A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (18 page)

“My
protection.  You can use my name if you want to talk to anyone you suspect
knows something.  That itself carries a lot of weight.  Other than that, I
don't think there is much else I can do to help your investigation.”

“Alright
but something from you,” the fight had restarted but he was still looking at
me, raising his eyebrows before shrugging in acceptance and for me to carry on,
“I'll need some information from the people you know, nothing dangerous to
operations but enough to help me out.  I also need you to forget anything about
that journalist Camille Jarvis for the time being, and to that end, I'll make sure
she shuts her mouth.  Finally I need someone connected within the Elsworth
Warriors with weight to go to see Tommy Morrison, the kid who is in the nick
for the first shooting and get him to recant his confession.”

“The
first thing I can't do these people will not speak to a copper even if you are
retired.  The journalist is of no concern to me so do what you like there.  The
final thing is a little tricky; no one in that gang is going to exactly want to
walk into the lion’s den to just pass on a message from me especially since
there is some friction within their command.”

“I'm
sure you can make it work,” I said offering him a smile and my hand.  Saul
looked at the ring briefly watching as Hawksworth landed a powerful right hook,
ending the fight, before taking my hand.  A deal with the devil sealed with a
knockout punch.

The
crowd was still cheering as Saul left me.  Hawksworth was having the title belt
wrapped around his narrow but muscular waist to adulatory applause, the
audience proud of his achievement and as much as I was proud of mine.  I’d
stared down a very dangerous man in Big Saul and I'd come out of it standing. 
I knew that there was more to the man, that siding with him put me in a
difficult position but this case had taken a whole new direction.  Yes, I still
wanted to free Morrison, that was what I was hired to do, but there was a
killer on the streets and I had to do everything in my power to stop them from
hurting anyone else.

I'd
seen the news reports, how people had welcomed the vigilante justice that had
taken drug dealers from their streets even if it meant bloodshed.  I understood
that, they wanted a better quality of life and when it is the wicked and evil
drug pushers getting whacked they could turn a blind eye and say, hell they
deserve it.  But when a young couple dies at the hands of a gunman things
change.  People don't tolerate innocents losing their lives; it could easily
have been themselves or a loved one on the street that night.  Now they wanted
justice.

Ambling
down the stand I walked back to the bar and called Camille.  I didn't leave a
message, my hatred of automated voicemail systems prejudiced me from making a
comment, and I was more than aware that it could be hacked into.  Instead I
sent her a message on one of those free chat systems.  Luckily for me, Harris
had installed it on my phone so I could keep in contact when it called for
silence.  It was only a short message but was sure to garner me some brownie
points:

Found
the pistol used in the shooting on the couple, an old Webley.  In police hands
as we speak, should provide you with some good copy.  Saw your mystery villain,
have warned him off so be good for now.  All the best Harper xx

The
kisses were excessive but I thought it was a nice touch.  After all I'd still
rather send a letter than some sort of text message.  I ordered another pint of
beer and stood to one side watching the crowd.  The night had lead to more
intoxication and I watched new couples slink off to the quieter corners, envious
eyes following them.  Attractive, well-dressed women on the arms of men that
had more performance enhancing drugs in them than a cyclist in the Tour de
France batted their eyes at onlookers.  Smaller, less defined men, stealing
glances at them over the edges of their plastic drink containers, stood in
semi-circular groups; a protective buffer from other men.

It
was all very animalistic, as if the testosterone of seeing fighters pummel each
other had somehow managed to make them all revert back to a more basic
mindset.  The adrenaline in my system was doing the same thing; I was
invigorated by my encounter with Saul and stood taller than my usual posture. 
I felt bigger, stronger.

“You
been enjoying the fights?” the gruff voice of Tony asked from behind me.

I
turned slowly, “Yeah it's been fun.”

“I
saw you with Saul.  Be careful when dealing with him.  The lad's smart but he's
got a temper on him as well.”

Nodding
I replied, “He speaks highly of you.  Taming him when he had a gun, that takes
some serious guts.”

Tony
shrugged his shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world
disarming someone, “He was just a kid.  With those weedy little arms of his I
doubt he would have been even strong enough to pull the trigger.  Hell, he was
shaking like a leaf when he raised it.”

“Still
it's rather impressive.”

“I
sometimes wonder if I hadn't have stopped him then and trained him up if things
wouldn't have gone differently.  I'm not happy with what he became, Mister
Harper,” his eyes looked away from mine briefly, “But I’m proud that he is
still here.  I know Max struggles with it as well.”

“Where
is your partner in crime?”

Tony
frowned slightly as if trying to figure out if I was joking or not before
saying, “He's gone home and I doubt I'll see much of him for a couple of days. 
It's the way he unwinds after putting fighters in the ring, by going into
hiding.  When he comes back though, everything has gone through that mind of
his and he's got some good ideas for the future.  Every one of those boys know
that their training only gets better and harder after Max has his hermit
stage.”

“Seems
unusual.”

The
old man just shrugged, “Everyone has their own ways.  A couple of years ago we
had a set of fighters who used to tell us they would be going the physio to
relax.  It took about a year to figure out it was code.”

“Code
for what?”

“Going
to see a prozzie,” he laughed.  I was slightly shocked but smiled and nodded,
“we rarely let them have time off when in training.  No one is going to go to
the pub for a pint and risk ruining all of the exercise and diet, but some need
a release so going to a brothel or hiring a escort is fine by them.”

“What
about that whole 'no sex before a fight' rule?  Surely Max is one of those old
school trainers.”

“You're
right if he found out he would've probably given them hell.  Just because we
are partners, doesn't mean we tell each other everything,” Tony said with a
wink, “He works the guys hard and I'm the one that patches them up, be that
physically or mentally.”

I
caught myself gently rubbing my beard in thought, “Sounds like a difficult
job.”

“More
so than you would expect.  Anyway how goes the investigation?”

I
liked Tony and I knew full well that he had his own sources of information that
would relay anything I had back to him so it didn't bother me speaking candidly
to him, “It's coming along.  Saul has a lot of connections, hopefully he can
help me out with finding who is doing this.”

“You're
a brave man, Harper, just be wary of what he says and does.  Saul does what is
best for himself.  From what I hear he's hired a couple of …..”

Tony's
words were cut off as a burly gentleman was thrown through the glass door on
our left and between the two of us.  Outside, another muscle bound man was
staring at him with blood dribbling down his face from a cut above the eye,
ruining his designer t-shirt.  Our conversation and the walls at the side had
prevented us from noticing the commotion occurring in front of the sports
hall.  Groups of young men brawled on the ground and the bloke who had landed
at our feet quickly ran back into the fray, tackling the man who threw him to
the ground and punching him mercilessly.

The
security for the event ran from inside the hall to break up the fighting but
quickly retreated under a hail of body blows and thrown bottles and cans of
alcohol.  I stood at the side staring out at the mass of men, maybe fifteen to
twenty involved in the action.  Nearby, others egged them on, cheering much as
they had done when watching the trained fighters in the ring.  Some recorded
the event on their phones, hoping to enjoy the action later and somehow
separating themselves from the brutality of what was happening.

Tony
crossed his arms and I wondered why he didn't wade in to try and stop the
fighting.  He knew that this would be in the papers the next morning,
overshadowing any good that had happened at the event.  The titles changing
hands would be forgotten beneath the bloodied teeth of a knocked out punter. 
Personally I was content to just stand there and let it peter out but then I
saw the glint of a knife blade and my training took over.

The
armed man swung out viciously at someone catching his opponent’s chest, slicing
through fabric and flesh, resulting in a scream of agony from a very large
male.  People moved away from the blade.  My eyes rested on it but I assessed
the holder, a young man, weedy and very pale, with hints of spots on his face
suggesting less than adequate personal hygiene.  The hooded sweatshirt he was
wearing hid most of the top of his head but as I got closer as others retreated
away from him I recognised the lad as Alex, one of the youths I had met when I
first arrived in the city.

With
my hands raised I got closer to him, “Come on Alex, be clever about this, drop
the knife,” I pleaded feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“I’m
sick and tired of these Raky scum thinking they can come here and push us
around.  They’re the bastards shooting people but we get blamed for it all the
time.”

Realising
there was more to the fighting than just alcohol I acted quicker than I
wanted.  Instead of trying to talk the man down I slapped his right hand which
held the blade away with my right and punched him square in the nose.  It
didn’t break but blood spurted from it and his head rocked back.  I grabbed
Alex by the wrist and, taking the weapon from him, I threw the young man over
my shoulder and put my knee in his back after he landed heavily on the tarmac.

“Everyone
needs to chill the fuck out!” I shouted to the assembled group.  It is a rarity
that I swear, unless it is absolutely necessary as I try to avoid most
profanity but my frustrations on the case and the fact that these people had
turned on one another pushed me too far, “Ladies and gentlemen as you can tell
I’m not from around here and I don’t care where the hell you are from, be it
east side, west side or bloody far side, but this violence has to stop.  There
is a madman out there shooting people and because no one will break this
stubborn code of silence, they are getting away with murder.  You shouldn’t be
assigning blame to each other, you should be out there trying to help find this
gunman.”

I
looked around trying to see if my words had any effect on the people but they
seemed just as agitated and angry as before.  However Tony stepped out from the
centre, “He’s right, break this up.  So all you little smackheads piss off,
this night is about dedication and professional fighters. You disrespect them
by scrapping.”

“Hell
you say old man,” one of the youths close to him said swinging a green glass
bottle but Tony still had enough skills and speed to knock the lad out with a
fierce punch, more than equalling my own attack from earlier.

The
hooded man hit the ground in a crumpled mess and I was worried that it would
kick off once again, “You need to work as a community to stop this violence and
the best way to do that is to walk away right now.”

One
of the scantily clad women took a step forward, “Yeah and let you send more of
us to prison,” she said pointing at Alex who still lay at my feet.

The
sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and I was feeling the uneasy
stare of a large group of people who were expectant of my decision.  Briefly I
looked down at Alex as I was presented with the dilemma of what to do with the
knife attacker.  Assessing my situation, I stood up from the kneeling position
I was in and offered the young man my hand.  He reluctantly took it and I
helped him to his feet.  When he was standing, I whispered into his ear, the
blade in my hand close to his stomach, “I’m letting you off here but if I find
out you’ve done anything like this again I will gut you like a fish.  That or
I’ll just have a word with my friend Big Saul and see what he wants to do.”

His
pale face had gone even whiter at my threats and I lightly slapped his face
twice before he stumbled off.  Looking up at the crowd, I shrugged my
shoulders, “You’ve had your entertainment for the night; just go before the
police arrive.”

Quickly
they dispersed but I remained standing in the same place.  Waiting till they
all left I wiped the knife grip of my fingerprints and placed it in a plastic
bag before putting it in my jacket pocket.  Tony guided me to the back of the
sports centre and we left the area in a shared taxi as the police and emergency
services finally arrived.  They would find no one willing to talk and the only
evidence off the fracas outside would be the smashed window and some pools of
blood.  Mercifully it was quieter for them than the previous night.