No Holds Barred

by Lyndon Stacey

  SEVENTEEN

  With no idea what to say, Daniel froze, turned slowly and came face to face with a complete stranger.

  The man immediately held his hand up in a placating fashion. ‘Oh, sorry, mate. Thought you was someone else. No worries.’

  ‘No problem,’ Daniel responded, his face calm, even though his heart rate had accelerated into the hundreds.

  In the pit, two more dogs were being readied for combat. It was the last fight of the evening, but Daniel’s full focus had shifted to the problem of how to get out of the barn. It was possible that if he remained until the end of the fight, he might be able to leave as he’d arrived, mingling with the other punters, but there was the possibility that some kind of social mingling might ensue, and that was something he wished to avoid at all costs. There was also the little matter of Woodsmoke waiting for him outside. He had been longer than he intended already and he didn’t want the poacher to feel it was up to him to do something.

  There were no side doors, as far as he could see – just the main double doors by which they had all entered – and, as one would expect of a barn, no windows.

  While he pondered the problem, he became aware of the sensation of being watched, and turned slowly and casually to survey the area behind him. No one there except the bouncer and he was leaning against the inside wall, absorbed in fashioning a roll-up with his large and far from dextrous-looking fingers.

  Daniel’s eyes lifted to the hayloft. Was that a possibility? Searching his memory of the outside, he recalled a loft door in the apex of the roof. It would mean dropping down right outside the doors, but these were closed at present; he would just have to pray they remained that way. The first problem was working out how to access the loft from the inside.

  He let his gaze travel round the dim interior of the rear portion of the barn and finally caught sight of a crude wooden ladder built flat against the back wall in the corner. All well and good, but just how was he to climb it without being seen? Facing the pit once again, he moved along the rear fringe of the crowd of onlookers as if searching for a better view of the upcoming fight. Now the ladder was a scant ten feet away and everyone’s attention appeared to be fixed on what was happening in the pit, but Daniel wasn’t deceived. He still had the eagle-eyed bouncer to contend with.

  As the dogs were loosed and the buzz of anticipation became a roar of excitement, Daniel had to resign himself to the fact that the ladder was a non-starter. It looked as though he’d have to wait and take his chances at the end of the evening, after all.

  Suddenly, he was startled by a voice, several decibels louder than the rest, yelling, ‘Come on, my son! Come on, Tyson!’

  Looking to his right, Daniel saw that the bouncer, driven by an overriding enthusiasm, had left his post by the door and was standing amongst the rearmost members of the crowd, shaking his fist in the air.

  Tyson obviously held some special significance for him, Daniel decided, but there was no time to consider the matter if he was to take advantage of the man’s momentary inattention.

  Daniel moved swiftly to the rear of the barn, selfishly hoping that the two dogs would make a good long fight of it. Long enough, at least, to see him up the ladder and out of sight.

  Standing by the ladder, he hesitated. He was painfully aware that as soon as he started to climb, he was burning his bridges as far as blending in with the other fight-goers was concerned. With one last glance at the bouncer’s broad back, he turned and scrambled up the crude wooden rungs as fast as he could, expecting at any moment to hear a shout of discovery or feel a hand grabbing his ankle.

  The ascent took only a matter of seconds and then Daniel was hauling himself through the hatchway and rolling over on to the hay-cushioned floor above, heart thudding.

  An instant later, a half-seen flurry of movement brought him upright in a flash. He wasn’t alone in the loft. Straining his eyes to see in the extremely low light, Daniel waited. Could it have been pigeons, or one of Drew’s beloved owls? It was possible, but he thought not. The impression had been of something bigger.

  The continuing clamour from below made speech redundant, but Daniel couldn’t afford to wait until the fight was over because his chances of leaving the building without being detected were reliant on the bouncer still being occupied inside.

  Suddenly, he remembered the mini torch in his pocket. He had nothing to lose by disclosing his own whereabouts – the watcher in the shadows was obviously well aware of his presence – so he took it out and switched it on.

  In the furthest corner of the loft, a diminutive figure shrank back with wide, scared eyes. A boy, no more than six or seven years old. Directing the beam at his own face, Daniel put a finger to his lips and winked.

  Moving closer, he said as loudly as he dared, ‘It’s all right. I won’t tell. What are you doing up here?’

  The boy shrugged. ‘Me da told me to come up here outta the way. But I don’t like seein’ the doggies hurt each other anyway.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Daniel agreed. He shone the little torch round the loft and located the double doors that formed the hatch to the outside. He turned back to the boy. ‘I bet my mate I could get out of the barn without him seeing. If I go through that door, can you shut it for me, so he doesn’t know which way I went?’

  ‘Like a game?’

  ‘That’s right. It’s a joke – but don’t tell anyone, OK?’

  The lad shook his head vigorously and followed as Daniel made his way over to the hatch.

  The ring handle was so stiff to turn that, for one anxious moment, Daniel thought it might be padlocked on the outside, but then the latch lifted with a sound like a pistol shot and the door yielded creakily to his push.

  No time to wonder if anyone had heard the noise; too late either way. Daniel crouched in the opening, feeling the cool night air fanning his face. Below was only blackness, the doors apparently still safely shut, and, without giving himself time to think, he pushed himself away from ledge, jumping out and down before the familiar panic could set in and freeze his muscles.

  The ground leapt up to meet him, catching him off balance. His knees buckled and he stumbled sideways, putting out a hand to save himself and dropping the torch in the process. On his feet once more, he glanced back in time to see the faint oblong glow of light narrow and disappear as the boy closed the hatch. He had no idea if the lad would tell of their meeting or not, but it didn’t really matter now. There wasn’t much that anyone could glean from his tale.

  Anxious to get away, Daniel nevertheless took a few moments to photograph the number plates of all the vehicles parked outside the barn.

  The roar from the barn rose to a crescendo and then broke up into cheers and groans. Another poor bugger had been beaten down, Daniel thought sadly as he turned and ran for the trees.

  The ride back to the farm was a sober one. Woodsmoke had been waiting just inside the treeline with both horses. ‘Reckoned you might want a quick getaway,’ he explained to Daniel.

  With clouds still covering the moon, visibility was poor and they held the horses to a walk, Daniel using the time to give the poacher an outline of what he’d seen in the barn.

  ‘Not surprised about the Boyd nipper,’ Woodsmoke grunted. ‘Allus had a nasty streak, that one. There was a time, ten year or more ago, when cats were bein’ shot with an airgun. Most of us knew who t’was, though no one ever seed ’im. Was only ’bout ’leven or twelve then, so I reckon t’was borned in ’im.’

  Daniel and the poacher parted company at the barn where they’d met earlier that evening, Woodsmoke melting off silently into the darkness, while Daniel headed for the farm and stables on Piper and leading the cob.

  At the stables, Daniel rubbed the horses down and released them into the paddock with a handful of grass nuts each, before turning his steps wearily towards the farmhouse in happy anticipation of a cup of tea.

  Jenny was waiting at the door to meet him, her face drawn with anxiety.

  ‘
Thank God!’ she said as he approached.

  ‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’ Daniel asked, his tiredness forgotten in an instant.

  ‘No. I was just so glad to see you back,’ Jenny said. ‘You’ve been much longer than I thought. It reminded me of – well, you know, the night Gavin went out.’

  Daniel glanced at his watch. It was half past eleven. ‘I’m sorry. I should have called you when I was on my way back.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I’m just being silly. Come in. I’ll put the kettle on, and there are jacket potatoes in the oven.’

  ‘Music to my ears!’ Daniel exclaimed gratefully, fondling Taz who had pushed forward to greet him, tail waving happily.

  Inside the house, he was surprised to see that Jenny’s vigil hadn’t been a lonely one. The children had gone to bed, but leaning against the range with a mug in his hand was the fire investigator they had encountered at the cottage earlier in the week.

  Jenny saw his surprise.

  ‘Paul’s been back to the cottage and dropped in to see me,’ she explained with a touch of self-consciousness. ‘We’ve been chatting about old times.’

  Paul McCreesh nodded to Daniel with no hint of embarrassment. ‘I could see she was worried, so I offered to stay with her till you got back,’ he said. ‘But now I should probably be on my way. Eveything OK?’

  ‘Yes, fine.’ Daniel said, wondering how much Jenny had told him.

  The fireman hesitated, as if expecting him to elaborate but, when he didn’t, took his leave, kissing Jenny on the cheek as he left.

  ‘I told Paul about the dog fighting,’ Jenny said as the door closed behind her visitor. ‘I had to say something – you don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘How much did you tell him?’

  ‘Oh, no details, just that you were worried someone might be using one of my barns. I didn’t say who or anything.’

  ‘So what brought him over? Is there any more news on the investigation?’

  ‘No. I think he was just being friendly. Someone had told him about Gavin and he came to offer his sympathy.’

  And get his toe in the door, Daniel thought cynically, but he didn’t say so.

  ‘So, what happened? Was Woodsmoke right about the barn?’

  ‘He was.’ Daniel gave her a highly edited account of what he’d discovered, sparing her the unpleasant details.

  ‘What will you do now? Tell the police?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘The time to do that would have been while they were all still inside the barn. I think they’ll have gone by now. The trouble is I’m pretty sure this was Ricky’s idea. There were certainly some hardcore characters there, but not Norman or Taylor, and it’s them I want to see rounded up.’

  ‘But if they caught Ricky …’

  ‘I don’t know. Would they stand by him, or deny all knowledge? They’re slippery bastards. If we don’t catch them red-handed or at least provide cast-iron proof, I’m afraid they’ll find a way to wriggle out of it again.’

  It was well past midnight when Daniel left the farmhouse, feeling much better for two jacket potatoes and a mug of tea, and when he approached his temporary digs, he was surprised to see a light on in the office. The door was unlocked, and he opened it with caution. It was possible the light had been left on by mistake, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  There was someone waiting for him, but not with any sinister purpose in mind. Slumped in the armchair in the corner of the room he found William, fast asleep and lightly snoring.

  Daniel gently shook the journalist’s shoulder.

  ‘Sweet of you to wait up for me, but you shouldn’t have,’ he commented.

  William opened his eyes and stretched like a cat.

  ‘I didn’t intend waiting for you. I fell asleep.’

  ‘Any news?’ He’d managed to coerce William into monitoring the remote camera at the salvage yard, just in case Woodsmoke’s tip turned out to have been a decoy after all.

  ‘No, damn you! I spent three hours sitting in my bloody car and for what? Absolutely zilch! Nada! Diddly squat!’

  ‘Nothing, then?’ Daniel enquired. ‘Welcome to the world of observation work.’

  ‘Yes, well, you can count me out another time. I had a numb backside, got bitten to death by midges and was dying for a pee. I didn’t dare desert my post, because sod’s law says that would be the exact moment something happened. Only it didn’t. I stayed there till eleven o’clock,’ he finished, with the air of one who expected to be praised for his efforts.

  ‘Excellent work. Take the day off tomorrow,’ Daniel offered.

  ‘Thanks a bundle!’ William unfolded his long limbs and stood up. ‘You never thought anything was going to happen tonight, did you?’

  ‘Well, not really. But it might have. As it happened, the tip-off I had was genuine, so I got all the action.’ He proceeded to give the William a summary of the events at the barn.

  William was greatly impressed by Daniel’s adventure, but sickened by what he heard – especially the savagery of Ricky Boyd.

  ‘I know there’ve been rumours about him in the past, but you don’t know what to believe, do you? I mean, we went to the same school,’ he said, as if that should preclude him from doing anything immoral.

  ‘Even murderers have childhoods,’ Daniel observed dryly.

  ‘Yes, I know, but … Oh, well, I’m going home to bed,’ William said. ‘I’m too tired to spar with you.’

  As the door closed behind him, Daniel woke up one of the computers from its hibernation and plugged the camera in to upload his film and stills. The quality of the resulting images varied but was generally passable. Faces were fairly clear, on the whole, and the fragmented footage of the fight reawakened all the disgust he’d felt at the time.

  He saved the material to a memory stick, deleted what was on the computer, then switched off and went to bed.

  Daniel wasn’t rostered on the following morning, but he still rose early and eight fifteen found him next door in the vet’s waiting room.

  When he gave his name, the Saturday receptionist regarded him doubtfully. She had found him waiting on the doorstep when she opened the door.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked now, scanning the screen in front of her. ‘It’s appointment only.’

  ‘I think he’ll see me. Tell him it’s about Norman Boyd.’

  ‘I don’t understand …’ she said, perplexed.

  ‘That’s OK,’ Daniel told her. ‘You don’t have to, but Mr Symmonds will.’

  Casting another doubtful look in his direction, as if unsure whether he should be left alone in the building, the receptionist slid off her stool and disappeared through a door into a back room.

  There was a sizeable pause. Daniel imagined the elderly vet’s dismay upon receiving the message and wondered if he would try to delay by refusing to see Daniel.

  After a minute or so, however, the receptionist returned and told Daniel that Mr Symmonds would see him in his consulting room.

  Daniel found the vet apparently busily engaged in sorting through the stock on his shelves.

  ‘I can only give you a minute. I have a client arriving at any moment,’ he said over his shoulder.

  ‘Why did you agree to see me?’ Daniel asked.

  Ivor Symmonds turned.

  ‘Well, because … I mean, you’re a friend of Jenny’s, aren’t you? I treated your dog.’

  ‘Not because I mentioned Norman Boyd, then?’

  Symmonds looked flustered. ‘I don’t understand why you think that would interest me.’

  ‘Even if I said that I’ve seen him and his son leaving here by the back door, after hours.’

  ‘Vets work long hours, Mr Whelan. There is no “after hours” as such.’

  ‘So it was a consultation?’

  Symmonds shrugged, with an attempt at nonchalance. ‘I expect so.’

  ‘You don’t remember? It was only a few days ago. I had it in mind that it was more of a dispensing
issue. I thought they might have been picking up a few bits and pieces for their own use, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ The words were coldly hostile, but Daniel could read the fear in the older man’s eyes.

  ‘I think we both know I’m not,’ he said quietly. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I know the Boyds own and use fighting dogs, and I know you know. But what I don’t know is why you’re keeping quiet about it. What have they got on you? Jenny has a lot of time for you, and I’m willing to believe that you aren’t doing this for monetary gain, but you need to be honest with me.’

  The vet hesitated, but just as Daniel felt he might be about to open up, the receptionist put her head round the door.

  ‘Your eight thirty is here, Mr Symmonds.’

  ‘Er, thanks. Won’t be a minute.’ Symmonds nodded to the girl, who withdrew, apparently unaware of the tension inside the room.

  The vet planted his hands firmly on his examination table as if taking a stand. ‘I really don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Mr Whelan, and, as you can see, I’m very busy, so I shall have to ask you to leave now.’

  Daniel sighed.

  ‘Fair enough. If you prefer to talk to the police …’ he said as he turned away.

  For a moment, he thought his threat hadn’t worked, but just as he reached the door, the vet said urgently, ‘No, wait a minute! I need to think.’

  Obligingly, Daniel waited, but he didn’t move from his position by the door. For what seemed an age, Symmonds stood with his head bowed, rubbing one hand across his brow. Finally, he came to a decision.

  ‘OK, I’ll tell you,’ he said, suddenly looking several years older as the fight went out of him. ‘But you have to promise you won’t go to the police.’

  Daniel shook his head.

  ‘I can’t promise that. You know as well as I do that this can’t go on, and the police are bound to be involved on one level or another.’

  ‘It’s not so much for me, but my son,’ the vet pleaded.

  ‘Tell me, and then I’ll see what I can do.’

  Silence stretched over several seconds as Symmonds looked down at the tabletop and then up at Daniel once more, despair in his face.