up against, Sergeant?' asked a senior fire officer.

  Hancock had gathered the fire officers and paramedics around him. 'Right. Listen up, everybody. This is the situation as I understand it. A highly professional gang has possibly planted explosives around the stadium. They have already destroyed the Petrolex building and as we speak, also have the Darlington factory ready to blow.'

  The fire officer said, 'We can't organise a controlled evacuation?'

  'No. They do this by remote control. They're watching us from some safe vantage point. We make any sort of move, the stadium goes up.'

  One of the paramedics said, 'I'll advise the hospital to be on high alert. If the explosives do go off, everyone will panic and people will be crushed in the rush.'

  As the paramedic did that, Hancock called Morris. 'Stan. We are as ready as we can be. What's the situation in there?'

  'John. The directors and the general manager have been frantically trying to organise the money. I don't think they'll be ready, that's assuming they'll pay up at all.'

  'People come first, Stan. I don't need to tell you how bad things could get if even one explosive goes off.'

  'No. You don't have to tell me. Are you prepared for the worse out there?'

  'Yes. As much as we can be. We are short of manpower because of the Darlington factory. These people are smart. They have us down to the bone by having two targets. I'll give Dale a call.'

  'Right.'

  Hancock called Dale Andersen for an update. 'Hancock, here. Are you still bogged down there?'

  'We know for sure there's explosives in the factory. They've already demonstrated that in no uncertain terms. I'll send all but one ambulance over to you. Can't spare our fire appliances, though. You'll have to deal with all you have there.'

  'I'll call the army. Get their medics over here. How long have we got?'

  'Seventeen minutes until the directors need to give them their decision. If the money isn't available...John. Expect the worse, hope for the best.'

  'I always do.' He ended t
he call to contact the army. Seventeen minutes didn't leave much time.

  Chapter 30

  Sandy Shaw was not happy. He told Morris and Crowe why. 'The banks are being less than helpful. Being the weekend doesn't help, either. Nobody wants to take ownership.'

  'I thought you said you had the money? said Morris.

  'We're businessmen. We invest. All of our money is in assets. There are legal implications and contracts to break. To get it all turned into cash would take a week of meetings and paying penalties.'

  Crowe snapped, 'Are you more concerned about the money than the people?'

  'How dare you, detective. In case you hadn't noticed, my partner and I are right here in a stadium packed with explosives. We are in as much danger as everyone else.'

  'I'm sorry,' said Crowe. 'I was out of line. Just the frustration of not being able to do anything.'

  'We need to all calm down,' said J. J. Pullman. 'Detectives. We have raised ten million and might scrape another couple of million together. It isn't the full amount, but it may be enough to bargain with.'

  Shaw said, 'Worth a shot. They are not stupid people. They'll know we need more time than they've given us.'

  Morris said, 'Maybe we can get them to let us evacuate half of the spectators while you get the rest of the money together.'

  Rod Marlow said, 'Are they still trying to screw money out of the Darlington factory owners?'

  'Yes,' said Morris. 'But they are just as cash strapped. Their money is in the factory, the new equipment and a finished order. So if you were thinking you could pacify them between you, forget it.'

  'Just a thought,' said Marlow. 'All I know is, in eight minutes, the lives of thousand are in the hands of a gang of criminals.'

  * * *

  Detective Senior Sergeant Noah Travis and Detective Sergeant Josh Friar could only wait and hope with the rest of them at the Darlington factory. Travis asked, 'There must be something useful we can be doing, Sir?'

  Andersen said, 'We can only wait and see what happens. If this place doesn't go up, we'll have the Scene of Crime team in there. Maybe this time, we'll find a clue we can be tracking down. That's where you two do what you do best.'

  Friar asked,'The owners still have nothing to bargain with?'

  'They tried. The banks didn't want to know. They told me the insurance company will have the building covered if it goes up, which isn't the case. I had to tell them the bad news. The owners lose everything if it's destroyed.'

  'Typical, the banks not wanting to know,' said Friar. 'Their bottom line is obviously more important to them than the livelihoods of three hundred people. I hope the owners change banks when everything is sorted out.'

  Andersen said, 'At least it's only stuff in there, not people. I'll guess we'll know in four minutes. The owners are standing by for the phone call.'

  Behind the barriers and tape, shielded by the Tactical trucks, David and Sean Davenport waited for a call that would change their lives. Two hundred yards away was their baby. It was more than just a building to them.

  It was the culmination of many sleepless nights, rolling up their sleeves and working the machinery, their wives handling the paperwork and packing. A day off once a month was a luxury. Gradually, orders came in, George Maxwell was taken on, the business grew, people were hired. And now, when they were on the cusp of seeing their dreams come to fruition, all they could do was wait, pray and hope it wasn't all about to be turned into dust and rubble.

  Chapter 31

  Eight men sat smoking cigars in a rented room in a high-rise apartment block. Before them were the ten screens showing black armoured Tactical men running around trying to look like they could take ownership of the situation.

  'We will get to see the end of the match, Uncle Steve?' Hank Andrews asked.

  'Of course. I like a good game as much as the next man. Now relax and don't worry. They'll pay up.'

  'Just a couple of minutes of the match left,' said Frank Telford, watching the game. 'Did you see that bloody idiot? Thumping an opponent when he has the ball is a no no. You let the bloke with the ball get tackled while you kick the shit out of another player down the other end of the pitch. Everyone knows that. Who is that muppet?'

  'Basher Biggs,' Titch Raynes, his cousin said.

  'Oh. When did they let him out?'

  Titch said, 'He can play as long as he takes medication and a trained psychiatrist is on stand by.'

  They relaxed, watching the big game with one eye, the clock with the other. They were in complete control and they knew it. Which was when the door suddenly opened. A man and a woman walked calmly in.

  * * *

  'Don't mind us,' said the woman.

  The young man with her walked over to the bank of screens and turned them all off, and placed a small metal case on the control consul and clicked the latches but didn't open the lid. Eight shocked and angry men stood up as one.

  'Gentlemen,' said the woman. 'Please don't stand for my benefit.'

  Steve Telford said, 'And you two are?'

  'Your worse nightmare. Sit.'

  'Lady. I don't think so.'

  'I'm no lady but I do have an ace up my sleeve.' From her pocket, she took a small electronic device. 'I press this little button, we all die.'

  Frank Telford said, 'Bullshit. Come on. Let's kick shit out of them.'

  The woman said, 'Fine. But take a look under your chairs before you do.'

  Steve Telford said, 'Hank. Take a look.'

  Hank Andrews got down on his knees and checked underneath the chairs still warm from them sitting on them. 'Bloody hell. Uncle Steve. She's telling the truth.'

  Sandra said, 'I thought you would appreciate the irony of sitting on a load of explosives. Feel a little uncomfortable, does it?'

  'Right,' said Steve, with a grin. 'I admire clever people. I have no idea how you two did this, but I doubt you want to kill yourselves. Put the remote down.'

  'Why don't you hand over your remotes first?'

  'I don't think so.'

  Sandra Mitchell looked at Fred Ducket who was leaning with his back against the wall, his arms folded, his expression deadpan. He shrugged. He was ready. Ducket said, 'Game over, boys. We just want a little chat.'

  'Put your remote down,' said Telford.

  Sandra said, 'If I put the remote down, I might have to get rough with you. Sure you want me to put it down?'

  'Normally, I abhor violence. I can't recall ever hitting a woman, but I'll make an exception in your case.'

  Ducket said, 'I'd strongly advise against it.'

  'I wasn't excluding you from getting bashed.'

  'Oh. You want me involved?'

  'Yeah, Why not?'

  Sandra said to Ducket, 'The odds are a bit uneven, but we can be gentle with them.'

  Frank Telford snapped. 'I've heard enough crap.' He dived forward and he was the first one on the wrong end of a woman with deadly hands. She made just a couple of subtle movements and he was down. Sandra took out another two, with minimum effort. Ducket dropped two more, having been taught well by Sandra. Steve Telford grabbed Sandra from behind, Ducket aimed his fist with precision and Steve dropped to his knees. Ducket grabbed one of the others, had him pinned to the floor and had thumb and forefinger at the side of his neck.

  'No,' said Sandra, busy choking Hank Andrews. 'That'll kill him. Lower down, about an inch, like I told you.'

  'Sorry. Here we go.' A slight move with his hand and the thumb and finger pressed onto the neck and the man was out for the count.

  It took thirty nine seconds, but eight men were rendered unconscious and Ducket and Sandra were unmarked.

  * * *

  It was the final few seconds of the match. It was a standard set play. Twenty four men were beating the hell out of each other and two were racing to the goal. He was a Blue with a Red on his heels. There were seventeen seconds on the clock. Blue almost got to the line, Red made a dive. Ankle's were grabbed, two huge men fell to the ground. It was only
an arms length away. Blue kicked his opponent in the face, then dragged both of them over the line. Blue had scored and his team had won by one point. Ref blew his whistle. Blue's had won.

  'That's it,' said Morris to Crowe. 'Hold on tight.'

  'Maybe not,' said Crowe. 'Look over there.'

  The electronic scoreboard lit up. “WELL DONE BLUE'S. ALL OK NOW. GOODNIGHT. PS. LOVE TO POPPY. F.”

  Chapter 32

  'So glad we brought food,' said Sandra.

  'Like the dressing I put on the salad?' said, Ducket.

  'Not bad. A little less pepper next time. I think they're waking up.'

  'I refuse to enter into serious dialogue on an empty stomach. Is the cheese okay? I like the mature, but I know you're not keen.'

  Sandra said. 'Okay in small doses. I say we ignore them for at least ten minutes; eat the apple pie, have a coffee. Go to the toilet. Just ignore them.'

  'Right. Remind me to bring cream for the pie next time.'

  The eight men woke up finding themselves chained together, to their chairs and with their mouths taped up.

  Sandra wiped her mouth with a napkin, went over to Steve Telford and pulled the tape off his mouth. 'Have a nice nap?'

  'My heads a little fuzzy, but yeah. So. Congratulations. You've got the lot of us. Well done.'

  Sandra chuckled. 'To be honest, we could have done without the distraction. We've been following you lot since before the Petrolex building. I must admit, you pretending to screw things up like that was a masterstroke.'

  'You got that?'

  'Of course. Brilliant. And your electronics. Ferret. You were impressed, right?'

  'Oh, yeah. The intricate removal of each trace code on every component. The delicate soldering. The fine tuning of frequencies.'

  'Calm down, tiger,' said Sandra. 'Actually Steve, I love the way you played the police. All you had to do was to plant a token explosive in the Darlington factory. We know there are no explosives at the stadium. The police just needed to believe there was. Nobody would be hurt; you'd get very rich.'