Highbridge (27 page)

It seemed to do the trick as the Ragged Priest let out a sigh of frustration, while distracted by a commotion near the recycling bins. Three men were dragging another, followed by one more, that Luke immediately recognised. Leather Jacket. The Priest was obviously as curious as Luke and wanted to go and see what was happening.

‘OK. It's back that way,' he quickly announced. ‘At the end turn right.' Then, with heavy irony, ‘You can't miss it.'

‘OK. Thanks. Thanks for that,' Luke responded.

The Priest waved to the van. All OK. Then started to walk towards the action over by the recycling bins. But stopped as Luke made a show of locking his car and heading for the main pub door. The Priest's acolyte jumped off the quad and stood in front of him.

‘Where you going?'

‘Er, been on the road a bit. Just thought I'd er … use the er …'

The Priest felt he should tell him to wait until he got to David Lloyd's but knew that might get the idiot, whoever he was, either too curious or so irritated that he might start something at what was supposed to be an ordinary pub. The sort of ordinary pub to be found in many inner cities where men dragged other men around the car park. So he nodded to the acolyte to let Luke pass. He was also too curious about what was going on over by the recycling bins.

As the van headed back to its watch position and the quaddies headed over to the action, Luke went into the pub, gave a quick résumé of his story to a barmaid and was pointed in the direction of the toilets. Once there he checked the pay-and-throw again. Still no signal. He took out his real phone. No signal. He tried to make a call. No network. Then it dawned on him. They were jamming. Anyone unlucky enough to be categorised as suspect, enemy or traitor wouldn't be able to dial a friend. They would find themselves dragged out to that recycling bin. Not a black spot. A black hole.

INSIDE THE BLACK
hole, Luke had managed to get the toilet window open slightly, just enough to use his phone camera to watch Leather Jacket overseeing some form of kangaroo court around the recycling bins. From what he could see and hear, or figure out, the guy they had dragged out was pleading that they'd got it wrong. What he had or hadn't done Luke couldn't determine, but it amounted to the same thing: insubordination. And as with every armed militia everywhere, the code was the same. Zero tolerance. The outcome inevitable. And like every legally constituted judicial system it relied on precedent. Broken code. Broken bones. Summary justice.

What Luke hadn't expected was the form of summary justice, although it was clear that the transgressor had, as the wet stain that appeared on the front of his trousers indicated when he heard the deep roar and burble of a heavy diesel engine start up. From where he was, Luke couldn't see the source, but turning the camera to follow the terrified look of the transgressor he saw a crane hook descending above him. The guy made an attempt to run but was soon caught and pinned over the recycling bin. A flexible bike lock was then wrapped round his ankles and in what looked like a well practised drill, an extender cable was looped through, hung on to the crane hook and the still screaming and protesting guy was yanked into the air, swinging wildly to and fro.

As the assembled group separated and stood back, more to get a better view than to keep out of the way, they looked across at Leather Jacket, now leaning on the front of a Porsche Cayenne Hybrid. That caught Luke by surprise. But then he checked himself. Why not? Drug lords can have an interest in saving the planet. If only for themselves. From his display in the park with Fatchops, and now the cold detachment he was showing here, it was clear that this was no mere link in a chain. Here was someone who controlled the summary justice system. He was the kangaroo judge, jury and executioner.

The signal came as the judge looked up at the now dangling and slowly rotating figure rapidly running out of energy even to plead for his own life. After savouring this for a moment, Leather waved his arm towards where the crane must be parked. The hoist brake was released and the jib given a slight nudge so that the figure was flicked to one side as it crashed to the ground. Another well practised move so that the hook itself would not hit whoever had been unfortunate enough to be dangling from it. That way the injuries were consistent with a fall from height. Not being crushed by a heavy metal object. Falls are common. Being crushed by a crane hook isn't.

‘I like this lot,' Matt said, as he reviewed the recording on Luke's pay-and-throw before deleting it in the car on the way back to Highbridge. ‘In a certain way, right?'

Luke knew what he meant. They were efficient. Down to the guys waiting with a hose and gardener's pressure spray knapsack ready to cover the impact point with bleach before they hosed it down. Kill the guy. Kill the DNA.

‘Wonder if they dumped him in one of the recycling bins?' Matt asked. ‘But what do you do with a dead druggie? Compost heap would be better.'

‘I didn't wait for that bit. How'd you get on?'

Matt nodded. ‘Good. Should have plenty. If that night vision camera worked.'

The drone had been on Billy Higham's shopping list. Along with full blacks and the weapons. Aware that Joey's budget probably wouldn't stretch to a full spec Reaper with Hellfire or Sidewinder missiles, Matt had asked for a DJI Phantom so he could rejig the provided camera. You could run a small war with an Amazon account. Except for the weapons. That was the bit Billy did. Don't ask, don't tell. Just use and return in good order.

As they came off the expressway, Matt was still mulling over Leather Jacket's style of execution. ‘Probably got the crane idea from that
Homeland
series.'

‘Or YouTube?' Luke offered, being careful to slow down for a speed camera. Even if they had cloned plates, it didn't seem fair to leave someone else to pick up the bill. Apart from the risk that the camera might be linked to a live control room and a mobile police patrol might decide to ease their boredom by running a spot check. ‘Plenty of footage from Iran or Saudi.'

‘Or,' Matt said, ‘the tale of Mary the Tennessee Elephant.'

Luke emptied his lungs in an exaggerated sigh. But knew it was unavoidable. ‘Go on.'

‘She was hanged by a crane,' Matt continued. ‘But I'll keep that for another day when you are in a more appreciative mood.'

‘I am now.'

‘No, you're not. I know that sigh. You're only doing it to humour me.'

‘You could be right.'

Matt nodded. As they reached the swing bridge into Highbridge, he switched back to the mission. ‘You want to hit them here?'

Luke nodded. ‘Yeah. Main route in and out of town. Choke point.'

Matt nodded. It was. He was looking forward to it.

*

An hour later Joey was not looking forward to his dad taxi night as he cleared the choke point and directed the Q7 towards the expressway. Joey could never persuade Tanya and her posse – unlike the boys – to go out in the Jag.

‘So, you sure you don't need ID to get into this club?' It had been his last hope of opting out of a five-hour drop, wait and return evening.

‘One of the guys knows the owner.'

‘Which guy?'

‘You don't know him.' And the bit about not needing to know him was implicit in the tone, reinforced as Tanya spun in the passenger seat to share some latest digital headline with Becky and Carol.

It was also the signal for him to adopt the learned routine of going deaf and just driving, but as he did he glanced in the rear-view mirror to see them all suited and booted and excited at their first, he assumed, big night out, remembering how he, Luke and the others had always been on the hunt for such conquests. The thought immediately put him back into dad mode as he glanced across to the apple of his eye, thinking again how stupid, yet apt the phrase was. Another relic from the nuns. The apple being the eye and the eyelid being God protecting such a precious thing. Or so they said. Anyway, Tanya was precious to Joey and the thought of the sort of thing happening to her that had happened to Janey was what had driven him to agree to fund Luke's plan.

He was not naïve enough to think that Luke was doing it out of pure altruism. He knew it was all wrapped up with looking for some form of revenge, or closure about Janey, but he was also not blind enough to think that Sean and his windbag mates would ever find a political solution. Better people had tried and failed in the past, just as equally arrogant folk would try and fail in the future. At least this way, Joey thought, guiding the Q7 on to the motorway for the short leg to Warrington, we can chase them off for a while and give Sean's cronies a chance to get their act together.

He took another quick look at Tanya. Although the skirt was shorter than any dad would really like, she was, at least, fully covered on top. A bit of her mother there, he thought as his mind was dragged back by a shriek.

‘He's coming! Oh My God! He's coming!' It was Becky. Now even more excited.

‘Tell me it's not true.' That was Tanya.

‘Afraid so.' Carol confirming.

‘I didn't. I didn't think he would,' Becky said as her thumbs battered her screen to reply.

‘Why did you tell him where we were going, Becks?' Tanya again. Not pleased.

Joey was trying to stick to the rules and not get involved in the conversation, but he guessed this must be the mysterious Egyptian Natasha had told him about.

‘We were supposed to be having a night out away from him,' Carol moaned. ‘I don't want to be spending my night watching you making an idiot of yourself.'

‘You don't have to.' Becky. Defiant.

Joey was fighting hard to remain in role, something obviously sensed by his daughter as she put her hand on his arm. ‘It's OK, Dad. Just teen stuff. We're cool, really.'

‘I hope so,' Joey replied, trying to make it light but with the perceived fatherly warning.

She flashed him a smile. ‘And you'll be in the getaway car outside, won't you?' She patted his arm again and went back to the backseat conversation.

‘You're your mother's daughter all right, my girl.' Joey laughed as he checked the satnav against his own, probably out of date, local knowledge and a short while later pulled the Q7 in to a bus stop opposite the old supermarket that had been converted into the latest techno music palace. Almost before the car stopped Tanya was leaning over to kiss him on the cheek before getting out to join the others.

‘Park down the road, or something.'

‘Well I can't stay here. Text me just before midnight.'

‘What?'

‘The time you're leaving.'

‘Yeah, right.' And with that she was out, flicking her hair back over her head as she linked Carol's arm for mutual support as they guided their seven-inches across the road.

Joey waited to watch them get across safely, only to find a 4×4 pull up next to him and block his view. Who's this clown, Joey thought as he started to move the Q7 forward, but turning to try and see Tanya he saw the leather parka behind the wheel and realised the 4×4 was Bobby McBain's Range Rover out of which was pouring a male posse. As the lads headed across the road to join the girls in the queue, Bobby eased forward and lowered the passenger window.

‘Hey up, Joey lad? One of yours going in there?'

‘Aye. Tanya and her posse.'

Bobby nodded. ‘Hold up.' He turned and whistled out of his window. One of the lads looked round and Bobby waved for him to come back. He then parked in front of Joey, got out and put his arm round the lad to say something in his ear. The lad nodded as Bobby pointed over to the club. At Tanya.

Joey's heart sank. It couldn't, could it? he thought as he watched Bobby nod and then point to Joey, pull the lad closer and speak to him before giving him a hug and a small shove off towards the club. He then walked across to the Q7 with a huge grin on his face.

‘What you doing here? Thought you lived with your other family mid-week. Lots of cock and knees and all that?'

‘Don't give up your day job for the comedy club circuit, Bob,' Joey flashed back, but took the proffered high five hand-clamp.

‘Never had a day job, mate. Fancy a quick coffee?'

*

Luke was also preparing a coffee as Matt loaded up the video from the drone's SD Card. They were back at Luke's cottage.

‘Nice old farmhouse. Plenty of outbuildings. Got himself a pool out back. Away from the road. Overall. Not flash. Not run down. No one would take much notice. Unless you look here. And here.'

He pointed to the screen as the video showed them an aerial view of the house and grounds, before homing in on the CCTV cameras. Then the solid fence. And reinforced back door.

‘Looks very quiet,' Luke commented.

‘It was. Watch.' Matt pointed back at the screen and the video image widened to hover over the farmhouse. After a few seconds all the security lights came on to give a much cleaner picture.

‘I threw a piece of wood over the fence to see if there were any movement detectors.' He nodded at the screen. ‘Obviously. But no action. No one home.'

‘Unless they were watching the cameras.'

‘True,' Matt conceded. ‘But no cars.'

Luke conceded that one with a grunt. He knew exactly where Leather Jacket had been.

‘What about kids? Any signs?'

‘Unlikely.' Again he gestured at the screen. ‘After getting no reaction to the lights I took the drone lower. No bikes, swings or trampolines. But. A big doggy bowl.' He pointed to something on screen. ‘I mean big.'

Luke grunted again. But it wasn't anything they hadn't tackled before. Matt paused the video and switched to a Google satellite view.

‘We can come across this field. Right to the back fence. We can access down this road here, to what looks like another pub or restaurant.' He zoomed the image.