A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (6 page)

BOOK: A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)
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Chapter Thirteen

I
woke with a thumping headache at seven in the morning the next day.  Red wine
tended to do that to me but it was a price I took when going for a nice meal
with an attractive woman without paying.  I decided against wearing a suit
instead picking out a blue polo shirt and durable fleece to go with my blue
jeans and thin boots.  My outfit from the night before hung on hanger by the
door next to the full length mirror. It smelt faintly of Camille’s perfume
which was another reason not to be wearing it when I went to a gym.

It
didn’t take long to search for the Fraser’s Gym and it was only a short drive
since I was going away from the rush hour traffic.  The gym itself was part of
a small row of shops, which reminded me of Hollingswood; however these shops
were for the majority in a bad state of repair compared to that village. 
Graffiti covered shutters and faded signs indicated which of the stores had
fallen on hard times and yet there where shops open which retained the metal
barriers for protection.  A convenience store, two takeaways, one a fish and
chip shop the other a Chinese, stood next to a bookmakers that was tiny and had
a door more reinforced than a bank vault.  That bookmaker by pure chance was
part of the same independent firm that I had made my small fortune with during
the summer.  Considering how much they had messed me around over payment I was
going to enjoy taking them to the cleaners later in the week.

The
gym had no large windows in need of shutters but had small open rectangular
ones that were self contained in metal cages.  The double doors were painted
black and one was open allowing the cool winter air inside.  The closer I got
the more prominent the smell of liniment oil wafted out.  The walls were painted
a white that had yellowed in the sun with a black lining.  Once I got close I
could see at least five holes that had been filled and then painted with a much
brighter white paint or black when they got closer to the door.  It was the
evidence of the failed attack Camille told me about.

I
pushed open the door and was greeted to the sounds of a proper boxing gym but
it wasn’t just confined to the pugilist sport with mats and padding for other
martial arts.  Walking in I saw people practicing kicks and punches as part of
a class.  Others worked bags or did pad work together, the loner skipping rope
or shadow boxing in front of the wall length mirrors in the left hand corner. 
In the right corner a full sized ring which was not in use.  It reminded me of
when I grew up watching my dad in the gym, one of the few memories I did have
of him.

My
observations were fast but as soon as I walked in everyone noticed me.  Some
stopped what they were doing, the majority just moved so I was in their line of
sight and two of the fighters walked away and out of the room.  It was going to
be a tough sell to get anything out of anyone in there but I had to try, since
a witness would be the best thing for Tommy Morrison.

Considering
I stuck out like a sore thumb it wasn’t long till someone came over and from
the faded poster on the wall and the fact he was flanked by the two meatheads
that had gone out of the room it was Max Fraser himself.  He was not even close
to six foot with short grey hair and not an ounce of fat on his body; I could
smell the stale tobacco on him over the other aromas in the gym as he
approached me.  Grey eyes that bordered on a pale blue studied me quickly as if
picking my weaknesses and judging my strengths.  It was strange to be on the
other end of a frank assessment like that since it was usually me delivering it
but I’d been in this sort of situation before.

“Who
are you and what the hell doing in my gym?” Fraser said in an accent that
contained some Scottish and some Scouse but was still rather intelligible.

“I’m
John Harper and I’m here to see if I could have a moment of your time Mr
Fraser,” I said offering my hand.

Fraser
didn’t shake it but stood there with his arms folded in his faded blue jogging
top that was so old the lettering of the brand had fallen off and now just
showed its presence in the form of darker material, “I don’t know you and you
ain’t from round here so I have no time for you.  How about you just turn
around and leave and you won’t get hurt.”

“I
wish I could sir but this is important.”

“Are
you a copper?”

“No,”
it was technically true.

He
took a step closer to me within my personal space and looked up at me, “You
smell like a pig to me.”

“I
should buy better deodorant then.”

“Funny
man.  You’re also brave coming in here or maybe it is just stupidity.  Maybe
you don’t know who I am.  I built this gym from the ground up.  When riots
happened all I had to do was stand outside here and not a man came close, you
got more sanctuary in here then you would have if you had gone to church.  So I
don’t speak to anyone I don’t want to and you’re lucky I have kids in here at
the moment or I’d be tearing you a new one,” he said in a low tone that was
extremely intimidating.

Now
aware that I should watch my language more than ever I smiled and tried to act
more confident than I felt, “Unfortunately this is in regards to a young man’s
life so I kind of need to talk to you.”

Fraser
stared at me with narrowed eyes, “Tell me what you want to know and then I’ll
decide what the price will be.”

“I
want to know what you know about the Boulton shooting.  Directly I want to help
make sure that Tommy Morrison doesn’t go to prison for a murder he didn’t
commit.”

He
rubbed his jaw line for a moment, “You last three rounds in the ring and I’ll
answer your questions.  When you lose I’ll ring you an ambulance and you don’t
come back.  That sound fair?”

“Guess
that is how we are going to sort this,” I said my confidence returning as I
looked at the smaller man.  I could tell the years of fighting had taken their
toll on him the way he held his hands suggested pretty severe arthritis and I
had range, speed and relative youth on my side, “So when do we start?”

“You
start when my boy Micky gets back from his run.  Ha ha ha you didn’t think our
deal was to fight an old man like me was it copper.  No, you get to fight the
pride of Fraser’s Gym.”

Chapter Fourteen

The
glee in Fraser’s voice as he said those words did little to prepare me for the
sight of his champion.  The lad was only a couple of inches taller than his trainer
but was barely in his twenties.  His shoulders looked pure muscle and when he
stripped off his sweat soaked shirt I was astounded at the definition.  I’d
never seen someone that fit in real life and I’d been in the police, served
with the army and met a number of security agents in my time.  He was tanned
with a darkness of skin that showed some of the melting pot of cultures and
diversity that Liverpool was famous for.  His hair was mere stubble and his
eyes had the same searching look that Fraser had but keener and in brown.

I
expected him to question who this old fella wearing jeans and boots was
considering he was supposed to fight me but he merely nodded when Fraser told
him to get ready.  I on the other hand did have something to say, “Mr Fraser I
don’t have any gear with me surely you don’t want me going in your ring wearing
this gear.”

“No,
you’re right, I’ll get you a pair of our fighting shorts; you can wear them,
that’s all you need,” he said not even bothering to hide the delight in his voice
at the prospect of me getting battered to a bloody pulp.

“What,
you want me to wear my boots in there?” I asked pointing at the ring with my
thumb.

“Oh
no I don’t you won’t be wearing any boots of any kind, Micky is a Muay Thai
kickboxer and he needs the practice,” Fraser said again laughing afterwards.

I’m
not too keen on surprises and the thought of getting in the ring with Micky was
petrifying.  At a loss I was escorted to one side by one of the trainers and a
wizened old man took me to one side as I stripped down to my boxer shorts.  He
was hunched over and his face was lined with age and scars from a fight career,
“You’re a brave man getting in the ring with our boy.”

“Not
something I really have a choice over,” I said as I put on the baggy blue shorts
that gave my legs a good range of motion.  My eyes remained on Micky who I
could see in the changing room being rubbed down and having his gloves put on.

“True
but still brave.  I’m Tony, I work as the cut man here, been with Max since we
were kids.  He may be tough but he is fair.  In this place you don’t get
anything without paying for it with sweat and blood,” he said taking my hands
and beginning to wrap them.

It
was strangely comfortable having my hands wrapped tightly like that again,
taking me back to my youth of boxing for the force.  I wasn’t the best of
fighters but I could pick a punch and was clever enough to move when I needed
to.  My career was however cut short in a brutal match were I broke three ribs
early on.  In agony and struggling to breathe I struggled on till the fight was
over.  I lost of course, I mean I barely threw a punch just protected myself
but it gained me a reputation for being hardheaded and stubborn.

That
experience was going to have to count for a lot now as well as the martial arts
training I had undertaken.  Problem was I’d learnt grapples and takedowns,
moves that I wouldn’t be able to do with my hands in boxing gloves.  Sure I
could try and manhandle the bloke but I knew how difficult that would be
without being able to gain purchase.  The other problem was that a lot of the
attacks I had learnt in for example Krav Maga, the deadly Israeli martial art,
involved strikes with my fingers.  Most of my skills would be negated in there
coupled with the fact that I was also a lot older than the kickboxer.

“Thanks
for this,” I said to Tony as he tightened my gloves and handed me a boil and
bite gumshield.

“Don’t
thank me son, you’re about to get a battering.  I just want to make sure you
have the best chance of staying alive in there.  Micky is going to be a world
champ one day and you’ll get to see that first hand in the ring.  He won’t
knock you out early though; , no Max’ll want to see you hurt for coming in
here, especially since we don’t like busies,” Tony told me and as if to
emphasise his point he tightened my gloves even further.

“I
ain’t a copper.”

“Then
why you here?”

“I’ve
got a debt to pay to an old friend and Fraser might have some information that
can help me.  I just want to make sure that Morrison doesn’t go down for a
murder he didn’t commit,” I said taking a long drink from the tepid water
bottle at the side.

Tony
just nodded, “Well then you better get in there.  Boss man said no headguard
for you either.”

“Why
am I not surprised?” was all I could manage as I climbed into the ring and put
in the gumshield.  It didn’t fit properly but I was happy that I had one.  I
tried to stretch myself and get warm snapping out some jabs and moving my feet
on the canvas.  The corner where I had entered it was wet to aid grip and I
stood there waiting for Micky.

The
professional fighter waited till someone put on the Sarama music.  I was told
by Tony that is was ceremonial and watched as Micky made his way to the ring
bowing in prayer in all prayer to all four sides and then made a lap of
honour.  If I wasn’t nervous as hell about the fight starting I could probably
have enjoyed the rhythmic music and the intricacies of his technique as Micky
performed an aggressive dance before me.  I knew it was over when he stomped
loudly in my direction then Fraser got in the ring and the sounds cut out.

“Right
I want a clean fight; no low blows although they are allowed in Thai we’ll be
easy on you copper and no rabbit punches.  The will be three, three minute
rounds.  If there is a knockdown you go to a neutral corner.  All points of
contact are allowed that’s elbows, knees, shins, kicks and punches to you,
Harper.  Now touch gloves,” Fraser ordered and we did as told.  Throughout all
of the prefight ceremony and now in the ring I’d stared at Micky.  I was trying
to show no fear and intimidate him.  To be honest I don’t think it worked.

Stood
in my corner I turned my back on Micky for the first time and crossed myself
and said a little prayer.  Looking down I saw Tony staring up at me, “Watch his
high kicks and the elbows.”

“Thanks,”
I said as he rubbed petroleum jelly on my eyebrows.

“I
just don’t want him smashing you up too badly, bloods a bugger to get out of
the canvas.”

The
music began again before I could say anything and the bell rang.  Turning I
sighed and walked out as Micky stalked forward.  Now if you have never seen a
Muay Thai fight you may be surprised by the music that plays and the ferocity
of the action.  Micky seemed to move with the music his hands open more than my
own and he stood nearly square on to me.  My training had me in a fighting
stance side on to my attack and hands raised.  I soon realised why he was in a
different posture as he delivered a strong right kick to my back that pushed me
sideways and nearly off balance.

The
strength of the man was outstanding and he kept kicking at my legs and shins
that soon ached and reddened.  I moved as quickly as I could out of reach and
tentatively kicked low back at him as I didn’t have the flexibility to reach
higher up.  That was probably a good thing considering the quickness of his
reflexes.  Micky kicked me away with a standing kick that guided me towards a
corner before unloading a flurry of punches at my body.  I blocked as many as
possible before I grabbed him in a bear hug-like clinch.  I was bigger than him
and was strong enough to throw his oiled and sweaty body into the corner. 
Unfortunately I wasn’t expecting him to begin hitting me with strong knees that
had me struggling for breath.

My
ribs ached and I covered them as I moved away.  He followed that up with a high
kick which caught me on the left side of my face snapping my head to the side. 
Unsteady on my feet he moved in and delivered more punches to my ribcage with
quick uppercuts.  Getting in that close in boxing would be a brilliant idea in
a straight boxing match but I lashed out with a right elbow that caught Micky
on the side of his head cutting him on the eyebrow and forcing him away.  As he
fell to that side I delivered a right knee to his stomach.  That sort of attack
would normally double over a man but it just hit his sturdy muscles and moved
him away.  I was hoping to press my advantage but the bell rang and Fraser who
had been acting as the referee put a hand on my chest and pushed me away
towards my corner.

Three
minutes might not sound like a lot but it is constant movement as well as
maintaining balance and breathing.  So by the time I sat down on the wooden
stool provided by Tony I was shattered and soaked in sweat.  It was demanding
to try and punch down on the smaller man and I was feeling it in my muscles. 
Through laboured breaths I took on water, “How’d I do?”

“Remember
when I said you were a brave man?  Well I’m agreeing with Max now, you’re just
stupid.  Micky doesn’t like getting hit and you’ve gone and cut him.  The boy
is going to tear you apart now.”

“Fine,
let’s just hope he does it quickly,” putting my mouthguard back in I stretched
my neck and rolled my shoulders.  My opponent had stayed standing in his corner
glaring at me as his team worked on massaging his muscles and treating the
damage to his eye as best they could.

The
bell went and I moved quickly to the centre of the ring.  I was going to fight
it out my way from now on.  He kicked me as his opening attack again and I
offered a small smile.  His kicks were quick but timed and he was throwing the
same combinations over and over.  I was still getting a battering but I was
able to counter now with jabs and hooks of my own which caught him off guard
and further damaged his cut eyebrow, the blood now dripping down his face and
onto his chest.

The
fact I was still standing was infuriating the younger man and he increased his
intensity twice lifting me and physically hurling me to the canvas.  Each time
I got back up but was severely bruised.  Luckily I knew how to cushion my falls
but took my time standing taking precious seconds off the clock.  Micky just
danced in the corner waiting for me, showboating to the cheers of the watching
crowd which I barely noticed, so focussed was I on the task at hand.

The
second round ended with me once again on the floor this time from a great combo
of moves that showed the skill of the man.  I was busy using my shin to block
one of his kicks when Micky swung low with his foot and caught the back of my
knee I bent it slightly as the other foot landed splaying myself before he
unleashed a hook full on the face dropping me to the ground and I landed with a
bump the back of my head bouncing off the canvas and rattling my teeth.  The
bell went as I lay there and struggled back to my feet and over to the waiting
stool.

This
time I was knackered and put my arms on the ropes trying to breathe as best I
could.  Tony rubbed my back and the shoulders that ached with exertion and then
gave me some water, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow, especially when he
unloads on you in this round.”

“I
need to win this Tony, so there is no way I’m going to let him beat me.”

“Win?
You’ll be lucky to walk out of this alive.  He’s going to come out even faster
now.”

I
didn’t really want to talk so just kept staring out.  Fraser was over in the
other corner looking over his fighter.  He was coaching him and from the
animated way he spoke and moved I took some solace from the fact I was making
Micky work harder than they expected.

The
bell rang again and I was quickly in the middle once more.  My watching paid
off almost immediately as he came out with the same attack I had noted in the
other rounds.  Two low left kicks followed by a right kick to the midriff and
then usually a left straight with power to push me back.  This time when he
delivered his right kick I caught his leg pinning it to my side and punched him
flush in the face.

Fraser
yelled, “One step you can hold for one step,” which was all I needed as I moved
in driving my right knee into his ribcage and pushing him back into the ropes. 
I then snapped out two jabs and then a right hook that had Micky reeling
towards the corner.  The smaller man was fitter than me but I was stronger and
bullied him with body blows and a knees.

I
did however push him too far as my head dropped as I brought three quick
uppercuts to his stomach.  When I did that Micky took advantage and delivered
his own trio, this time of elbows that hit on my shoulder and weakened me
straight away especially as one landed on the back of my neck.  He didn’t stop
as I fell to my knees and the next I knew Fraser was in-between us and yelling
at his charge for illegal use of the elbow.  They moved to a neutral corner and
I took my time getting to my feet.

The
trainer slash referee came over, “I’m sorry about that, he got a little carried
away. You fine to continue?”

To
say I was surprised was an understatement so I just nodded and beckoned the
other fighter towards me with my gloved hand.  I caught the look of shock and
what I thought might be admiration on Fraser’s face as I walked forward.  I
snapped out jabs and waited till Micky threw a straight punch at me.  He was
more wary of me and what he was doing now because of the warning from his own
trainer and he wasn’t as clinical as he should have been.  As his arm retreated
I punched the back of it near the elbow and it locked causing him some pain.  I
pushed him back towards the ropes with a punch and leaned back as he threw a
return jab.  Stepping to the side I landed a straight right with the full force
of my strength and I saw the fight go out in his eyes and his legs wobble.

BOOK: A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)
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