Dead or Alive (26 page)

‘What? No I didn't. Why would he do that?'

‘Agh, them wise guys like te keep their names away from officialdom as much as possible. When Formosa's banged up the Proceeds of Crime guys'll strip him of every penny they can track down to him, but that won't include the car. Ye'll be able to keep it, sell it if ye like. It's legally yours.'

‘Bloody hell! It's only done six thousand miles.'

‘Anyways, all that's up te you. All I want is te know where the bairns are.'

‘I'll take ye there, only I ain't gorra car and I don't fancy having you saddle me there on yer bike.'

‘I'll be in a van. Where are they?'

‘Pudsey.'

Sep smiled. It seemed he was practically home and dry now, on his way to pick up the children.

‘Pudsey, eh? That's where the pigeons fly backwards te keep the muck outa their eyes.'

It was one of two aphorisms he knew about Pudsey but Jez saw no humour in it, so Sep didn't bother with the other one.

‘What sort of place is this?'

They were in Winnie's van. Sep had pulled up at a gate in a high, wire fence. The surrounding area was industrial. It was a gate to a compound, empty except for the two snarling Dobermans that had raced over to greet them. There was a stone building that might once have been offices, and various sheds, some of them open-fronted. The whole place looked to have fallen into disrepair some years ago.

‘It used to be a builder's merchants,' said Jez. ‘It was owned by a man who ended up owing Vince money.'

‘I don't see any vehicles. Does that mean there's no one guarding the kids?'

Jez shrugged. ‘Not unless someone was dropped off to be picked up later.'

‘How do we get past them dogs?'

‘I've got some meat in me pocket that'll keep 'em busy.'

‘I wondered what that smell was.'

Jez got out of the van and went to the gate, pulling up the hood on his coat. It was raining. Using a pair of bolt croppers he'd brought with him he cut through the padlock. Then, from his coat pocket, he took out two pieces of meat wrapped in a newspaper and threw them, with all his might, over the fence and twenty yards into the compound. The two dogs spun on their skinny legs and hurtled towards the food. Jez then opened the gate and signalled for Sep to drive in, Jez closed the gate behind him. Sep drove up to the door to the building and got out. The dogs were busy eating. Very poor guard dogs, Sep thought, but probably their very presence kept intruders away. Jez came over to him.

‘I suppose the kids are inside the building,' said Sep.

‘In a cellar.'

Sep went to the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened it and had taken one step inside when he heard a noise that didn't appear to be coming from the cellar. He stepped back. Unlocked doors and unknown noises weren't to be trusted. He held up a hand to stay Jez, who was right behind him. A shot rang out and a bullet splintered the door frame an inch away from Sep's head. Another shot came from Jez's gun. It drew a shout of pain from someone. Sep dived to the floor as bullets shot to and fro above him. He saw a desk and scuttled behind it as the firefight progressed. He heard Jez call out. He seemed to be in pain.

‘What the fuck's all this about? I'm Vince's driver! He sent me ter see the kids.'

‘Lyin' bastard! The kids aren't here. They've been moved. Yer've just killed Bazza. Vince'll kill yer for that.'

Jez screamed back. ‘Fuck Vince! He wants rid of me anyway. He'll get rid of you eventually.'

Sep could now see Jez, who had blood streaming down through his coat sleeve from a wound to his left arm. In his good hand he was holding what looked like a 9mm automatic. Now he was firing again. The other man returned fire. The exchange lasted ten seconds which seemed like an age to Sep who was trying to work out how he could get out of the building without crossing the line of fire. Would he get out
dead or alive?
Jesus! Those three bloody words again!

Jez went down. Sep saw bullets striking his body. The shooting stopped. Jez was now silent. Moaning was coming from the surviving adversary.

Sep crouched there quietly, not sure what to do. He heard the man stumbling about and crying out in pain. Jez's gun had dropped to the floor and was only six feet away from Sep, but all six of those feet were in the line of the man's fire. More moaning. Sep darted out and snatched the gun. The man let off a single shot, too late to do damage. Sep crawled around the desk to try and catch a glimpse of the wounded man who was scoping his gun left and right, waiting for him to appear. Sep kept his head down and checked his weapon was ready to fire and still had ammunition in it. It was a Smith and Wesson with a fourteen round magazine and still had seven rounds left in. Sweat ran down his face as the tension of that moment hit him. He knew there was only one way out of this – alive or dead. His adversary was injured, he knew that, but he didn't know how badly. But what he did know was that injured men with nothing to lose, fight fiercely, like injured animals. Sep crept to the end of the desk and peeped around the corner to where he figured the man wouldn't be expecting him to appear. He saw the lower half of a man on the floor, just a pair of legs. It could be the dead man or the live one, he couldn't be sure.

He then stood up quickly, to find the legs belonged to the live man who had anticipated this move and had him in his sights already. The man's finger tight on the trigger. In that same instant Sep had figured he could get a reasonably accurate shot off in less than a second. The man got a shot off first but his pain caused him to waver and his shot missed Sep's head by a millimetre, by which time Sep had brought his arm round and fired almost simultaneously, causing the man to jerk backwards as a bullet hit his body from close range. It was the last thing he did.

Sep put two more bullets into the man's body, as per his police fire arms training. If you must shoot leave no room for doubt. Sep went over to him. There was no room for doubt that the man was dead. Sep's feelings were mixed. Deep relief that he'd survived this unexpected firefight and a sickness at having taken a man's life. He checked the pulse in the man's neck to confirm what he already knew. The man was stone dead. He then confirmed that there were three dead men in the building. One killed by a clean shot between the eyes. Jez was a good man with a gun under pressure.

Jesus! He hadn't expected anything like this, just two kids happy to be freed. Then he remembered what one of the men had said. The children weren't there. Had he been telling the truth? Shit! Surely he hadn't been through all this for nothing?

He listened for external sounds, wondering if the shots would have been reported to the police. He heard the sound of heavy machinery coming from a nearby building, plus banging from a sheet-metal works next door. The shots might well have been mistaken for industrial banging. There was a lot of that in the district. He took a look around the building, searching for a cellar, which he found. He went down the stone steps to find a two room basement, both empty. One of them showed signs of recent occupancy. Two flimsy mattresses, bits of bread scattered about, apple cores, banana skins. There was a WC with a wash basin, but no children. No children at all in the building. Time to go.

He made a dash through the rain for the van. Slamming the door on the snarling teeth of the dogs which had finished off the meat. Then he realized he still had Jez's gun in his hand, along with his fingerprints. He thought about the consequences of this: to take the gun away would prove to the police, or to Formosa, that there was a missing shooter who wasn't Jez. To wipe off Jez's prints and leave it there would also arouse suspicion. He had to go back to tidy up those loose ends. Make it look as if this was an action between the three dead men and no one else. The dogs could cause him no end of problems, unless … he really didn't want to have to do this.

He wound down the window and stuck an arm out, the arm holding the gun. Both dogs jumped up at him, trying to bite him. It took him four shots to kill them both, which sickened him somewhat. The dogs had done no wrong, just doing their jobs. But their job might have put him out of action or worse, in very serious trouble with the police and completely knackering his plan to get the kids back. Dead dogs versus live kids – no contest really. There was a rag in the door pocket with which he wiped the gun clean of his prints. Then he got out of the van and went back into the building. Holding it by the rag, he pressed the gun into Jez's hand, wrapping his dead fingers around the butt. Then he placed the gun on the floor and looked around to see if anything might be amiss. There were footprints on the dusty floor, some of his and many others. He'd throw his shoes away the minute he got back. No, he'd get rid of every stitch of clothing he was wearing. Wrap it in a plastic bag and throw it in a skip or a dustbin that had no connection with him.

He hadn't stepped in any blood – maybe his police training was kicking in automatically, so no problem there. The FME lot would be uncertain as to how many people had been involved. Time to leave. He drove away, leaving the gates wide open. The rain was heavy now, which suited him as it would wipe out any tyre marks. The yard was in an area free of street cameras; an industrial area free of curious eyes; an ideal area for keeping kidnapped children. Formosa had done him a favour with his choice of location, and Winnie had done him a favour by lending him a pair of false number plates.

But where were the kids now? All this for nothing.

C
ope adjusted his tie nervously before he knocked politely on Formosa's office door and opened it. Formosa was sitting at his desk, reading a newspaper. He looked up and gave a stiff smile.

‘Come in, Lenny. Sit down.'

Cope sat down. Formosa hadn't taken his eyes off him. They were small and mean and deep set, glittering like black diamonds.

‘Have you any idea why I've asked you to come here, Lenny?'

‘None at all.'

‘The reason I asked you to come is because I've suffered a major loss.'

‘Oh, what?'

‘In order of importance; I've lost my car, two dogs and three men. All gone, Lenny.'

‘What do you mean by all gone?'

‘I mean my car is missing and possibly irretrievable. I can't even claim insurance on it; two of my guard dogs are shot dead, as are three of my men.'

‘You need to tell me the how and where and when.'

‘Oh, I know the how and the where and when. What I don't know is why. The when is yesterday when I was in London, and the where is the compound where I was keeping the Strathmore kids. The how is with guns.'

‘I never knew where the kids were being kept. Not since you moved them from the last place.'

‘I have a compound in Pudsey with offices and a cellar. Two of my men were there. Jez turned up and all I know is all three are now shot dead, including Jez. It looks as though they shot each other.'

‘What about the kids?'

‘I had the kids moved the day before. They'd been too long in one place. My caution proved correct. What I'd like to know is what went on and why?'

‘Do you want the police to investigate it?'

‘No, I want
you
to investigate it. I don't want the police and their forensic people anywhere near it. The five bodies have already been disposed of.'

‘Five?'

‘Including two Dobermanns … five dogs altogether.'

‘Vince, it doesn't sound as though there's much left there to investigate.'

‘Weapons and bullet holes is all you have to work with. The rain wiped out any vehicle track marks in the compound. I'd also like you to track down my Bentley and figure out a way of returning it to me.'

‘I'll need police help for that.'

‘There is a minor problem. The car was registered in Jez Copitch's name and he's now dead but no one knows that. When it's found, how do I get possession of it?'

‘What? Why did you do that?'

‘We live in a ridiculous computer age, Lenny. An age where everyone knows everyone's business. In this business it's wise for a man to put his name to as little as possible. The more a man's name is in the public domain the more dangerous it is for him. What I require from you is the means to recover ownership of my Bentley.'

‘I'm not sure how I can do that. It'll remain Jez's vehicle until such time as he's properly declared dead and then it'll become part of his estate.'

Formosa's eyes narrowed. ‘You will get me my fucking car back or I will not be pleased with you.'

‘I'll do whatever is required to secure its return.' Cope spoke without any confidence then, by way of changing the subject, he added, ‘I could give you one piece of advice, though.'

‘What's that?'

‘Get rid of the kids. It seems to me to be too much of a coincidence that all this occurred exactly where the kids were supposed to be. Do you think Jez was working for their father and attempting a one-man rescue? Would he have known you had two men there?'

‘No, he wouldn't have known that. But if that's the case Jez had an accomplice who is still alive.'

‘Why's that?'

‘Because there was no vehicle there. My men had been dropped off to be picked up. Jez'll have brought his own transport to get there and to get the kids away – probably my Bentley. Someone other than Jez drove it away.'

‘So, neither Jez nor his accomplice will have known the kids had gone?' said Cope.

‘No,' said Formosa. ‘Nobody knew except the other two who are dead. They're the ones who moved them. They went back to the compound to tidy up all evidence of the kids ever being there, but as far as I can see they hadn't even made a start. Judging from the empty beer cans left lying around I think they were both pissed which is a serious offence in my book. Jez did my job for me.'