A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (8 page)

Rifle
ranges in England are a rarity.  Altcar has been used as such a place for over
one hundred and fifty years and is unique in the fact it is owned by the
Territorial Army Association.  The Ministry of Defence presence is well felt
when you go through the checkpoints; Richard showed his credentials and we drove
onto the base.  That early evening a couple of local rifle clubs would be in
attendance on the ranges.  Driving towards them took me back to my early days
undercover out of the country.

My
time in Ireland had been an interesting but demanding experience and I had
grown used to seeing military bases.  That, coupled with the fact Rich was
there, made me think even more on my past.  He seemed supremely confident and
at home with the men carrying longarm weapons.  Some of them knew him by sight
and nodded to him which might have hinted that he was a regular but with Rich
you never really knew.

We
stood on the B range which was only three hundred yards.  My friend had told me
that there was a massive one thousand yard range on site as well but had less
than ten lanes.  The range we stood behind had over thirty lanes and the men
were going about their past time with gusto.  They were fighting against the
fading winter light and wanted to get as many rounds down range as possible. 
It is strange to think that it is only the equivalent of someone practicing
golf or any other solo sport, just a lot louder and much more deadly.

I
stood apart watching them go about their business which was interesting and
gave me the urge to try myself.  I’d handled firearms before but I doubted I
was anywhere close to the standard those men were.  Rich on the other hand
could probably hit every target dead centre at every range blindfolded, such
was his amazing prowess.

He
beckoned me over to a trio of men, all of them wearing the same sort of
clothing; trousers of brown cloth and green shirts but with an assortment of
jackets covering them.  The air was cooling quickly and I envied two of the men
their long thick beards, “Ah John let me introduce you to some of my friends
here.  This is Sean, Robert and Clarence each of these men runs a rifle club in
the area and they have been more than kind enough to help us out.”

They
each shook my hand in turn, “We’re more than happy to help out Rich here,”
Robert said a small man with a stomach that must make it difficult to shoot
from the prone position.

“Yeah
anything for the best shot on the range,” added Sean who was more of a medium
height and build and the only one with a clean shaven face.

I
turned to my friend and raised my eyebrows inquisitively, he in turn just
shrugged, “I’ve told them we’re looking for a rifleman who might be slightly
unhinged.  The shot he made judging on the short amount of distance we estimate
isn’t the hardest in the world.”

“Hell
my mother-in-law could make that shot and she’s twice the size of Robert here
and ten times as blind,” Clarence joked as he patted the other man’s stomach. 
It was playful banter but I could make out even from behind the facial hair
that the rotund shooter wasn’t happy.

“Still
you’d have to be fast and well practiced to make that shot from a standing
position.  Even if he used a car roof as a rest it would be ballsy to try it in
a residential area,” Sean offered.

Rich
stood there with his arms folded and nodded, “So you’re suggesting that maybe he
was more hidden say like John Allen Muhammad?  I mean it wouldn’t take much to
outfit a vehicle like he did.”

Sean
nodded at the mention of the Beltway sniper who had terrorised the Washington
DC area back at the turn of the millennium.  Most people remembered the fear
that he and the young Lee Boyd Malvo, his accomplice, created as they shot
people from their converted sedan.  Still I didn’t think the trajectory matched
shooting prone from a car and told them such.

“Well
if he shot standing then all the better it narrows it down a little.  Some
people don’t like it at all since it is the least stable position,” Clarence
said.

“Shame
you don’t have the bullet or calibre I mean that would really help,” Sean added
as well, “I mean we don’t all fire the same sort of round.”

Rich
again nodded before saying, “From what John has told me and from what I’ve been
able to see I’d think it was a full metal jacket to do the damage without
shattering his skull everywhere.”

“Are
there any of your members that you think aren’t particularly grounded or
someone who has recently lost their licence for example?” I questioned, the
semantics of the bullet used was of insignificance to me at the moment
especially since it had been removed from the crime scene.

The
three men looked at each other and laughed at some shared joke.  Sean spoke
first as he seemed the most talkative, “Asking questions like that isn’t going
to create a small pool of suspects for you.  There aren’t that many people who
shoot these days so you are bound to get some weirdos.”

“He’s
right, there are what did you call it ‘unhinged’ men in all of our clubs but
that doesn’t mean they would go out and shoot people.  Well some would but
they’d have to be pushed,” Clarence said hurrying to add the second part of the
answer when I looked at him.

“Losing
your licence is ridiculous as a way of creating a list of suspects the system
is a joke.  I’ve known people lose it for the silliest of reasons.  One of my
friends got threatened so called the police because of the nature of those
threats and when they finally did arrive that person got treated like a
criminal.  Two days later in a dawn raid they hit the house and took the
weapons and revoked the licence,” Robert said incensed at the memory.

Sean
was quick to chime in again, “Then you get people who are mentally ill keeping
their licence it’s an absolutely ridiculous.  You want to see injustice just
look at the types who have kept their firearms licences.  Thomas Hamilton the
scumbag murderer got his repeatedly renewed when the police were constantly
investigating him over his conduct towards little boys.”

“We
all know the true conspiracy there,” Clarence added which brought eye rolls
from the rest.

Sean
held up a hand, “Let’s not go there hey.  The detective here might think you’re
a lone gunman nut.”

I
smiled, “No it’s fine you hear the same sort of stories everywhere you go. 
Back to the case at hand though is there anyone you can think of?”

They
stood there for a moment and then conferred in hushed tones before Sean their
spokesman broke the silence, “We’d have to do a bit more of a check on our
lists but there was a guy none of us took a liking to.  He had all the right
recommendations but I didn’t want him in my club.  Robert knows him best of all
of us.”

The
bearded man glared at the other gun club chairman as if he was suggesting there
was some sort of nefarious connection between the shooter and him, “He’s
talking about Lionel Ambrose.  Leo was something of a gun nut as it were.  He
liked to shoot but it was the targets he liked most of all.  When he first
joined he kept asking about deer hunts in Scotland and the like and he was
connected to a pheasant shoot as well.”

“So
he liked a bit of a challenge with moving targets, no harm there,” Rich said in
a calm voice.

“No,
Leo was a little out there.  He managed to get a single shot AK-47 and said it
was because it fired the same ammunition as his CZ 527,” Robert informed us
lowering his voice when he talked about the man.

“Was
he a collector then?” I asked very much interested in finding out more about
this man but not getting my hopes up.

“I
wouldn’t call him that,” Sean laughed getting another deadly stare from Robert.

Clarence,
obviously aware of the situation, decided to speak, “Leo just likes guns in any
shape or form.  He even drove to Cumbria when Derrick Bird was on the rampage
and was there for the Raoul Moat siege.”

“Sounds
like a nutter to me,” Rich said.

“Excellent
observation there,” I let slip but smiled to my friend who just smiled back and
nodded.

“Alright
then smart arse do you think this gentleman is worth investigating?”

I
rubbed my chin and then replied, “Yeah sounds like a plan.  If you gentlemen
could help me with some personal details on the man it would help.  I would
also like you to go through your member lists and see if there are any more
names that you think could be dangerous.”

Not
surprisingly it was Sean who spoke first, “We’re happy to help out Richard
here, but that is going a little far don’t you think?”

“Yes
we do have a duty to our members,” Robert added.

“Now
come on fellas you said you would help.  We’re not asking the world just some
information to make sure an innocent young man doesn’t go to jail,” Rich
pleaded with them but his words were stern as well.

For
a moment I thought there would be some sort of scene like that which had played
out in the gym; a test of ability to gain favour with the men and prove
yourself worthy of their help.  Luckily commonsense prevailed and their respect
for Rich helped them see the light.  It didn’t stop Rich from making me wait
another hour as he showed off his skills.  I was asked if I wanted to see if I
had any proficiency with the weapons but with my body in the bruised state it
was I decided against lying on the ground and suffering the recoil of a rifle
to my injured shoulder.

By
the time Rich dropped me off back at the hotel I was completely shattered
physically and emotionally and had to promise the ex-army officer I would see
him the next day.  When he left me it was however still only early evening and
although fatigue was setting in I still had a job to do and was quickly back on
the case.

I
had a cup of tea in my hotel room, not the stuff they provided but my own loose
leaf tea.  After my big win at the bookmakers back in the summer I had treated
myself to a number of objects I had wanted for a long time.  I’d travelled to
Munich for the Oktoberfest beer festival indulging one passion, I bought a
couple of bottles of my favourite bourbon, one of which is locked away in my safe
in the office, and other than my new house I bought a supply of my favourite
tea.  When I had worked on the police force I had drank copious amounts of
coffee and tea but now I had to look after my body a bit more.

I
reduced my caffeine intake and now drank Assam tippy tea.  Yes it sounds
pretentious but I really like my tea and after much testing I found my
favourite and find it a real treat when I get to drink it.  Once it was brewed
I had one cup and then made another for my flask as I went down to my car.  I
was stiff and sore sat in the driver’s seat but it was only a short journey to
the Fraser gym.

After
the threat I had suffered when last there and the fresh memories and injuries I
had acquired I was in no hurry to go back inside.  No, I was going to have to
wait it out and with nothing better to do I thought it a good time to sit in
the boarded up bookmakers.

Now
I’ve been in some dive bookies before and for the most part the reputation they
have for being dingy smoke filled smelly places that are the home of the refuse
of society and
ne
'
er
-
do
-
wells is
completely unfounded.  The majority are now well maintained hi-tech centres for
sport betting.  The one I walked in was however not one of them.

When I said walked in I meant stood
by the door for the better part of a minute banging on the small glass window
till they noticed me and release the magnetic lock.  I walked in with my still
hot enclosed mug of tea and nodded to the large fat man behind the counter; he
barely acknowledged me as he went back to watching the small television he had
in the protective booth.  I sipped the malty full bodied tea as I wrote down a
couple of bets on the betting slips provided.

There were three other patrons
inside; one of whom was, from the look and smell, homeless and was enjoying the
warmth of the building for a couple of hours sleep.  The other two appeared to
be good friends and had a friendly rivalry over each dog race.

I read the papers and drank my tea. 
The cold weather had seen off most of the horse racing but the dog runners were
made of sterner stuff.  To be honest I didn’t mind sitting in there reading the
racing paper and putting small wagers on.  I was used to waiting for people and
observing, it was all part of my training.

However once my tea was finished and
the paper was read cover to cover I decided to ask my friend Rodney if he had
any tips for the night.  Once again I was subjected to a very loud conversation
but he talked me through the next ten races for the night.  I felt more
confident when it came down to horses and sports so I was happy to defer to his
greater wisdom.  Placing my bets and watching them win on the old massive
cathode ray televisions, something most bookmakers had done away with, I
smiled.  My pleasure came from winning but also taking money from a firm that
had drawn out for months paying me over a hundred thousand pounds in winnings. 
Once they had paid me I made it a personal mission to win in their shops since
they would prefer I lost that money back to them.

By closing at half past nine I was
nearly one thousand pounds in profit and had a good war chest for later in the
week and the running of my dog Ellies Legs.  I walked out into the freezing
cold air and rolled my shoulders, immediately regretting it, beneath my warm
green fleece.  The lights were however still on in the gym so I walked past and
to my car.  I sat there for another half hour before the last of the fighters
and trainers left.  Max and Tony left together with the owner locking the door
and then placing a heavy chain and padlock on for extra safety.

Once I was sure that they had left I
went about my business.  Walking over to the gym I looked around making sure
that I was not seen.  Out of my jeans pocket I took my trusty small knife.  I
clicked it open and began cutting into the wall till I opened a hole big enough
for me to dig out a bullet.  Placing it in an evidence bag I took out a pair of
tweezers and another bag and removed another bullet this one more delicately.

I thought one bullet would be a good
gesture of good will for any investigator I ran across and the other was for my
own testing.  I daren’t risk taking a third and the rest would be a struggle
for me to remove due to their height and my desire to remain inconspicuous. 
Happy with my night’s work I turned around to walk back to my car when I heard
the shots.  Instinctively I dropped low to the floor but it didn’t take long
for me to recognise that the bullets had been fired close by but I was in no
immediate danger.  The question it left me was if that had been a danger for
someone else.