Substantial Threat (32 page)

Henry whistled. ‘Marty gets left with nothing other than debt and gets executed by a very pissed-off bullfighter. Things are slotting into place now. So Ray doesn't show any feelings about Marty's death, he accuses Jack of sleeping with him and beats her up, so Jack is really pissed off with him and decides to drop him in it.'

‘The money is still on the run and Ray wants it back because it's his and because – and get this for a kind of rough justice – the Spaniard has threatened Ray and told him he now carries the debt incurred by his brother.'

Henry laughed. ‘What goes around comes around.'

‘Ray's got two goons trailing the man who stole Ray's money as we speak. A guy called Miller and that one who was at Ray's when we went round.'

‘Crazy.'

‘And those two are very dangerous guys. They're the one's who took out the guys who tried to rob Ray, then dumped their bodies over the county line. They're also the ones who came off best in McDonald's. They've also been contracted to murder the Spaniard.'

‘What about the King's Cross shooting?'

‘Ray and Marty did that. Crazy drove them.'

‘Wow,' said Henry, taking it all in. ‘So how's Jack? Will she put pen to paper, do you think?'

Jane nodded confidently. ‘She's up for it.'

‘We'd better get it done as soon as possible. These people need to be taken off the streets – Oh,' Henry had a thought, ‘did she say anything about the dead prostitute?'

‘No, didn't ask. Sorry.'

‘Okay, you've done bloody well so far. What I want to do now is keep her on the move. I'd like to get her to the rape interview suite at Morecambe, just for today. It'll give us some breathing space and while you're sorting her out statement-wise, I'll get a move on with the witness-protection stuff. She needs to be moved soon for her own safety, I reckon. From now on I think we should all watch our backs until we get Ray, Crazy and this other guy Miller into custody. I'd say they'll be out to get her and anyone daft enough to get in their way – i.e., us.'

The entrance to the car park at the back of the police station was by way of a rough road through a small area of derelict land and some grassed-over humps. It was easy enough for Miller to position his car to have a view of all the comings and goings at the rear of the station without arousing too much suspicion.

Henry came off the phone, which seemed to have been pressed to his ear for over an hour. He had been making arrangements, letting the right people know what was happening, but not letting any names slip. By 9 a.m. he had done the necessary to get the ball rolling, but could not help but feel nervous. He knew he was up against a ruthless gang who had their backs to the wall. They would stop at nothing to protect themselves and destroy others. Henry knew he had to assume there was a very substantial threat against Jack Burrows, even though one had not yet been made. The phone call she had sneakily made last night worried him. It meant that Ray had been alerted. But what could he have achieved overnight in terms of pulling something in place to get at Jack Burrows this morning? Henry pondered. Nothing, he assured himself. Ray did not have a clue where she was and once Burrows committed herself to paper later today, there would be no way in which Ray could ever find her, unless she was foolish enough to compromise herself.

But Henry was on pins and needles.

She was safe and secure in the police station. Once outside on the road she became vulnerable.

He went upstairs and found Jane Roscoe, Rik Dean and Jack Burrows in the TV lounge. He beckoned Jane out to the landing.

‘The rape suite isn't being used at the moment and though I know we shouldn't really use it for this, I'm going to. We can spend some time debriefing her and getting it all recorded.' He clenched his jaw. ‘I want to move as soon as possible, cos I'm starting to get a bit jumpy. We'll travel to Skem and pick up the M6 from there. Probably take an hour to get to the suite.'

Jane nodded. ‘I'm beginning to feel jittery, too.'

‘I'd like an armed escort, but the only trouble with that is the bureaucracy. It would waste time and I want to get her moving as soon as. What do you think?'

‘I know what you're saying, but it isn't likely that Ray knows where she is at the moment, is it?'

‘No, but she's still under threat. I don't want to put her in any unnecessary danger. I'll speak to Bernie Fleming about it.'

He went back downstairs to the CID office and called Fleming on the land line and put the conundrum to him.

‘Well,' said Fleming, ‘under the circumstances, just get her moved, then we can have a proper look at having pre-planned firearms escorts for any future movements, once she's made her statement.'

I'm not a happy chappie, Henry said to himself as he hung up.

Henry emerged from the front door of Ormskirk police station and walked across the small concourse to the traffic lights at the junction. On the opposite corner was the library and opposite that was the traffic-free road leading down to the main shopping centre. He breathed in the fresh air and watched the traffic flowing for a while, before strolling down the slight incline away from the town centre, then cutting across the grassed area and walking back into the car park behind the station.

His eyes were roving constantly, seeking potential problems, searching for signs of danger.

There was nothing. People were coming and going all the time. Many cars were parked on the waste ground outside the police station walls. A guy in motorcycle leathers, helmet on, was standing astride his bike, chatting to another man in a car, both smoking. They didn't even look at Henry. He did not give them a second glance.

Yet he was still feeling pretty unhappy.

He reversed his car to the rear door of the police station. As soon as he got there, Rik Dean came out and did the same with his car, parking it in front of Henry's so they were in convoy. Henry waited for him and they both went back into the station. Jane and Jack were waiting behind the door.

‘We're ready,' Jane said.

‘I'm not,' said Henry. He left the three of them standing there and went into the CID office where a lone detective was beavering diligently away at paperwork. Henry picked up the phone and dialled the divisional communications room. He asked where the Armed Response Vehicle was at that moment. Chorley, he was told. At least twenty minutes away.

‘Tell them to make their way to Ormskirk police station immediately and to liaise with me, DCI Christie.'

Back with the three waiting people, Henry told them the good news. They were not going anywhere yet.

‘Looks like they're preparing to go,' Miller said to Crazy as he watched Henry Christie walk back into the police station car park and manoeuvre his car to the back door.

‘What's he up to?' Crazy said.

‘Checking,' said Miller. ‘He's a bit worried, and so he should be.' Miller smiled. ‘He's on the ball. I wonder if he clocked us? If he did, he didn't show it.'

The ARV rolled into the police station fifteen minutes later, the engine reeking of heat and smoke. They were in a fully liveried Ford Galaxy with smoked-glass windows and they had pushed it all the way.

‘Armed cops,' Miller said.

‘He must have clocked us then,' said Crazy.

‘I don't think so. He's just being careful. Shit,' breathed Miller.

‘What do we do?'

‘I've just added up fifty grand and one hundred and forty grand, plus what other stuff I have put away for a rainy day,' said Miller. ‘To me that adds up to a nice lifestyle in a hot, cheap country. I don't know about you, but I'm up for this.'

‘The money's not in our hands yet.'

‘It will be. We'll easily find that idiot Dix and then we'll be laughing all the way to wherever.'

‘It might mean killing a cop.'

‘Yeah, true. So be it. Needs must.'

Henry watched the ARV come into the back yard and manoeuvre backwards to become lead vehicle of the three-car convoy. He trotted down to meet the two officers at the door as they were buzzed in.

He introduced himself and said, pleased, ‘You made good time,' then quickly briefed them and asked if they had any problems.

‘No,' one said, ‘but can we covert arm?'

‘Yes,' Henry said, making a big decision. It meant they could arm themselves, but that their weapons would have to stay out of sight, but be accessible.

‘Go and sort yourselves out and we'll be out soon.'

Henry collected everyone from upstairs and led them down to the back door of the station. Jane dropped into the front passenger seat of Henry's car, while Henry opened the back door of Dean's car, ushering Jack Burrows out of the station and into the back seat where she laid herself out full length. ‘Keep down until we reach the motorway, then you can sit up, okay?'

Rik Dean got into the driver's seat and Henry got into his Vectra. He gave the word, ‘Go,' on his radio.

The ARV began to roll slowly towards the exit. Dean released his handbrake and crawled behind, with Henry bringing up the rear.

Henry was feeling the strain, particularly in his throat, which felt dry and sore. He took a deep breath to help him settle down. Maybe he was just letting his police senses get in the way of his common sense. ‘But why do I have a very bad feeling about this?' he thought and only realized he had said it out loud when Jane shot him a query-filled look. ‘Sorry.'

As the ARV reached the exit, Henry's mobile rang out.

‘Hi – Henry Christie,' he said, happy to answer it: he knew it could not be Jane because she was sitting next to him.

‘Henry, it's Karl . . . Just something preying on my mind, might just be a load of bollocks, as you might say, but just be careful when you move that witness, will you? I saw a motorbike behind you when you left the airport and while there was nothing wrong about it, it just seemed out of place, somehow, like it could have been following you.'

Motorbike! Shit! Henry's mind spun like a vortex. That could be how Ray Cragg might be able to get to a witness quickly. He could have followed Henry from his home and Henry would have led him right to the witness. His mind processed these thoughts as the convoy turned out of the car park and approached the junction with the main road. Henry did not even thank Karl. He threw his phone down and grabbed his radio, about to cancel the trip north until he could put together a full armed escort.

He was too late.

The Ford Granada came out of nowhere, from the side. It was the car Henry had seen earlier, the one with the motorcyclist standing next to it.

It wheels spun on the gravel, churning up stones and dust. Henry saw a flash of the hooded driver. He also saw the leather-clad, helmeted motorcyclist at the side of the road, sitting astride his powerful-looking machine.

The Granada smashed into the driver's side of the ARV, crushing the PC who was driving and making the vehicle undriveable.

Henry slammed his brakes on and was already half out of his car, his brain only just registering what was happening.

The driver of the Granada was out of his car faster, spraying the side of the ARV with a broadside of slugs from the H&K MP5 in his hand – the one he had stolen from an armed officer at Blackpool Victoria Hospital. This done, he ran to the back of Dean's car, stood by the back door, rose on his toes, and pumped every last remaining bullet into the back half of the car where Jack Burrows was lying.

Henry could do nothing but cower behind his door. Roscoe, hands to her face, screamed uncontrollably. Rik Dean had thrown himself underneath his steering wheel for protection.

Then it was over. The gunman threw the H&K down and ran to the waiting motorcycle and jumped on to the pillion. He waved and with a skid and a swerve of the rear wheels, the bike shot away and headed towards Preston.

‘Pull yourself together,' Henry screamed at Jane. He ran to Dean's car and peered in through the shattered windows. ‘Fuck,' he said when he saw the state of Jack Burrows. Rik Dean, shell-shocked and shaking, literally rolled out of the car and fell to the ground.

‘You okay?'

‘I think so.'

‘Get sorted and call an ambulance.' Henry ran to the crash-damaged and bullet-splattered ARV. The driver was trapped by the steering wheel and looked like he'd taken a bullet in the shoulder. His colleague on the other side of the vehicle was unhurt, just a little shaken, but still cool. He was already out of the car, reaching in for his weapons.

Henry ran back to his car. Jane was still in shock.

‘Get out, get looking after the wounded and protect this scene,' he ordered her sharply. She got out numbly, seemed to pull herself together as she stood up and ran to Dean's car, opening the rear door. Jack Burrows slumped out, covered in blood, but apparently still alive.

Henry jumped into the driving seat of his car, reversed in a cloud of smoke, slammed it into first and drove around the chaos. He stopped at the road and shouted, ‘Get in,' to the unhurt ARV officer. ‘These other people will look after the wounded.'

The PC, carrying two H&K MP5s and his own Glock at his waist, got in beside Henry and dropped the assorted weaponry into the footwell. Henry jammed the gas pedal down and screeched out through a gap in the now stationary traffic in the direction the motorbike had gone. He knew he had little chance of catching it, but he steered with one hand, recklessly, while he held his radio in the other and relayed details of the incident to the control room and circulated details of the escaping bike, which, he said, would be easy to spot because the passenger was not wearing a helmet.

He gunned his Vectra towards Preston once he reached the A59, though he did not know for sure if he was even going the right way. The bike could easily have gone towards Liverpool. Or could now be abandoned in a side street and they could be tootling along in a nice car. All Henry knew was that it was more than likely they would be making their way, by some route or other, back to Blackpool. Or maybe not. Shit, he thought.