by Ray Clark
“Just that there was a discrepancy and they needed to check it out further.”
“And then arrange their own investigation and that’s the last we’ll hear of it,” added Gardener.
“Not quite,” replied Briggs. “He said he didn’t know too much about the stuff. He knows how dangerous it is, and what it can do to you.”
“So do we,” said Reilly.
Briggs continued, “I asked him if I could talk to someone who did know more about it. After all, if it’s been used once it might be used again and we need to know what to expect and how to deal with it. He said there was only one man we could speak to, who knew the stuff inside and out, because he had a hand in developing it. But apparently he’s been on compassionate leave for three months, since the death of his brother.”
“Pardon?” said Gardener, his skin prickling.
“I think you know where I’m going,” said Briggs. “It’s David Hunter’s brother, Roger.”
Gardener rolled his eyes. “That figures. He told us he had a position within government,” said Gardener.
“Wasn’t joking, was he?” added Reilly.
“So where do they think Roger Hunter is now?” asked Gardener.
“They don’t know,” said Briggs, “because they haven’t heard anything from him. Every time they call him the phone goes to voicemail.”
“It’s all falling into place,” said Gardener. “David’s brother. Given the type of man he is, he’s obviously going to want some kind of revenge and he’s not prepared to leave it to us.”
“So what type of an animal are we dealing with here?” asked Reilly.
“One who likes to mess around with chemical warfare, and shouldn’t be crossed by the sound of it,” said Briggs, holding up the thick file. “And that’s only the start of it, I have his records here.”
“Those are his records?” asked Gardener. “What the hell is he?”
“Pretty bloody dangerous,” replied Briggs. He opened the file. “He doesn’t take prisoners. What we’re dealing with here is Robocop on steroids. Started out as a Marine Commando, 45 CDO RM at Lympstone. He underwent six months Commando training, completing the All Arms Commando Course. When he had passed his fitness and CDO tests he was only awarded the infamous Green Beret.
“He was then posted to the Falklands where he picked up a Distinguished Service Order, and a George Cross, the first British medal to be created for bravery, equal to the Victoria Cross as the nation’s highest award for gallantry, for the night attack on Two Sisters.”
Gardener shook his head and ran his hands down his face. “Looks like they’ve picked the wrong man to mess with here.”
“So have we,” added Reilly.
Briggs rattled more paper around.
“During 1985 he was stationed to keep the peace in Killean, County Down.”
“Bet that was no problem to him,” said Reilly.
“In December of the same year, the Provisional IRA launched an assault on the RUC barracks in Ballygawley, County Tyrone. Two RUC officers were killed and the barracks was completely destroyed by the subsequent explosion. Roger Hunter received another campaign medal, to match the one he’d received for serving in the Falklands.
“Then in 1991, The Commando unit was deployed to Northern Iraq on Operation Haven at the end of the Gulf War. By that time he’d reached the rank of Corporal, but sustained a serious injury, resulting in a broken ankle. He was pensioned out of the Royal Marines, but not before he received The Distinguished Service Medal.”
Briggs glanced at the pair of them. “The list is endless. The man is a war hero.”
“With all due respect, sir,” said Gardener, “he might be a war hero, and I appreciate his family have been killed but it doesn’t give him the right to take the law into his own hands.”
“That is impressive, though,” said Reilly. “What was it he said to us when we spoke to him? He operated better on his own.” Reilly turned to Briggs. “What did he do then?”
“Went to Porton Down and studied a whole load of nasty shit in the chemical warfare department. Since he’s been with them he’s been decorated twice, and I think he was one of the team responsible for developing this HN-3 crap. I know he’s capable of doing what’s been done. I mean, to be honest there’s probably only him that could wipe this lot out with such precision.”
Gardener stood up and told Briggs what Williams had told the team before they were dragged into his office.
“Oh Jesus,” said Briggs, “so he has the unit in Harrogate and he’s there now?”
“Yes,” said Gardener, “and we’re on our way.”
Gardener turned but his partner had already disappeared. As he shot out the door after him he heard Briggs shouting something about backup and being careful and not to let the Irishman start World War Three.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Covertly scurrying through the compound, dodging in and out of vehicles, Anthony approached the main entrance. He noticed the roller shutter door and the small metal door to the side were both shut, so he had no option but to go through the front door. He didn’t think darting around was doing much to conceal him anyway. He figured Roger would be watching his every move.
With little need for a reception area – because they rarely received visitors – the four of them had decided to go basic when designing the unit. No point spending money unless you had to. Three glass panels with a door made up their entrance. Once you were through that door you entered a small lobby, with magnolia painted walls, and a waist-high wooden counter with a false computer monitor and keyboard for effect. A chair stood behind, and four more were positioned around the room, with a door leading into the warehouse.
Anthony glanced behind him. He wasn’t happy about what he was going to do. He was completely outclassed but he had little or no choice. He’d never been a violent man. Most of the kids at school had picked on him because of his brains. He couldn’t fight back because no one had taught him how, and he lacked the killer instinct.
He checked the carrier bag once more before slowly opening the front door and peering inside. The place was deathly quiet – as it used to be. If he made the faintest of noises he would telegraph where he was. But he would do that anyway because they had a CCTV camera in the corner of the room, and another above the door into the unit.
As Anthony took another step forward he heard a strange sound, one that stopped him dead in his tracks, and brought a halt to his breathing. He wondered if that lunatic was crouched behind the counter, waiting.
The high-pitched moan came again, and someone breathed in. It didn’t sound like Roger, but then it wouldn’t. He’d give nothing away.
Anthony dropped to his knees and carefully opened the bag, removing the syringe, and the pepper spray. See how he liked that combination. He crawled over to one of the chairs and placed the bag with the rope and the gag on the floor underneath it. If he completed his mission he could come back for those, and completely disable King Kong.
Who the fuck was he kidding?
Someone suddenly called out his name and Anthony nearly shit his pants. He actually ducked and tried to become part of the floor before rolling over to see who it was.
There was no one there.
The sound came again.
“Zoe?” said Anthony.
As difficult as the one-word sentence was, she replied, “Yes.”
Anthony sat up, stood up, and dashed around the side of the desk. What he saw freaked him out.
Zoe was laid on the floor beside the chair. Her hair was limp and her complexion pale. Zoe’s eyes were bigger than they should have been, as was her neck. She was taking quick, shallow breaths. She appeared dehydrated and Anthony would swear she had lost weight.
“Zoe? What the hell has he done to you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she croaked.
Despite everything that had happened and no matter how wrong they had been, or what Zoe had done on the night of the hit and run, it nearly
broke Anthony’s heart to see her now.
He reached down and cradled her head in his arms, as if she was a newborn child. She may as well have been because Anthony realised how incredibly frail she was. He suspected she didn’t have long.
“Please, tell me, what’s he done?”
She took her time in answering. “I think he might have got the better of us at last.”
Zoe then smiled. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“Everything. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” said Anthony.
“It was me…” Zoe stopped speaking and suddenly started coughing.
Anthony tried harder to comfort her, pulling her a little closer, as if by tightening his grip he would somehow stop the coughing.
Eventually she did. “It was me… who wiped you out. He made me.”
“I realise that. No one else would have been clever enough.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Anthony was on the verge of tears himself. Michael and James had gone. Zoe was close, and within the next few minutes, Anthony was sure to be facing certain death.
“Did you bring everything I asked?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He’s frightened stiff of syringes.” Zoe paused, drawing breath, calming down. “You probably won’t have to use it. I’m sure he’ll cave in at the sight of it.”
“I’ll use the bastard anyway.”
Zoe smiled again. “That’s the spirit. Go get him, tiger.”
Anthony would rather not. “What about you?”
She took her time in replying. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You need an ambulance, Zoe.”
“No. No time. Finish him off… and then me and you can start again. We’ll show the world that no one messes with DPA.”
Tears rolled down Anthony’s face. Whatever wrong they had done, didn’t seem to matter. With DPA it was all for one and one for all – the four musketeers. Hurt one, you hurt them all.
Zoe’s eyes widened and she drew in a breath.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Anthony carefully laid her on the floor and pulled out his phone.
Zoe waved her hand. “Told you. No time. Go now. Sort him out. Then you can sort me out.”
She smiled again and Anthony felt a wave of revulsion for Roger Hunter, despite the fact that he had been the victim from the beginning.
He held Zoe’s face in his hands.
“You’re right, girl. You and me against the world.”
Chapter Fifty-eight
Reilly brought the pool car to a halt inside the gates, parking up behind the other vehicles.
Gardener jumped out and studied them. He glanced at the white Overfinch and strolled over, staring into the interior from the smashed passenger door window. There were fragments of glass across the seats, the dashboard, and the carpet, all of which were covered in white dust from the airbags. A baseball bat laid on the back seat.
“What’s happening?” said Reilly.
“This is obviously the vehicle that killed David Hunter. No wonder it was never seen again.”
Gardener glanced at the industrial unit when he heard footsteps behind him. Two men in their early sixties approached. One was tall and thin with grey hair and glasses; the other short, fat and bald, but no glasses.
“Are you the police?” asked the thin man.
“Yes,” replied Gardener.
“It was me that called you,” he said, offering his hand. Gardener saw no reason not to shake it. “Sam Coulthard. I called you about this place. This is my mate, Brian. We work over the road at Transmech.”
“Thank you,” said Gardener, “but it’s probably a good idea if you two observe from the other side of the gate.”
“Oh we’re not stopping,” said Brian, smiling, “crime scene and all that. We’ve just come to tell you we saw another bloke walking into the place a few minutes back.”
“Did you recognise him?” asked Reilly.
“Yes. He used to work here but I don’t know his name.”
Gardener figured that it must have been Anthony Palmer. “Well thank you for letting us know. We’ll take it from here.”
Gardener turned and walked toward the unit, giving neither of them a chance to elaborate. As he reached the glass-fronted office he heard more cars pulling into the compound.
The rest of his team had arrived. One parked up near the pool car, and the other two blocked the gate. Everyone alighted and trotted over.
“What do you know?” said Rawson.
“Nothing… yet,” said Reilly.
“We were about to have a look round when those two came to let us know what’s been happening.”
“Has something?” asked Colin Sharp.
“Yes,” said Gardener, “apparently Anthony Palmer is here. Or so we believe.”
“What, here? In this building?” asked Longstaff.
“We think it’s him,” said Reilly.
Rawson glanced around, peering at the upstairs windows.
As Gardener studied the side of the building he noticed the small metal door next to the large roller shutter door was ajar.
“Right,” said Gardener. “I have no idea what’s happening in there, if anything is. We need to split up and cover the building equally, blocking any and all exits. Colin and Dave, I’d like you two round the back, see if you can find a way in.
“Bob and Frank, can you two cover that side door and make sure no one leaves? Paul, Patrick, Sarah and Julie, can you come with us through the front entrance?”
“Have Ant and Dec said anything else about the place?” asked Frank Thornton. “Have they seen anyone else?”
“No. They said they’d seen someone walk in but that’s all,” said Gardener.
“So no one’s seen Roger?” asked Bob Anderson.
“They wouldn’t know Roger,” said Reilly.
“What I’m getting at is this: is Roger armed?”
That silenced everyone. It was something Gardener hadn’t really considered.
“I know he’s military but I don’t think he thinks he needs anything to see this lot off,” said Reilly. “They’re no match for him and he’s proved it.”
“Fair point,” said Sharp, “but we have no idea what kind of finale he’s planning, have we?”
“No,” said Gardener, “and we’re not going to find out standing here. I’m with Sean, I don’t think he’s armed so on my head be it.”
“Might not be your fucking head that comes off,” said Rawson, laughing, nervously.
“If it is we’ll bury it with honours,” said Reilly.
“You’re all heart,” said Gardener, “let’s get moving.”
Each of the men set about their tasks. Gardener and Reilly turned and walked toward the offices with Paul Benson, Patrick Edwards, Julie Longstaff and Sarah Gates.
“What if he’s in there, sir?” said Patrick.
“He’ll definitely be in there, son,” said Reilly, “it’s just a case of where.”
“That’s not what I meant. What if he’s in the offices?”
By the time it had been said, Gardener was pulling open the door, peering inside. He saw an office, a computer, chairs, and CCTV cameras. The only other thing of note was a carrier bag abandoned under one of the chairs, which he figured was alien to the scene.
“All clear,” said Gardener.
Everyone trooped inside. Gardener studied the room, noticed a pair of feet behind the counter. He motioned to Reilly to approach with caution.
Reilly pointed to the others to remain where they were, whilst he crept around the side of the counter.
He bent down, standing back up within seconds. “Too late,” he said.
Gardener walked forward. “Who is it?”
“Zoe Harrison, but she’s not looking her best.”
Gardener reached Reilly and bent down. The Lord only knew
what Roger Hunter had done to her but the end would not have been pleasant, especially considering how he’d treated James Henshaw and Michael Foreman.
“What do you think?” he asked Reilly.
“No idea, boss. Something nasty – looking at her.”
Gardener stood up and faced the only door in the room that would take them into the unknown.
“Well, he’s not in here, is he?”
“So he must be in there.” Reilly nodded to the door.
Gardener glanced at the others. “Can you stay here, make sure no one comes through the door and tries to leave.”
“Unless it’s us,” added Reilly with a smile.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Once through the door, Anthony received the first of two shocks. One was the fact that it was pitch black, and his eyes were completely unaccustomed to it. He immediately turned tail, reaching for the door handle. When he found it and tried to turn it, nothing happened. The door wouldn’t open to allow him back into the reception area.
How the fuck had he done that? thought Anthony.
Sheer panic rose within him and he tried again but nothing gave. With a deep sigh and a resignation, he turned to face whatever unknown horrors Roger had in store for him.
Then the lights came on.
He blinked furiously, holding on tightly to the mace and the syringe. They held very little comfort for him anyway but if he lost them he’d probably lose his mind.
As his eyes adjusted he found himself in a corridor, constructed of wooden boards. Around two feet in width, it stretched about ten feet in front of him. He glanced upwards and immediately recognised the roof of the warehouse, with its criss-cross steel beams and large domed lights. Although he considered it, the walls were too smooth and too high to climb so he had no choice but to move forward.
He was grateful that the building beyond the reception was deathly quiet. Yes, it meant he had to be careful about making any noise and telegraphing his approach but Roger Hunter had built the contraption, so he would know exactly the route Anthony was taking. He twisted his head to make sure. With no choice, Anthony moved forward, seething with anger and resentment, mainly for what had happened to Zoe and the others. Roger Hunter might well want revenge but did he have to go to such lengths?
