Fogarty: A City of London Thriller (39 page)

In addition to securing the funds, Ben had been running from office to office in the City, organising legal matters and trying to find a chink in Mapperley’s armour. Vastrick Security had helpfully provided a good deal of background information on Mapperley’s operation and, along with Max’s research into Grierson’s criminal exploits, Ben thought he had an angle. It would be touch and go whether his plan would work because it relied on his pursuers at Scotland Yard trusting his information, which could not be guaranteed as long as he was wanted for
questioning on a murder charge.

Late on Thursday night, and into the small hours of Friday, he had called home and spoken to his dad in New Zealand. The old man sounded frail and it became clear that he had been suffering from an infection, which had led to pneumonia. As usual the Senator had said nothing about it to Ben, preferring not to burden his ward with bad news. They spoke for over two hours on the telephone and then again on Skype. As frail as he was, the old man organised everything that Ben as
ked, time being of the essence.

Now, with all legal and practical measures in place, all Ben had to worry about was whether Mapperley intended to let him and May Fogarty live. A letter explaining everything had been lodged with a solicitor in the City, and would be sent to the Metropolitan Police in the event of his death. Mapperley had been angry at that unexpected turn of events when Ben explained his insurance policy to the gangster in their last phone call, the one confirming that he
was ready to make the exchange.

“You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” A smile played across Max’s lips as he quizzed his friend. Ben wandered over and they looked at the map again, together.

Carter’s Yard, Wandsworth High Street, London.

Saturday 27th August 2011
; 10:55pm.

Carter’s Yard was no more than an alleyway leading from Wandsworth High Street to a car park behind the buildings facing the main road. The yard beyond housed small industrial units, workshops and around fifty car parking spaces. Once in the yard there were only two ways out, and both were little more than a car’s width wide. The yard itself was surrounded by buildings on three sides and by trees on the fourth side. Beyond the trees stood a high brick wall bedecked with razor wire.

The yard was deserted at this
time of night, as Mapperley had known it would be. Cresty Group operated one of the few functioning workshops. During the day the yard served as off road parking for council workers and others who worked a few yards along the main road in either direction. The space was poorly lit, with three white lights at waist height mounted atop parking bollards and the dim orange glow of two tall streetlights, whose eerie shadows strayed over the surrounding buildings onto the yard. One further source of light was added to the mix; the workshop under the Cresty Group building had its roller shutter up and a single fluorescent tube offered an oasis of brightness on the dark side of the yard.

Mapperley
entered the yard in his green Jaguar. He had been driven by ‘Tug’ Kaplinski, whose first name was unpronounceable but whose lust for killing made him invaluable. Tonight wasn’t a night for Martin, Mapperley’s usual driver, or for any uninvolved witnesses.

As they pulled off the High Street
, passing by the grey brick building with a red wooden shop front still bearing the name of ‘WG Child, Fine Tailors’, the long defunct gentlemen’s outfitter, Mapperley’s men in the yard confirmed that the yard was empty. Mapperley smiled. He would take the money and get rid of the Fogartys in one evening’s work, and to make sure it all went according to plan, he had his entire crew in the yard. His only concern was that he couldn’t raise DCI Radlett, and Radlett’s wife had left town urgently. Still, he couldn’t worry about that now.

***

Alastair Dein didn’t like operation
s where he had to be tooled up. Carrying guns was a mug’s game, in his opinion. Few if any of the guys who carried guns in London could hit a barn door with a new, calibrated weapon, let alone with the junk that could be acquired on the streets. More than one of his mates had lost an eye or a limb as a consequence of an old gun blowing up when the trigger was pulled. There were eight of them out tonight; the whole crew, except for those being held by the police following what Alastair could only imagine was Conn Parker’s blabbing. Jonno, Lamby and Alastair himself were carrying guns, while the rest had knives, coshes and bats, whatever they felt comfortable with. Jonno had tested the guns as best he could. He couldn’t exactly go to a firing range to test them, and none of the lads could find their way out of London well enough to find some deserted countryside. Besides, he thought, the fresh air would probably kill them.

Alastair and his cohorts had arrived ten minutes ago and had done a quick reconnaissance of the area, which took
ninety seconds because anyone standing in the middle of the yard could see the buildings and the trees on all sides. None of the rooftops were accessible, and all were pitched roofs, so there was virtually zero chance of anyone being hidden amongst the tiles and chimneys. Mapperley’s instructions to be there an hour ahead of time, ‘just in case’, had been roundly ignored, but the Boss need never know. As the Boss’s car drove in, piloted by the mad Slovak, Alastair sucked madly on his mint, trying to conceal the smell of alcohol on his breath, which would have revealed that the boys had all had a good night out before gathering to give some lawyer and his mate a good hammering.

***

Mapperley stepped out of the car and Tug Kaplinski reversed it into the brightly lit workshop. “Where’s the woman?” Mapperley asked Alastair, whilst looking around the dimly lit yard. Alastair was sweating in the humid evening air and yet Mapperley was dressed in a suit and tie and was wearing his Crombie coat, buttoned up. “Good Lord! What does this man do in the winter?” Alastair Dein thought to himself.

“She’
s tied up and sitting on the bog in the ladies’ room, Guv,” Dein replied. “The door’s locked from the outside and there’s no windows,” he added as an afterthought.

Mapperley smiled to himself. He had seen four men concealed behind tree trunks, one in an industrial unit door recess, and one in the workshop. With one guarding each entrance
, and Alastair, that was the full crew. Tug alone would probably be capable of doing the job, but there was no harm in overkill.

***

Ben drove up Wandsworth High Street
, just as he had practised numerous times in the last twenty-four hours. As he turned into Carter’s Yard he had to stop the rented Audi A4 in its tracks. A hefty beast of a man snarled through his wild beard and opened his windcheater jacket to show he was carrying. He had a radio to his lips. Ben wound down the window.

“Only Fogarty goes in. You stay with me and the old lady will come to you. Understand?” Max wasn’t happy about leaving Ben alone, but they had anticipated this situation. Max stepped out of the car to wait with Jonno, as Ben drove on.

If Max and Ben had guessed right
, both entrances would be covered by men with guns. They had indeed guessed correctly, and now, unbeknown to Ben, he was heading into the yard alone to face Mapperley, two armed men and four men concealed behind the trees.

Ben drove down the narrow alley between the high brick walls on either side and came into a dimly lit clearing. A tall rangy man ushered Ben around the corner by waving his gun. Parking in the centre of the yard
, Ben stopped the Audi and switched off the engine whilst leaving on the headlights. He stepped slowly from the car. The tall rangy man approached him and frisked him, only to find Ben’s Patu tucked into his waistband.

“What is it
, Alastair?” Mapperley asked. Alastair responded by illuminating the Patu in the headlights. The onlookers stared quizzically at the old Maori weapon, and quickly dismissed it as being any kind of danger.

“I was about to say you appear to have brought a knife to a gunfight, Fogarty
….” Mapperley paused to deliver his punch line. “But it appears you have brought a table tennis bat to a gunfight.”

Men all around laughed, giving away
their positions. “Amateur hour,” Tug Kaplinski muttered under his breath in disgust at the lack of professionalism.

“I take it the sporting goods store didn’t have any baseball bats left.” More laughter
, and Tug grunted. Alastair tucked the paddle shaped Patu back into Ben’s waistband, to more laughter. Mapperley walked up with Tug until they were three feet from Ben.

“Where is the money?” Mapperley demanded. Ben opened the rear passenger door and took out a huge metallic looking case. It was
actually a silver coloured impact resistant plastic suitcase with ribs and indentations that gave it the look of a military weapons case.

“You don’t get this until my Gra
n is on her way down that alley,” Ben insisted.

“And what is to s
top me just taking the money from you now?” Mapperley asked snidely, arching his eyebrows as he spoke. Ben held out the case and pointed out two cylindrical projections either side of the manufacturer’s name,
Bostwick Inc
. Mapperley looked at Tug, who merely shrugged his shoulders, not understanding. Ben explained.

“Explosive ink cartridges. If the case is opened incorrectly
, ink is sprayed, under considerable pressure, into the case and over the cash. Most of it will be ruined.” Mapperley looked at Tug and then Alastair; both looked nonplussed. Thinking quickly, Mapperley decided that Jonno would apprehend Granny, Fogarty and Ben’s colleague, the Snake Eyes lookalike in the alleyway, so there would be no harm in cooperating.

“Get the woman!
” Mapperley shouted over his shoulder. He turned back to Ben, eyeing him warily. “You are as bright as your sister said you were.”

A m
oment later May Fogarty appeared in front of the Jaguar. She was limping slowly, one hand holding her side. Ben shot a glance at Mapperley, who anticipated the accusation.

“Old injuries
, Ben. We’ve treated her with respect, as promised.” Ben went over to his grandmother and asked if she could walk on her own. She nodded weakly and he kissed her on the cheek, whispering in her ear.

“How touching. A
family reunion. OK, May. Make your way down the alleyway where Ben has a thug with a snake eye haircut waiting to take you on to the High Street and safety. Ben will be along shortly”. Mapperley was grinning. As soon as the old lady had been swallowed up by the shadows in the alleyway, Mapperley ushered Ben into the workshop, where he was to open the case.

***

Jonno had kept Max at a distance with his hand resting on the Sig Sauer P220 semi automatic pistol, being careful not to give the other man a chance to rush him. Max spotted May hobbling down the alleyway and shouted her name, rushing to meet her. Jonno took out his gun and levelled it; these two were going straight back into the yard and into the hands of the Boss.

Facing Max and May, Jonno had his back to the entrance of the alleyway. In what seemed like a fraction of a second a large shadow encompassed him, and suddenly his gun hand was being crushed as he felt the bones splintering under the skin. Jonno would have screamed except for the fact that a meaty arm, the size of which defied description, crushed his windpipe. The shadow took the gun and let Jonno fall to the floor, gasping for a last breath that would never come. May and Max looked on in horror as the thug’s body went into spasm before lying unnaturally still, dead eyes
glistening in the streetlight.

The large Maori who now walked toward them didn’t bother looking back. He knew what he would see. The enormous man looked uncomfortable in his dark sweatsuit. In the last few hours Max had come to know Hirini as a friendly giant, but there was nothing friendly about his demeano
ur now. He was in warrior mode.

Hirini lifted May very gently, as if she weighed nothing at all, and carried her to the end of the alley, where a car was pulling up in front of the shuttered WG Child Tailors’ shop. Katrina, whom May recognised from the flats, opened the door and May Fogarty was placed gently into the passenger seat. Max kissed Katrina tenderly on the cheek. “Take her to the hospital now. She won’t want to go, bu
t don’t take no for an answer.”

“Be safe, Max,” Katrina said earnestly. “These are very bad men.” The car drove off with May Fogarty protesting loudly, and Max and Hirini walked up the alleyway towards Carter’s Yard.

***

Secure in the knowledge that Jonno would lead May Fogarty straight back to them, Mapperley eagerly anticipated the opening of the suitcase. Ben fished in his pocket for the security key which opened the lock’s cover to reveal a combination operated keypad. As he laid his car keys on the bench, Ben locked the car. The indicators flashed once and there was an audible click as the doors locked.

“With a million pounds in cash we don’t need to steal your car,” Mapperley quipped. Ben turned his attention to the keypad. Just as he was about to tap in the code, everyone froze. Ringing out of the dark undergrowth came a deep, guttural and unnatural sound. It was animal-like, and it wasn’t good. For several long seconds there was silence, before the stillness was broken by two screams. In the silence that followed, everyone except Tug and Ben shivered.