‘It’s all right for you. I’m not used to this sort of thing.’
‘Wishing you’d stayed at home?’ Daniel asked, removing the tiny camera and its fittings from his backpack.
‘Not at all,’ William replied stoutly. ‘What kind of a range has that thing got?’
Daniel pursed his lips. ‘They say fifty metres tops, but I’d say that’s probably pushing it. If I can get it high enough, we should get a signal outside in the lane.’
‘You mean you’ve got to sit in the lane every evening just on the off chance that someone uses the entrance – even supposing it is the entrance,’ he added pessimistically.
‘What I’m really interested in is an actual fight, and that’s more likely to be a Friday or Saturday night,’ Daniel said, noting that William hadn’t included himself in the proposed watch. The thirst for involvement was apparently wearing off.
Positioning the camera securely took several minutes, and William’s nerves didn’t improve. More than once he took his mobile from his pocket and checked the display. From other parts of the premises there came vehicle noise and the occasional sounds of voices. When Daniel finally pronounced himself satisfied and clambered back to ground level, William was clearly in a fever to be off.
‘Is that it?’
‘Well, I thought while we’re here, I might have a quick look for those other buildings we saw on the aerial shots.’
‘You are kidding, right?’
‘You’re welcome to go back, if you want,’ Daniel said mildly.
‘No, no. In for a penny …’ William said. ‘Which way?’
‘I’ve highlighted them on this photo,’ Daniel said, taking his A4 printout once more, ‘And I reckon they should be just the other side of this lot.’ He indicated the wall of scrap curving away from beyond the transit van.
‘Isn’t that getting a bit close to Boyd Central?’ William asked, peering at the picture over Daniel’s arm.
‘We’ll just have to be extra quiet, won’t we?’ he replied with a wink.
It seemed that luck was with them. As they rounded the end of the sloping bank of metal, they were confronted by a compound bounded by a multi-strand barbed-wire fence on which hung notices, every few feet, warning of the danger of moving machinery inside. Inside the fence were stacked rolls of wire netting and sheets of corrugated iron, forming an effective screen, and, some way beyond those, the bulk of the metal compactor.
‘If you held the wire apart, I might just slip through,’ he suggested to William.
‘Do you think that’s a good idea? What if someone comes?’
‘That’s all right. I’ve got you as a lookout.’
‘I don’t know …’
‘I’ll be quick,’ Daniel promised. ‘I just want to see what’s behind those convenient piles of fencing material. According to our photo, it should be the missing buildings.’
Moments later, his assumptions were confirmed. The two single-storey prefab buildings stood parallel to each other, about twelve feet wide and some thirty feet long. Each had a door at one end, and the only windows were narrow elongated panes, high under the eaves. Unable to see in, even on tiptoe, Daniel took a small camera from his backpack and holding it near the glass of each window, pressed the shutter, fervently hoping that his hunch as to the buildings’ purpose was correct and there would be no humans inside.
As he put the camera away, Daniel heard a low whistle and became aware of the sound of an approaching engine.
A quad bike. Ricky.
Cursing under his breath, he dropped down to crouch behind the concealing wall of stacked iron sheets, hoping William had kept his head and also found somewhere to hide. Had they been seen somehow, or was it just a precautionary tour of the site?
A scrabbling noise to his left made him whip round, ready for action, and he came face to face with William, on hands and knees, looking dusty and dishevelled.
They both waited, listening, as the quad bike came bucketing along the rutted dirt track towards the compound, circled round the fence and away down another alleyway.
As its engine noise receded, Daniel straightened up and held out a helping hand towards William.
‘You look a little ruffled, my friend,’ he observed, as he hauled him to his feet. ‘How did you get through the fence?’
‘I went under,’ William said. ‘I find there are some advantages to being the shape of an anorexic stick insect, after all!’
Daniel laughed.
‘Shall we go home?’
‘Please. I’ve decided I quite like being a looker-on, after all.’
On their way out, they paused long enough to uncover the Boyds’ CCTV camera once more, before slipping out through the gap in the fence and into the lane.
‘Job done,’ Daniel stated, throwing his backpack into the car and getting in after it. ‘Now I just need to see if it works.’
It did. The image on his laptop screen was clearer than he had hoped for, although for the moment it showed nothing more than the closed rear door of the transit and part of the scrap pile.
William leaned over to see.
‘What happens if it’s after dark?’ he wanted to know.
‘That’s when the night vision function kicks in. Won’t be a great picture, but hopefully enough to identify faces.’
Taking his camera from the backpack, he took the flashcard out and slid it into a dock on the side of the computer. A few taps on the touchpad later, several rather dark thumbnail images appeared on the screen. Choosing the least obscure, he brought it up to full-screen size. The flash had reflected on the window glass, but it was just possible to make out one or two details.
‘What’s that? It looks a bit like a gym?’ William said, head on one side.
‘It is, in a way,’ Daniel said grimly. ‘A gym for dogs. A treadmill for endurance training. A hanging tyre to improve jaw strength and grip. I can’t make out what that other thing is. but it’s a copybook set-up for training fighting dogs.’
‘So, we were right.’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Daniel snapped the laptop shut. ‘Shall we go?’
William already had the engine going.
When Daniel got out of his camp bed just after midnight to get a drink of water, he glanced out of the window of William’s bedsit and looked down at the moonlit courtyard below. There were only two parking spaces in the quadrangle, both reserved by day for veterinary emergencies, but now they were both filled. Even from above, Daniel recognized Ivor Symmonds’ estate car in one, while the other was filled by the rectangular roof of a dark-coloured van.
He was about to turn away when the courtyard was flooded with light from a security lamp, and two men emerged from the doorway immediately below his window. Without further ado, they got into the van, backed and turned it and drove away.
Daniel waited. A minute or two later, a silver-haired man appeared, turned to lock the door and then got into the car.
As its red tail lights disappeared out towards the road, Daniel looked down at Taz, who was lying watching him from a blanket at the foot of the camp bed.
‘Well, well. What business do you think our friend Ivor could possibly have had with Norman and Taylor Boyd so late at night, eh, lad?’
Taz lifted his head and fixed him with an intent gaze.
‘Yup, I think you’re right,’ Daniel agreed, ruffling the fur on the dog’s head. ‘I have my suspicions, but, whatever it was, it’s a fair bet they were up to no good.’
SIXTEEN
‘This belong to anyone?’ Dek held out a small leather collar upon which several ominous dark stains could be seen.
Across the room, Reg looked up from his paper and the colour left his face.
Dek had arrived late in the drivers’ room that Friday morning, with the aim, Daniel instantly suspected, of making just such an impressive entrance.
‘Looks like it belongs to a small dog,’ Boyd suggested, clearly enjoying the moment. ‘Say – a Jack Russell, or somethin
g. Didn’t you used to have a Jack Russell, Reg? Whatever happened to it? Ah, yes, I remember. You lost it. Very careless, I always thought.’
Dek laughed with Boyd, but Macca had the grace to look a little uncomfortable.
‘That’s enough!’ Daniel said sharply as Reg threw the paper aside and surged out of his chair, a tortured expression on his face. He snatched the collar from Dek and turned it over in his hands.
‘Where did you get it?’
‘Found it. Lying beside the road. Like you do,’ he added airily.
Reg squared up to him, his lower jaw thrust forward like a bulldog. At fully six inches shorter than the younger driver, it would have been comical if the circumstances hadn’t been so tragic.
‘What have you done with him, you bastard?’ he growled.
Dek backed away, holding his hands up in mock fear.
‘Steady on, old man. You’ll have a heart attack or something. I thought you’d be pleased to have his little collar back again.’
‘Yeah, you should be thanking him,’ Boyd put in. ‘Save you buying another one for the next pooch, unless you decide to get a proper dog.’
Reg cast them both a look of loathing, pushed past Dek and left the room.
‘Give you a kick, did it?’ Daniel asked mildly. ‘Upsetting an old man. Make you feel good?’
‘Ah, shut up!’ Boyd answered. ‘You can go and hold the silly old fart’s hand if you want.’
Daniel got to his feet.
‘Well, I certainly prefer his company to yours,’ he commented on his way to rinse his coffee cup.
He found Reg in the depot yard, leaning on the gate, waiting for the warehouseman to finish loading his lorry.
‘You all right, mate?’
Reg didn’t turn his head.
‘I shouldn’t let them get to me, I know, but I couldn’t help it. They caught me on the hop.’
‘As they meant to.’
Reg sighed. ‘What makes people like that? So needlessly unpleasant.’
‘Something missing in their little lives,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s what I’ve always thought. Trying to prove themselves. I’m sorry about Skip.’
‘Thanks. It’s been a week. I didn’t really think I’d ever see him again – but a part of you keeps hoping, doesn’t it?’
Daniel put a hand on the older man’s shoulder briefly, then moved away.
When Daniel finished work on the Friday evening, he found a note from Woodsmoke tucked under the windscreen wiper of his car. It had been written with a none too sharp pencil and said simply, Need to see you, urjent. Will wait at the stables. W.
There was no suggested time, but doubtless Woodsmoke knew what time the lorries normally returned, so Daniel turned round and headed straight for the stableyard.
When he reached the yard, Sue was coming out of one of the boxes.
‘He’s round there,’ she said, jerking her head in the direction of Barn Field.
Daniel carried on through past the stables and found Woodsmoke leaning on the field gate, still attired in his long coat and hat, in spite of the heat of the afternoon.
‘Hi. What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘No problem,’ Woodsmoke grunted. ‘Just heard something I reckon you’d be innerested in.’
‘OK?’ Daniel waited.
‘Can’t say for sure that it’s true, cos you never in general get to hear of these things, but I thought it was worth telling you.’
‘Right.’
‘Word is there’s a meeting on tonight.’
‘Is there so?’ Daniel was suddenly very interested. ‘And where did you hear this word?’
‘I wuz in The Fox at lunchtime, an’ I reckon they thought I wuz asleep. I might even have led them to think I wuz, come to that,’ he said with the suspicion of a twinkle under the brim of the hat. ‘It were that Boyd nipper. He told this other fella he had a mind to try his dog out. The other one, he said to count him in and he knew a few others who’d come along, iffen he wanted.’
‘Did you catch where and when?’
‘Reckon it wouldn’t be much good telling you iffen I hadn’t,’ Woodsmoke observed.
Daniel couldn’t argue with that. He waited.
It seemed almost as if the old poacher was reluctant to give up this last bit of information; he was enjoying the moment too much. But eventually he did so. ‘Nine o’clock. Radpole’s Barn.’
Daniel frowned, taken aback. He’d been hoping Woodsmoke would name the salvage yard. ‘So, where’s that?’
‘Way out yonder,’ the older man said, waving an arm towards the fields on the horizon. ‘You’d never find it in a month of Sundays, I reckon. Course, I could show you, iffen you wanted.’
‘I expect I could find it on a map. No need for you to get involved.’
‘Happen you could find it, but then what? You can’t go barrellin’ up there in your car. They’ll be watchin’ the track, sure as anything. You need to come at ’em unexpected, across the fields.’
‘OK. Where shall I meet you, then?’
‘I reckon you know the barn on Colt’s Hill.’
That had been the one where Daniel and Drew had found the rats in the pit. He nodded.
‘Meet you there, half eight, if you like. Will you come on the liddle pony?’
‘If Jenny agrees.’
Daniel’s conversation with Woodsmoke left him with a great deal of food for thought. Even though instinct urged him trust the old poacher, he couldn’t completely banish the suspicion that Woodsmoke had been allowed to overhear the arrangements being discussed in The Fox and Duck. Dog-fighting rings were customarily obsessive about security. The whereabouts of meets were not normally disclosed, even amongst the supporters’ network, until perhaps half an hour before the event, when a text message would go out to selected members of the group, to spread the word to the waiting punters. In extreme cases, those attending would be collected and taken to the venue in minibuses. To think that Taylor Boyd would have been so careless stretched credibility.
On the other hand, thinking back, Woodsmoke had described the man he’d overheard as ‘that Boyd nipper’. Did that mean it had been Ricky, rather than Taylor, who had let the information slip? That would certainly be more believable, and the very fact that he had access to that privileged knowledge meant that the Boyds must indeed be key players in the Butcher Boys fighting ring. Why tell Ricky, though? In their shoes, there was no way Daniel would have trusted the hot-headed youngster with such potentially dangerous information.
Was it possible that the Butcher Boys somehow suspected Daniel was interested in their activities and were laying a trap? If so, that would also presuppose that they knew of his friendship – if such it could be termed – with Woodsmoke. There were a lot of ifs, but one way or another Daniel couldn’t feel easy with what he’d learned.
Whatever his misgivings, if there was any chance the information was kosher, he couldn’t risk passing up such an opportunity. He would meet Woodsmoke, but, knowing how these gangs operated, he would take absolutely no chances.
Eager to show off his blossoming riding skills, Drew took no trouble to hide his disappointment that Daniel proposed to go out without him that evening, and for a few minutes it seemed that a full-on strop might be in the offing. Jenny stepped into the breach, however, with the suggestion that she take all the children to the local bowling alley for the evening, a manoeuvre that earned her Daniel’s heartfelt gratitude.
‘Thanks,’ he said, out of Drew’s hearing. ‘I owe you.’ He had told her the purpose of his excursion.
‘Indeed you do,’ she said. ‘And I’ll collect, believe me. But, Daniel – be careful, won’t you? I don’t think I could handle another tragedy just now.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll listen to my inner coward, I promise.’
Twenty past eight found Daniel stepping down from Piper’s saddle in the lee of the barn on Colt’s Hill. After a day of hot sun and blue skies, the evening had become overcast and a blustery w
ind sprung up. He’d left Taz at the farmhouse. The dog had been just as disappointed as Drew but had accepted his fate more philosophically, merely watching Daniel’s exit with lowered ears and reproachful eyes.
‘You’re here, then.’ Woodsmoke’s sonorous tones broke in on Daniel’s thoughts. ‘Wasn’t sure you’d come.’
As Daniel turned, the poacher looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. ‘Iffen you’re thinking of going in amongst ’em, reckon you’d do well to think again,’ he suggested.
‘I’ve no plans as such but I like to be prepared,’ Daniel said. He’d used a change of clothes and his box of tricks to subtly alter his appearance, topping the effect off by tucking his hair under a beanie. He’d been fairly pleased with the result and Woodsmoke’s reaction confirmed his success.
‘You said it was the Boyd nipper you overheard. Did you mean Ricky?’
‘Arh. The young un.’
‘I’m surprised they’d trust him with that kind of information.’
Woodsmoke nodded. ‘Thought on that. Reckon it’s his shooting match.’
‘You think Ricky organized it himself ?’
‘Thass what I said.’
‘So how far is this barn from here?’ Jenny had thought Radpole’s Barn was a good distance away, on the neighbouring farm, and had loaned him Alfie the cob for Woodsmoke to ride.
Daniel had been surprised. ‘Can he ride?’
‘Oh, yes. He used to have a hairy little pony that he rode everywhere until it died about ten years ago,’ she had told him.
‘Take about half an hour,’ the poacher said now, in answer to Daniel’s query. ‘A sight less iffen that black-and-white creature is for me.’
‘It is.’ Daniel held out the reins.
‘A good girl, that Jenny,’ Woodsmoke said approvingly.
‘So where’s Gypsy?’ Daniel asked as the older man settled into the cob’s saddle and arranged his long coat over the animal’s back. With his wide-brimmed hat, he looked like a gaucho from the plains of Argentina.
‘Left her back home. Reckon she’s in the family way,’ he grunted.
Woodsmoke looked quite at home on the horse, although he declined to go faster than a jog, claiming that he was ‘too old to want to shake up his vitals’. Even so, they reached the barn in only a little over fifteen minutes, tethering the horses and continuing on foot when they were nearing their goal.
No Holds Barred Page 19
