Текст книги "Just Another Day"

Автор книги: Steven Clark

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 19

It was completely dark now as John glanced at the clock on the dash. 7pm.

He saw the overhead signs as they approached the signs for Garston and the silence of the last 30 minutes was interrupted by the voice from the back.

‘Follow the Garston signs till I tell you different okay? Pass me back the two bags on the seat.’

John did as he was ordered, the plastic bag contained the sandwiches and drinks; the expensive leather handbag with the designer logo obviously contained the woman’s worldly goods.

Johnson put the knife alongside his right thigh. He could easily get to it if needed if his driver decided to piss about. He didn’t think there was much danger of that as he would have to pull up first and stop, then turn around, by which time he would have the knife back in his hand and plunging through the seat. True, this car was much more plush than the police car and the foam padding was a lot thicker, but the knife would still go through the fabric easy enough into the body sat in front. He put the plastic bag on the floor after taking out a bottle of coke. He still had hold of the shotgun in his left hand but his captive hadn’t stirred for the last half hour or so. He wasn’t dead, but there wasn’t much life left in him so he had no problem in putting the bottle between his knees and twisting the top off with his right hand. The sugar in the drink gave him a quick burst of energy as he swigged it down greedily. He emptied the contents of the handbag out on his knee and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. The black shiny mobile phone almost winked at him.

John heard the tell tale ping, ping, ping as Johnson hit the keypad quickly.

‘Is that you Tony?’

‘Luke, where the fuck have you been all day. I thought you’d been locked up or dead or something. I’ve been watching the news every hour all day long trying to see if there was anything about a police incident anywhere. When the copper stopped the wagon going out of the gate this morning, I thought you’d do him. Next thing I know, he’s in the fuckin wagon with you goin up the road.’

‘It’s a long story little brother and I’ll have to knock the shite out of you when I see you. Who’s the soft bastard who didn’t charge the phones up last night like I told you to you fucking arsehole. When I needed to get you earlier, no fucking battery, twat!’

Tony knew better than to argue and just accepted the bollocking over the phone.

‘Where are you now Luke?’

‘We’re on the M6 just coming off at Garston.’

‘What d’you mean we? Who’s with you?’

‘We’ve got a couple of guests for dinner our Tony so you need to put the kettle on and make them a nice welcome cup of tea when we get there.’ The menace in the voice wasn’t lost on John as their eyes met in the mirror.

‘What do you mean a couple of guests, who are they?’

‘One’s the copper from this morning, the others a copper from this afternoon.’

‘Fuckin hell Luke, two coppers. Are you out of your skull, are you fuckin mad?’

Tony had said the words without thinking and instantly cursed himself as the volcano in the back seat erupted. He screamed down the phone at his younger brother, even Dave was brought out of his semi comatose condition and jumped in his seat.

‘Don’t you ever call me fuckin mad you little bastard, d’you hear me. I’ll take this fuckin shotgun and shove it up your arse you fuckin little shitbag.’

His face was contorted with rage. John hadn’t seen him this angry at any time during the day. Dave was all to well aware of the violence that bubbled below the surface as he saw the speckles of saliva spatter all over the back of John’s head.

‘Get your arse to the fuckin yard now. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’

Tony stammered down the phone.

‘Sorry, sorry Luke, I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I’m at the yard already. Just sound the horn when you’re outside and I’ll open the gates and you can drive straight in OK?’

‘“Please can I have a drink?’ Dave was stirring and feeling the effects of serious dehydration. Probably if he had thought about it, Johnson would have ignored him or fucked him off. As it was, he was too busy thinking about his little twat of a brother and tossed a full bottle of coke onto Dave’s lap. He couldn’t grip it with his left hand and, in much the same way as his captor earlier, grasped the plastic between his knees and twisted the top. He drank slowly and felt the sweetness and fluids bring him round a bit more. During the next five minutes or so he drank about three quarters of the bottle before he was alert enough to take in their surroundings. He caught John’s eye in the mirror and quickly glanced over at Johnson. He wasn’t paying him much attention as he was looking out of the window, more than likely contemplating bodily injury to his brother in a few minutes time. Dave passed the coke bottle between the seats to his colleague who tried not to draw attention to himself as he drained the remaining contents of the bottle.

They weren’t far away from Garston now. They had passed the directions for Liverpool Airport a few minutes before. John didn’t know it yet but they were heading for the old railway sidings. This part of the rail network wasn’t used for trains anymore. The decrepit railway arches had been given over to loads of small businesses over the years. They were cheap to rent because of their poor condition. Even in the summer months, the arches were always damp and dripping because of the rail lines and compacted soil and substructure above; in the winter, the water just pissed through. They were well used by lots of dodgy characters. The arches were a favourite haunt for the criminal fraternity; both small time thieves and villains who were involved in stealing cars, chopping them and changing their identities up to the serious criminals like the Johnsons and their cohorts.

‘Slow down here, take the next left.’

Johnson and his brother had used one for storing stolen property and carrying out most of their criminal activities in recent years. The details of the cash van robbery had been worked out in their little office many years ago and he smiled a little as he thought back to the look of horror on the security guards face when he had chopped his wrist off. Yeah, enjoyed that one he nodded to himself as the BMW turned into the street.

The road was tired and worn like the run down two up, two down houses that lined one side of the street. Like the rest of the surroundings, they’d all seen better days and the car bounced along as John negotiated the potholes and puddles in the tarmac.

The stolen cash had been destined for the arches earlier that morning where it would have been kept out of the way for a while before being moved elsewhere.

Their retirement plan was now well fucked and Johnson looked over at the bloody captive once more and gave a twist of the noose. Dave winced.

‘Don’t be getting too fuckin comfortable now; we’re getting out in a few minutes.’

He’d never killed a copper before. 24 million quid up the fuckin swanney because of this cunt. Now there were two to be sorted. Not bad, 12 million quid each. He took his finger off the trigger. Wouldn’t want to spoil my pleasure this late in the game he mused as they got closer to the two huge timber gates to the yard.

Built into the right hand side gate was a much smaller wicket gate. This was the one used to get into the yard before you could open the big gates to drive any vehicles in or out. As they drove along the street, John picked out the silhouette of Tony’s head in the headlights of the car as he peeked out of this pedestrian gate. He didn’t want to rile his big brother any more than necessary and hadn’t waited for the sound of the car horn. He thought it better to be ready to open the gates right away and allow them to drive straight in.

He lifted up the drop bolts on the left hand gate and removed the large horizontal timber beam that secured the gates from inside. Each gate was about ten foot wide and he didn’t need to open them both. He left the right hand gate in position and opened the left one back into the yard. Johnson told John not to stop and in order to complete the turn, he swung the car out to the right and then turned left straight into the yard. Tony took one last look up and down the street to make sure they were not being followed and then closed the gates together once more. He dropped the beam back in place and the yard was sealed off once more.

As Johnson dragged his captive out of the car by the noose he looked back at the barred and bolted fifteen foot high gates with a smile and a nod of satisfaction. They certainly knew how to construct things in days of old. Johnson was quite sure they would need a bulldozer to smash down the gates if anyone wanted to surprise them and he felt a certain sense of security now that the animal was back in his lair. No need to rush things too much; time for a brew first.

The door to the control room swung open and Paul Wilson strode quickly over to his boss.

‘Sir, the tech lads have had a hit on Mrs Hollins mobile phone. She left her bag behind when she was put out of the car near Keele. Her phone was in the bag and it was used about fifteen minutes ago. They’ve triangulated the signal and have pinpointed it to the A561 near to the airport. The ARV’s have made good time back up the motorway and they are somewhere near to the Halewood car plant.

The ‘Jacks’ have been busy putting the arm on their informants and there is some good intelligence coming back that the Johnson brothers use an old railway arch somewhere in the Garston area. The lads are trying to firm up the location but that’s the best we’ve got at the moment.’

‘Well done Paul. Let’s hope we can still salvage something out of this shitty mess. I know I don’t need to tell you, but time is running out for our lads. If Johnson has taken them back to his yard or whatever, there’s only one reason for that, and it’s not a good one. If he was just going to do a runner, he would have dumped them earlier. He’s going to kill them before he runs. There’s nothing more certain Paul.’

Chief Superintendent McKay’s thoughts drifted back to the siege at the Industrial estate. It had only been about nine or ten hours previous but it seemed an awful lot longer. He had disobeyed orders from on high, Assistant Chief Constable level no less, when he had opened the container after the unmarked car had left the scene with John and Dave in. The control room had received the instruction from headquarters that the container was not to be opened until the arrival of the ACC. Andrew McKay was not about to have his authority at the scene undermined. If his officers had been kidnapped, beaten and half killed, he wanted to know what the reason was.

‘Is that right Paul. Well, as far as you are concerned mate, I never got that message from you until after I had opened the box. I’ll take any flak that’s going. You tell the ACC that I’m out of the command post and looking over the wagon and I’ll get over there now. I want to know what the fuck this is all about.’

It would be fair to say that the ACC was spitting feathers when he arrived at the siege location with several ‘suits’ about 15 minutes later.

‘Sorry Mr Henderson sir, I was actually stood in the back of the container alongside the pallets when Chief Inspector Wilson came and found me and passed your instructions to me. As soon as I got your message, I ordered the immediate sealing of the box and awaited your arrival.’

A door banged shut and he came back to the present.

‘As soon as we opened up that container Paul and found what was in the back, I knew Johnson would have only one thing on his mind. He knows that he won’t get out of prison again if and when he gets locked up. He’s got 24 million reasons now to kill young Watkins; John Walsh will be the icing on his cake. I don’t need to tell you Paul how much kudos a double cop killer will have in the nick.’

Chapter 20

‘Here, soft lad, take hold of this while I have a piss. Come on, we haven’t got all night. We need to do this before we fuck off.’

Tony walked over from the large wooden post about ten yards away from the gates. He’d just received another tongue lashing a few minutes before for no reason other than big brothers tea wasn’t hot enough.

‘You useless little cunt, can’t you do fuck all right eh? How difficult is it to make a cup of fucking char?’

He had marched John over to the post at the point of the knife and, on the directions of Luke, told him to put his hands out in front on either side of the upright. This was the first time since his own captivity that john had been tied up in any way as a thick cable tie was tied around each wrist and then another tie secured his ‘handcuffs’ around the post. It wouldn’t be long now he thought. He just hoped that it would be over quickly. He didn’t think it would be; Johnson’s penchant for torture had been well documented over the years. The sick, sadistic bastard would probably look over at John and smile as he pulled the trigger.

He would force him to watch as Dave’s head was torn apart. He wasn’t happy enough to just pull the trigger while the shotgun was horizontal. He had dropped the butt of the gun until the barrel was facing upwards, almost vertical. Dave’s head wouldn’t just be taken cleanly off; it would be blasted to pieces. He instantly visualised the bloody mucus and torn off face of the young bank robber of many years before and his knees began to shake. Even the cold night air wasn’t enough to stop him sweating.

But not yet, time yet for a little more taunting.

‘Come here you little arsehole, take hold of this while I have a piss.’

Tony, now that his captive was firmly secured, put the knife in his waistband and moved over to Dave. He took hold of the shotgun while his brother walked away to the back of the office area.

‘Which one do you fancy’ he said as he strolled away, ‘the knife or the gun, go on, I’ll let you pick. Have a think about it for a few minutes.’ The echo of the footsteps disappeared.

‘Tony’,

the quiet voice from the post took him by surprise and he turned quickly almost pulling Dave over. John used his experience and instincts gathered over many years in making what he thought was a quick assessment of the younger brother. Of course Tony was a vicious bastard, but he was a spur of the moment vicious bastard. John didn’t believe that he was cold and calculating in the same manner as his psychopathic brother.

‘Tony, you’re not your brother. I know you are a violent man, but you have always done things in the heat of the moment, you’re not a cold blooded killer. Don’t do this, walk away. Don’t let him completely ruin your life. At the moment, you’ll do ten to fifteen. If you go through with this and kill two police officers in cold blood, you’ll die in prison like Luke.’

John knew that young Johnson was having doubts about going through with the double murder. He was shaking his head, looking at the bloodied and battered policeman tied to the end of his shotgun, back across to John tethered to the post with his plastic handcuffs. Looking up to the sky and back to the floor in equal measures, muttering to himself,

‘I fucking told Luke before, I’d never do this again, no fuckin way; not cold blooded murder, it’s not right, not fuckin right. Why don’t we just run now while we’ve got the chance?’

He heard the soft whistling of his brother walking back along the passageway from the toilets at the back of the office.

‘Now then sunshine, which one do you fancy, knife? Shotgun, shotgun, knife? C’mon our kid, you choose.’

‘I can’t do this Luke, you take the gun, I can’t blow someones fuckin head off for no reason at all. We’ll both die in prison if we go through with this. Let’s just tie them both up and leave them here. We’ve got time to get away. We can take the BMW and dump it somewhere and pick up another motor.’

‘You don’t get it do you Tony. I know we could fuck off now and be on the run for a while. That’s not the point. We haven’t got any fuckin money because of this twat.’ He pushed the shotgun deeper into Dave’s neck as he lifted the barrel further into the air forcing him almost onto his toes. Dave could see the veins standing out in Johnson’s neck and his eyes widening and starting to cloud over.

‘How long d’you think we’d last out there with fuck all you stupid little bastard. We’ll both go to prison sooner or later. But, and this is the important bit for both of us Tony, they’ll love us in there. Don’t you see, we’ll get looked after in there for ever kid. We’ll be the brothers who blew the head off one copper and cut the fuckin heart out of the other. We’ll be fuckin heroes brother, absolute fuckin heroes.’

There was a wildness in Luke that even his younger brother had not seen before. Having been around him all his life, he thought he had seen the worst that he could offer. The evil in his eyes was enough to see when he watched Terry Penrose being slowly crushed to death by his own wagon. He’d nearly wet himself with excitement; but that, that was nothing to what he was witnessing now.

Dave was clutching at the barrel with his right hand in a hopeless, futile act of trying to pull the gun away, his left hand was completely useless and as his heartbeat began to race and pump harder, the blood from his broken and shattered knuckle began to flow once more. He knew he was seconds from death.

Tony was horrified by his brothers’ violence, he backed away from him. He had been right earlier when he had called him ‘mad’. He finally understood; his brother was the devil. He was everything that was unspeakably evil in the world. He believed now that he would die as well. His older brother, who he loved and hated in equal measures, would kill him if he did not carry out his part of the plan. Luke was going to blow the young coppers head off come what may. Tony for his part, had to kill the older police man with the knife if he didn’t, Luke would kill him as well. He looked backwards and forwards, at the handcuffed policeman and his brother.

‘Do it you little shit, don’t think. I’ve fuckin told you before, don’t ever think about it, just fuckin do it.’

The mucus and snot; the white flecks of spit, were spraying all over Dave’s face as his murderer screamed at his young brother and he watched as Tony staggered over towards the killing post. Dave looked into Johnsons eyes for the last time as his ‘good’ hand slid along the twin barrels in a last attempt to pull the gun away from his neck.

He didn’t know where it came from but, he had a moment of absolute crystal clarity. He would die in the next second; he had accepted death; was ready for it and he saw his beautiful wife and two children all dressed in black stood above him as he was lowered into the ground. All his colleagues dressed in their number one uniforms, white gloves and salutes. The police horses all decked out in their ceremonial gleaming leather harnesses and polished brasses. The Police band and its sombre, mournful tunes. He could feel himself drifting above them now, what a wonderful sight. Hundreds of people; friends, family, strangers. All there for him.

Don’t cry my loves, you look as gorgeous as ever my Mandy, I always loved you in black, and you two little cherubs look after your mum, she’ll need you more than ever now. I’ll be there, I’ll be watching over you until we’re all together again. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. I can’t stand to watch you all crying, Bob, look after Mandy and the kids. Bob, don’t you cry as well, they need you, be strong, Please Bob, be the strong sergeant I’ve always admired, be strong for me.

He stopped going up, he was hovering now, they were all looking up at him, could they see him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He should be able to see them, but they shouldn’t be able to see him, what’s wrong, he was slowly falling back to earth. He was going back into the grave. The blackness was lifting; there was some brightness from somewhere. He was looking up at the bright light in the sky? The bright light, the bare light bulb without the shade. He was still in the yard.

He looked along the barrel to the eyes staring back at him. His hand slid off the cold steel of the twin tubes. Dave had a calmness about him that he had not felt for some considerable time. He was energised with a power that he did not understand. Johnson had his forefinger on the twin triggers and slowly began to squeeze. Almost in slow motion, Dave lifted his hand and pressed his right thumb, right up to the knuckle of his hand in between the back of the two triggers and the metal of the trigger guard. Johnson began to exert more pressure, the two triggers pressed against the skin and knuckle bone of Dave’s hand. Johnson squeezed harder, the pressure on his hand increased, the triggers wouldn’t move back any further. The look in Johnson’s eyes began to change; the glassiness was replaced by a look of puzzlement, the lips changed from an evil smile to an open mouth.

It didn’t matter how much Johnson squeezed; with his knuckle wedged in hard between the triggers and the guard, Dave was preventing the firing pin from being activated. Somewhere in his mind, the pressure on his skin and bone was immense. He didn’t feel it. His senses had been numbed to the pain during the last twelve hours. He would take whatever pain there was. He wasn’t going to die. This bastard was not going to deprive his family of a husband and father.

‘Big mistake you arsehole’ he said, ‘should have taken the trigger guard off when you shortened the barrels. Not such a clever bastard now eh.’

With that, he brought his knee up hard, as hard as he could, and he felt the bone of his kneecap make contact with the soft tissue of his adversary’s balls. Johnson screamed with pain and slumped to the ground on his knees pulling Dave down with him as he hung on to the shotgun. He gasped across at his younger brother,

‘kill him, stick him Tony.’

Tony was stood alongside John Walsh with the knife in his right hand. He had been transfixed by the events of the last few moments. He had watched in disbelief as the battered and broken policeman had wedged his hand behind the triggers and saw the facial expressions of his brother change dramatically from murderous evil to bewilderment and pain as he watched Dave’s knee strike his brothers’ balls with force.

It seemed like minutes but it was only seconds as he saw his brother on the ground, still desperately holding the triggers of the shotgun, imploring him to stab the young officer.

Dave and Tony each looked in the others eyes; they were stood no more than ten or twelve feet apart. John began to speak, but it was Dave who took charge and cut across his words. Now it was Dave who was calm. Now it was Dave doing the negotiating.

‘What’s it to be Tony. You can kill us both. I can’t move, your brother can’t pull the trigger and John is tied to the post. It’s up to you. You can be like your brother, a cold calculating murderer or you can walk away.’

‘Do it Tony, kill this piece of shite and we can both get away. I’ll do him,’ nodding towards John, ‘stick this twat and we can be on our way. Come on little brother. You can do it’.

‘He’s right Tony. You’re the man now. Everything that happens now is down to you. If you want to be like your brother, then kill us both now.’

‘I can’t do it Luke. I told you when you killed that poor old bastard with his lorry, I’m not like you, Cold blood is you; it isn’t me. You’re my brother and I love you, but I can’t be part of this fucking madness any more. It’s over Luke.’

He turned away towards the small wicket gate. He still had the knife in his hand. He couldn’t look at his brother any more. He needed to get out of the yard and run. Take their old van outside and just disappear. Go somewhere, anywhere.

‘You spineless little bastard. I’ll tell you when its over. Don’t you dare run out on me. I’ll kill you. D’you hear me, I’ll fuckin hunt you down; brother or no brother and cut your fuckin heart out. I’ll find you wherever you are and I’ll kill you.’

Tony stopped in mid stride; he turned and ran at Luke. His eyes were wild and his own heart was thumping.

‘Why can’t you leave it alone; why can’t you keep your fucking mouth shut’. His fists were clenched hard and his eyes fogged over in exactly the same way as when he had glassed the punter in the pub all those years before. The heat of the moment took over once more and his anger and violence bubbled to the surface. He punched Luke twice in the right side of his chest as hard as he could. He hoped he had broken a couple of ribs, he wanted to give back some of the pain that his brother had inflicted on him over the years and the two violent blows caused Luke to cry out. He took a step back. Luke wasn’t just winded. His shirt was quickly changing colour as the bright red stain spread quickly. Tony looked down and saw the blood dripping off the end of the ten inch carving knife. He stared in horror, first at the knife, then at the frothy red blood seeping, dripping onto the concrete floor in a rapidly expanding pool. Because of the red mist, he hadn’t even realised; he was still holding the knife when he punched him.

With each punch, he had unwittingly buried the knife to its hilt. Ten inches of steel had violently pierced the lungs and heart of his older brother and Luke was only seconds from death. There was no way back from such an injury. Even if one had been stood alongside him, no Doctor could save his big brother.

It was as though the knife handle had suddenly become red hot, Luke dropped, almost threw the knife away as he realised what he had done. He knelt alongside his fatally wounded brother who was smiling, grimacing back at him.

‘Told you you could do it you little tw....’ the words trailed away as he died in Tony’s arms.

The knife had spun away along the ground towards the post where John was tethered. He managed to kick it with his foot and bring it closer. Tony was not aware what was happening around him as he continued to cradle his dead brother in his arms.

John quickly and quietly slid his plastic manacles down the post until he was sitting down and hooked the heel of his foot under the knife and in an awkward manner, grabbed the knife between his hands. The sharp blade cut through the plastic with no effort. He stood up and with the bloody blade in his hand, walked over to Tony.

‘Leave him be Tony, you can’t do anything for him now.’ John’s voice was soft; he was back in his role as hostage negotiator once more.

Tony’s anger was spent once more. He had just killed his brother and now, he just wanted to die himself. He stood up to face John.

‘I didn’t mean to kill him Mr Walsh. He did deserve to die for what he has done; we both know how evil he was, but I didn’t mean it, you must believe that.’

‘I saw exactly what happened Tony, Dave saw what happened. We both know you are not a calculating killer. This is over now; sit down until we get sorted out here.’

‘Do it Mr Walsh.’ The words took John by surprise.

‘Come on Mr Walsh, do it. You’ve got the knife, I won’t resist you. One quick stab, that’s all it will need. Let me go with him.’

He looked down at his brother lying in the pool of blood; lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. He walked closer to John, arms by his side.

John, who seconds before had been holding the knife in a defensive, almost threatening manner towards young Johnson fearing that he might try to attack Dave and himself now realised that far from them being assaulted, Tony wanted to be attacked himself. He could not bear the thought of being responsible for the death of his older brother.

‘You know I won’t do that Tony. You couldn’t kill any one in cold blood. You know I can’t do that either. You’ve got two options here son. Sit down and wait for the arrival of the other officers or leave now. We’re both too weak to fight with you. We all know what went on here and you didn’t kill him intentionally. We will both testify to that.’

‘Thank you Mr Walsh but we both know; I can’t stay here.’

He quickly spun on his heels, grabbed the BMW keys off the table in the office and kicked open the wicket gate leaving it swinging wildly on its hinges. Both Dave and John heard the spinning, screeching tyres on the damp cobbles as tony floored the accelerator and hurtled up the road.

There was no sound for several seconds as both officers realised that their ordeal had finally come to an end. It was Dave who spoke first.

‘For Christ’s sake John, please be very careful when taking this noose off my neck. I’d hate to have survived all this shit only for you to blow my fucking head off.’

Dave was trying to twist away from the open eyes of his would be assassin. The lifeless, soulless gaze unnerved him as John slowly walked towards them.

He cut the noose with the bloody knife and Dave rolled over onto his side. He was covered in Johnson’s blood. His thumb was still jammed in behind the triggers of the shotgun. His head began to throb as the blood flowed without restriction into his brain and it took him a few seconds to fully realise that they had both survived and he was now free of his tormentor and the shotgun. He wasn’t quite free of the gun as his thumb was still jammed in behind the trigger and the fleshy part had swollen where his tormentor had repeatedly squeezed in an effort to fire.

There was plenty of old engine oil and grease lying on the shelves of the dilapidated workshop and John took the lid off a small tin of grease and began applying it to the back of the triggers and Dave’s bruised thumb. John made doubly sure that the shotgun was safe. He put the safety catch on and pointed the barrels well away from them both. How ironic it would be for the gun to go off in their direction having survived the torture of the madman with the lifeless eyes a few yards away.

After a few minutes of gentle teasing and persuasion, Dave’s thumb slid out from the trigger guard and instantly began to swell even more as the damaged tissue received more blood. No matter now he thought, it can balloon into a tennis ball for all I care. It’s over. John gently put the shotgun down on the table having first broken the barrel and removed the two shotgun cartridges.