by Liz Mistry
Just as she thought she’d be shot and fed to the animals, Giant Man grinned and winked at her. A rumble of laughter left his throat and he gestured to the dogs to scat. With low whines they disappeared into the darkness and Alice released a slow breath. Flapping her hand in front of her face, for the benefit of the officers listening in, she said in a breathless voice. ‘Shit, mister, you had me there. Thought you were going to shoot me with that big shotgun and feed me to your two mutts.’ She winked at him and added, ‘Seems you’re happy to see me, though.’
The man released another burst of laughter and laid a shovel sized hand on her shoulder, nearly knocking her onto her back. ‘Come on, darling, you’re with me.’
‘She’s mine,’ said Joe, his voice petulant. The big man turned and punched him in the stomach. ‘Stop your fucking griping. The girl’s mine, right?’
Joe doubled over, retching, and the acrid smell of beer-tinged vomit mingled with the exhaust fumes hung in the air. Before Alice could say anything, two of the other men stepped forward, hooked their arms under Joe’s shoulders before hefting him to his feet and dragging him into the clubhouse.
With exaggerated politeness, Giant Man turned and held out his crooked elbow to Alice, as if he was escorting her to her school prom. Using her practised smile, Alice put her arm though his and allowed him to guide her inside. That had been a close shave, but she couldn’t afford to betray her fear. She needed to hold it together and get the cameras situated inside. Soon as they were up and running, she’d be safer.
The first thing she noticed was the over-abundance of near life-sized photographs of Harley Davidsons pinned to the walls. Each one had a pouting, near nude woman, oozing raw sex, straddling the saddle. The second thing was the massive pool table and pin ball machine that took up one corner of the massive room and was being utilised by five men who hadn’t formed part of her earlier welcoming party. Couches and chairs occupied by a handful of other men with girls on their laps created a maze through which Giant Man guided her. A distinctive smell of male sweat pervaded her nostrils and Alice didn’t have to think too hard to identify the source of its musky accompaniment.
Along the far wall was a makeshift bar stocked high with spirits optics and beer barrels and it was to this area that she was led. Breathing through her mouth, Alice followed, her eyes alert for places to stick the pin-head cameras she’d been given. Now, she was inside the clubhouse, her confidence had diminished. She counted around fifteen men and, what was more worrying, at least ten women who could become hostages. She needed to make sure her team outside had the full picture of the inner layout. Pulling out her compact mirror and lipstick, Alice concealed a camera on her finger, before applying the lipstick. Shoving the items back inside her bag, she stretched up and tapped the front of the beer barrel. ‘Can I have some of this?’
‘You want to try our homebrew? Reckon you got the stomach for it, do you?’
Alice doubted very much that she had the stomach for the sludge that was handed to her in a mucky glass, but at least she’d got one camera up and running. All she had to do was place the others and locate the drugs and firearms. Easy! Looking round the room, she realised that, apart from the gun her host carried across his chest as if it was a baby, there were no other visible weapons in the room. Not that that meant anything.
Each of these men would carry at least one concealed weapon. However, what was more concerning was the fact that the room seemed to take up the size of the entire clubhouse except for a walled-off area in one corner. Judging by the fact that she’d seen two men exit the small room, while pulling up their zips, this could only be a toilet. So where were they keeping the goods?
80
23:30 Tetley Street
Shit! Which of the two whores had been with Julie Dyson? He hadn’t paid much notice to the two hookers who’d been standing with Julie the other night.
Maybe they hadn’t paid any attention to him either, but he couldn’t be sure and that was the problem. He couldn’t go around topping all the fucking hookers in Bradford, yet he couldn’t leave anything to chance. He couldn’t go down for killing a piece of street scum. Not when he’d got a family at home to look after. Fuck, his back was still hurting and he’d been sick. Bloody ulcers, that’s what it was, just like his wife had warned him of. Why were his fingers tingling like that? Even inside his gloves they must be cold.
In the confines of the patrol car, he tried to stretch his shoulders. It was hard to focus with the pain and he really needed to focus right now. What the hell should he do? The way he saw it, he had two options. One, take care of the four that were there right now. Fuck that would be difficult. Two maybe, as there weren’t many punters who picked up four girls at once. Or option two, sidle home with his tail between his legs and pray the prossies hadn’t seen owt. The bleach would have taken care of the forensic side. It was the damn prossies that were the problem for him.
His knee jigged up and down as he tried to make his decision. It was dark in the street wasn’t it? Doubt they’d have seen him. Think, Think, Think! What should he do?
If he went for any of these four, he’d risk exposing himself… and he wasn’t even sure they were the ones. The pain across his shoulders intensified, so he popped another couple of Ibuprofen. All those painkillers were rotting his gut. Wished he’d thought to get some Gaviscon when he bought the tablets. He had heartburn now.
Leaning forward, he stared at the cluster of girls. Shit, it’s so dark over there, they wouldn’t have been able to see him… not clearly anyway. No, definitely not. With a last glance at the women, he pushed his clutch in and drove off, hoping he wasn’t going to rue the decision he’d made, to let them live.
Thursday
81
00:30 Ilkley Moor
Gus had spent an uncomfortable five minutes on the back of a specially adapted electric motorbike with all the suspension of an overused mattress, but at least he was now stalking the perimeter of the fence with Mickey, who’d arrived on the back of a similar bike.
Every so often Mickey would stop and fiddle with her tablet. To say they were anxious about the length of time it was taking Alice to set up a visual inside the clubhouse was an understatement. They had one camera up. However, it had a limited view of only a fraction of the house and made it difficult to estimate the number of bodies inside.
Nervous tension had Gus’ blood wired. He was jumpy and had already snapped at Mickey twice. The fact that he could hear Alice inside was reassuring, although the filth she was having to deal with made his blood boil. They’d gathered from her whispered comments on a loo visit that she couldn’t locate the goods and that was worrying. What if they weren’t on site? They only had the snitch’s word on that one and God knows how reliable he was. Another worry was that they’d learned that at least three of the women inside were comatose and could be vulnerable hostage risks when they raided. The other concern was that because the clubhouse appeared to be soundproofed they were reliant on the limited audio from Alice’s mic and Gus wasn’t happy with that.
‘At last, another camera.’ Mickey’s voice sounded as relieved as Gus felt. He moved to her side and peered over her shoulder. They now had visuals on a group of bikers playing pool, with another two snogging some girls on a sofa nearby. All of the visuals were being streamed to other officers around the perimeter, and also to Compo, who was working his computer to get IDs and, hopefully, backgrounds on some of the men inside.
The idea was to wait till Alice had ascertained the whereabouts of the firearms and drugs before they implemented a co-ordinated explosion at intervals around the perimeter to allow them access to the grounds. After gaining entry the SWAT team would swoop in to round up as many Fugitive Bandits as they could. This had to be done at speed, before the bikers could get to their Harleys and take the chase outside the confined space of the deserted moorland. If, as was looking likely, Alice failed to locate the goods, they were to wait till either she was leaving the premises or unt
il she signalled for help.
Mickey’s split screen ran footage from both the cameras Alice had managed to place. As they watched, Alice walked past, carrying a pint glass filled with a dark brown liquid. She turned her head towards the camera and sneaked a wink. Despite his annoyance with her for taking a risk, Gus grinned. She was irrepressible.
‘Looks like she’s–’ He didn’t get to finish his sentence because all of a sudden, the top camera moved and frantic cries filtered through the tinny speakers.
Alice’s voice saying, ‘Let her go. She fucking said no,’ was the last thing he heard, before an explosive shot rent the air, followed by a scuffle and the sound of a female groaning. Gus was off before Mickey had given the order to ‘GO, GO, GO!’ Without waiting for the smoke to clear from the nearest fence explosion, Gus threw himself through and headed for the clubhouse. Spotlights illuminated the building, leaving the approaching officers in shadow.
The clubhouse door burst open and the hulking frames of the bikers were lit up as they dove through the door one at a time. One of the officers yelled a ‘Police!’ warning which was ignored. Gus was desperate to get to the door. His eyes raked over the exiting figures to see if any of them were carrying Alice or dragging her behind them. He got to within twenty yards and a big fucker with biceps on top of his biceps, planted himself in front of Gus, a knife in one hand and a chain in the other. Fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for this.
Gus feinted to the right and then back to the left. The biker, weight slowing him down, followed Gus to the right but couldn’t keep up with his direction change, so he swung his chain towards Gus’ at knee height. Gus jumped and felt the weight of the chain skim his shin as he moved past his assailant. From the corner of his eye, he saw two armed officers point their guns at the man, who, in the spirit of ‘fight till the end’ started stabbing his knife in their direction. A single shot to the arm put an end to that nonsense, and Gus was pleased to see him sink to his knees, cradling his injured arm against his chest.
From his left, a wave of warm air fanned his face and a warm damp dog smell hit his nostrils, moments before he was flung onto his front, hot drool slopping onto his cheek as one of the Rottweilers snapped at his face. The weight of the animal pushed Gus’ chest onto a clump of bracken making it difficult for him to catch breath. With one hand trapped under his body, he attempted to push himself forward with the other, but the animal was too strong. Raising his free arm, he covered his face just as the animal’s teeth clamped round it. The pain was excruciating and he screeched. The animal tossed his arm like a ragdoll and Gus was sure it would be yanked from its socket. Every second with the dog on top of him felt like forever. He could feel something warm and sticky hit his face and trickle down towards his mouth. It was only when it reached his lips he realised it was his own blood. Using the last of his strength he jerked his hips, hoping that, by moving his lower body, he could dislodge the dog. Which was when he felt a similar pain in his leg and realised the other dog had joined the affray. Why the fuck did he have to be the one to attract the fucking beasts?
With his arm being yanked one way, his leg the other and the weight of two animals pinning him down, Gus turned his face to the side and yelled again. In the distance, two shots were fired. Gus’ heart exploded into triplet time. More shots, this time to his right, near towards where the Harleys were lined up. The dogs made a whimpering sound and released their grip a little. Gus tried to yank his limbs away, but the animals’ whimpering died in their throats as they refocussed on their prey. It was as if he was being tasered again and again. The pain ricocheted through his entire body and what had started as a trickle of blood hitting his face became a torrent. Maybe the fucker had hit an artery. His eyes began to flicker. Shit he was going to faint and then he heard a scream… a female screen… Alice! His eyes flickered again and his vision blurred. A lot of fucking good Mickey’s advice about wearing extra clothes had been–
82
00:30 Unknown Location
It is time. Much as I could hold off for a bit longer, it’s too hard. Not knowing what’s going on outside… it’s killing me. Need to get it over with, and tonight’s as good a night as any. Maybe if I’d had longer, I might have been able to get Matty onside and then I’d have had eyes on the outside. Hmm, on reflection though, Matty is a pussy. He’d be a liability in the end. No, it’s better like this.
Bit of a rush getting this place kitted out at the end, but I managed. Okay, so a few more home comforts would’ve been better; I was more concerned about the end game. Nothing here should implicate me. Should have packed more food, though, and a little camping stove. That’d have been an asset as it would have given off some heat as well. Didn’t reckon with the mind-numbing cold… or the loneliness… or the damn rain.
If that little foray on Monday night and then again on Tuesday morning hadn’t nearly gone awry, I might have risked a couple more night trips. Found out what’s going on, and that. Not worth the risk, though. Not for a bit of discomfort for a few nights. Shit, this is the important part. The bit I’ve been aiming for all along. A sighting of me would have messed everything up. The entire plan relied on me being missing. Bloody nosey bastard, rolling home from the pub half-pissed, he nearly spotted me. In the church van. He was more than likely too far gone to describe me with any credibility though – fucking old pisshead!
It’d been easy to talk Jenny into getting into the Reverend’s old van. Stupid bitch took the Coke – drank it all. Never even tasted the rohypnol. Biker Joe had promised that they forget everything after that, so she wouldn’t remember owt about me picking her up… or what I’d done to her.
She was a fucking interfering bitch, though. She deserved it all. Poisoning Ali’s mind against me. I was the fucking victim, not Ali’s mum or that other cow either. Then when Ali got drunk at my party and started dancing on the table – enough to make you think she wasn’t a little fucking lezzer after all.
Frustrating though, not to know what everyone is thinking, how Mum and Dad are. Not that it matters… not really. Not out to punish them, but it does give me a hard-on thinking about my mother in bits and my dad trying to be stoic.
No, this plan was targeted at someone else entirely… everything else was just an added bonus. Sorting through the supplies in the corner of the cellar, I feel that familiar buzz. Electricity. My fingers aren’t numb any more. It’s like I’m sizzling… a bomb waiting to explode.
‘Fireball explode, la, la, la. Fire ball burn high, da, da, da.’
Last leg of the journey. Home run. I can fool everyone… hell, I’ve done it before, haven’t I? Why should this time be different? Do the deed, get back here and let the coppers follow the crumbs.
83
01:35 Ilkley Moor
‘A lot of bloody good you were. Might as well have left you back at The Fort if all you’re going to do is sleep on the damn job!’
Gus opened his eyes and realised he was in the back of a police Land Rover with two paramedics working on him and a spotlight directed to his face. He blinked and moved his head but couldn’t see the owner of the voice. Shit, was he hearing things? Was Alice dead? Was he dead? A wave of dizziness made his head spin and as his stomach lurched, he closed his eyes and tried to orientate himself. A sharp prick of pain made him open them again. He scowled at the paramedic who was working on his mangled arm. That was it. The dogs. The fucking Rottweilers. Demons from the bowels of hell.
He still couldn’t locate the person attached to the Alice voice, so he assumed he’d been dreaming and wondered if he could summon up the courage to ask after her. He was reluctant to know the truth, yet he knew he must. The memory of that female cry was scorched into his mind. As he lay there, memories of the explosion, followed by his fight with the big biker and ending with the dog attack came back to him. The chaos of the events, the blurred figures running around, the acrid smell of explosive, the gunshots… it had all happened so quickly and he had no recollection of being transported t
o the vehicle.
A gurgle of laughter erupted from somewhere just outside his peripheral vision.
‘That you, Al?’ His voice sounded like the beasts had shredded his vocal chords not his arm.
‘Who the hell else is it likely to be, you bloody idiot? Trust you to manage an encounter with Fluffy and Fido.’
Relief spread like a peanut butter sandwich after a long jog; all warm and oozing sweetness, in Gus’ chest. Thank fuck she’s alright! He spluttered, ‘Fluffy and fucking Fido? You’re kidding me, aren’t you?!’
Alice’s head appeared over the back of the front seats, ‘Yeah. Actually, I think one was called Brutus. Didn’t catch the other doggy’s name. You look like shit.’
Gus studied Alice’s face and thought the description could equally fit her. She had a whopper of a black eye and a long scrape across her forehead. ‘Tell me!’ said Gus.
Alice sighed, and lifted a bandaged hand to rub her cheek. ‘I lost it.’ She sounded deflated for a second, then her cheeks dimpled and she grinned. ‘At least I stopped the fucker raping a comatose fourteen-year-old girl. Bastard!’
Ah, so that’s what the disruption inside the clubhouse had been.
Trying to ignore the fact that he could feel neither his fingers nor his toes, Gus grinned back at her. ‘Glad you’re okay, Al. What about the rest of it? What was all the drama just before we stormed the place?’
