Between Two Thieves

by Solomon Carter

  “I’m sure he will, but that’s not what I’m after, Dan. Clancy’s Celtic band was found there. Peters was found dead there, with Ubers in his pocket. The Ubers Carl Renton wanted to stop. We have blood on the sand, and we know Carl Renton was on a mission to stop drug smuggling on the beaches. And almost any kind of seaborne smuggling into Southend requires a drop-off by motor boat. Join all of those dots and what does it tell you?”

  “The marine centre jetty is the centre of the case,” said Dan.

  “It has to be. Plot it all on a map and what would you see? The whole case swirls around it.”

  “But what about the transaction I saw at the train station pub?” said Joanne.

  “If that was Clancy’s missing gold, then we’ve already lost it. But we haven’t lost the case. Before we’re done, we’ll still nail every villain in this mess. But before that we’ll need more than statements and denials. We need to see the cause of this grief and bloodshed and see it with our own eyes.”

  Eva and Joanne got into the Alfa and Dan leaned down towards Eva’s side window. She slid it down.

  “You want to go to the marine centre now?” said Dan. “The police will be there. DI Hogarth will most likely be there looking at the blood on the sand.”

  “The public will be watching too,” said Eva. “No. There’s no point heading there now.”

  “Then when do we go?” said Dan.

  “Tonight. We’ll go at the time Carl Renton would have.””

  “If those drug smugglers have half a brain, they’ll keep well away.”

  “But where else can they land in this town? If they want to keep earning money they have to go back to the jetty, whether they like it or not.”

  Dan thought about it and didn’t answer. He leaned away from her car door as Eva started the engine.

  Eva gave him a goodbye nod and pulled away. Dan watched Eva and Joanne drive off before walking to the Crossfire. By the time he started his car engine, Eva had crossed the distant traffic lights at the foot of the hill and her Alfa Romeo was a streak of red surging up the slope of the faraway hill heading back towards Southend.

  Sixteen

  Night time at the marine centre beach. The wide volleyball net flapped in the night breeze, most of it invisible, lost to the darkness. Further down, sparkling black water lapped noisily at the shore. On their right, Southend Pier reached out into the water, seeming no more than a long string of Christmas lights pulled to a tight straight line. From their position inside a Victorian seaside shelter, Eva and Dan watched the two white police tents flapping in the breeze. The shelters had been renovated by the council, tarted up with modern paints to cover the old navy-blue gloss, but the seats in the shelters were just as uncomfortable as ever. They shifted every few minutes, but their backs remained sore and their buttocks stiff and cold no matter how they sat. A second white tent had been erected over the blood patch in the centre of the beach, but the forensics people were long since moved on. Both tents were guarded by a single duo of equally stiff, bored looking uniformed police officers. Thankfully, the smarmy constable from the afternoon shift had gone, replaced by some old stick who looked well past his best, and a young slip of a PC who looked like he should have been tucked up in bed after cocoa and a bedtime story. Neither man looked alert or comfortable, but they were present nonetheless, which posed a challenge for any smuggling mission coming their way.

  “It’s not going to happen,” said Dan. He looked through his binoculars at a yawning policeman and watched the other one stretching out his back. “No one’s coming here tonight.”

  “If the traffickers were using this for a drugs drop-off, then they’ll have to come back here soon. It’s worth a go.”

  Dan checked his phone. It was one am and time was creeping along.

  “And it’s too early,” said Dan. “Those cops seem tired, but they look alert enough to see whatever’s coming. We should presume the traffickers have seen them too. Which is another reason we need to stay well out of sight. If they see us here waiting, we’ll be one more factor to put them off.

  “But they’ll still have to unload their haul somehow, won’t they?” said Eva. “Otherwise there’ll be a bunch of unhappy drug users, and someone else presumably very unhappy further up the chain. If the traffickers don’t fulfil their part of the bargain, I should think they’d quickly lose their place in the chain. They’ll be under pressure to deliver. Maybe they’ll be under even more pressure now that someone in possession of Ubers has been killed.”

  “Or maybe they’ll be scared stiff of the same thing happening to them, and they’ll have packed it in.”

  Eva looked at Dan. “Since when does risk put villains off from making their money.”

  “Fair point,” said Dan, shrugging. “Then the least we’ve got is a wait on our hands.”

  “Then let’s dig in and keep quiet...”

  They dug in. The seaside shelter was nice and dark and did a good job of keeping them hidden from the occasional passing car. They were equally hidden from the police and the shoreline. The only way they could have been detected was if someone shone a torch directly at their faces from the beach. But that was unlikely. And even then, the sea wall mostly hid their bodies. They would have to rely on their wits for the rest. A flask of coffee and some supermarket sandwiches kept them going until three am. By four am the esplanade was dead from end to end, with not even the sound of a car on the air. Dan’s head was thick with tiredness, and Eva was edgy from drinking too much coffee. A fresh breeze came in off the water, and the police sentries stood huddled in quiet conversation on the sand, shooting banter between their posts to pass the rest of their shifts.

  “They’re losing concentration,” said Eva.

  “Like I am,” muttered Dan. “Bound to happen sometime...”

  They watched as the wider cop laughed at an unheard joke, before he started to trudge away up the sand. They watched the man as he produced a key from his pocket. It jangled in the breeze.

  “He must have a key for the marine centre... I think he’s off to use the toilet or something,” said Eva.

  “Which presents an opportunity for someone... Wait... Look... It’s getting better. The younger cop has started playing with his phone. He’s on the net or he’s texting someone...”

  A moment later there was a noise somewhere out on the water. The faintest whining engine noise, but it was so far off even the young cop didn’t look up. It was hard to hear at all. And the police officer carried right on tapping at his phone screen.

  Dan took a pair of binoculars from the seat and stared out into the blackness over the distant water. It felt like a waste of time. He saw no lit vessel, no movement, nothing to be seen. Of course there wasn’t. But the noise seemed to be getting louder. The whine sounded like a mosquito at first. Before long it sounded like a distant motorcycle. Soon it sounded like a larger motorbike, and the policeman stopped texting and looked to the road, checking both ways before turning to the sea. Dan and Eva stiffened and dipped lower in the shelter. A short time later and the sound was definitely coming from the water. The sound of an outboard motor could be discerned from typical engine noise. A propeller churning water, and the rush and splash of the propelled water being cast behind it. Dan put the binoculars back to his eyes. This time he saw a faint arc of white water pale against the darkness. The jet of water was accompanied by a glint of light shining on the side of a hull and then it was gone again. Dan’s view blocked by the end of the jetty.

  “It’s got to be them,” said Dan, whispering with excitement.

  The young cop was still and stared out towards the water. He left his post beside the smaller tent in the middle of the sand and walked a few steps towards the sea. “That motor sounds pretty powerful. Maybe it’s a bigger boat than we thought,” whispered Eva. Dan’s eyes were on the cop.

  “Either way, if it docks here, they’re going to be seen, end of story,” said Dan. As his words trailed away, a loud shout came from the
other side of the marine centre. The cop wheeled around and almost fell down on the sand.

  “Jordan!” called the voice. It had to be the other cop. They turned their heads to see the other policeman leaning over the sea wall from the pavement. “Jordan, over here now!”

  “Something’s happening over the other side of the building,” said Eva.

  Dan leaned up from his position as the policeman called Jordan, ran back across the sand towards the sea wall.

  “And I think I know what that something is about,” said Dan. “Come on. Here’s our opportunity.” They clambered over the concrete wall in front of them and landed on the soft sand beneath. Ahead of them was an exposed diagonal run of beach towards the jetty. As soon as they made a move they would be exposed on all sides. But there was no decision to be made. It was happening. Dan broke into a gentle run, keeping his pace fast and his footsteps soft, opting to land in the clumps of grass wherever he could. Eva followed close behind. Dan paused for a moment and looked at the sky. He listened.

  “That motor sound has stopped,” he said.

  “Damn it,” said Eva. “False alarm you think?””

  Dan shook his head. They heard some rowdy shouts and a few barked police warnings came from the other side of the marine centre building. “What’s going on over there?” said Eva.

  “It’s a distraction. Got to be,” said Dan. “It’s just the way I would have played it. If they wanted to use the jetty, they had no choice. Quick, before we’re seen...”

  They passed the small white police tent as it billowed in the breeze. From halfway down the beach Eva fancied she could see something of a murky shape out in the blackness, the merest hint of movement on the nearby water. But it was almost silent. Eva and Dan moved on. They reached the edge of the canoe and kayak storage area, the wide platform behind the long narrow arm of the jetty. Between the shouts and swear words heard from the other side of the jetty, Eva heard fractional sounds from the nearby water. There was a gentle bump and a scrape which seemed to reverberate softly through the structure. Eva leaned away and looked down the length of the jetty. There, at the far end, she saw a shadowy figure crouched and skulking on the very end of the platform. He had a long spidery body. And there, just at the corner of the jetty, she saw where a small wooden vessel had nudged alongside the structure. The spidery shape reached out as a rope was tossed up to his hand, and Eva watched as he tied off the rope on the hook at the top end.

  “It’s happening,” whispered Eva. “They’re here.”

  “I see them,” murmured Dan. He reached up for the top of the jetty, and quietly hauled himself up. He scrambled up quietly, and then half-hunched over, began to pick along the width of the platform, deftly jinking between the boat racks for cover. A moment later he returned, crouching above Eva just like the man at the farthest end. Dan’s eyes were bright with adrenaline. “I’ve seen what’s going on over there. You won’t believe it, but it’s the guy from the rehab. The one who tried to drag Joanne upstairs with him. He’s arguing with the cops on the other side there. He looks out of it, too.”

  “But surely that’ll only bring more police?” said Eva.

  “By the time they arrive all of this will be over. We’ll stay down there,” said Dan, “Try and get close to the water. It’s the best way to stay out of sight.”

  Dan jumped down beside her and landed cat-like on the sand. Keen and tense, they started to advance along the sand, staying close in the shadows of the jetty. When they neared the edge of the water, they had to strain their ears. But the waters were calm, and the nearest sounds soon became clear.

  The man reaching up from the boat was little more than a silhouette. He thrust up a thick arm, his head appearing over the edge of the jetty. They watched as he handed up one black bag and then another bag. As they were lifted, the bags became visible in the light of the moon and the street lamps. They were rucksacks, black, the kind hikers used, with lots of zips and pockets. The bags didn’t look completely full but were certainly bulky enough. As soon as the second bag was up and in hand, the man on the water asked a question.

  “Still all clear up there?”

  Eva and Dan looked at one another. The voice was familiar. They watched the skulking man glance back across his shoulder, and the same pale light illuminated his face. They saw his thin narrow face, mean little eyes and sour mouth. It was him. Clive Grace.

  “Bloody hell,” whispered Dan.

  “We’ve got them,” said Eva. She took a risk and leaned back as the man in the boat clunked his oar against the wood to push off. As the boat gained distance from the jetty, they saw the stocky figure of Tommy Pink dressed from head to toe in black, but his pale face was as bright as a miniature moon. He plunged his oars into the waters, then settled into his boat and started to make off on the water. As he worked to settle into his rhythm, his face turned towards Eva. She saw his face full on, and for an instant his eyes seemed to latch onto hers. The man stopped rowing and stared. Tommy Pink leaned left and right in the shadows and continued to stare their way.

  “He’s seen us!” hissed Eva.

  “Under the jetty now,” hissed Dan. He ducked under the wooden platform as the row on the other side of the jetty began to die down.

  A mobile phone buzzed above them on the jetty. It was answered by the end of the second buzz. Clive Grace’s rough voice carried faintly on the air.

  “What? By the jetty? You sure?” They heard Grace’s footsteps scrape across the wood above them, the gentle thudding moving sideways, and Eva imagined him glancing down, scanning between the slats to find them where they stood. The man took a couple of moments before he made a breathy reply. “No one there, Tommy. The police are good and busy on the other side... Okay, okay. I’ll take a look...”

  The call seemed to end there. They heard the thin man’s body drop to the wooden deck and saw his legs dangle over the edge, a couple of feet from their faces. Eva and Dan froze, both of them staring at the cold black water not far ahead of them. It was invisible beneath the jetty, but they could both smell its cool saline fragrance, both a threat and a promise.

  Grace dropped to the sand, and Dan yanked Eva tight to his side as he slid behind a set of struts with a zig-zagging set of cross bars between them. They watched Grace turn around and stare into the shadows beneath the jetty. His narrow eyes searched all around them, not yet adjusted to the blackness beneath the jetty. They saw the old-fashioned cosh in the man’s hand, a dark wooden stick with a bulb at one end, a strap wrapped around the man’s fist. He held the cosh tight as he stared into the darkness around them. Dan and Eva held their breath and stared right back. Grace shook his head and a smile slipped over his face. He chuckled to himself and dropped one of the rucksacks from his back down to the sand. He opened the top, and dipped a hand inside, snatching at something within. Grace pulled his hand out and poked at the item in his palm. Satisfied, he stuffed the thing into his pocket – a package wrapped in clear plastic, and then he pulled out another. He stuck a few into his pocket, then closed the top of the bag and slung it on his back..

  With a cocky grin set on his miserable face, the man skulked away.

  “He didn’t see us,” said Eva, the relief clear in her voice.

  “He barely even tried to look. If he’d looked closer, he would have seen us.”

  “But he’s not our only problem,” said Eva.

  They listened and found the sound of the argument gone. The show was over.

  “Now we’ve got to get away from here without being seen by those cops.”

  “That’s easy enough. We’ll use the distraction side of the jetty,” said Dan. They picked through the struts, ducking beneath some, edging around others in the clammy darkness, until they reached the other side – the wide patch of sand between the marine centre and the Seascape bistro. Eva stopped sharply, and Dan bumped into her back. He drew alongside her to see what she had seen. There, standing beside another distant seaside shelter she saw Clive Grace sli
pping something into the hand of another man of much the same skinny build..

  “Generous to a tee, our Mr Grace,” whispered Dan. “He’s giving the man his reward for creating the distraction.”

  “They’ll all get what they deserve soon enough.” Eva nodded at the man from the rehab as he slinked away along the street, head down, no doubt looking at the pills in his hand. Clive Grace walked off in the opposite direction back towards the town.

  “Those two could be twins,” said Dan.

  “They could be related. And there it is – the heart of the matter. The Uber business,” said Eva, turning to Dan. “How Clancy’s gold collection got caught up in this mess, I don’t know.”

  “As it happens, I’ve got an idea or two about that,” muttered Dan.

  Eva gave him a curious look. “Either way, it’s safe to say Norman Peters’ death wasn’t about ancient gold. This is about modern gold. The kind of gold that kills...”

  But even if they never found Clancy’s lost collection Dan had an inkling about what had happened to those missing treasures. Certainly no more than an inkling. But with each new detail they uncovered, the stronger it got.

  Seventeen

  Sunday.

  The next morning came around all too soon. There had barely been time for any sleep, and what there had been was fitful at best. Despite a ridiculously short rest, at seven am Eva was showered, dressed and topped up with coffee. The permutations of what they had seen spun through her head. As she put it to paper, the case clearly coalesced around the Clancy house and the marine centre beach. The Clancy house was a home of bad vibes, doubtful relationships, and dodgy deceits – while the beach was a place of spilled blood, double crossing and drug smuggling. Clancy’s treasures were still missing, stolen in one way or another. Norman Peters was dead, perhaps even because of his involvement with Joe Clancy and Carl Renton. Or because of upsetting his drug trafficking colleagues, Tom Pink and Clive Grace. The cosh in Grace’s hand told its own story. Joe Clancy’s lies seemed trivial in comparison. Then there was Carl Renton himself. Still missing. It was a mystery, yet the more Eva looked, the elements seemed to be more connected than ever. Eva wondered whether they could be simply connected as linear events, one domino falling to knock down the next. If only she could have lined them up in the right combination, Eva felt the rest would fall into place in just the same way. Dan emerged from the door to their apartment holding a fresh cup of coffee. His hair was sleek and wet from the shower. He sipped from his cup before using it to point at Eva.