by Tom Benson
“I’ll tell him what he wants to know,” Renton said. “He doesn’t have to—”
McGinley raised her hand and smacked him across the cheek with the pliers. The crunching of breaking teeth was heard clearly.
Renton screamed.
“Never interrupt me, Renton.” McGinley turned to the two men who were waiting to start work on the unfortunate gangland employee. “I’m leaving the room for a while, but when one of you report to me, I expect answers.”
“You’ll have them, Boss,” Tug said.
“Good.” McGinley turned to look down on the terrified face before her. “I’ll come and see what’s left of you later, Renton.” She raised her hand and smacked him across the bridge of the nose with the pliers.
Renton blacked out.
“Tug,” McGinley said. “Make sure he’s conscious before you start, and I’d suggest removing those broken teeth.” She grinned as she handed the pliers to her torturer and left.
.
Milton
Fifteen miles west of Glasgow
Jake rode to the venue on his Norton Commando because a secret conversation with the bikers was better conducted when in a biker outfit. Whatever their background, fellow bikers standing talking out in the open was a common sight.
At 13:45 Jake pulled off the dual carriageway. He cruised along the short stretch of the slip road to the roundabout, took a right and rode up to the small parking area. A zone was allocated especially for motorbikes. While removing his safety helmet, Jake gazed north along the A82 and among the other vehicles saw the twin headlights of a big bike—a Kawasaki. One minute later the black bike was purring along the slip road.
“Hello lover,” Rachel said, as she placed her helmet on the saddle. She pulled off her gauntlets and stepped forward to plant a kiss on Jake’s lips.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Jake gazed into her eyes.
A low rumble of engines caused them both to turn toward the slip road. Three bikes had exited the dual-carriageway from the south and were approaching the nearby roundabout.
“Time to get serious,” Rachel said.
“I was serious,” Jake said and was rewarded with an enchanting smile.
Motorbikes create a sense of the rider’s character. Racing bikes compel the rider to lean forward over the fuel tank and give the impression of being in haste, whatever the journey. Cruisers support the rider in an upright stance, which at once appears formal, and to some; superior. The ‘Chopper’ style preferred by biker gangs carries their riders in an attitude of being laid back and bring it on—whatever.
Rachel said, “I wonder if the synchronised dismount and helmet removal is intended, or happens naturally.”
“I reckon since we’ve taught the Mental Riders shooting and tactics they’ve adopted the group mount and dismount as an extension of their uniformity.”
“Hey, people.” Max approached and extended a big hand to his vigilante friends. “I’ve brought Pedro and Numbers as escorts today.” Hands were shaken and nods given all around.
While Pedro went inside to grab the coffees, the other four stood around one of the picnic tables outside which overlooked the dual-carriageway and slip road. It was a bright, fresh afternoon and of the six long wooden tables, there were two occupied by families. This was a favourite place to stop on a journey to the Highlands.
Jake and Rachel took turns to update Max on the possibility of an underworld alliance and who might be involved. Being a biker gang leader, Max was usually up to speed on such things, but gangland had been in a state of flux for a while.
Max said, “When did you check out this new place of theirs?”
“I got back a short while ago,” Rachel said. “I rode up there last night, and conducted a detailed recce before settling down to watch the place.” She went on to explain a little about where the ruin was situated, the approach, and the hazards of an ill-planned attack.
“You guys have given us a good grounding in several areas,” Max said. “The lads are looking forward to putting the training into practice.” He half-turned. “It was Numbers here who met the chick you might be looking for.”
“It was a few years ago,” Numbers said. The breeze blew his long, fair hair into his eyes. He used one hand to brush his hair back. “I remember she was a tasty looking girl, and no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. She was heavily into bikes, guns, and knives, which Snake found attractive in his woman. I’m sure her name was Nadine or Nadia.”
“Coffees—” Pedro had returned and stopped a few feet away. He stared at something nearby.
Tyres screeched as a black 4 x 4 speeded around the small roundabout fifty yards from the table. The vehicle didn’t take the turn into the car park, and somebody leant from a rear window.
Jake glanced over his shoulder. “Down!” Arms outstretched, he threw himself at Rachel and Max who were closest to him.
A staccato burst of gunfire erupted from the speeding vehicle as it headed from the roundabout to return to the dual-carriageway. Mothers and children sitting nearby screamed in panic. The families ran for the safety of the coffee shop.
Pedro had thrown the tray of drinks and reached inside his leather jacket. He produced his Glock automatic, dropped to one knee as taught by the BTL team, and fired four rapid shots at the escaping vehicle.
“Get them!” Max growled as he got up on one arm, holding a wounded shoulder.
Numbers had blood dripping down his neck from a bullet wound at the bottom of his left ear. “Bastards.” He grabbed his helmet.
Pedro and Numbers reached their bikes at the same time and raced across the grass verges ignoring the roundabout and slip road. Their fat rear tyres left the grass and screeched on the tarmac of the dual-carriageway. The front of their bikes lifted as they applied power. Law-abiding motorists braked and skidded to a stop causing minor damage to a few vehicles.
“Jake, talk to me,” Rachel pleaded, kneeling over her man. “Please, talk to me.”
“Call a fucking ambulance!” Max shouted at a member of staff. The girl had been gawping from the main door of the coffee shop. Max knelt down and placed a firm hand on Rachel’s back. “Where’s he been hit?”
“He took one in the shoulder and two in his neck.” Rachel sobbed. “He saved our lives, Max.” Bright red, warm blood oozed between Rachel’s fingers as she used both hands to apply pressure to Jake’s neck wounds.
Max pulled off his blue and white bandana and made it into a ball before handing it to Rachel. He undid Rachel’s scarf and handed it to her, which gave her two impromptu dressings.
Jake lay on his back, staring at the sky, but not making a sound or showing recognition of his friends.
“Hold in there, Jake,” Max said in an unusual, reassuring tone. “You’ll make it, mate. We’ve got an ambulance coming.” Max placed his hands on Rachel’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “Keep the pressure applied. I’m staying with you until help arrives.”
Rachel nodded and spoke quietly, trying to reassure her rock; Jake.
Max stood and shouted, “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”
18. From Bad to Worse
.
Gallowgate Retail Park
Glasgow
Ian and Eva were on the other side of the city while Jake and Rachel were meeting the bikers. Eva suggested the massive retail park on the east side of the city, knowing it would be busy. It was as important for her and her colleague to blend in as it was for the politician.
“Go to the left side of the green parking sector,” Eva said. “There aren’t too many cars there, and we’ll be able to watch for our man approaching the meeting place.”
“He’ll be arriving by car, which means he might drive right up to the place you suggested.”
“I don’t think he will,” Eva said. “He’s nervous, and I told him to park up and walk along the length of the main supermarket building. I told him to walk past the groups of shopping trolleys, towards t
he farthest corner. I said to have a cigarette in his left hand.”
“He should end up fifty yards from here,” Ian said.
“Yes, and for security, I told him we’d be in a red Volvo, not a black Range Rover. He’s only had thirty minutes notice about the venue—I didn’t want him passing on—”
“I see him,” Ian said and nodded. “Look half way along the big building. A guy in a suit and tie has stopped to light a cigarette. It’s in his left hand—wasn’t that your cue?”
“It’s him,” Eva said. “Keep your eyes open, mate, although I don’t think Mr Findlay would have had enough time to tell anybody about this meeting place.”
As Ian watched his partner stroll across to the nearest building in the retail park, he reached under his jacket and unfastened the gun in his shoulder holster. Ian noticed two men in a dark blue Toyota 4 x 4. The vehicle was creeping along the lines of parked cars, and though the people in front were looking around, they didn’t take the parking opportunities when they had them.
Ian looked to the left and saw Eva nodding as she approached the politician near the building. The buzzing and vibration of his phone caused Ian to look down to the centre console of the car. He picked up his phone.
“Hey Max, I thought you were meeting up with Jake and Rachel about now—” Ian listened in disbelief as he heard the report from Max about the shooting incident. “Thanks, mate. We’ll get right over to the Western Infirmary from here. Bye.”
Ian had been watching his partner while listening to Max. Eva raised her hand, but she wasn’t close enough to prevent Findlay pointing toward Ian in the car.
The blue 4 x 4 came around the end of the parked vehicles and raced towards Ian’s car. A man leant out of the rear passenger window of the blue Toyota and aimed a machine gun at Ian. The Range Rover’s windscreen shattered, and the side window was holed by three rounds entering the car. Two rounds were embedded in Ian’s left arm and one in his chest.
“Eva.” His vision blurred and his body burned with pain. As Ian slid down his seat, he stared beyond the blue car. Eva knelt with her pistol in the aim.
The passenger of the Toyota opened the door, and as his feet hit the ground, two of Eva’s bullets hit the back of his head. His knees buckled, and he dropped face forward.
Ian’s focus misted. He pulled his gun and fired out of the shattered window. He continued firing until his hand lost strength and his world went black.
.
Western Infirmary
Glasgow
Rachel sat beside Jake’s bedside gripping his right hand. She’d held back tears for as long as possible, but she went to pieces after a brief conversation with Jake’s consultant. It was late Thursday evening, and though she hadn’t eaten or slept properly in the past twenty-four hours, rest and nourishment were not on her mind.
The door of the private room opened quietly. DI Hughes and DCI Malone stepped inside and closed the door.
Rachel stood and sobbed uncontrollably when embraced by Amy.
“What have the doctors told you?” Amy said.
Rachel took a deep breath. “One of the bullets in his neck affected the flow of blood … to his brain.” She sobbed. “I’ve been asked ... if Jake carries ... an organ donor card.”
Amy held her friend tight and caressed her back. “We have to be strong for him, Rachel. Your Jake is tough. These doctors are always looking at every option.”
An untouched cold coffee was on the bedside locker.
“Rachel, when did you last eat or drink?” Eddie said.
“I don’t know,” Rachel said, shaking her head.
Eddie nodded to his partner.
“Come on,” Amy said. “We have to get some nourishment inside you. We can’t have you looking like shit when Jake comes around.” She put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and led her to the door. Amy glanced back at Eddie and bit her lip.
Amy and Eddie didn’t have to be police detectives to recognise how badly Rachel the fearless warrior was injured—through her devotion to Jake.
Eddie shook his head and sat on the chair by the bedside. “Go on the pair of you. I’ll call if there’s any change.”
Amy had information for Rachel, but she waited until her distraught friend had eaten a sandwich and drank two cups of coffee. There was no good news, and the police officer was worried about the effect the latest events would have on Rachel.
“What’s going on?” Rachel said. “You’ve hardly spoken since we came into this cafeteria.”
“At the same time you and Jake and the bikers were under attack, a separate incident took place in the Gallowgate Retail Park.”
Rachel squinted. “That place is on the other side of the city. What has it got to do with us?”
“Ian and Eva went to meet Findlay, and all hell broke loose.”
“Findlay is a bloody politician—what could he do?”
“We believe his family has been threatened. For security reasons, your guys didn’t give him much time to reach their meeting place. They played it textbook. Findlay didn’t.”
Rachel shook her head slowly, now expecting to hear the worst. “Go on?”
“I attended the scene with Eddie shortly afterwards. The bottom line is—both Ian and Eva have been taken. We know from eyewitnesses that Ian had been shot.”
“Surely they retaliated—”
“Oh, they retaliated alright. Ian and Eva took out four of the bad guys between them. Eva also broke the politician’s nose before he ran off.”
“Do we know who these people were, or how many of them?”
“It was a strong team, so they were intent on success. A van and two cars were involved,” Amy said. “We’ve got one of the cars—a blue 4 x 4 which your associates riddled with bullets. From what we can make out, Ian shot the driver. Eva killed a passenger who left the vehicle and then a guy who leant out of the window. She also shot one of the men in the van before she was overpowered.”
“We’ve messed this up, Amy.” Rachel held her hands to her face.
“You haven’t messed up anything. The people who took Ian and Eva stayed long enough to drop a couple of bags of cocaine on the seat of Ian’s car.”
“Cocaine? I don’t understand.”
“The gangsters who carried out this action today want a drug war to be blamed. We’ve seen the dead men. They were all from McGinley’s crowd on the south side.”
“Do you think they were trying to take our people alive?”
“Yes. I discussed it with Eddie earlier. Remember, the politician, Findlay was concerned about dealing with the police. He wouldn’t tell us anything, but he said he’d be prepared to deal with the vigilante called Hawk.”
“Oh my fucking god ... those bastards don’t know what any of us look like, so they don’t know who they’ve got.”
Amy shook her head. “We have to hope your guys can hold out without giving names. We can’t be sure who organised the kidnapping because we don’t know who is working with who, but McGinley is a part of it.”
“What has Sam said? I suppose he wants to make it a police matter now and cut us out?”
“No,” Amy said. “Our new Chief Constable is very much an ex-SAS man, and he believes in what you guys are doing. He’s briefed Eddie and me to support but keep a low profile. By the time we got through all the bloody red tape there’d be nobody to go after. Our force will only go in mob-handed if your team backs off.”
“Jake wouldn’t want us to back off.”
“He wouldn’t, and you’ve Max and the bikers with you too.” Amy reached across the table and held Rachel’s hand. “I’ll fetch us another coffee, and I’ll tell you about my chat with Mike.”
“You’ve spoken to Mike ... is he on the way ... is Sinbad with him?”
“Coffee first.” Amy stood.
.
Fort Etive
“Your colleague, Freddie was right about one thing,” McGinley said as she sauntered around the interrogation room. “He said if w
e tried to capture Jake and Rachel they’d take out a lot of our men.”
Ian was faint through loss of blood. “Freddie, who?” he murmured through broken teeth and a mouthful of blood.
“Don’t start that fucking Freddie who shit again,” McGinley said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Freddie was playing the double-agent. He was your colleague and mine for a short while, but now sadly he’s not anybody’s partner.” She nodded to Tug.
Tug opened the door with his left hand. “Bring him in boys.” When Tug stepped back the injury to his right arm was evident. Something sharp had gone through his hand, and the dressing was soaked in blood.
Two men dragged a body into the interrogation room and dropped it on the floor. Ian sagged against the hard-backed chair he was strapped into and knew he didn’t have long left. He had at least three bullets in him. His wounds had been patched up sufficiently to get him this far. Vision was blurring and his body was in extreme pain. He had to concentrate.
Freddie, on the other hand, was finished. He lay without a mark on his face, but a line of five bullet holes was in his chest.
“Your Freddie was one crazy bastard,” Tug said. “He killed one of my guys with a broken wooden leg from a chair, and he stuck another wooden stake through my fucking hand before he was shot.”
McGinley stepped forward and used a hand under Ian’s chin to hold his head up. “We thought Renton was one of your people, but he was a soft shit. Before he died, he fingered Freddie as a traitor, and if it weren't for Freddie screaming your names out, I wouldn’t know who you were, Jake.”
Ian coughed up blood. His captors might think he was in pain, but he was trying not to laugh—they thought he was Jake. He could die now.
McGinley said, “You’ll be pleased to know we’re giving your lady friend a good time downstairs.” She lifted his head again. “Rachel is providing a little pleasure for one of my men, and when he’s finished, she’ll be providing fun for another ... and another.”
