The Stealers (27 page)

Crane spun round to find a stocky well-built man standing several metres away.

‘This is my… ' Crane began, but was immediately interrupted by the man advancing threateningly with another gruff order, this time in English, ‘Get out of here!'

It went against the grain but Crane decided that it was best to comply, so he threw his hands up into the air and, shaking his head, said, ‘Okay, okay, I'm going!'

The man's fierce eyes followed Crane as he walked towards the lift but, when stepping inside the open doors, Crane found he could not resist giving the man a cheerful wave goodbye.

Back in the tapas bar Daniella gazed through the window at Crane as he crossed the road with a huge grin on his face. She greeted him with, ‘You've found it then?'

‘Yeah, now I can sit back, get the ball rolling and call the… ' He stopped short of saying police. His eyes widened when the Mustang suddenly roared out of the hotel's underground car park, joining a stream of traffic and then disappearing from view.

*

Bradley had been comfortably settled in an armchair in his hotel room, sipping a large brandy, when the garage attendant phoned through and told him that someone had tried to get into his Mustang. ‘What does he look like?'

Apart from the beanie hat, sunglasses and moustache, the English accent and build would fit Crane. The information spooked Bradley so he decided to leave – fast! As he approached the exit of the garage, he paused and looked up and down the street. He could see no sign of Crane's old Rover, so he pulled out and blended in with the constant stream of traffic. His mind settled down on getting out of Motril and he concluded that, if it was Crane back at the hotel wearing a disguise, then it figured that he must still have a tracking device. He guessed that the tracker may be old and must have been hidden well inside the chassis, in any event he concluded that it would have a limited range.

He kept a constant eye on the mirror for the Rover as he drove the car back on to the E15 coast road, but could see no sign of it. He drove on to the dual carriageway where the Mustang was able to perform at a constant speed. With it came the reassurance of outdistancing Crane.

Maybe the intruder in the garage was not Crane; just someone being curious, or even a potential thief. He considered that perhaps he was being over cautious, but then, that was how he had survived, over the years, since his escape from Broadmoor.

*

It took Crane twenty minutes to get the Rover out of the public underground car park and back onto the road but, all the time, the Mustang was gaining ground. Stuck in a stream of traffic, Daniella, looking intently at the tiny tracker screen, said, ‘He's fifteen kilometres away; fifteen was its range right?'

‘In miles, not kilometres; there's a button on the side to change over.'

Daniella pressed a button, converting the distance and read out, ‘Nine miles away and going to… ten.'

By the time Crane reached the E15 dual carriageway, the tracker was near its limit of fifteen miles, but now, at the edge of Almunecar, an ancient coastal town, he picked up the dual carriageway and, with the help of the Rover's twin-turbos, he gradually began to narrow the gap.

The signal disappeared completely as they travelled through a series of tunnels but, when it reappeared, they realised that they were closing the gap. However, after the fifth tunnel as they drove out of Granada Province into Malaga Province, the screen did not reappear and the tracker remained silent.

‘Battery's good; green light is still on,' Daniella commented, ‘maybe the Mustang is in a tunnel.'

‘Maybe,' Crane echoed grimly.

*

Bradley turned off the motorway at the coastal town of Nerja and shortly after doing so, noticed a wide stretch of water – which had accumulated from recent a downpour – trickling into the Rio Chillar. He had an idea. Still obsessed by the thought of a transmitter hidden somewhere in the chassis, he drove down a slight incline to investigate further. When he was satisfied that he would not get bogged down, he eased the Mustang into the water until it was up to the bottom of the door sills in the hope that whatever was hidden in the chassis, water would flood through the hollow structure and cause a short circuit, permanently damaging the device. He was right, however, it not only knocked out the transmitter, but also fused the source of its power: the ignition switch.

Bradley's self-satisfied feeling deflated. He began to feel hot around the collar when the realisation dawned upon him that the device had been wired directly into the ignition. In disbelief, he turned the key several times, without response. He checked the glove box for spare fuses; there were none. He got out of the car and cursed as the water filled his shoes and ran up his legs. He waded round to the front, opened the bonnet and searched. He saw nothing that resembled a fuse box.

With dripping wet feet he got back into the car and looked under the dashboard until at last he saw a small, black kick panel near the steering column. He removed the burnt out fuse and replaced it with the one that operates the headlamps. However, as soon as he tried to start the car, the fuse blew again. The only chance to stop this from happening would be to disconnect the wire that ran under the car, but the problem was, which one? He could easily use up the other high amp fuses in trying.

Bradley now realised that the best way out would be to get the car out of the water. He remembered a garage that he had passed, no more than a kilometre away; perhaps they could pull him out with a tow truck. He checked his watch. It was late afternoon, and so grabbing his large black holdall, he walked along the edge of the watercourse and onto the road.

*

Crane looked at the mileage counter on the speedometer. ‘How far behind were we when the tracker stopped?'

‘Twelve miles.'

Crane thought for a moment and said, ‘Okay, let's stay on this road and see what happens twelve miles from now.'

Crane immediately eased up on the accelerator when Daniella said, ‘The Nerja exit is the nearest to our twelve miles,' and Crane turned off the road with an, ‘Okay, we've nothing to lose.'

As they approached the town, he caught sight of the stretch of water running into a river that had attracted Bradley. Just as they passed by, Daniella called out excitedly, ‘Hey, there's a red car with a black top in the water.'

Crane slammed on the brakes, reversed a few metres and, leaning across Daniella, said, ‘That's it! My car. I wonder what it's doing down there?'

Crane pocketed the Glock handgun and left Daniella inside the parked Rover. Alert to any possible danger, he walked cautiously down the shallow gradient pausing now and then, listening intently. Filled with suspicion, he moved forward. His eyes were like hawks as they darted to and fro. When at last he became satisfied that he was alone, he waded up to the Mustang and peered inside. He could see the fuse cover resting on the passenger seat and, after a moment's thought, guessed just what Bradley may have been up to. He figured that Bradley had realised his idea had backfired so had scampered off to get help.

He sprinted back to the Rover. In the distance, he could see an illuminated service station sign that towered into the sky and surmised that Bradley was probably there right now. He decided it best to keep well out of the way and u-turned the Rover, taking it further away and completely out of sight.

*

Bradley felt that he was in luck. With the help of another customer – acting as translator – together with a fist full of euros, the mechanic agreed to drop everything and tow the Mustang out of the water. Bradley climbed into a large pick-up truck and directed the mechanic the short distance down the road.

*

Hidden behind a large spread of bushes, Crane looked on as the vehicle, under Bradley's watchful eye, was brought back onto the road and towed away in the direction of the service station. When they were out of sight, Crane hurried back to the Rover and headed after them. Daniella said, ‘Now that he is immobile, do you think it's time to bring in the police?'

Crane's eyes were fixed on the distant tow truck and as it turned into the garage, nodded and said, ‘I think so.'

*

Bradley watched as two men uncoupled the tow rope and pushed the Mustang into one of the workshops. When they closed the doors, he stayed outside looking through the glass panels as a blow heater was directed underneath the vehicle.

With a hand firmly grasping the holdall, Bradley paced up and down the forecourt when suddenly he stopped and stared in disbelief as the Rover, that he had been so desperate to avoid, cruised past the service station. This time panic set in; he felt trapped. His eyes, wide with foreboding, fell upon the open door of the tow truck; a set of keys dangled enticingly from the ignition. For the first time in weeks, thoughts of the Mustang were abandoned. In an instant he was behind the wheel of the tow truck, firing up the engine and crashing it into gear, tore away from the forecourt in the opposite direction.

One of the men in the workshop saw what happened, nudged his companion and immediately phoned the police. Bradley surmised that this would happen and resolved to abandon the truck as soon as practical and concentrate in putting some distance between himself and Crane.

*

When he caught sight of Bradley standing on the garage forecourt, Crane was unsure whether his enemy had spotted him in the Rover and so slowed down, keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror. However, there was no doubt that he had been seen, when he saw the tow truck charge out of the service station and dash off in the opposite direction. Crane became entangled in traffic as he circumnavigated the nearby roundabout before he was able to follow in pursuit.

It seemed only minutes, but minutes can be vital. Crane saw the tow truck parked in a lay-by a few kilometres further down the road. A police car stood adjacent to it; the truck had obviously been abandoned. Crane drove around the area for some time in a vain hope of catching sight of Bradley, but without success. It was getting late and there would be no chance of finding him in the dark, so Crane suggested they find a hotel for the night.

The following morning, Crane paid a visit to the service station and with the help of an interpreter from the hotel, he showed the mechanic his registration documents and explained the situation. He also arranged for the car to be shipped back to England together with its original number plates. With that out of the way, Crane and Daniella began to relax as they drove to Bilbao and took the overnight ferry back to Portsmouth. Within a little over two hours of the ferry docking, they were turning into Palmers Rise and right back into trouble.

Crane stopped the car at the end of his lane and got out. Daniella looked at him quizzically and he said, ‘I'm just going to check the rear entrance of the cottage to make sure everything is okay,' and he disappeared into the bushes. Crane was well used to this trail, which he had created some time ago. He walked quickly and stealthily through trees and scrubland until he had a clear view of the rear of his cottage. His prudence had paid off. He seethed when he saw a burly-looking stranger, a brute of a man, leaning back lazily on one of the patio chairs; it was though he owned the place. Crane remained quietly in position and watched for a few moments, in case others were around; there were none. The stranger, totally oblivious to Crane's presence, was smoking a cigarette and swigging beer from a can until, eventually he drained the can and carelessly tossed it to one side, to join a collection of other empties on the lawn. He was about to open another can when Crane crept up behind and said quietly in his ear, ‘I do hope you're going to pick up those empties before you leave.'

Immediately the startled man turned his head and tried to rise but Crane anticipated this and gripping his shoulders, pulled him back hard. The man lost his balance and fell backwards in the chair onto the patio. Crane kicked the chair out of the way, leaving him splayed out like a huge turtle on its back and placed a booted foot across his neck. ‘You just keep very still,' Crane hissed, ‘or I'll break your windpipe!'

Not daring to move, the stranger looked up at Crane as he snarled angrily, ‘Where's Bradley?'

‘He's gone out to get something to eat,' gasped the big man, still getting over the shock of being trapped.

‘Anyone else around besides you?'

‘No, just me and him.'

Crane was concerned that Daniella had been left alone in the car at the end of the lane. He considered how best to secure Bradley's new henchman before he went back for her.

*

Daniella felt tired and fidgety after the long journey. It was warm weather and, with the car's engine switched off, the air conditioning was inactive. She flipped the sun visor down. Looking in the mirror, she was not impressed by its reflection. A pair of weary eyes stared back and she dabbed them with a moist tissue. They suddenly widened with fear when a car turned into the lane and screeched to a halt behind. It was Bradley.

In a panic to leave, Daniella's hand scrambled at the door lock, but Bradley was too quick. By the time she got out of the Rover, he was up close. He snatched at her wrist, gripping it tight. In his other hand, he held a long-bladed knife which he waved around threateningly in front of her. ‘Where's Crane?' he snapped.

Before she could utter a word, he nodded towards the bushes and said with a sickly grin, ‘Taken his secret path, eh? We'd better join him then.'

He held the knife on Daniella's back as he pushed and shoved her along the lane towards the cottage.

‘Anyone home?' Bradley called out cockily as they moved towards the rear of the cottage.

Crane still had his foot resting on the burly stranger's neck. On hearing the familiar voice, he suddenly increased the pressure and the man lost consciousness. He turned and saw Bradley standing behind Daniella, holding the knife against her neck. Bradley looked impassively down at his henchman and said calmly to Crane, ‘Here we are again. Where's the Mustang?'

It was the last thing Crane expected him to say. He regarded him for a moment. He had the look of a spoilt child; a very dangerous spoilt child and Crane, not for the first time, realised that he was dealing with someone who was unhinged; mentally unstable.

‘Where you left it; in Spain.'

Bradley's eyes glared hatefully, ‘Don't lie to me; it left there three days ago. Lie to me again and I'll draw this knife across her throat. Now where is it?'

Crane tried to play for time and said, ‘Let her go and I'll tell you.'

‘I'll think about that when I'm seated in that Mustang.'

‘Okay, it's on its way; the last I heard it had just crossed the French border.'

‘And when exactly will it arrive here? And don't bullshit me!'

‘Subject to channel crossing, it's should arrive early this evening.'

‘That's better.'

Bradley's henchman stirred and rubbing his neck got to his feet. Bradley flicked a glance in his direction and said casually, as though the man had just appeared on the scene, ‘Ah you're with us, Bruno; it seems as though you've already met Crane.'

Bruno seethed as his head cleared and as his eyes began to focus on the trio, they settled on Crane. He balled his fists and began to move towards Crane, but Bradley had anticipated this move and said, ‘Later, Bruno, later. Fetch me one of the guns from the kitchen table and while you're about it you'd better pocket one of them.'

Without taking his scowling eyes off Crane, Bruno grunted an assent and did as he was told, then disappeared through the patio door. Within seconds he was handing Bradley a 9mm Sig Sauer Model 224 semi-automatic. Bradley took the weapon and tucked the knife into a sheaf, that was hanging from his belt and he said, ‘That's better.'

He regarded the weapon briefly, looked up and commented, ‘One of the handguns that the SAS favour I believe.'

Crane responded with, ‘Is that a fact?'

Bradley looked Crane square in the face and said deliberately, ‘Yes, it is!'

Without taking his eyes off Crane and Daniella, Bradley called Bruno over and said, ‘There are two cars at the end of the lane, mine and theirs. Bring them up this end.'

With Bruno gone to do his bidding, Bradley waved the gun towards the patio table and said, ‘Both of you, sit yourselves down.'

Crane wishing to keep the conversation going said, ‘I'm curious. Tell me, how did you get away from Nerja?'

Bradley could not help looking smug as he replied, ‘Taxi. I saw it parked in the lay-by. I pulled up right behind it, paid him double the fare and he took me, no questions asked, straight to Malaga Airport. Surely you must realise by now that nobody gets the better of me; not even you!'

This was the first time that Crane was face to face for a tête-à-tête with Bradley. He realised that this was a fanatical egotist; a man who must have his own way at all costs. A man he knew to be an opportunistic, evil, cold-blooded killer, kidnapper and thief, but Crane was content to let Bradley enthuse about himself. With Bruno out of the way for a few moments, Crane hoped to catch Bradley off-guard, but the madman's ice-blue, piercing eyes, remained unblinking. They were firmly fixed on Crane's face, together with the gun held in a rock-steady hand.

*

It was a clear blue sky on a late September afternoon and the whole area was basking in warm sunshine. For the first time in months, Penny felt relaxed and happy as she turned her red Mini Cooper into Palmers Rise. Her forthcoming marriage to Girard was high on her agenda and she began delivering invitations to a small group of people she hoped would be able to attend. She was surprised when pulling up outside
Bramble View,
Crane's cottage, to find three cars parked outside. As she rattled on the letterbox, Andrew clambered out of the back seat of the Mini and stood by her side. Penny's second surprise came in the form of the burly frame of Bruno, who stood in the door frame with a facial expression like a tight shoe. ‘Is Jack around?' she enquired hesitantly.

Without a word of reply, Bruno nodded his head and motioned her to come in. Penny, with Andrew clutching her hand, glanced around uncertainly before stepping inside and inching past the well-built doorman. At the end of the narrow hall she entered the lounge and seeing the patio doors wide open walked towards them. Stepping outside, she froze and a look of horror spread across her face when she saw Bradley.

‘Well, well, what a nice surprise,' the unsmiling Bradley said. ‘I was going to get around to you next, but as you are here it saves me the bother.'

Penny was too shocked to answer. Instead she turned her head towards Crane and Daniella, who were seated at the garden table and gave them a pleading look.

Bradley gestured with the gun and said, ‘You can join them.'

Penny pulled out an empty chair and sat down. Andrew shuffled up close beside her, looked quickly around and then, looked down and kept his eyes focused on his feet.

Bruno made an appearance from the patio doors. He was sucking beer noisily from a can. Traces of the liquid ran down either side of his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto his chest. This seemed to irk Bradley who commented, ‘The object of drinking is to aim for your main orifice without spilling any of it.'

Bruno was unruffled as he came out from behind the can for air, belched and replied, ‘Practice makes perfect.'

Bradley's eyes hardened, but he let the subject drop.

Daniella stood up, glared at Bradley and said firmly, ‘I need to use the toilet.'

‘Okay, I'm sure you know where it is and no funny business; Bruno will be keeping an eye on you,' and looking at Bruno said, ‘won't you, Bruno?'

A grunted reply escaped from Bruno's mouth as he upended the beer can and poured the remainder of its contents down his throat. As he followed Daniella inside, he crushed the empty can in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder to join the pile of empties on the grass. When they returned to the patio, Bradley's ears suddenly picked up the sound of an approaching vehicle and, looking at Bruno, said, ‘I'm just going to see if that's my delivery. Keep your eye on this lot – if Crane gets up shoot him.'

The big lout nodded, removed the handgun from his pocket and grunted a, ‘Yeah.'

After Bradley had left, Crane said to Bruno, ‘Ever shot anyone before?'

‘What's it to you?'

‘Just curious; you're ex-army, right?'

‘What if I am?'

With Bradley out of the way, Crane was trying to grasp some kind of rapport with the reluctant Bruno and continued, ‘I guess you might know some of the places that I've been to.'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Iraq, Afghanistan, for example.'

‘You been there?'

‘Yeah.'

Bruno was beginning to open up, ‘When?'

‘Right from the start, how about you?'

‘Didn't do Iraq, but a couple of tours in Afghanistan; lost two good mates there.'

The sound of the transporter departing briefly interrupted the conversation and Crane continued, ‘How did you meet Bradley?'

‘Through someone I knew who did a bit of thieving for him. He asked me if I was interested in some easy money. I gave the fella my mobile number ages ago, but didn't hear anything until this bloke, Bradley Kemp, contacted me the other day.'

‘That someone wasn't Ryan by any chance, was it?'

He looked at Crane askance and breathed out a quizzical, ‘Yeah… do you know him?'

‘Sort of. Bradley owed him money, but he received a long-bladed knife, pinning him to the seat of his car, in lieu.'

Bruno leant against the wall of the building; he was all attentive now, ‘How do you know all this?'

‘It was me who found him and called the emergency services. He is probably still in Southend Hospital. And he wasn't the first.'

Bruno looked at Crane in disbelief. He glanced at Daniella who nodded in confirmation of the statement. Crane went on to tell Bruno how he first became involved with Bradley and about Davy Porter who was not as lucky as Ryan and died from a fatal knife wound.

Bruno suddenly realised that the transporter had departed some twenty minutes ago and Bradley had not reappeared. He felt disappointed. He wanted Bradley to appear and refute all that Crane had just told him. In his mind he had already spent the money that had been offered for his services. A chirping noise resounded from his jacket pocket, interrupting his thoughts. His free hand dipped in and sought out the mobile; the call was from Bradley.

‘Sorry, Bruno, I had to leave in a hurry; paperwork and all that.' The voice sounded relaxed and friendly. ‘Put a bullet in Crane and the women; they deserve it and I'll settle up with you this evening, okay?'

‘How much?' Bruno asked.

‘Five grand each; that's fifteen grand. Just leave their bodies where they fall and fifteen grand cash is yours.'

‘Fifteen grand?'

‘Cash!'

‘Where do I meet you?'

‘Tonight, say eleven o'clock, at the seafront car park, next to the Aquarium. You know the one – opposite the Kursaal.'

‘I know where it is; you'll have the cash with you?'

There was laughter in Bradley's voice as he said, ‘Of course I will.' He paused for a second and added, ‘By the way, you'd better take some photos as proof of their demise.'

Bruno's eyes were fixed on the seated trio as he spoke with Bradley.

‘No problem, consider it done then. See you there.'