Bedfordshire Clanger Calamity

by steve higgs

  In the driver’s seat, Francis turned the key. It had been even easier than he could have dared to dream. He even enjoyed acting the part of clanger lover, improvising on the spot to convince his first target. With Victor Harris secure on the back seat – where he had already activated the child-locks and window lockouts to ensure he could not escape – he could drive him to the edge of town and get his phone. With that, because he felt sure the two targets were communicating with each other, he could lure the old man away from his dog. It was only late morning, his work was fifty percent done, and he could almost count the million pounds he would get when he delivered them both to the earl.

  Looking out of the window, Victor shook his head. This wasn’t the way to the police station. He opened his mouth to say something but that was when it hit him. The taxi driver wasn’t lying about coming into the café; he’d sat by the window for hours a few days ago. Victor could remember the staff talking about it because there were two of them, one wearing what was almost an army uniform and the other … his eyes snapped up to look at the driver via his rear-view mirror. He hadn’t seen him last night, but he was the man sat in the café with the attacker he did get to see.

  Francis felt as much as saw his target stiffen and reacted by flooring the accelerator. They were coming out of the residential area anyway. He’d been made, but it didn’t matter. He was always going to have to reveal himself to get the job done and now it was time to put his hardware purchases to good use.

  Bluff

  Albert left the dogs under the table when he shuffled off to use the gents. It was a risky thing to do because he knew Rex could easily drag the table his lead was hooked around clear across the café if he chose to.

  Mercifully, neither dog had moved a muscle in the time he was gone. They appeared to be in some kind of food coma and, when he looked, it appeared they both had rather full and contented bellies.

  ‘I guess you didn’t need breakfast, after all,’ he commented to himself. With a mental note to give Rex a lighter portion of food for the next few meals and abstain from offering him treats in the pub, Albert wondered if he should wait at the café or take a wander back to his accommodation at the pub.

  Time was beginning to slip away from him and that created a new problem. He would be dissatisfied if he failed to clear Kate’s name and identify the real killers, but he was due to meet Gary in York just twenty-four hours from now. If he didn’t leave tomorrow morning after breakfast, his son would find himself there alone. It would be unfair to cancel and unfair to not be there waiting, but how could he leave when he suspected the remaining one of the pair who tried to snatch Victor last night was still in town? The only reason for the would-be kidnapper to still be here was to make another attempt and that made no sense at all.

  It was about the hundredth time he’d gone around the same conundrum.

  Putting his phone away, he decided to wander across to the police station. It wasn’t all that far to go, and he could leave a message for DS Craig plus check to see if Victor had finished giving his statement. He’d been sitting in the café for hours …

  The sudden flash of information made Albert jerk in shock. He only caught a brief glimpse of the men last night. They were both framed in the light coming from the inside of the van. With the rain lashing down, it had been about the only illumination in the dark courtyard, but it was enough to give Albert an impression of their faces. Only now had his spotty memory provided a link to where he had seen them before. He hadn’t even realised that he had until now, but they were at the table by the door two days ago when the police came in to arrest Kate. He’d even spoken to them because Rex found a crumb of something under their table.

  One of them was dead; the smartly dressed one, Albert thought. Which meant the one wearing army clothes was still at large. Maybe Albert would be able to help a composite artist create an image. He closed his eyes and thought about the man’s features, but his concentration was interrupted by his phone beeping.

  He had a text message from Victor.

  Thumbing the button to show him the message, he then had to dig around in his pockets for his reading glasses. The process of patting down his jacket and then trousers – where he would never put them – led to the inevitable discovery that they were, of course, on his head.

  Sighing at himself, he slid them into place and read the message.

  ‘Albert, I just left the police station. They took my statement and asked me endless questions but now that I am on my way to the café, I just remembered something that I think might be important. Can you meet me? I can send a cab to pick you up if you like.’

  Albert read the message twice. After the second time through, he looked out of the window and drummed his fingers on the table.

  ‘Where do you want to meet?’

  His response whizzed off into the ether, the reply from Victor beeping onto his phone only a heartbeat later.

  ‘I’ll send a cab. That will be easier than trying to explain.’

  Albert thought some more, skewing his lips to one side and then the other as he tried to decide what to make of it. After a minute, he made a phone call. He was calling Detective Sergeant Craig, but he didn’t get an answer from him. From what he knew, the man was heading to HMP Bedford to re-interview Kate Harris, the woman whose name Albert was supposed to be clearing. Albert didn’t think he was doing very well with that.

  Unable to raise the detective, Albert thought perhaps he could find a number for the local station. If he called 999, he would get the dispatch desk many miles away. His moment of hesitation helped him, for his phone rang the next moment.

  ‘Albert Smith,’ he answered.

  The voice at the other end had a slightly bored and barely tolerant tone to it. ‘Ah, Mr Smith. This is Detective Sergeant Craig. I have a missed call from you. I am just about to enter HMP Bedford, is this something quick?’

  Albert frowned to himself. ‘No, probably not. I think Victor Harris might have been kidnapped.’

  Albert listened to a beat of silence in which he imagined the detective rolling his eyes at the other end. ‘Oh, Mr Smith, and what makes you think that?’

  Now Albert had to explain why he was concerned and realised how weak it was going to sound. ‘I just received a text from him.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very kidnapped to me,’ DS Craig cut in.

  ‘He’s never sent me a text before,’ Albert pointed out. ‘More than that though, he wants to send a cab to pick me up. Have you had any taxi’s reported stolen today?’

  ‘Not that I am aware of,’ sighed the detective, not even trying to hide his impatience.

  ‘Why would he send a taxi to collect me?’

  ‘Because you are old, Mr Smith.’

  Albert had intended it to be a rhetorical question, but the detective’s rudeness made him bristle. ‘His text message claimed he had already been to the station and given his statement, but I do not believe he has had time for that. We know the man who escaped last night is still in Biggleswade and Victor’s behaviour is strange.’

  ‘Actually, we know no such thing,’ argued DS Craig. ‘What we know is that the person who forced Eric Simpson into the boot of his car returned the car to Biggleswade. He may not still be here, and he may not be the same person who attacked Victor Harris last night. What is it that you are suggesting anyway? That the same attacker has returned, this time successfully obtaining Victor Harris but is now trying to lure you into a stolen taxi so he can kidnap you too? For what purpose? Are you suddenly a celebrity target worth millions? Someone famous whose family will pay a healthy ransom? I think not, Mr Smith.’

  Doing his best to keep his rising anger in check, Albert spoke calmly when he replied. ‘Can you check to see if he has been to the station to make his statement, please?’

  For a second, Albert thought the police officer was going to refuse, but with a teenager’s sigh of open annoyance, he asked Albert to wait a moment. Listening to the hold noise, it took l
ess than thirty seconds for the detective to come back onto the line. ‘Mr Smith, the answer is that he has not yet arrived at the station. I am sure he will be along shortly. Now, if you will excuse me, I really don’t have time for anymore wild conspiracy theories. I have a known killer to interview. Good day.’

  DS Craig hung up, leaving Albert to stare at his phone. He wasn’t getting any help from the police, but what did that mean? The obvious thing to do was phone Victor instead of sending a message. If he didn’t pick up but sent another text message, then Albert would have his answer. However, as his finger hovered over the button to make the call, he worried that he might tip the kidnapper off if he was right.

  ‘Why would he want me?’ Albert asked himself, speaking aloud simply to orate his thoughts. Rex poked his head above the table, his tongue lolling out as he panted. Albert scratched his head. ‘Rex, I might be about to get myself into some trouble.’

  Rex tilted his head in question, looking at his human and wondering what, exactly, trouble might constitute.

  Sucking on his teeth, Albert sent one more text message.

  ‘It’s a nice day and Rex needs a walk. I’m sure I can get directions if you tell me where I need to go.’

  At the other end, Francis said some unrepeatable things and thought about hitting Victor again just to vent his rage. Victory was so close he could feel it. He had the original target; it had been unbelievably easy to lure the baker into the stolen taxi, but the cab’s owner would have reported it missing by now which meant, in such a small town, the police would be looking for it. Maybe not taking it out again to pick up the old man was to his benefit.

  Taking the negative and turning it into a positive the way he’d read to do in a management book on being successful, he started texting a reply.

  ‘Yeah, sure. I’m sure that’s a good idea. I’m in an industrial unit at the north end of the town. If you exit the café and turn left, you just need to keep going on the same road until you start to run out of houses. It’s about half a mile. When you reach a big MOT place on your left-hand side, you need to turn left …’

  The instructions went on for a bit and were very precise. The message ended with advice that there was a lot of broken glass in the area and he should probably tie Rex up to the railing when he came into the yard. Albert felt sure it was a trap, but he was going anyway.

  Meredith came over to collect his empty plate and teapot. ‘Would you like another cup, love?’ she asked.

  Staying where he was to spend the day drinking tea sounded like a far better plan than willingly walking into an ambush, but if he was right, then Victor Harris needed to be rescued, and the man who had him was Albert’s best chance to exonerate Kate. A bright spark of an idea ignited in his head.

  Giving Meredith a guileless face, he asked, ‘Do you have any teenagers in today?’

  Ambush

  Francis had a poor line of vision from inside the lockup. At best, he could peek through a crack in the door which was no good for luring the old man inside. His carefully crafted message to Albert laid the bait that Victor had remembered something he’d heard his attackers say the previous night and had followed it up to find the lockup. There Victor thought he might have found where his attackers had been hiding out; there were clothes and such, but he wanted Albert’s opinion before he called the police. He told Albert in the message that he spoke to DS Craig about Albert’s thoughts on the case and his sister’s likely innocence, but the detective had been unwilling to listen. Victor wanted to be sure the evidence was solid before presenting it. Francis knew all about Albert, Victor’s sister, and about DS Craig from the man cable-tied and duct-taped up in the boot of the stolen taxi now hidden from sight inside the lockup. It hadn’t even taken that much persuading to make Victor talk, just a few punches and the threat of a soldering iron – another fun little toy from the hardware store.

  Francis needed to be able to see the old man coming, that was what drove him from the lockup. Victor got another check and another threat. He was well secured; both immobilised with the cable ties and duct tape and also cable tied to a loading ring in the boot of the car. However, Francis felt it couldn’t hurt to reinforce the concept of diabolical pain should he try to escape.

  Thinking the old man must be on his way, Francis slipped out and closed the door, then stole across the yard to the main road where he could see anyone coming along the path toward him. Cars were going back and forth, and in the auto-shop place a hundred yards away, regular traffic came in and out. He had one moment of heart-stopping fear when a cop car drove past, but he managed to stop himself from looking at it and they just kept on going.

  Two minutes passed, and in the distance, Francis could see a figure walking a large dog. It was the dog that stood out at first, but as they drew closer, the gait of an elderly gentleman became discernible and then his shiny bald head.

  Francis pulled back, unwilling to let the man see him in case he got a good enough glimpse last night to identify him now. The next part was going to be tricky and required a little luck. There was no guarantee the old man would even step into the lockup so Francis needed him to get close enough that he could grab him. He also wanted the old man to tie the dog up and had gone to the trouble of taking out one of the overhead fluorescent light tubes in the lockup, smashing it on the courtyard outside to back up the claim that there was glass on the ground.

  If Albert didn’t secure the dog, it might be a problem. It certainly was a big beast and scared the bejezzus out of him last night, but Francis had a plan for that too. It is a little-known fact, so far as Francis knew, that while carrying a knife is illegal, a machete bought from a hardware store is another thing entirely. Considered a garden tool, the one he bought this morning wasn’t the first in his life and being brand new, it was sharper than a politician’s suit. It fit into a canvas sheath which was strapped to his right leg with the handle at just the right height for grabbing if the need arose.

  Ducking into an alcove opposite the entrance to his lockup, Francis could just about see the street where the old man would appear. His heart was beating faster than he expected, given how simple this ought to be, and he put it down to excitement over how close he was to taking the earl’s money.

  Steadying his breathing, he settled in to wait the final minute or so.

  In the street, Albert was feeling equally nervous. Wondering if he’d ever done something this rash before, he dismissed the notion of letting one of his children know because they would just make a big issue of it. They were all of a mind that he should come home already, and he’d called on them to bail him out in Bakewell and Stilton. Bail him out might not be the right word – possibly give a helping hand sounded better, but they had come to Melton Mowbray too, even though he told them there was no need. This time, he was doing it by himself.

  And that was why he felt almost faint with fear. The man he was about to go up against was a big fellow. Not that a chap needed to be a bodybuilder to overpower a seventy-eight-year-old man, but unless Albert had this all wrong, the chap’s intention was most likely to kill him as revenge for intervening last night. What else could he possibly want?

  Telling himself to calm down and think straight, Albert paused just after the auto-shop. He could see the road sign pointing to the small industrial estate where he would find the lockup and that meant it was time to deploy what he hoped would prove to be a parachute. He made just one phone call, dialling 999 and reporting a break in at the industrial estate. He even gave them the number of the lockup Victor’s text told him to go to, then cut off the call abruptly when they starting to ask him for his details. Then he set up his phone, repeating what Colin, the bakery trainee, had shown him how to do, and tested it before covering the final twenty yards.

  Rex had his nose in the air, as did Hans who had been mostly asleep as Rex’s human carried him along. Now they could both smell the man they wanted to find – the one who they had chased last night but failed to catch. Rex still was
n’t sure what this was all about, but it had something to do with getting Han’s human back and that was good enough for him.

  He huffed and chuffed at his human, getting his attention. ‘He’s here,’ Rex whined, puffing out his jowls in excitement. ‘Just let me go. I’ll find him and bite him and you can call the police. I won’t let him get away twice and it’s been too long since I got to bite anyone.’ Rex liked biting people – bad people, of course, not just anyone, that would make him a bad dog. It had been his favourite part of police dog training; chasing and biting, although he got into trouble because he rarely bit the big padded arm he was offered, what was the fun in that?

  Albert could see and hear the dogs when their interest changed. They were both alert, catching something on the wind that piqued their interest. ‘Steady now, boys,’ he soothed, patting Rex’s shoulders.

  In his alcove, Francis was getting agitated; the old man should have appeared by now. Where was he? He wanted to run out to the street to check but knew doing so would expose him if the old man came around the corner. It was a good thing he did wait for the next second the dog’s head appeared. It was followed by the old man who was carrying the dachshund in his arms.

  Francis held his breath and waited.

  Albert wasn’t sure what to expect when he turned the corner. There was no one in sight, which was probably what he should have anticipated – the bad guy, whoever he was, wouldn’t be daft enough to expose himself. He had made it clear he wanted Albert to leave Rex behind with his line about the glass, but Albert could see something glittering on the concrete of the courtyard so maybe there was some truth to the lie.

  Either way, he wasn’t taking Rex with him. He had a better plan.

  Rex was eager to go, almost straining at his leash as the scent became stronger and he could pinpoint a direction. His human’s hands were behind his head; this was it; he was going to be told to sic ‘em! Vibrating with barely contained energy, Rex couldn’t believe it when his human stepped away.