No Holds Barred (25 page)

‘That's enough!' Daniel said sharply as Reg threw the paper aside and surged out of his chair, a tortured expression on his face. He snatched the collar from Dek and turned it over in his hands.

‘Where did you get it?'

‘Found it. Lying beside the road. Like you do,' he added airily.

Reg squared up to him, his lower jaw thrust forward like a bulldog. At fully six inches shorter than the younger driver, it would have been comical if the circumstances hadn't been so tragic.

‘What have you done with him, you bastard?' he growled.

Dek backed away, holding his hands up in mock fear.

‘Steady on, old man. You'll have a heart attack or something. I thought you'd be pleased to have his little collar back again.'

‘Yeah, you should be thanking him,' Boyd put in. ‘Save you buying another one for the next pooch, unless you decide to get a proper dog.'

Reg cast them both a look of loathing, pushed past Dek and left the room.

‘Give you a kick, did it?' Daniel asked mildly. ‘Upsetting an old man. Make you feel good?'

‘Ah, shut up!' Boyd answered. ‘You can go and hold the silly old fart's hand if you want.'

Daniel got to his feet.

‘Well, I certainly prefer his company to yours,' he commented on his way to rinse his coffee cup.

He found Reg in the depot yard, leaning on the gate, waiting for the warehouseman to finish loading his lorry.

‘You all right, mate?'

Reg didn't turn his head.

‘I shouldn't let them get to me, I know, but I couldn't help it. They caught me on the hop.'

‘As they meant to.'

Reg sighed. ‘What makes people like that? So needlessly unpleasant.'

‘Something missing in their little lives,' Daniel said. ‘That's what I've always thought. Trying to prove themselves. I'm sorry about Skip.'

‘Thanks. It's been a week. I didn't really think I'd ever see him again – but a part of you keeps hoping, doesn't it?'

Daniel put a hand on the older man's shoulder briefly, then moved away.

When Daniel finished work on the Friday evening, he found a note from Woodsmoke tucked under the windscreen wiper of his car. It had been written with a none too sharp pencil and said simply,
Need to see you, urjent. Will wait at the stables. W.

There was no suggested time, but doubtless Woodsmoke knew what time the lorries normally returned, so Daniel turned round and headed straight for the stableyard.

When he reached the yard, Sue was coming out of one of the boxes.

‘He's round there,' she said, jerking her head in the direction of Barn Field.

Daniel carried on through past the stables and found Woodsmoke leaning on the field gate, still attired in his long coat and hat, in spite of the heat of the afternoon.

‘Hi. What's the problem?' he asked.

‘No problem,' Woodsmoke grunted. ‘Just heard something I reckon you'd be innerested in.'

‘OK?' Daniel waited.

‘Can't say for sure that it's true, cos you never in general get to hear of these things, but I thought it was worth telling you.'

‘Right.'

‘Word is there's a meeting on tonight.'

‘
Is
there so?' Daniel was suddenly very interested. ‘And where did you hear this word?'

‘I wuz in The Fox at lunchtime, an' I reckon they thought I wuz asleep. I might even have led them to think I wuz, come to that,' he said with the suspicion of a twinkle under the brim of the hat. ‘It were that Boyd nipper. He told this other fella he had a mind to try his dog out. The other one, he said to count him in and he knew a few others who'd come along, iffen he wanted.'

‘Did you catch where and when?'

‘Reckon it wouldn't be much good telling you iffen I hadn't,' Woodsmoke observed.

Daniel couldn't argue with that. He waited.

It seemed almost as if the old poacher was reluctant to give up this last bit of information; he was enjoying the moment too much. But eventually he did so. ‘Nine o'clock. Radpole's Barn.'

Daniel frowned, taken aback. He'd been hoping Woodsmoke would name the salvage yard. ‘So, where's that?'

‘Way out yonder,' the older man said, waving an arm towards the fields on the horizon. ‘You'd never find it in a month of Sundays, I reckon. Course, I could show you, iffen you wanted.'

‘I expect I could find it on a map. No need for you to get involved.'

‘Happen you could find it, but then what? You can't go barrellin' up there in your car. They'll be watchin' the track, sure as anything. You need to come at 'em unexpected, across the fields.'

‘OK. Where shall I meet you, then?'

‘I reckon you know the barn on Colt's Hill.'

That had been the one where Daniel and Drew had found the rats in the pit. He nodded.

‘Meet you there, half eight, if you like. Will you come on the liddle pony?'

‘If Jenny agrees.'

Daniel's conversation with Woodsmoke left him with a great deal of food for thought. Even though instinct urged him trust the old poacher, he couldn't completely banish the suspicion that Woodsmoke had been allowed to overhear the arrangements being discussed in The Fox and Duck. Dog-fighting rings were customarily obsessive about security. The whereabouts of meets were not normally disclosed, even amongst the supporters' network, until perhaps half an hour before the event, when a text message would go out to selected members of the group, to spread the word to the waiting punters. In extreme cases, those attending would be collected and taken to the venue in minibuses. To think that Taylor Boyd would have been so careless stretched credibility.

On the other hand, thinking back, Woodsmoke had described the man he'd overheard as ‘that Boyd nipper'. Did that mean it had been Ricky, rather than Taylor, who had let the information slip? That would certainly be more believable, and the very fact that he had access to that privileged knowledge meant that the Boyds must indeed be key players in the Butcher Boys fighting ring. Why tell Ricky, though? In their shoes, there was no way Daniel would have trusted the hot-headed youngster with such potentially dangerous information.

Was it possible that the Butcher Boys somehow suspected Daniel was interested in their activities and were laying a trap? If so, that would also presuppose that they knew of his friendship – if such it could be termed – with Woodsmoke. There were a lot of ifs, but one way or another Daniel couldn't feel easy with what he'd learned.

Whatever his misgivings, if there was any chance the information was kosher, he couldn't risk passing up such an opportunity. He would meet Woodsmoke, but, knowing how these gangs operated, he would take absolutely no chances.

Eager to show off his blossoming riding skills, Drew took no trouble to hide his disappointment that Daniel proposed to go out without him that evening, and for a few minutes it seemed that a full-on strop might be in the offing. Jenny stepped into the breach, however, with the suggestion that she take all the children to the local bowling alley for the evening, a manoeuvre that earned her Daniel's heartfelt gratitude.

‘Thanks,' he said, out of Drew's hearing. ‘I owe you.' He had told her the purpose of his excursion.

‘Indeed you do,' she said. ‘And I'll collect, believe me. But, Daniel – be careful, won't you? I don't think I could handle another tragedy just now.'

‘Don't worry. I'll listen to my inner coward, I promise.'

Twenty past eight found Daniel stepping down from Piper's saddle in the lee of the barn on Colt's Hill. After a day of hot sun and blue skies, the evening had become overcast and a blustery wind sprung up. He'd left Taz at the farmhouse. The dog had been just as disappointed as Drew but had accepted his fate more philosophically, merely watching Daniel's exit with lowered ears and reproachful eyes.

‘You're here, then.' Woodsmoke's sonorous tones broke in on Daniel's thoughts. ‘Wasn't sure you'd come.'

As Daniel turned, the poacher looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. ‘Iffen you're thinking of going in amongst 'em, reckon you'd do well to think again,' he suggested.

‘I've no plans as such but I like to be prepared,' Daniel said. He'd used a change of clothes and his box of tricks to subtly alter his appearance, topping the effect off by tucking his hair under a beanie. He'd been fairly pleased with the result and Woodsmoke's reaction confirmed his success.

‘You said it was the Boyd nipper you overheard. Did you mean Ricky?'

‘Arh. The young un.'

‘I'm surprised they'd trust him with that kind of information.'

Woodsmoke nodded. ‘Thought on that. Reckon it's his shooting match.'

‘You think Ricky organized it himself ?'

‘Thass what I said.'

‘So how far is this barn from here?' Jenny had thought Radpole's Barn was a good distance away, on the neighbouring farm, and had loaned him Alfie the cob for Woodsmoke to ride.

Daniel had been surprised. ‘
Can
he ride?'

‘Oh, yes. He used to have a hairy little pony that he rode everywhere until it died about ten years ago,' she had told him.

‘Take about half an hour,' the poacher said now, in answer to Daniel's query. ‘A sight less iffen that black-and-white creature is for me.'

‘It is.' Daniel held out the reins.

‘A good girl, that Jenny,' Woodsmoke said approvingly.

‘So where's Gypsy?' Daniel asked as the older man settled into the cob's saddle and arranged his long coat over the animal's back. With his wide-brimmed hat, he looked like a gaucho from the plains of Argentina.

‘Left her back home. Reckon she's in the family way,' he grunted.

Woodsmoke looked quite at home on the horse, although he declined to go faster than a jog, claiming that he was ‘too old to want to shake up his vitals'. Even so, they reached the barn in only a little over fifteen minutes, tethering the horses and continuing on foot when they were nearing their goal.

They approached to one side of the barn where the cover was thickest, Daniel following Woodsmoke without a word, bowing to his knowledge of the locality. The poacher moved through the dense woodland like a wraith, his feet in their soft-soled boots making no sound, even though the ground beneath the trees was littered with twigs. Daniel had spent a good deal of his childhood shadowing the gamekeeper on the estate that bordered his own home and as a youngster had thought himself something of a woodsman, but Woodsmoke put his efforts to shame. When they were close to the edge of the clearing, yet still hidden by a stand of bracken, they hunkered down and observed the scene.

Radpole's Barn was a structure that had seen better days. Built of timber that had gone silvery with age, topped off with a mossy tiled roof, it stood in a woodland clearing with nettles growing thickly against its walls. Nearby stood the remains of a second building that had fared even worse over the years and was in a state of dereliction, its tin roof caved in on one side.

There was no doubt that Woodsmoke's information had been correct. Their current position was level with the double doors at the front of the barn, with a good view of anyone entering or leaving. Parked untidily in front of the building were several vans, a minibus with darkened windows, and two or three pick-up trucks. A number of rough-looking individuals loitered nearby, smoking and talking in overloud voices. One even held a muzzled dog on a rope, which he kept pushing with his foot, laughing when it eventually whipped round at him. Daniel guessed a search of the vans might yield other potential fighting dogs.

In spite of Woodsmoke's warning, he hadn't come this far to watch tamely from the outside if there was any chance that he could get inside, but he knew he'd have to time his move well.

As they looked on from the sidelines, Ricky Boyd came to the door of the barn and stepped outside, looking away down the track and then at his watch. Another man appeared by his side and said something. Ricky shrugged and again looked down the track, before taking his phone from his pocket and making a call. It looked as though Woodsmoke had been right. The meeting was Ricky's baby, and Daniel doubted that his father and brother knew anything about it.

‘He says five minutes. He's just down the road.' Through a lull in the general conversation level, Ricky's voice carried to the watching pair as he pocketed his mobile.

All of a sudden, two men pushed past them in the doorway, one holding the other in a kind of armlock. Half a dozen others followed and stood watching and cheering as a rough-and-tumble fight ensued.

‘Did you invite all these people?' Ricky asked his companion uneasily, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. ‘I didn't expect so many.'

‘Most of them. Relax. It's cool.'

At this point, Daniel and Woodsmoke heard a vehicle approaching along the track, and a few seconds later a silver van with tinted windows roared into the clearing and pulled up in front of the barn, sliding impressively on the loose gravelly surface.

All at once, the fight was over, the protagonists slapping each other on the back as they got to their feet and everyone turning to look at the newcomer. A fat, unshaven man emerged from the silver van, hitching up a dirty pair of jeans and waving a hand at Ricky before opening a sliding side door and taking out a large carrying crate with a mesh door. There was a cheer from those assembled, and within moments everyone in the clearing was following him into the barn, Ricky and the fat man in the forefront.

Without a word, Daniel rose to his feet, stepped through the bracken screen and tagged on to the end of the shuffling queue. Behind him, he faintly heard a bitten-off exclamation from Woodsmoke.

Just inside the doorway stood a muscle-bound bruiser, and Daniel's heart skipped a beat or two until he realized that it wasn't Macca. Although the man was presumably there as a bouncer of sorts, he hardly spared a glance for Daniel, looking past him to see if there were any further punters before he closed the door.