Nightmare City (4 page)

The Promenade was quiet. A few grimy locals meandered around.
Traffic was light. A council truck lumbered down the inner
promenade, emptying dog-shit bins.

He turned off at Talbot Square and headed inland, picking up
the signs for the zoo, where he’d arranged to meet
Conroy.

It was actually Conroy who wanted the meet. He who suggested
the zoo. More informal, more natural and convivial, he’d said. And
he hadn’t been to a zoo since he was a kid.

Rider, out of curiosity more than anything, had
agreed.

It had been a long time since he’d seen Conroy and although
he’d no wish to re-open old wounds, he was intrigued.

He wondered exactly how ‘convivial’ the man would be. To the
best of his memory, conviviality was not one of Ronnie Conroy’s
strongest points.

Henry arrived for work at 8 a.m. that morning. He immediately
went to check Shane Mulcahy’s custody record. With a bitter twist
on his lips he read it and saw there was nowhere for him to add an
entry.

He also learned that Shane was still in hospital and was being
operated on later to remove a severely damaged testicle which had
apparently split like a plum.

So that was the situation. Nothing he could do about it but
wait, cross his fingers and pray. No point thinking If only ... Too
damn late for that.

Disgusted with himself he tried to put it to the back of his
mind and concentrate oil the day ahead.

The screen on the custody office computer - coupled with
screams and shouts from the cell complex - told him the cells were
full. He was relieved to be informed that there was only one
overnight prisoner for the CID to deal with, although he would not
be fit until he sobered up – conservative estimate being midday.
Sounded like a good job for the detectives coming on at
two.

He left the custody office and drifted up to the
communications room where he read the message pad which logged all
incoming calls and deployments. It had been a busy night in
Blackpool. Henry was glad his days as a patrol officer were long
gone. It was a dog’s life at the sharp end.

After this he had a quick cup of tea and a piece of toast in
the canteen before descending to the CID office and his cluttered
desk, where he began to draft out a careful statement regarding his
interaction with Shane while it was fresh in his memory.

Throughout the morning he was disturbed by a stream of
detectives who had been brought on duty to form the murder squad.
Many were old friends from across the county.

The first briefing was to be at 11 a.m. in the incident
room.

Henry decided, if he had time, he would go in and listen. He
had not yet heard who the dead body dressed in police kit was, and
curiosity nagged away at him.

Conroy’s big fat Mercedes was the only car in the zoo car
park.

Rider drove his Jag past, made a big loop and pulled alongside
with a scrunch of tyres on gravel. By this time Conroy was out and
standing there, awaiting Rider who climbed creakily out of his
car.

Conroy was a vision in cream, with a woven silk three-piece
suit by Hermes, off-white T-shirt, and a pair of white canvas
trainers by Converse. He’d seen the outfit in
Esquire
and decided he liked the
look. It was him. It had set him back over a thousand
pounds.

The two men shook hands. Conroy gave an almost imperceptible
nod to his driver and the Mercedes moved away.

‘
I’ve told him to come back in an hour. That OK?’

‘
Fine by me,’ Rider said indifferently, ‘but what’ll we talk
about for that length of time? Your fashion sense?’

Conroy laughed guardedly and patted Rider on the shoulder.
‘We’ll think of something ... but John, how are you? Nice to see
you. You look bloody rough actually and you smell like a fuckin’
brewery. Did you drown in a bottle of gin last night? Christ, it’s
a good job the cops didn’t pull ya - you’d still be over the
limit.’

Rider glared at him through narrowed eyes, already wound up by
a man he hadn’t seen for five years, although he’d tried to keep
abreast of his nefarious activities.

‘
And you look like some pathetic ageing rock star in that suit
and with that pony tail,’ he retorted.

‘
Whoa, come on, John,’ the other said placatingly. ‘Let’s have
a walk and a talk, take a look at some animals, maybe do some
business ... yeah?’

Rider didn’t really want to be here with someone who
represented much of what was bad about his past, yet his innate
curiosity had been aroused. What did this bastard want? He nodded
reluctantly.

‘
Good man.’

They walked towards the zoo entrance.

A lone car pulled onto the far side of the car park, catching
Rider’s eye. A white Jap thing. Two people on board - men, staring
in their direction. They looked as out of place as Conroy and
Rider. But although he noticed the car and experienced a vague
disquiet, Rider didn’t pay it much heed. He wasn’t a gangster any
more, so why should he?

Henry found himself in exalted company, sharing a lift with a
dying breed of officer. Two Chief Superintendents, the rank being
one of those abolished in police shake-ups of recent years. There
were a few left, but not many.

One was Fanshaw-Bayley, Henry’s ultimate boss. The other was
the Head of the North-West Organised Crime Squad generally referred
to as the NWOCS, Detective Chief Superintendent Tony
Morton.

The NWOCS were an elite team of detectives whose sole brief
was to investigate organised criminal activity in the north-west of
England, from Cumbria to Cheshire. They were based in Blackburn,
Lancashire. The squad had been in existence for just over ten years
and under Morton’s direction had been responsible for some of the
biggest, most spectacular busts and arrests ever seen in the
north-west.

Morton - his home force was Greater Manchester - was a very
sharp detective indeed. Henry knew he had begun his career on the
hard, mean streets of Salford and Moss Side, and worked his way up
the ladder of promotion through sheer hard work and uncompromising
thief-taking. Henry had a great deal of respect for the man, who
was in many ways a role model for him.

When Henry stepped into the lift, the two Chief Supers glanced
quickly at him and resumed their conversation. They talked in
hushed tones but were not trying to hide what they were
saying.

Morton was speaking. He was clearly upset.

‘
I am totally fucking devastated, Bob ... so all I’m saying is
that you can have every single member of my squad for this job for
as long as it takes. Me too. We’ll drop everything and give this
priority. Catch the bastards - catch’ em and crucify’ em! It’s a
real blow to us, I can tell you. Christ, I can hardly think
straight.’

FB placed a reassuring hand on Morton’s shoulder.

‘
I understand, Tony. If it’d been one of mine, I would’ve felt
the same - gutted.’

‘
Yeah, thanks, Bob.’

The lift came to a halt on the floor where the incident room
was located. FB gestured for Morton to step out ahead of him. Henry
stayed in, finger on the doors-open button. When they were clear he
took his finger off.

The last thing he caught was Morton saying, ‘What I don’t
understand is what the hell he was doing there by himself, all
tooled up. It doesn’t make sense, though he was a bit of a
loner.’

By which time the doors had closed and the lift was ascending
towards the canteen.

With interest, Henry mulled over what he’d just
heard.

At least it confirmed one thing: it
was
a cop who’d been gunned down - a
member of the NWOCS.

Next question for Henry: Who?

‘
I think sometimes you should revisit your past, don’t you?
Does you good. We get so caught up with ourselves as grown-ups we
forget simple pleasures like zoos.’

Conroy was doing the talking as they walked around, pausing
briefly at each cage or enclosure to examine the exhibits. Other
than themselves, the zoo was empty, and it seemed a cheerless place
on that fine, but cold morning.

Rider was actually mildly impressed with the place. Though
small and unspectacular, it was well tended and the animals seemed
in good health.

He wasn’t really taking in what Conroy was saying because most
of it was drivel. But then he moved up a gear and got Rider’s
attention.

‘
I hear you bought a club recently.’

‘
You heard right. Doesn’t news travel fast?’ It was only last
week he’d completed the full transfer, though he’d actually been
operating the place for about a month.

‘
It’s a small world we inhabit,’ Conroy commented.

They leaned on the outer rail of the lion enclosure and looked
through the wire mesh at the sleepy inhabitants. One of the big
cats rolled onto its back. A lioness glared at the two humans and
licked her lips.

‘
You
inhabit,’ Rider corrected him.
‘A small world YOU inhabit. So, yeah, I’ve bought a
club.’

‘
What sort of place is it, exactly?’

Rider started walking again. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw the lioness stand up, stretch and pad towards them.

‘
Exactly? A grotty rundown disco with a bar and a late-night
food licence ... and if I put some money in it I might make some
back. Eventually. What’s your interest?’

They were now strolling side by side along the
enclosure.

Walking next to them, staring at them and grunting
frighteningly was the lioness, her muscles tensing with each step
under the tawny coat. Rider couldn’t tell if she was feeling
playful or hungry, but the size of her massive jaws and paws made
him relieved there was a strong fence between them.

‘
Partnership,’ stated Conroy.

Rider stopped in his tracks. Conroy carried on a few steps
before realising he was alone.

The lioness stopped too, lifted her black nose and looked down
its length through haughty black eyes.

‘
Fuck off!’ blurted Rider. ‘Why should I want to go into
partnership with you?’ He pointed at the lioness who had settled
back on her haunches to watch the discussion like a tennis umpire.
‘I’d rather climb in with her.’

‘
Oh, come on,’ began Conroy.

‘
I’ll head back to the car, if that’s all you came to
say.’

Rider walked away, leaving Conroy open-mouthed and on the edge
of anger. The lioness growled at him, emitting a sound which seemed
to emanate from her belly, gathering momentum as it passed through
her throat into her mouth. Conroy jumped. He stuck two fingers up
at her and said, ‘You can fuck off too.’

He stormed after the disappearing Rider. No one had walked
away from him whilst he was talking in the last ten years. People
listened to him. If they didn’t, they got something
broken.

By the time he caught up with Rider, he’d adopted a pleading
tone of voice which held just the merest hint of threat in it.
Rider knew his way of speaking well.

‘
Look, John, I expect you’re wondering why I want a piece of
action up here, by the sea.’

‘
To peddle drugs, I imagine, which is your main source of
income,’ Rider said through the side of his mouth, still
walking.

‘
John, stop and fucking listen to me!’ Conroy took hold of
Rider’s arm and yanked him to a standstill. Rider halted abruptly,
faced Conroy and looked dangerously down at the hand which was
wrapped around his upper arm. Then he stared into Conroy’s
eyes.

The hand dropped away.

‘
Sorry,’ mumbled Conroy. Good, Rider thought. He’s still
afraid of me. ‘I want to explain something.’

‘
You gotta minute.’

‘
I need to expand. I own the east of this fucking county, all
the way up from Blackburn to Colne. Clubs, pubs, council estates.
All mine, but I need to move on. They’re poor people across there,
only so much money. I’m stagnating and Blackpool has got to be the
place for my next move. So what better, eh, John? You’ve got a
club, and those doss-houses you run . . . let’s get back together
again and make some fucking bread.’

Rider folded his arms defensively and looked into the
enclosure at which they were now standing. There was a high wall
surrounding a dry moat and a circle of grass with a few trees in
the middle of it. On one of the trees sat a huge, Silverback
gorilla, arms folded like Rider’s.

Rider couldn’t help but smile.

‘
This place has great potential. Eighteen million visitors
every year. Pubs, clubs ... that gay scene - those twats love the
speed - no real organised stuff here, just two-bit villains with no
strategic mind like me. We’ll make a fucking killing. Me and thee
... like the old days.’

They were standing more or less shoulder to shoulder, looking
at the gorilla as they talked, and he at them, as though
listening.