Highbridge (28 page)

‘We leave the car in the car park. Go behind this shed or whatever it is, through this bit of a wood and cut straight across. Five minutes. Ten, tops.'

Luke leaned forward to study the satellite image, wondering how old it was. Anything could have been put in their way since it was taken. Nothing beats a live feed. Sensing his friend's concern, Matt switched back to the drone video. From hovering over the farmhouse it turned away and swept across the field, took in the pub car park and then made its way back across the route Matt had mapped. It was clear. Luke turned and grinned.

‘No more than 300 metres. Or the drone would have done a GPS auto return.' His grin matched Luke's. ‘So all we need now is: go or no go. And when?'

‘Usual knockin' hour,' Luke replied immediately. ‘Tomorrow. Keep the pressure on. Billy do the exchange?'

Matt nodded. ‘Checked when I picked up the B-Kits. Two H&K MP5s. SD3s with suppressors and red dots. And a dozen mags.'

While the MP5 was one of the most widely used law enforcement submachine guns, the B-Kit was a term they had coined for a full blackout kit of boots, coveralls, gloves, balaclava and body armour. It wasn't meant to completely obscure their identities, just provide a temporary disguise in low to medium risk situations. For anything higher they went for an A-Kit: A for anonymous. Head to toe covering. Nothing in, nothing out except what was filtered through their face masks.

‘We'll use one MP5 for the stand-off,' Luke said. ‘Pick it up on the way.'

‘Going live?' Matt asked, already suspecting he knew the answer.

Luke just shook his head. ‘Poke and provoke tonight.'

‘You sure? They're likely to be.'

Luke shook his head again, thinking back to his encounter at the Fast Dog. ‘They keep the guns mobile.'

Matt was still a bit apprehensive, but at the same time relieved that Luke was calm enough to stick to the plan. And it was his call. Bring them back to the choke point. ‘OK. Natural charm it is then. Tonight.'

He then woke up the laptop and pointed at the farmhouse fence on the satellite image. ‘Any clues as to how we get over that?'

‘Improvise. And hope he's at home when we come calling?' Luke responded, but Matt was ahead of him again as he tapped away at the keyboard. A new window opened with a live stream from the farmhouse parking area.

‘Someone is,' he said as he pointed to the screen where a Mini Cooper convertible sat parked. ‘Must have come home while we were on our way back.'

They were watching a feed that was coming direct from a battery operated 3G camera. Matt had hooked it over the fence, right next to one of Leather Jacket's own, so the risk of detection was small. Just as peripheral vision catches sudden movement, familiarity overlooks small changes. Things hidden in plain sight. Especially in the dark. The battery would last around ten hours and provide a constant stream that could be accessed from any phone with the app. It would also detect any new movement and send a text alert.

Another grunt from Luke. ‘He's got a Porsche Hybrid.'

‘Bit of a tree hugger then?' Matt asked with the same level of interested surprise Luke had checked himself on earlier. ‘What do you reckon? WAG? Boyfriend? Cleaner? Cook?'

‘Don't say bottle washer,' Luke quickly cut in.

Matt ejected the drone's SD Card and put it in the microwave, ready to nuke just in case they got a call during the knockin' hour. The usual pre-dawn raid when no matter what social habits people have they are likely to be at home, having been out and returned to the nest, or getting ready to leave it for the day. Since the dawn of warfare, the time when people were still slightly groggy.

‘Time for a nap, I think,' Luke said as he looked at the time on the computer screen. ‘We'll go at 0430 regardless of what we see there. If he's not in, we'll let him know we have been.'

Matt smiled broadly as he headed for the fridge to crack some eggs. At last. If he wanted to be a spook he'd have joined MI6, but this was what he signed up for. Cracking heads.

‘What's worth more, Joe? What you know or who you know?'

‘Which is why she didn't need ID,' Joey replied as he offered a Costa latte to Bobby, busy on his phone.

Bobby took the mug and gave a deep gravelly chuckle, but never deviated from his phone as he replied, ‘Pal of mine owns it. I've told him to keep an eye on them. There'll be no funny stuff inside. And, as I can see that dad look in your eye, I've told my lad there's two things I'll kick the shit out of him for. Hitting a woman and getting one pregnant.'

It was some comfort. But not enough. ‘There's a lot more in between, Bobby.'

Bobby laughed, the pockmarked pebble-dashed face cracking as he glanced up from his phone.

‘He's a good lad, my Max, Joe. Really. Sometimes I think he might be a bit of a shirt-lifter, but …' he shrugged.

Joey couldn't help but smile as the irony of Bobby wearing Alexander McQueen struck him, but Bobby didn't notice as he swept on.

‘At least he's not a tranny, like that bloke in the optician's. Suppose he thinks folk won't notice his five o'clock if they need specs.' He went back to the phone. ‘I'd have to love him though, wouldn't I, even if he was. And I'll tell you what. These kids aren't as rampant as we used to be.' Then the gravel rattled again. ‘No one is.' He put his phone down for a moment. ‘I mean. Would you have ever imagined, when we were out marauding … that we'd be ferrying our kids about and then sitting having a coffee, while waiting for them to whistle?'

Bobby shook his head as he sipped the froth from his latte, at both the realisation of what he'd said and the memory of what his dad would have said if he'd even asked for a lift anywhere. His phone vibrated. He picked it up, looked at the message but this time didn't respond.

Joey grinned at his own memories of his youth and how he never even had the option of asking for a lift. ‘I guess not.' He raised the latte in a mock toast. ‘But er, how long have they been …?'

Bobby just held out his hands and shrugged. ‘That's one thing that hasn't changed. Did we tell our parents anything? Christ, I don't even tell them what I do now.'

‘I think they might have guessed, Bobby.'

Again the deep gravelly chuckle that developed into a gurgling laugh. ‘I guess you're right. At least about some of it. But they're all Facetwitters anyway, aren't they?' He waggled his phone. ‘Not that hard to guess what they're up to. Unlike those that don't put it all out there. Like you?'

Joey felt this wasn't a casual question. It was leading somewhere.

‘And how do you know that, Bobby?' He nodded at Bobby's phone. ‘You posting now?'

The gravel rattled in his throat again. ‘Weekly sales reports. Can get anything you want through these, can't you.' He leaned back in his chair. ‘Except what Lukey Carlton and merry Matthew are up to?'

That was where he'd been heading. Joey tried not to react, but could see Bobby was reading his body language. A predator hunting.

‘Go on. You must know,' Bobby pushed.

‘Know what?'

‘You're doing some work up at his ghost house, aren't you?'

‘Don't call it that.'

‘It's what it is, isn't it? A shrine to his dead missus?' Then added, to emphasise the family connection, ‘And your sister, of course.'

Joey didn't rise to the bait. ‘The only thing he's shared with me is where he wants the sockets and switches.'

‘Bollocks.' Bobby crossed his fingers. ‘You and him were like that. If he'd tell anyone it'd be you.'

‘And why do you think he's got some big secret?'

‘He might come back every now and then to keep the flame burning, but what's he brought his Matty for?' Bobby asked, fastening his predator's eyes on Joey. Probing. Joey decided to leave the question hanging in the air. He wasn't going to become the prey. He matched the predator's stare. After a moment it was Bobby who blinked. Perhaps aided by another vibration from his phone.

Bobby leaned across to pick it up. ‘You know what I reckon?'

But this time Joey didn't need to think about a response. That moment had passed and Bobby was off on his own track. ‘He's always wanted to find the smacko who did his missus. He's always come back hoping to stumble across him. And if he has Tonto with him, I reckon he's found out who it was. Am I right?'

He then made a quick response on the phone.

Joey smiled. He knew his body language couldn't possibly betray him now. ‘I really don't know that, Bobby. Honest. You'll have to ask him.'

The predator sniffed. But seemed satisfied. ‘He won't tell me. But you can tell him something for me. If he wants a hand with anything. He's only got to ask. And I mean anything, Joe. Right?'

‘That be one of those fifty quid contracts you can organise? Or, what was it, five hundred for a proper job?'

The pebble-dashing cracked again. ‘Daft, isn't it. But true. And if you ever want anything, Joe …' The crack widened even further. ‘As we may be father-in-laws soon.'

‘God, I hope not.'

‘Thanks.'

Joey laughed. ‘That came out wrong. I meant, she's too young.'

‘She'll always be too young, Joe.' Bobby's phone buzzed. A call. ‘But I mean it,' he continued. ‘If you ever need anything.' He looked at his phone and stood up. ‘Have to take this one. Suppliers. Want another?' He pointed at the latte cup as he started to walk away.

Joey nodded and started to ponder why Tanya had to go for Max McBain. She could have the pick of the town, even if that was, like Bobby, only proud dad thinking. So why the town gangster's son? Brought her up too well, perhaps. Too much telling her to take no bullshit and take people as she found them. All that stuff about people having to live with what fate gave them. Good and bad in everyone. Why didn't he just tell her to be more picky?

‘Because she wants someone with a bit of edge, Joe. Like I did with you,' Natasha said on the other end of the phone.

Joey had called her as soon as Bobby moved away. ‘I get that. But why didn't you tell me it was Bobby's lad?'

‘Er … perhaps because I didn't know. Exactly.'

‘And what does that mean?'

‘She only said it was someone you'd throw a strop over.'

‘Me?' He felt offended. More that his daughter could so easily read him.

‘What you doing now?'

‘Confiding my concern?'

‘Could be a strop. Anyway, it'll blow over soon enough. She's too young for anything serious.'

‘You're not exactly,' he emphasised the word, ‘
comforting
me here.' But all he got back was the sound of her giggling.

‘Oh, Joe, you're so funny when you get like this. She'll be fine. Just think how safe she will be with no one daring to try anything. Not even the poor lad himself, if what you said Bobby said is true. So …' she giggled again. ‘Enjoy your dads' night out with Bobby.'

At least she was a lot lighter than when he left her, Joey thought. ‘I'm sure I will. Now that you've comforted me. As if.' Then instinctively he lowered his voice. ‘But er … You still OK with what we talked about?'

There was only a slight hesitation before she replied. ‘Yes. You know I'll back you. Always.'

‘Yeah. And …' Now he hesitated as he felt his eyes mist slightly as an emotive mix of gratitude, admiration, pride and appreciation swept over him. He was unable to put it into words. It was at times like this that he wished he'd stayed at St Bede's longer. No matter what he said about surviving the Comp being the best education anyone could want. All that now came out was ‘I really love you, you know.' He might always be ready to take on the world, but it was a lot easier knowing his soulmate would always be there. Right behind him. No matter what. ‘I really do,' he added. Unnecessarily.

‘I know,' Natasha replied, referring more to Joey's typical macho male inability to vocalise his emotions. ‘As I love you.' Then came the quick caveat. ‘But … just like we said. Yeah?'

‘Yeah. Yeah. Promise.' And he had to say it again. ‘I do really love you. And thanks.'

‘Love you too. But stay safe,' Natasha replied. He could hear the emotion in her own voice even though she was doing her best to sound matter-of-fact. It was one of those calls when neither side knows how to end. Mainly because the one thing you couldn't send over the phone was the very thing they both needed. A hug. Time to end the call.

He looked across to see Bobby, still on his phone, dropping some money on the counter with a keep the change gesture, and heading back across to Joey. ‘Anyway, he's on his way back,' Joey said. ‘I'll see you later, eh?'

‘You may see me but I'll probably be asleep when you get back. But look forward to tomorrow, eh?'

‘Absolutely. Love you.'

‘Love you too' came the automatic response. But this time held for that extra second or two, before Natasha added, ‘No matter what. 'Bye.'

As Joey watched the call end on his screen he knew that, despite the reassurance, they would, no doubt, revisit everything in the morning. He looked back at Bobby and wondered what sort of sales figures he was receiving now. But whatever they were, Bobby's body language suddenly changed. He ended the call, turned and waved to the girl behind the counter, pointed over at Joey and received a nod.

‘Sorry.' He waved his phone. ‘Got to go. But I've ordered you a raspberry slice as well.'

‘No problem,' Joey replied as Bobby turned away, but then stopped. ‘You coming to watch the game tomorrow? Now you're back.'

‘What game?'

‘God you are out of touch, mate. School match. Your Alex plays for the Under-15s, doesn't he? Used to do them on Saturdays in our day but …' He shrugged. ‘They either won't pay the overtime, or they're all too busy getting excees for the community teams. So they miss Maths and English instead. No wonder the BRIC economies are racing ahead, eh, and buying up all them London mansions you make your cash out of.' His grin broadened. ‘Give my love to Anastasia. And my future daughter-in-law. See you at the footie tomorrow?'