Midnight's Door

by Robert F Barker

  As I finished getting ready for work, I couldn't get the Adagio out of my head. When Carver first mentioned it, a thought, some connection, had flashed into my mind, but hadn't stayed. Now, the more I tried to retrieve it, to focus in on it, the further it seemed to drift away. Finally I gave up. Things like that tend to come once you stop thinking about them.

  But I kept humming the damn tune all the way into work.

  CHAPTER 41

  Saturday Evening

  When I got to the club, Eric was already there, playing with the CCTV, checking the cameras. As I dumped my bag I said, 'Is it all working okay?'

  'Fine, why?'

  I explained what I'd arranged with Cliff Kehoe.

  When I'd finished, he simply turned back to the screens. 'Better get practising then.' Then he added, 'By the way, Vicki's already in.'

  'Right.' I left him to it and went about my business. For once it didn't include her.

  I found Frank and Tony out on the dance floor, talking. They clammed up when I arrived. I played it like it was a normal Saturday night and stuck to the routine, numbers, guests, that sort of thing. None of us mentioned Russians, murders or Vicki's dancing, which suited me. Nor did I mention anything about the matters I'd discussed with Cliff and Eric.

  I'd told my guys - A-Team and Rota - to come in early again to be briefed and I made sure I was in the staff room when they all arrived within ten minutes of each other. Before we started I made sure the door was locked. I didn't want Tony-the-Manager interrupting. This wasn't for his ears. As the briefing went on and it became clear why, faces lit up with excitement.

  'Let's not get carried away,' I said. 'If it happens we need to stay cool.'

  There were several mutterings of the 'Roger Boss' variety, before I let them go off to do what they had to do.

  Last thing before the doors opened, a few minutes before nine, I grabbed Chris and went out into the foyer and spoke with Amy and Perdita, the two girls working on Admissions that evening. I was particularly glad to see Perdita. She's sharp as a knife and as good as anyone I know at sussing people out. When I finished talking them through what I needed from them, I checked to make sure they understood. As if it were nothing unusual, they both nodded, light-heartedly, 'No probs,' before returning to what they'd been doing before I'd interrupted - dissing a girl who'd been sacked off the bar the week before after being caught with her hand in the till when it shouldn't have been.

  As I was coming away, my mobile rang. It was Winston, asking if I could, 'Come to the back.' I made my way to the back door and out onto the car park. Winston was standing next to a big black Mercedes four-by-four. He waved to me and I joined him in the back where his brothers, Gabriel and Anthony, were waiting to give me the third degree.

  As I expected, they were suspicious and wary. They were particularly interested in my meeting with Carver and 'Will', and I had to work at convincing them Carver could be trusted. After listening to what I had to say, Gabriel said. 'Give us two minutes.'

  I got out and waited next to the car. I could hear the brothers talking, not enough to make out the words but enough to tell there were matters on which they weren't entirely agreed. A minute later the door opened and Winston called me back in.

  The moment I planted my backside on the cream leather seat, I found myself nose-to-nose with Gabriel.

  'If you try to fuck wit us over this, in any way, then I don't care what your name is. It'll be the last thing you ever do.'

  'I've given you my word Gabriel. I stand by it.'

  'Alright then. Long as we knows where we stand,'

  'We do.'

  'Then me and Winston needs to speak. We'll see you aroun', Mr Norton.'

  I left them to it.

  As I headed back to the club, setting my shoulders against a cold night breeze I shook my head in wonder at the fact that after years of battling the dealers, here I was conspiring with two of the North's biggest. A case of the lesser between evils.

  The next half-hour, I flitted between the door and the office. It was around ten and I'd just joined Eric, watching the cameras covering the foyer, when Perdita stood back and ran her hand back through her shining black hair in the way we'd agreed. A second later Chris came on the radio. 'Visitors, with Perdita, now.' But Eric was already zooming in on her. She was taking cash-notes from two men. Wearing open-neck shirts and without jackets, they looked lean, muscled and handy-looking. I didn't recall ever seeing them before, but checked with Eric just in case. Eric's got a photographic memory when it comes to faces.

  He shook his head. 'New to me.'

  As the pair turned away from the desk and headed for the doors to the dance floor, Eric switched cameras and caught them just as they were going in. He clicked on the mouse and took what he calls a 'screen-grab', showing them full-face. They were hard, lined and bore the odd scar. Not the usual, clubbers' faces. Another mouse-click and I heard the printer in the corner whir into action.

  'I'm glad you know what you're doing,' I said.

  'I've told you. If you'd bother to learn, it's not hard.'

  I shook my head. 'Why have a dog and bark yourself?'

  'Fuck off.'

  Twenty minutes later I was checking on the queues out front with Gol when Chris shouted up again. 'Two more. With Amy.' By the time I returned to the office Eric had the print-outs laid alongside the previous pair. A couple more handy-looking lads I didn't recognise. I looked up to find Eric staring at me.

  'I think you might've been right,' he said.

  I nodded. 'I'm hoping I may still be wrong.'

  From out in the corridor, I heard Tony's voice, approaching. 'Hide those,' I said to Eric. He slid the photos into a drawer just as Tony came into the office. Vicki was behind him and for all that my mind was focused on what I had to do next, I allowed myself a few seconds while I drank her in. If the mark on her face was still there it was even more well-disguised than the night previous. Her hair was done in a way that looked specially luscious, like she'd been to some swanky salon. She was wearing what I thought was a stylish off-the-shoulder dress. Silver-grey, it had a sparkly-satiny sheen, and though it wasn't as close-fitting as some I'd seen, it hugged enough curves to grab your interest.

  Seeing me, Tony said, 'The very man. I've just been saying to Vicki that tonight perhaps we can-'

  I held up a hand. 'Sorry, Tony. I'm in the middle of something. Speak with Eric.'

  As I swerved around them to leave, I caught the look on Vicki's face - somewhere between suspicious and annoyed. Tony looked like he'd been snubbed.

  Heading for the back door, I called Gol on the radio and told him to grab Eve and meet me in the staff room in two minutes. Then I dug out my mobile and rang a number. It answered at once and a man's voice said, 'Yo, Danny.'

  'Looks like we're on. Back door.'

  'One minute.'

  The back door crash-bar was still playing up but I managed to get it open just as they arrived. There were six in all, as I'd agreed with Cliff. I recognised most of them. A tall and wiry chrome-dome by the name of Steve Welch was in front. I've known Steve a long time. He's one of Cliff's best. If he was mine, he'd be A-Team. No uniforms, they were all in their best clubbing gear.

  As they filed through there was a chorus of, 'Awright Danny?'

  I locked the door then led them through to the staff room where we met Gol and Eve and spent ten minutes going over things.

  'Any questions?' I said as I finished.

  There were a couple - mainly to do with 'disposal' - then I checked they all had earpieces that worked and told them to make their way out into the club in pairs. I returned to the office. Tony and Vicki were gone, thank God.

  'We've four more,' Eric said. 'Just come in. A three and a one.' He thumbed behind him where the printer was whirring again. I went over and pulled off the images. The first showed three men entering together, the second, a man on his own. Four more faces, all with the same hard looks as the others. I wondered if they'd all served in t
he same unit some time.

  'Eight in all,' Eric said as I returned to the screens. 'Enough to start a riot, don't you think?'

  I nodded. 'More than enough.' I showed him the image of the one who'd arrived on his own. He seemed older than the others, heavier, thicker set. He had a calm, confident look about him that put me in mind of the likes of Cliff, or Eric, maybe even myself at times.

  'Red Leader?' Eric said.

  'I'd put money on it.' Red Leader is the designation we give to team leaders.

  I checked the monitors. Three showed the two pairs and the three, now dispersed around different parts of the club. A fourth showed the team leader - if that was what he was - standing alone at the Dusk-Til-Dawn Bar. He was leaning back against the wall, scanning, not rushing to buy himself a drink.

  'Can you track them all?'

  'So long as they don't stray too far,' Eric said. He looked up at me. 'But it won't be easy.'

  'No one said it was going to be easy.' I pointed to the fourth screen. 'If nothing else, stay on him.'

  Eric nodded. 'I intend to.'

  I gathered up all the print-outs. 'Do you need these?'

  He tapped the side of his skull.

  I left him playing with his controls and flicking between screens and returned to the main dance hall. Numbers seemed up compared to the night before. Not where they usually are on Saturdays, but not too far off. When all said and done, Saturday night is Saturday night. Gol and Winston were stood together just inside the doors, hands in front, watching as the floor filled up. I motioned them back out into the lobby where they could hear me. I showed them the photos and handed them to Gol.

  'Clock these then pass them round to the others.'

  Gol flicked through them, quickly. 'Eight? Bloody hell.''

  'Is that a problem?'

  He showed his toothy grin. 'Nahhh.'

  I went on patrol.

  Because of her podium duties, Vicki had arranged for Miranda to be more involved looking after the VIPs. That night the guest DJ was a St Helen's lad who'd had a good run in the charts the last couple of years, though his star was starting to show signs it may be waning. Probably due to the tabloid reports about him smacking his Model girlfriend around. I caught him and Vicki just as they were about to enter the Green Room. Vicki saw me and hung back.

  As I approached she said, 'Are you alright?'

  'Fine,' I said. 'Why?'

  'You look a bit.. serious. Is anything wrong?'

  Given all that had happened I nearly gave a smart-Alec reply, but realised she was genuinely concerned. She doesn't miss much.

  'No.' After a second I added, But-'

  'But what?'

  'If you see any signs of trouble tonight, anything at all, you get back in here right away and lock the door.'

  She gave me an unconvinced look. 'You're expecting the killer might come after me here?'

  'I'm not talking about that. I mean trouble on the dance floor.'

  Her look changed. 'Oh.' Then, 'Is there anything I need to know?'

  'Only that if you're on the podium, or anywhere around the floor and it kicks off, don't hang around. Get back here.'

  This time she took it in. 'Okay.'

  'And tell Miranda-'

  'I will.'

  '-But nobody else.'

  She threw me a puzzled look. 'Why nobody else?'

  'No reason. Just say you'll do it.'

  'Okay.'

  For a moment we stood there, looking at each other. I could feel myself bursting to tell her things. Lots of things. How gorgeous she looked, for one. That I was sorry for frightening her the way I'd done with Vincent - though I'd heard he was coming out of it. That I hated her being used as bait for a killer and that it was frightening me to death. That I needed, desperately, she should take care of herself. That how about we both take a week off and bugger off to Majorca.

  Only now wasn't the time.

  I headed back to the office to check in with Eric. He still had all the visitors within his sights, though one pair was tucked so far back in a corner, it was hard to see what they were up to.

  'Not a problem,' Eric said. 'They can't go anywhere from there. Besides, Steve and his crew are with them. Then he added. 'There's a lot of messaging going on, especially from this one.' He nodded at the screen showing the Red Leader. 'Like he's keeping tabs on them all.'

  I leaned in for a clearer view. As before, the man at the bar was leaning back, relaxed, bottle in one hand, mobile in the other. Even as I watched he checked it, then started working his thumb. Seconds later there was activity on the other screens as the men responded to their phones' vibrations.

  'They're all replying,' Eric said. 'This could be it.'

  But after a minute or so of texting, they settled again.

  'A bit early,' I said. 'And besides-'

  'What?'

  'The Russian isn't in yet.'

  'You think he'll want to be here if, when, it happens?'

  'Hell, yeah.'

  For the next hour Eric kept me updated regarding the men's movements. By now all the team had seen the photographs. I'd also slipped copies to Cliff's man, Steve, to pass round his mates.

  Yashin arrived with his usual fuss around half-eleven. As I followed his progress up to the suite on the screens, I turned to Eric. 'Where is everyone?'

  He tapped the screen showing the pair tucked away in the corner. Behind them I could just make out Steve and some of his team behaving like normal punters. 'Steve's eye-balling these. Soon as they move they'll take them out and pass them onto our guys in the corridor.'

  'I take it they've got ties?'

  Eric nodded. 'Plenty.'

  The official line is we don't use handcuffs. Strictly speaking, security staff aren't authorised to use them. Unofficially, most doormen usually make sure they've got some of those plastic zip-ties, the sort you can buy in DIY stores and garden centres. Easy to use and effective, you never know when they may come in handy.

  'What about the others?'

  Eric pointed to another screen, the one showing the three. 'Winston and Chris and a couple of our rota guys are keeping an eye on this lot. They'll delay them until Steve's done with the first pair, then they'll take them out as well.'

  'Which will leave three-'

  'Who we'll deal with ourselves.'

  I threw him a look. 'We hope.'

  He smiled. 'No problem.'

  I turned to head back to the floor.

  'Could be any time now. Stay sharp.'

  'What? Like I was going to take a fucking nap?'

  At the entrance to the dance floor I stopped to take in what was happening, starting with Eric's 'Red Leader.' I could still see him, over by the Dusk-Til-Dawn bar. He hadn't moved from there since he'd arrived. The area was crammed, mainly groups of lads but also punters - boys and girls - making their way to and from the bar. But while his body was facing the dance floor, his head was pointing away over his right shoulder, towards a huddle of four lads standing half way between the bar and the dance floor. Right now, they seemed to be taking all his attention. Swigging from bottles, they were doing what groups of lads in clubs do, checking out the talent, swapping laddish comments, voicing their fantasies in respect of whichever punter was, at that particular moment, pushing their buttons. I recognised two at least as regular Saturday-nighters, local lads in their twenties who, as far as I knew, had never caused trouble. Younger than our 'visitors', they would be easy meat for anyone wanting to start something.

  Seconds later, I was proved right. Even as I watched, Red Leader stood up straight and turned away from the dance floor, towards the group of lads. Giving them one last look, he reached into his pocket, took out his phone and started thumbing.

  I pressed my mic button. 'Eric? You with Red Leader?'

  'Roger that,' Eric came back. 'Heads-up everyone. The Dusk-Til Dawn bar. We may be on.'

  As Eric began issuing instructions and returning acknowledgements, I turned to scan the rest of the ro
om. Across the other side of the floor Gol and Eve were finishing off giving the witch's warning to another couple of lads. On my way down, I'd heard over the radio that someone had reported some ‘using’ going on in the toilets. As I watched, Gol pressed his finger to his earpiece, listening in to Eric's commands. Turning, he saw me. The way he nodded at the two lads and shook his head, slowly, I knew they'd searched them and found they were clean, now. The policy is we look for supporting evidence before chucking people out. If we didn't, we'd never stop taking reports from pissed-off girlfriends trying to mix it for their wayward-eyed boyfriends. I gave a nod towards the bar. Gol nodded back and pulled at Eve's sleeve. They began to make their way round the edge of the floor. Descending the steps, I headed in the same direction.

  CHAPTER 42

  By now, the place was bouncing like any other Saturday night. You'd never have guessed it was only a week since Agnes's murder. Mickey-the-DJ was in fine form and was doing a good job taking everyone's mind off the horrors they would be remembering a few hours from now. I wondered if it was because I was so focused that the music seemed even louder than usual, the dancing more frenetic. At that moment, the murders could have been happening in another town, another time.

  As I watched, I remember having a weird feeling, almost like an out-of body experience. Suddenly I was as aware as I've ever been of how strange this job is. How it requires that you stay focused and calm in an environment geared towards scrambling your brain and making you as emotionally-charged as most people can stand. In that moment, and with a clarity I don't think I'd ever felt before, I saw how difficult - and dangerous - the job actually is.

  Fuck me, I thought. I must be losing my bottle or something. But before I could worry about it further, Eric's voice sounded in my ear.

  'They're all on the move, all heading for the D-T-D. Sierra One, can you stay on Red Leader?'

  The reply came, 'Sierra One, Roger.'

  Earlier, Eric and I had run possible scenarios. Assuming they were still unaware they'd been clocked - we'd seen nothing to suggest otherwise - our best guess was that they would rendezvous with their leader just in time to escalate whatever he was aiming to kick off. My plan was to be there and to deal with him directly. It all depended on timing. And ours needed to match theirs.