by Tom Benson
“Please,” Henderson said. “I’ll tell you everythin’. We can make a deal.”
Max shook his head. “Fuckin’ move it, shit-head. I’ve already given you five minutes.” Henderson got a harder kick in the damaged ribcage, and he screamed.
Phil guided Stephanie to the main door, and as they stepped outside, there was a blood-curdling scream from the direction of the cellars.
Stephanie trembled and hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” Phil said. “My team have a couple of scores to settle.”
There was another loud scream, but it lasted a little longer and was higher pitched. Two more long cries were heard from the cellar area before there was silence.
Phil led Stephanie to a large boulder near the front door and told her to sit. She did.
“Sitrep?” Phil said when he turned and saw Toolkit. The situation report Phil received was one of mixed fortunes.
Toolkit said, “The boys got those two caskets out of the grave. The big fat guy is dead. The woman is in shit state, and it looks like she’s gonna’ have issues even if she survives.”
“What have you done with them?”
“I moved the van away from the garage door and got the Jaguar out. We put the big dead guy in the boot and laid the Fitzpatrick woman across the back seat. One of the boys followed me out a few miles. We ditched the car at the roadside and called for an ambulance.”
“Did you stay with her?”
“Yeah, we stayed a short distance away to keep an eye until an ambulance approached.”
“Well done, Toolkit. Thanks, mate.”
Ian arrived. “Got your call, Boss. How is it going over here?”
“Good,” Phil said. “Have we any word on Eva?”
“Yes, she’s been wounded, but she’s okay,” Ian said. “Apparently, Pedro shot Eva in the calf, but the bullet went straight through. She’s patched up for now.”
“Careless bastard,” Jacko said as he overheard, not knowing the full story.
Phil said, “Any other casualties on our side?”
“We lost Geordie.”
Phil nodded. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. “Would you stay with Stephanie for a while please, Ian?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Ian went straight to the woman who was still in shock.
Jacko turned to Phil. “The guys have been all over this place Hawk, and there’s no gear anywhere. No coke, no heroin, no hash.”
Phil said, “Give me five minutes, mate.”
Max and Jake returned from the cellar and approached the small group in the hall. They were both covered in blood splatter.
Phil said, “Jacko, I’d like you to organise all those crates and statues to be brought in from the van to the trophy room, mate.”
Jacko looked at Max and Jake.
Max said, “The man said, crates and statues to the trophy room—let’s get movin’.”
Jacko held his hands up and walked away to get help, shaking his head, but grinning.
It took ten minutes for a crew of mystified bikers to bring all the wooden statues and artefacts in from the van to the trophy room. Phil, Jake, and Max entered the large room and stood together in the centre.
Phil turned to Jake. “Do you want to go for it?”
Jake nodded and put his gun away. He walked across to a pair of long-handled, ornamental battle-axes and lifted one down from its mounting bracket. Several pairs of eyes watched Jake as he stepped up to one of the tall varnished wooden statues of an Inca warrior. He lifted the axe onto his right shoulder and swung.
He sliced the head from the towering figure, and it fell over, emptying neat, vacuum-packed kilo bags of hash.
Phil said, “Max, it’s all yours mate but remember the deal.”
“The white stuff stays here,” Max said.
“I would suggest that instead of a free-for-all, you organise your guys,” Phil said. “While your team are dealing with that side of it, my people will make sure we haven’t left evidence that leads back to any of us.”
“No problem,” Max said. “We’ll arrange for you to get your weapons and radios back later.”
Jake moved to one side with Phil. “I found out where the safe is if you’d like me to deal with it now.”
“Good idea mate,” Phil said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. If I go quiet on you guys don’t worry—I’ll get over it.”
A friendly hand clasped Jake’s shoulder for a moment. Phil observed the bikers taking their share of the spoils. They’d earned it.
Slash stopped his bike in the woodland on several occasions, but only to allow McGinley to get further away and feel confident that he’d escaped. When Slash received a call from Annabel to say she was within striking distance of Braemar, it was then up to the biker to help her locate the target.
Using road signs, landmarks and the general lay of the land, Slash gave an accurate picture of where the bad guy was heading. McGinley had tried to hide by going into the woodland but appeared every so often to get his bearings.
Annabel watched for accessible high points as always. She stopped to check her map using the most recent information from Slash. She knew which way her quarry was heading, so she drove up through woodland and then ran the final few hundred metres.
The chosen location was on the forward edge of a slope, which meant she wouldn’t be able to use the prone position. She crossed her legs and placed her rifle across her thighs. Using her binoculars to scan the valley and the edges of the woodland it took her ten minutes before a sighting.
“Hullo Slash, this is Alpha. I’ve got him. Remain where you can see him, but stay out of view of him and the public, over.”
“Slash, roger, out.” The biker dismounted and pushed his bike into the side of a forest track. He was able to see McGinley, who had given up trying to run. He had also given up trying to move through the trees and was ambling down a track that ran alongside the forest.
McGinley was tired, soaking with perspiration and concentrating hard. He grinned when he realised he could no longer hear the bloody biker. It might take him a while, but he was aiming to find a phone kiosk in a remote village. He could call Geordie to pick him up, and then he’d be out of this fuck-up.
He stopped at an old wooden bench beside the edge of the forest. A look around proved he had made the first part of his escape. An already wet shirt sleeve was lifted to wipe his scarred brow, and he enjoyed a few deep breaths.
“Well, Helen my dear,” he said aloud. “It looks like your investment in my organisation is now all for me.” He wondered for a moment if Fitzpatrick had even suspected that money had been filtered out to other interests by his wife.
Mental considered for a moment the night Helen suggested transferring the money and running away together. He shook his head slowly. It was a pity about Helen having to die, but it tied up a loose end, and one thing Mental and Fitzpatrick had in common was, the dislike of loose ends.
He placed his palms flat on the old wooden seat and turned left to take another look at the village not so far away now. His breathing had finally calmed to a reasonable level, and he was feeling much better. Yes, another half hour and he’d be calling his driver.
McGinley’s eyes remained open as his chin fell forward to rest on his chest, and his bulky frame stayed in a seated position. To any passersby on the track, he appeared to be sleeping, but with his eyes open. On closer inspection, those same passersby would see the small neat hole a few centimetres above the man’s left ear, and a trickle of blood.
The single shot was fired from such a distance; nobody would have heard it, because, for added security, Annabel had fitted her suppressor.
39. Head Count
.
Glenshee, Grampian Mountains
Scotland
It was a few minutes after noon when the gravel carpark across the road from the ski lodge became an RV. The members of the Mental Riders Motor Cycle Club parked in a single line abreast. Behind them lined up, were a w
hite Transit van, two black Audis, a green Norton and a black Kawasaki.
Stephanie Henderson had been strapped into the back of Annabel’s car, and Eva was keeping her company. Only a few metres away a group of the bikers were in discussion about Operation Trojan Horse, the final stages of the assault on Fitzpatrick’s place.
Toolkit said, “I’d like to know what all the fuckin’ screamin’ was about in the cellar Max. What did you do to those two fuckers down there?”
Max said, “I was gonna shoot Henderson with his gun, but when I saw what Jake did to Fitzpatrick I had to try somethin’ like him.”
Slash said, “What the fuck did he do?”
“He told me Hawk wanted their fingerprints, so Jake cut Fitzpatrick’s fuckin’ fingers off, and then dangled the bastard’s arms in the pond with the piranha. Jake held onto Fitzpatrick’s ankles for a while.”
“Yeah,” Toolkit said. “Cutting their hands off would have let them bleed to death quick.”
Where any sane person might be shocked, or even physically sick, Slash listened wide-eyed to the explanation, seriously impressed, nodding excitedly.
Max said, “Henderson was screamin’ before I got near his fuckin’ hands, which proved what a fuckin’ coward he was. I cut his fuckin’ fingers off anyway.”
Toolkit’s eyes were sparkling. “Did you dangle his arms in the pond?”
“Nah,” Max said. “I’d broken his nose and smashed his teeth before I dragged the bastard down to the cellar, so I grabbed his ankles and pushed his fuckin’ bleedin’ face over the pond.”
The small audience laughed as if told the joke of the month.
Max said, “He was screamin’ and beggin’ so I held onto him for a minute. As soon as the blood hit the surface the little bastards went crazy. It was fuckin’ amazin’ to watch.” He looked down. “The blood went all over the place when he started thrashin’ around.” He had blood on his jeans, but he opened his jacket to let them see the stains on his T-shirt.
Slash said, “What did you do with their fingers?”
“We put them in the chilled cabinet. It was where Fitzpatrick kept the meat for the fish. Jake reckons the fingerprints will prove to the coppers they’ve seen the last of those two dickheads, plus they’ll be able to close a load of cases.”
“Well, the coppers can’t say we didn’t give them a hand.” Slash laughed.
Ian was with the bikers. “Did you guys work out how Simpson got to Eva in the gatehouse without anyone seeing him?”
“Yeah,” Max said. “One of the boys found a trapdoor among the trees behind the gatehouse. The big ugly bastard was able to get in and out of the castle without using the doors.”
“He had his escape route planned from the start,” Ian said. “He was ugly, but he wasn’t foolish.”
The team assembled so Phil and Max could make a head count before leaving the area. It was agreed Ian would drive the Transit van and its precious cargo back to Glasgow. The van would go to a location designated by Max.
On the return journey, the chapter would ride shotgun in groups of four to ensure the van didn’t appear to be with them. It would be a long journey back and would draw attention if escorted too closely.
Before setting off, Phil received a phone call from Mike. He and Sinbad had shadowed the fishing boat south. After leaving the tiny Glenbrittle port on completion of the first drop, the ship had gone out to sea again. It had stopped at South Uist in the Hebrides before returning.
The fishing vessel was performing a shuttle service for the final stage of the sea-going journey. Mike and Sinbad observed the area and listed three possible craft that might have been dropping cargo at South Uist, having brought it from far out to sea.
When the boat called Blue Lady was fifty miles south of the Isle of Skye, the name was removed from the side, uncovering the real name, Proud Mary. From what Mike could see, the boat’s name and its port of origin were on magnetic plates. Blue Lady hailed from Puerto Rico, whereas Proud Mary was from Liverpool, which was highly likely.
Mike noted all the details and gave them to Sinbad to call into the coastguard anonymously, but with the codeword—Hawk. The pair then ensured they were far enough away not to be noticed but close enough to see the smuggler’s boat being boarded.
.
Saturday 24th July
The Dumbuck House Hotel
Dunbartonshire
Scotland
Eddie raised his glass and chinked it on his date’s drink.
“Thank you for your co-operation and brilliant intelligence work.” He paused for thought. “One thing that still stumps me is how the forensic team found the bodies of so many known gangsters shot, but there were no guns found.”
“The co-operation was my pleasure,” Amy said. “I have a feeling those guns will never surface, but I hope the new owners will use them for justice.”
“Do you think the bikers took them?”
“I’d rather think they had them than some of the people who had them before.”
They both took a sip of wine and remained silent for a moment.
Eddie said, “I have to admit, I’ve never been a fan of the Mental Riders or that sort of gang, but your secret friends know how to recruit and organise a team.”
“I think the whole operation was pretty damn efficient.”
“The body count was a bit high,” Eddie said, “but I don’t suppose we’ll miss any of the ones who disappeared or got killed.”
I’m glad the guys left us the fingerprints for the ones who went missing.”
“Talking of fingerprints,” Eddie said. “I’d like to have yours on one of the wine glasses back at my place.”
“Eddie Monroe you use the corniest lines I’ve ever heard. If you can top that one, I’ll go with you.”
“I doubt if I can come up with anything cornier. How about me admitting I’d be honoured to make you dinner?”
“Okay, I’ll accept, but with one proviso.”
“Name it,” Eddie said, sounding more like a teenager than a grown man.
“Any mention of playing with handcuffs and I am out of there.”
Eddie choked on the sip of wine he was enjoying. “Deal.”
.
Monday 26th July
BTL Enterprises, Glasgow
Scotland
“Are you sure Phil,” Annabel asked and stepped closer to her man. She placed her coffee on the window sill beside Phil’s.
“Only if you agree,” he said, and his lips curled. “It would make the decision worthwhile.”
Annabel put her arm around his waist, and he placed an arm around her waist before he turned and kissed her cheek. They stood together at the panoramic window looking out across the River Clyde.
A few minutes later the door buzzed. Rachel and Jake were both in leathers and after a wave of acknowledgement, they went into the facilities area to change. When Jake reappeared, he was in open-neck shirt and jeans, while Rachel had changed into blouse and mini-skirt.
Ian arrived five minutes later with Eva. He was dressed casually in a T-shirt, jeans and a lightweight jacket, while Eva was carrying a denim jacket over her arm. She was wearing a T-shirt and skinny jeans tucked into boots, which showed that all her bumps were in the right places, and she had nice legs.
She limped, following her recent bullet wound, but refused to use a stick. Eva stopped in the middle of the room to take in her surroundings and stood like a child in a sweet shop. She was aware of the others looking at her, and she continued to smile.
The maps on the east wall had been cleared of pins and markers. All the notice-boards and the chalkboard cleared of information. The large central table was set for six people, but there were no pads, pens, maps, laptops or projectors set out.
“Good morning everybody,” Phil said. “Grab a brew and make yourself comfortable.” Both Phil and Annabel lifted their mugs and took their usual places on the right-hand side. Jake and Rachel used the chairs opposite their leaders. Ian and E
va sat with their backs to the window. Nobody spoke, and all eyes turned to Phil.
“How is the leg, Eva?” Annabel asked.
“Nothing more than discomfort, but I’ll get over it.
“Before we go on,” Annabel said. “We know you had to miss the main debriefing, but if there are any burning questions, this is a good time to ask.”
“My questions will be trivial,” Eva said.
“On occasion it’s the trivial things that are the difference between success and failure.”
“Well,” Eva said. “How do you leave a scene like that and make sure nobody goes snooping around?”
Phil said, “When most of the team had headed off to the RV point out near the ski-lodge, I stayed behind afterwards for a while with a couple of the bikers. We locked the doors to the building and used Fitzpatrick’s Range Rover to block the entrance track not far from the gatehouse.”
Annabel continued the explanation. “I sent a coded message to our police contact. In that way, the right people would arrive on the scene first. We knew they would take a couple of hours to get there, so we would all be long gone.”
“Did somebody take care of my rental car?”
“Yes,” Annabel said and laughed. “If you remember back when we first made contact, I suggested an alias, and for you to park up away from the hotel on the road in the village among other cars.”
“Before I set off on my final part of the mission, Phil told me to check out and leave my belongings in the boot of the rental car—”
“Don’t worry,” Annabel interrupted. “We’ve dealt with returning the car, and your suitcase is through there in the facilities area.”
Ian turned to Eva. “How did you manage to locate Fitzpatrick’s place so quickly, even if you knew he liked a particular type of car?”
“When I realised how many places would have sold the car and would have to be checked, I thought of how vain the man was—he had a personalised plate, and that speeded things up.”
“You girls are all pretty sharp,” Ian said. “I’m sorry Phil, we’re holding things up.”
