Nightmare City (60 page)

‘
So I could drop through.’

‘
Distinct possibility.’

Henry thought about two broken legs. It would round things off
nicely.

‘
Why are we going in here?’

‘
I’ll show you. Tread carefully.’

Rider pushed the door open and edged into the room. It was
large and expansive. There were windows but all were boarded up and
blocked out any light. Henry stuck behind him but found that he
could see quite well; his eyes were taking advantage of all
available light.

Rider went down onto his hands and knees in a movement so
swift that Henry thought he’d gone through the floor.

‘
Look at this.’ He had found a trapdoor which he hauled open.
Henry bent down onto one knee and peered into the hole.

‘
This room is directly above where the main part of the casino
used to be. There’s a few of these trapdoors in this room. I think
the management used them to keep tabs on the tables below, using
one-way glass.’

‘
Bit primitive.’

‘
Before the days of CCTV.’

Henry looked into the void. It was black. ‘Can’t see
anything.’

‘
No, you won’t be able to. That’s a false ceiling you’re
looking at, and below that there’s another suspended ceiling. If
we’re careful, we could remove a panel from this ceiling and try to
move a panel from the suspended one, then maybe we could see down
into the club, find out what’s going on.’

‘
Risky, but what the fuck.’

Rider reached into the space and fumbled about. ‘Got
it.’

Henry fully expected Rider to come back with a ceiling panel
in his hand, but he got the shock of his life when the other man
produced a revolver which had been hidden in the space between
floor and false ceiling.

‘
We may need this.’

‘
I suppose you shot Munrow with that, did you?’

A beat passed between the two men which sent a tingle of
apprehension down each one’s spine.

‘
Thought so,’ said Henry, feeling sick.

‘
There’s two bullets left. . .’

After a whispered debate they decided that the best time to do
any messing with the ceiling would be round about 4 to 5 a.m. From
Henry’s experience, this was when people were at their lowest ebb.
In the meantime, they tried to get some sleep - after Henry had set
the alarm on his Casio wrist-watch.

Completely drained though he was, Henry could not sleep on the
dusty, uncomfortable floor. His mind whizzed and banged as it
thought through his predicament from every angle.

He made one incontrovertible decision. In the morning he would
seek out Karl Donaldson and with his protection he and Rider would
go to Police Headquarters and demand to speak to the Chief
Constable. She was his only hope of salvation and fairness. Karl
was his only hope of staying alive.

He knew he could not go on the run. No doubt Rider would be
able to guide him through the low-ways and by-ways of the
underworld, but it wasn’t for Henry.

He believed in justice. Old-fashioned though that belief was,
it had seen him through twenty-one years as a frontline cop and he
wasn’t about to have those values shattered by a corrupt squad
which believed itself to be beyond the law. At whatever cost he
would fight. Even if it meant becoming a protected witness, a
change of name and address and that job in Asda stacking shelves.
He would win ... because they had made him angry. He almost laughed
at the triteness of it: ‘They have made me angry.’

Talk about a fucking understatement.

As for Rider - he could do whatever he wanted.

‘
Henry ... time?’ Rider asked.

In the darkness Henry could see the tip of a burning cigarette
brighten as Rider sucked.

He checked his watch. ‘Four-fifteen.’

‘
I take it you can’t sleep?’

‘
You guessed.’

‘
Ten minutes, then we’ll do some joinery.’

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Breakfast was conducted at a leisurely pace. Champagne,
strawberries and then a choice of full English or continental.
Coffee or tea to finish off with.

Morton had departed early, leaving Conroy to entertain
Hamilton and de Vere. McNamara was scheduled to arrive
shortly.

At 9.45 a.m. Conroy said, ‘We need to be moving now.’ He was
annoyed that McNamara had not yet appeared, because part of the
deal would be that his haulage company would deliver the weapons to
any point in Europe requested by the client. Conroy was also dying
to tell McNamara the good news about the prostitute, which he’d
only just heard himself.

But there could be no further delay. De Vere wanted to see
what was on offer. His customers were pressing.

On the steps outside the country club, Conroy’s Mercedes drew
up, ready to take passengers. A second car drew up behind, two
bodyguards on board.

De Vere and Hamilton settled in the rear seat. Conroy was
about to drop into the passenger seat when his attention was drawn
to a car speeding up the driveway towards the club.

The car skidded to an ostentatious stop and two good-looking
young men dressed in jeans and trainers bounced out, all smiles and
teeth - appearances which belied their chosen
profession.

Hamilton got out of the Mercedes. ‘These are the gentlemen I
told you about - the professionals: Wayne and Tiger Mayfair. Old
friends of mine.’

‘
Hi,’ they said in unison and with a wave.

‘
Glad to meet you,’ Conroy said. He looked closely at Tiger
and saw four scratches down his cheek. ‘Problem with a lion or
something?’

Tiger chuckled. ‘You could say that.’ He exchanged a knowing
glance with Hamilton.

‘
I want these wankers out of here now,’ Morton said to
Gallagher, eyeing the motley assortment of men who had made the
bridgehead into Rider’s club. ‘Fucking shite.’

‘
Right, lads, you’ve done your bit. Now you can fuck off.
You’ll get your dosh later, as arranged.’

They trooped out of the place with fierce looks of contempt on
their faces at being ordered around by cops.

‘
A car stolen from Preston last night has been found in
Blackpool, boss. It was nicked at the same time we were searching
for Christie and Rider.’

‘
So?’

‘
Could be they’re here in Blackpool, lying low. There was
blood on the passenger seat. We might’ve shot one of
them.’

‘
You should’ve shot ‘em both - in the back of the head,’
Morton said sarcastically. ‘How hard can it be?’

‘
Just bad luck.’ Gallagher pointed to his swollen eye and held
up his bandaged wrist. ‘We’ll get them. It’s Donaldson who worries
me now. Where did he hide those statements?’

‘
I presume you searched everybody in the house?’

The look on Gallagher’s face gave the game away. ‘In view of
the fact we were searching for a wanted man, I think it would have
been OTT to start strip-searching folk, don’t you?’

‘
No, I fucking don’t. You stupid, stupid bastard. How can I
soar like an eagle when I’m surrounded by donkeys?’ he wanted to
know. He took a deep sigh, but try as he might, he could not shake
his sense of foreboding. Henry Christie was proving to be hard to
handle.

‘
Right,’ he said, consulting a piece of paper in his hand,
‘we’ve got thirty different weapons to show, so I suggest we set up
about fifteen of the tables on the dance floor and put two on each
with boxes of ammo. Then de Vere can wander about to his heart’s
content. You do that, and I’ll go and help the others bring the
gear across from the station.’

He left, fuming.

Twenty minutes later he returned with Siobhan and Tattersall.
They were each carrying heavy holdalls which contained the guns.
They had been removed openly from the armoury at the station
because openly aroused less suspicion.

Morton directed their distribution.

Ten minutes later he walked round the tables, checking the
merchandise.

At one point he stood on some grit on the highly polished
surface. He scuffed his shoes in it, gave it a moment’s attention,
then forgot it. His mind was consumed with other
matters.

Thirty feet above, Rider and Henry peered down through the
two-inch crack they had engineered in the ceiling to give them a
restricted view down to the room below.

‘
What are they doing?’ Rider said more to himself than
anything.

‘
Haven’t a clue.’

From their position, laid out side by side in the old casino
office, chins hanging over the edge of the trapdoor, squinting down
through the minute gap, they could see a couple of the tables
Gallagher had dragged onto the dance floor.

‘
Rearranging the furniture,’ Henry said.

The top of Tattersall’s head came into view. He placed
something on a table with a clatter of
metal. His shoulders hunched over his task, obscuring the
view. A minute later he moved away, revealing two guns lying
on
the table. One was a semi-automatic
pistol, the other a big revolver. Boxes of
ammunition stood by them.

Tattersall moved to the next table within their view and left
two more weapons on
it. One could have
been an Uzi, the other was a semi-automatic pistol. And ammunition
to go.

‘
A gun bazaar, I’d say,’ Rider murmured. ‘Marketing their
goods.’

‘
They’ve got police property tags on
them too,’ Henry noted. ‘I think they’re the ones we found in
the back of
Dundaven’s Range Rover. The
cheeky swines.’

They drove in convoy to Blackpool, the Mercedes followed by
the Mayfairs and then a Mondeo driven by Conroy’s minders. They
arrived outside the club at 10.30 a.m.

Morton met them at the door, then led them inside to the dance
floor and main bar area. Gallagher and Siobhan were left to guard
the entrance. De Vere sniffed the atmosphere huffily but said
nothing. He began to browse through the display, lifting up and
examining the goods closely. He was impressed.

Hamilton introduced the Mayfairs to Morton as the men who
would be killing Henry Christie and John Rider.

‘
I don’t think you’ll have to look far. I reckon they’re in
Blackpool somewhere. That should make things easier for
you.’

After ten minutes amongst the tables, de Vere turned to
Conroy. ‘We need to talk money now.’

Which is exactly what Conroy wanted to hear, but he also
needed McNamara’s presence because of
the
transport arrangements which were an integral part of
the deal. ‘Just give me a second,’ Conroy said.
He went to Morton. ‘Where the fuck is Harry?’

At which exact moment the man himself walked hurriedly in
through the door. His face was a mask of
controlled grief, though none of
the
men in the room picked that up. They wanted him for his contacts,
not his face.

‘
Ahh,’ Conroy announced with relief. ‘We wondered where you’d
been hiding. Come over here. We’re talking business.’

Kate picked up the phone on
the
first ring. ‘It’s for you. Somebody called Kevin Summers.’ She
handed it across to Donaldson, then sat down again. Her eyes were
sunken and surrounded by dark circles. Karen placed an arm around
her shoulder and gave her a hug.

There were only the three of
them in
the house. The girls had been taken to school without any
explanations about what was going on
.

Donaldson asked a few muted questions and hung up.

He turned to the women. ‘Developments,’ he said. Before he
could expand, there was a knock on
the
front door. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said.

It was Detective Chief Superintendent Fanshaw-
Bayley.

Ten yards above the dance floor, two escaped prisoners watched
and listened as intently as possible. Only the occasional word
could be made out.

Henry adjusted his position ever so slightly to relieve the
pain he was feeling.

Rider’s stomach gurgled obscenely, reminding Henry how hungry
he was himself. It had been a long time since both men had eaten or
drunk anything warm and they were both close to starvation and
exhaustion.

Donaldson and FB burst out of the front door and sprinted down
the driveway to FB’s car, a Ford Probe.

FB was shouting into his personal radio, ordering all the ARV
patrols to go onto channel 71, the secure radio channel to which
only firearms officers had access.

‘
How many teams are in Blackpool at this moment?’ Donaldson
asked.

‘
Three. That means six officers, all armed and dangerous.’ FB
slammed the Probe into first and accelerated away from the kerb.
‘All ARV s to meet me, as a matter of urgency, on the Promenade,
near to the pleasure beach, opposite the Big One. Do not use
two-tones, or blues,’ he said into his radio, then repeated the
message and asked for acknowledgements. He then instructed them all
to prepare their weapons and don their body armour.