by M A Comley
Lorne laughed. “Looks like you need some pampering, partner. I’ll be outside. Get in and run through your day while you have a soak.” She pecked him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you for doing this for the team.”
Pete disrobed and stepped into the warm bath, a welcome relief to the cold wetness he’d been forced to put up with during the day. “Considering it was my first day, Tartt seemed to be satisfied with my efforts. I did put some of my own money in the bucket though as I felt I hadn’t done as much as the other guys.”
“Idiot, I’ll reimburse you that money. Any news on what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
“Only that they’re going to rob the jeweller’s. Talking to one of the other guys, he’s expecting to be quids in, thousands to be exact.”
“Wow, any idea when the hit is going to take place?”
“Nope, he’s keeping his cards close to his chest about that. We have to show up at eight thirty in the morning, I hope I can get my suit dry by then.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll put it in the tumble dryer. We’ll need you to wear a wire then, Pete. I’ve got the ART on standby, I’ll ring the commanding officer in the morning, make sure they’re in the area at the right time. How are you feeling about this?”
“I’m fine. I thought I’d feel threatened by these guys but I don’t. They seem to have welcomed me without too much hassle. Let’s hope that trust holds tomorrow and they don’t frisk the guys in the morning.”
“I’ll second that. I’ll put your suit in the drier and let you have a soak in peace. Come down when you’re ready.”
“Umm... wearing what?”
“Shit, I’ll grab Tom’s dressing gown.”
“Damn, now you know that ain’t gonna fit me.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll sort something out.”
He heard Lorne run down the stairs as he closed his eyes and relaxed in the scented bubbles. I could get used to this.
Lorne came up the stairs and knocked on the door twenty minutes later. “Your suit is dry, you’ll have to wear that this evening.”
“No probs, I’m getting out now.”
They ate in silence as Tom was in one of his foul moods throughout the meal. Lorne made up a bed on the couch for him and then disappeared up to bed. He didn’t sleep much that night because all he could hear was Lorne and Tom arguing until the early hours. Glad I’m single, couldn’t put up with that shite twenty-four-seven.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pete felt nervous as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning. Lorne got up early to make him a full English breakfast to ‘set him up’ for the day, but he had problems convincing his stomach to keep it down. They ran through things one final time as Lorne attached the wire to the inside of his suit.
“I’ve got it, boss. Just keep listening. Maybe we should have a code word in case I get into any trouble?”
“Good idea. What about Gunner?”
“Sounds good to me. Right, I’m off.”
Lorne hugged him on the doorstep. “Stay safe, Chunky.”
“I will. See you when it’s all over.”
Pete hopped in his vehicle and drove through the heavy traffic to the Docklands area where the warehouse was situated. His nerves had increased during the journey through his fear of being late. He pulled into the car park with two minutes to spare and sprinted into the warehouse just as Tartt was about to address the men.
“Nice of you to join us, Pete.” Tartt glared at him.
“Traffic, sorry.”
Tartt held his hand up to silence him. “We all had to deal with the same this morning. Some of us even left earlier than normal, this being an important day etched on our calendars, know what I mean, Pete?”
“Yep, sorry.”
“Right, here’s the plan for the day. We’ll drop you guys off in the same location, sort of. Today you’ll be much closer to the jeweller’s. We’re gonna hit them at four this afternoon, as it will be getting darkish by then. So, we want you to be as close as you can get by that time, right? Bruiser and I will be in the van in the alley out back. You guys need to stampede the place together. I want Vinny and George to lock the doors and take care of the shutters. The rest of you I want to contain the staff. There should be four of them. Make sure they don’t press any emergency buzzers; if they do, kill them. We’ll be distributing the weapons before you leave. Everyone clear on what their role is?” The men listened to the plan in silence. “I can’t hear you?” Tartt snarled.
“Yes, boss,” the Santas shouted in unison. Pete was the first to be handed a weapon. “You fired a gun before, big man?” Bruiser asked.
“Course I have. Want me to prove it?”
Bruiser leaned in close. “I’ll be watching you, just to see how brave you are when the going gets tough.”
Pete shrugged. “Bring it on. I’m prepared to do anything just as long as I get my money.”
Bruiser seemed satisfied by his answer and carried on distributing the guns out to the rest of the men. Pete studied his Smith and Wesson revolver. The serial number had been scratched out on the side, obviously stolen. He was praying his wire hadn’t failed and the team were aware that the gang would all be armed.
Now that the gang were all armed, they made their way out to the van and loaded up. Pete sat across from Glen. The youngster’s eyes were wide and he kept looking down at the weapon he was holding. Pete nudged him with his foot. Glen glanced up at him. “Put it away,” Pete mouthed.
Glen sighed heavily, nodded then tucked the gun inside his Santa suit. The team were dropped off again at regular intervals throughout Bond Street, this time closer together. The area was heaving with people searching out a last minute bargain to put under their Christmas trees, and they were far more generous with their cash than those Pete had encountered the previous day.
The morning flew past and at lunchtime Pete again went to the greasy café with Glen. “Are you all right, you look kind of peaky?”
“Got a really dodgy tummy. Think I’ll only have a sandwich today. You go ahead and have the works if you want to, don’t mind me.”
Pete ordered two cheese and pickle sandwiches and two mugs of coffee from the pretty brunette behind the counter. “I’ll bring them over when they’re ready.”
“Thanks.” Pete sat down at the table. Glen was staring at the crowds walking past. He looked lost in thought and in a world of his own. “Hey, bud, it’s not too late to back out.”
“What? I couldn’t do that. Not now.”
“You look in too deep, man, as if something ain’t sitting right with you.”
“It ain’t, but there’s not a lot I can do about it now. If I backed out that bloody Bruiser would rip me knackers off and feed them to his dogs.”
“But you’re crapping yourself. What if something goes wrong?”
“What can go wrong?” He looked over his shoulder to check he couldn’t be heard by the other customers sitting close by and lowered his voice. “We’re armed, the ball’s in our court, right?”
The waitress appeared and put their lunch in front of them. Pete waited until she left before he answered. “You ever shot a gun?”
“Nope. I wasn’t about to tell Tartt that though. How difficult can it be?”
Pete shook his head and wondered how many of the other guys had pulled the wool over Tartt’s head. He’d be furious if he ever found out. “Let’s hope that you don’t need to use it then, for your sake.”
Glen didn’t respond. Instead, he nibbled at half his sandwich while Pete ate all of his. Glen pushed his plate away. “Guess this is where the countdown begins. We better move to a different patch when we get out there.”
“Yep. Might as well get back to it for a couple of hours.”
They left the café and walked further up Bond Street to within a couple of hundred feet from the jeweller’s. The other Santas were already in position. To Pete it looked like a sea of cotton wool faces sticking out in the frantic crowd.
He eyed the da
rkening sky, aware that the time was marching on towards four. He noted a couple of the men standing outside the jeweller’s now. His phone vibrated in his pocket as his alarm went off. He gulped and headed towards the front of the store with Glen right behind him. Six Santas stormed through the front door within seconds of each other. The staff looked up at them wearing puzzled expressions. Until each of the Santas withdrew their weapons.
“If you value your lives, don’t try to be heroes,” one of the older Santas shouted.
Vinny and George locked the doors and began lowering the electric shutters. The other Santas rounded up the staff, watching them like hawks in case anyone tried to reach for a security buzzer.
Pete and Glen started emptying all the trays of diamonds into some canvas bags they found lying on the shelves behind the counters. “We should tie the staff up,” Pete suggested, in the hope that no one would get hurt apart from possibly a few rope burns here and there. Two of the Santas pulled out some rope, bound the staff’s feet and hands and pushed them on the ground behind the counter.
“How’s it looking, fellas? Are the bags nearly full?” George asked.
Pete nodded. “Almost done. Do you guys want to start getting in the van, if it’s there that is?”
“We’re gonna leave together,” George snapped.
Once the trays were empty and the bags full, all the Santas moved to the rear of the property and out into the alley. Pete hung back and pulled Glen’s arm to stay with him. Shots rang out. “Get down, it’s an ambush,” Pete shouted. He withdrew his phone and with his revolver in one hand he rang Lorne with the other. “Boss, something is going down. Is that the ART?”
“No, Pete. I haven’t given them the word to go yet, but I will now. Where are you?”
“Glen and I are still inside. We’ll stay here for now.”
He heard Lorne give the order to the commanding officer of the ART unit and then come back to him. “Hang tight, Pete, they’re a matter of seconds away.”
“Rightio. Hanging up now, boss.” Pete tucked his phone away again and turned to face Glen, whose brow was sopping wet with sweat. “We’ll be fine. Help’s on the way.”
“Who are you? Police?”
“Yep, sorry, mate. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you if we get out of this alive.”
More shots sounded in the alley. They were getting closer, as if either the Santas were retreating or whoever it was who’d ambushed them had killed the other Santas and were heading their way. Pete had never been so scared in his life; his heart was beating violently against his ribs.
Suddenly, Bruiser and Tartt appeared in the doorway, their weapons pointing at Pete and Glen. “Drop the bags, boys. We’ll take it from here,” Tartt said, grinning.
“He’s the filth,” shouted Glen.
Pete’s heart sank. “Give it up, Tartt. There’s a backup team a few minutes away.”
Tartt and Bruiser eyed each other in panic. “What do we do, boss?” Bruiser asked.
“Stay cool. Stick to the plan. We’ll just make a slight adjustment.” Tartt took three long strides, grabbed Glen around the throat with his large hand and yanked him to his feet. “Get up, Childs, if that’s your real name. You’re coming with us as security.”
“What about me? I wasn’t in on this, I swear. Only found out a second ago that he’s a cop.”
“Stop griping. You’re doing my head in.” He pushed Glen in front of him and motioned for Bruiser to get Pete up. “Get his weapon and put him in the van.”
When the four of them stepped into the alley Pete scanned the area for the backup team, but all he saw were all the other Santas lying dead in the doorways around them. Shit! There was no ambush. Tartt did this.
“Stop gawping and get in the van.” Tartt pushed the barrel of his gun into Pete’s back. “Just a minute.” He yanked Pete’s top out of his black patent belt and ripped the front open to reveal the wire. “Shit, have you been wearing that all the time?”
“Yep.” Pete’s answer earned him a swipe across the jaw with Tartt’s gun. “There’s no point running. My team know who you are and where to find you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tartt said, ripping the wire off and stamping on it. He pushed Pete into the van and Bruiser got in beside him. The van door closed, and two shots sounded before Tartt jumped in behind the steering wheel.
“Why did you kill them?” Pete asked, his voice shaking.
“You all did your jobs and I got what I wanted, so they were surplus to requirements. I need you to help me get away, so you’ll be saved, for now.” Tartt’s moronic laughter echoed around the van.
The van pulled away from the alley, still no sign of the ART unit. Pete felt anxious and alone.
Tartt drove the van through the busy streets, beeping his horn now and again as his frustration rose when the traffic came to a halt. Pete thought about bashing Bruiser and trying to escape every time the vehicle stopped, but that thought didn’t last long when he felt Bruiser stiffen beside him as if anticipating Pete’s next move.
Finally, the van reached its destination. It pulled up close to Westminster Bridge. Tartt opened the side door and urged Bruiser to drag Pete out. The three of them rushed across the grass and down the bank to the river. Shit! They’ve got a speed boat waiting for them. Come on guys, where are you?
Tartt climbed aboard and urged Bruiser to untie the craft while he helped Pete on board the boat and began tying him to where the buoy was kept at the rear.
“Hold it right there. You’re surrounded. Do not move,” a man’s voice boomed through a megaphone. Panic filled the two criminal’s eyes. Pete chose the distraction, and the fact that Tartt had neglected to complete the task of securing him in place, to tumble backwards into the water. Under the water he heard dozens of shots being fired, a couple of bullets even hit the water beside him. When everything went quiet he resurfaced, gasping for air and looked up to see a tearful Lorne staring down at him with an outstretched arm.
“Oh, Pete, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Nah, it would take more than the likes of Tartt to finish me off. Help me out before my dangly bit drops off. It’s bloody freezing in here.”
A couple of members of the ART unit hauled him out of the water and onto the boat. Bruiser and Tartt were both dead. He had no sympathy for them, but his heart ached for Glen.
“Were there any survivors in the alley?” he asked more in hope than expectation.
“AJ is there now. Let me check?” Lorne replied. She threw a foil blanket around Pete’s shoulders. “AJ, it’s me, any survivors there?”
Pete watched Lorne and sighed when she nodded. “Great, who is it?”
“Pete’s asking for a name, AJ.” There was a slight pause before Lorne said, “A young man called Glen. He was shot and is on his way to the hospital. He was the only survivor, Pete.”
Pete didn’t really care about the others as long as Glen had made it.
EPILOGUE
After Pete had been checked over by the paramedics and deemed fit enough to return to work, Lorne drove them back to the station.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Pete, you’re spending the night at our place and having Christmas dinner with us.”
“Wow, if that’s what it takes to get a brilliant invitation like that, I’ll have to get shot at more often.”
Lorne punched his thigh. “Don’t even jest about that, matey. I take it you’re accepting the invitation?”
“Too right, on one proviso.”
They pulled into the car park and Lorne turned to face him. “What’s that?” she asked concerned.
He looked down at his costume. “That there’s no fancy dress involved.”
She laughed and leaned over to hug her dearest friend. “Absolutely. Santa can give our house a miss this year. Merry Christmas, Chunky.”
“Merry Christmas, Lorne. Ho ho ho!”
The End
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL
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Thank you for reading Justice at Christmas; I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this short story as much as I loved writing it.
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CRUEL JUSTICE (Justice #1)
#1 Best-selling novel in two categories, Police procedurals and Women sleuths in both US and UK and Amazon top 20 novel.
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Before they can discover the identity of the killer they must make a connection between the two victims.
After a third murder, Lorne receives a grisly surprise. Clearly, a vicious
serial killer is on a rampage...and Lorne has become the killer's fixation.
Lorne can't allow her failing marriage or her new boss—a man with whom she shares a sensuous secret—keep her from focusing on her job. She must catch the macabre murderer, or risk becoming the next victim.
MORTAL JUSTICE (Novella)
What would you do if you saw a stranger's life in danger?
DI Lorne Simpkins and her partner, DS Pete Childs investigate a violent attack. Lorne becomes increasingly concerned when her star witness, Donna Moran, goes missing. She knew Donna was petrified, but has Donna just gone into hiding, or has she been taken by the offenders?
IMPEDING JUSTICE (Justice #2)
For eight long years, Detective Inspector Lorne Simpkins has tracked the vicious criminal known as The Unicorn. But the killer has frustrated MI6 at every turn and remained successful at Impeding Justice.
When Lorne is targeted in a trap that results in the death of her partner, the tragedy shakes her confidence to the core. Before she has time to recoup, her teenage daughter is kidnapped. More than Lorne’s professional reputation rests on her bringing The Unicorn to justice.
