Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (31 page)

“
No, but
one of my colleagues is…”

She did not
hesitate at answering but Bridger noticed slight concern flash
through her eyes

“
My firm
takes care of the legal aid work, you know that Mike… Joseph is one
of our clients.”

“
Do you
know anything about his attempts at getting his conviction
overturned?”

“
That is
something we are working on at the moment, yes… I shouldn’t be
telling you this Mike, but it relies on us proving that a police
officer planted evidence.”

The look on
Jane’s face told Bridger that she was back to being all business.
This was just a game to her. Was she privy to Kingi’s plan? Did she
even know what her client was up to?

He tried to
speak as calmly as he could “Do you know that it is Kingi and his
son who have our Detectives?” Bridger pulled the false confession
out of his pocket “He is using it as leverage to get me to lodge
this as evidence.” He passed the letter over to Jane who unfolded
it and began reading.

“
Is this
true Mike? Were you the one he has been talking about…?”

“
Of
course it’s not fucking true, Jane, its bullshit, I just wrote that
to get myself out of the prison and back to help Laura and my
colleagues.” He looked into her eyes searching for a reaction “But
there is another player in all this mess as well and he doesn’t
want Kingi out of jail and so is threatening my wife…, his name is
David McLaren.” This time the look of concern in Jane’s eyes was
more evident “He is your client isn’t he.”

“
He… he
is Mike, but I haven’t done anything for him recently. He is still
in prison up in Auckland and will be for most of the rest of his
life.” Her eyes took on a confused look.

Bridger
wondered if she or her firm knew that their clients were out to get
each other, it certainly did not look like they had done their
homework on them before taking them on.

“
Did you
know he had a son here in Dunedin?”

“
I
didn’t Mike, I have only been acting for him for the last couple of
years though…”

“
Well he
does Jane; he has as son, and that is the next part of all this
mess. He wants me to protect his son, look out for his welfare, and
make sure he does not get into any trouble. His terms were, my
wife’s protection in exchange for that privilege, but since no one
has seen Laura since she left your office, and we have just shot
his son, I cannot see that working to well now. Can
you?”

“
Are you
saying I had something to do with this Mike?” her voice
hardened.

Bridger did
not really think she would be involved, he knew deep down this was
all happening because of the sick power plays of desperate men, but
he was still angry and needed to take it out on someone.

“
She was
at your office Jane; I saw a photograph of you and her standing
outside. How would someone know that she would be there? Now she is
gone and you were the last to see her…” Even before he finished
talking, he regretted saying it.

Jane spat out
her reply instantly “Fuck you Mike, I resent that…, I would never
harm your wife… you do more harm to her by not keeping it in your
pants, you should think about that…”

The door
opened behind them, breaking the moment. Bridger saw the look in
Jane’s eyes telling him that this conversation was not finished as
Gillian Holler came through the door followed by Detective
Inspector Matthews and Brian Johnson. The look on Gillian’s face
was concern, Brian was all business, and the look on Matthews face
was a barely contained rage. All three of them were wearing police
issue stab proof vests.

“
There
you bloody well are Bridger; I thought you had disappeared again…
Hi Jane.” Matthews acknowledged Jane with a nod when he realised
Bridger was not alone. Jane returned a tight smile.

Brian butted
in “Gillian could not find your wife at work or anywhere else Mike,
have you been able to raise her?”

Bridger had
been afraid of this outcome, he had it in the back of his mind that
Laura would be somewhere else and everything would be all right,
even though the way his luck was going that it was extremely
unlikely.

“
That
means that Kingi junior has her as well as John and Jo.” Bridger
had resigned himself to that fact now and he found himself almost
detached from what he was saying.

“
Grant
and Becky are out canvassing their informants and shaking some
other trees,” Brian said. “Someone out there must know where the
gang have them.”

“
We
would have other staff as well but they are tied up with the two
extra deaths we now have on our hands, so it’s not ideal… What
staff can be spared are making door to door enquiries all over the
neighbourhood but it looks like we are going to have to deal with
this ourselves as best and fast as we can before we lose anyone
else” Matthews looked directly at Bridger when he spoke but his
voice had no trace of blame in it. Instead, Bridger detected an
angry determination, something he had not seen much of before in
him. He looked ready for action. Bridger just wished he knew where
to start that action; he started to feel lacking again.

Matthews’s
words had quietened the room as they all contemplated what he had
just said. Bridger looked at each one of them in turn; they were
all facing him but looking at the floor at the same time, as if
they too were unsure of his ability but had to defer to him as the
leader. He looked at Matthews, there was something different in his
eyes, he could not quite place it but despite Matthews outranking
him significantly, even he seemed to be looking towards him for
direction.

Gillian’s
mobile phone rang in her pocket and she answered on the third ring.
She thanked the caller then cut the connection looking at Bridger.
“Steve Kirkland has just told me a neighbour saw Martin coming out
of the pad a short time before Joseph’s BMW and four other vehicles
left in a big hurry.”

“
We
already know they moved them somewhere though Gill, how does that
help us?” Bridger asked.

“
Martin
was there at the pad before John and Jo were moved Mike, he may
know where they went. Did he say anything to you?”

“
He
didn’t get a chance, Ken shot him…” Bridger was trying to recall
their brief and strained conversation. Nothing stood out in his
mind, Martin had gotten angry at the mention of his father and then
Ken Moore had put a bullet through his shoulder. He had said
something though, after he was shot… the parcel… but that made no
sense…

“
The
only thing he said, but it makes no sense is ‘The parcel’. Don’t
ask me what that means… he was pretty out of it at the time so I
could have misheard”

A short
silence as everyone tried to work out whether this meant anything
could help them.

“
What if
it wasn’t the parcel he was saying…?” Jane’s voice came from behind
their group and turned their heads. “I grew up in Corstaphine… I
went to primary school with many of the gang members who are still
up there. There was one place we liked to play as children and that
was the old ruin of The Cliff’s. The locals know that place as
Cargill’s Castle, don’t they? What if it was ‘The castle’ Martin
was talking about and not any parcel.”

“
I had
to lock up a gang member a couple of years ago,” Brian said,
excitement growing in his voice as he spoke “I couldn’t find him at
first, I tried everywhere… I finally found him after a tip off… he
was at that old ruin, it looked like he had been practically living
there…”

Gillian was
standing quietly listening to the conversation, nodding her head in
agreement.

Bridger looked
over at Jane who gave a small smile in return. He took a deep
breath; this had to be it… “We have no other options at this point;
I say we move on the old castle…”

No one needed
telling twice.

Joseph Kingi
junior was sitting in the corner of the room; he could see a few of
the Patches were lying around the room with him, in different
states of consciousness. The hit had gone straight to his head, his
body was relaxed and buzzing at the same time, and the warm feeling
that used to last used last had long since dissipated, leaving the
tail end to wreak its havoc on its way out of his system. He never
used to enjoy coming down but he had grown to like it. The feelings
it evoked reminded him of his life, periods of intense highs and a
long painful slide into darkness. It was always on the way down
that, that he did his best work though, he had the anger, and he
still had the drive. If he went too far down, he would be no good
to anyone he knew that. It was the same if he was to far up, he did
not give a shit about anything, and he could let things slide off
his back so easily. Life was always good at the top, he loved those
times, but they would not last long enough. The highs had become
shorter and shorter. The only way to get back there again was to do
something about it, and he could only do it on the way down… it was
a vicious circle if he waited for it to happen naturally, he would
stay low for too long. The drugs sped up the process immensely and
he could control when it happened, keeping him out of the
darkness.

He knew what
he wanted to do now… but he needed to work himself up to it now, he
needed to hurt someone. Martins face had been circling during the
spiral downwards, Martin was a killer, and he was not… yet. He knew
now he needed to change this or he would always feel fear. Fear
that everyone would see him for what he was…, inferior to a
killer.

He thought
about this for a second, it had to be easy; Martin had done it… he
thought about the girly copper in the next room, she would taste so
much better if had worked a bit of his angst out before he started
on her. It would last longer and she would enjoy it more…

He could not
do the other copper though, that would be selfish. He needed to
share that one with the other dogs. They needed their share of
flesh; he had to keep the pack happy. He would have to do the other
one… he knew the other one did not really deserve what he was going
to do, but needs must. It made no difference in the end who it was
that fate gave him, anyone would do. The copper could watch though,
and then he would get a feel for what was going to happen to him…
the thought excited him and he could feel it building.

Standing up
unsteadily, he felt for his knife, it was there on his belt. It was
not particularly big; more of a large pocketknife, but it would do
the job… walking to the door he found himself getting slightly
erect. He took a deep breath, pulled out the cold hard blade of his
knife and entered the room.

John Mouller
was in more pain than he had ever felt before. He thought he had
woken, but could not be sure. His body was on fire, he could not
move and that trapped him within himself. He was fighting against
his mind, which was telling him to sleep, never wake up, and never
feel the pain again…

He could feel
someone else in the room with him to, another human presence, but
he could not open his eyes to see. It had to be Jo…; who else could
it be? He had to stay strong for her. He had been the one who put
her into danger; he had been too arrogant and overconfident. He had
been trying to show off a little as well, but he had underestimated
the Gang and now she was suffering…

The last
pitiful image of her wearing only her underwear was stuck in his
head, he knew they wanted to rape her, he knew they would not let
either of them go. He knew they would die and he could not do a
thing about it.

He had no idea
how long they had been there, time had lost its meaning. Why in the
hell has no one come for us…, Dunedin is not a big place, everyone
knows where the pad is, our bloody car is parked right outside.

He found
himself getting angry with his colleagues, they never took him
seriously, and he always felt like the tolerated little brother
around them. He lived in a different world; he knew that, simply
because of his age. They just didn’t remember what it was like
starting out, older more experienced colleagues had a way of making
him feel a little lacking… it didn’t help he was a little bit lazy
as well. Although he had worked hard to become as Detective and put
everything he had into the cases that warranted it, there was a
limit. Some jobs were for the uniforms to deal with… he was a
Detective…he was supposed to be above that now. Some of his
colleagues, Mike Bridger for one, had mentioned in a veiled way
that it was supposed to be a ‘whole of police’ approach to fighting
the battle against arseholes like the ones who had them now.

Trapped inside
his head, he was in trouble, and he needed help. He did not care
where it came from, Uniform or Detective… he realised that they
were all in the game together… us against them, no division.

He heard a
door open and felt a small rush of fresh air, followed up by the
sour stench of unwashed human. He could not see but he felt the
presence move into the room, was this it? He wanted to brace
himself but his body would not play the game, it was too sore and
tired, he did not control it anymore. Callously trapped inside his
body to hear and feel everything that was to happen and he could
not do a damn thing about it.

“
Are you
awake, Coppa?” He recognised the voice… Joseph Kingi…there was a
strange edge to his tone. “I have something for you to watch…” He
sounded hollow; his voice was fading in and out making it hard to
hear. The image of his face broke into his unconsciousness and
stayed there. Ugly tattoos made uglier by an evil and dangerous
smile, licking his lips, flicking his dreadlocks back…