Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читать полностью книгу без регистрации TXT) 📗
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.
