Go Out With A Bang! (10 page)

Dog man
shrugged. 'I'm just the errand boy.'

'Okay.'

The ref
ignored the bedlam on the pitch and walked up the
tunnel.

Dog man
shouted, 'Hey. You gonna pay for that dog?'

'Send me
an invoice.'

'Didn't
you have mustard on that?' Crowe asked the ref.

'Can't
stand the stuff. You wanted something?'

'Yes,'
said Morris. 'The stadium is full of explosives. It's due to go off
at the end of the game. We'd like the game to go on a bit longer.
Can you manage that?'

The ref
thought it over. 'Yeah, okay.'

'Good
man.'

Ref went
back to the carnage and the Red's captain approached him. Ref
smacked him in the mouth with a right hook and showed him the red
card.

'What
was that for?'

'Having
a bad haircut. Bugger off. You there. Penalty.'

'I never
laid a hand on him, Ref.'

'That's
why it's a penalty. Make it count, it goes into extra
time.'

The
Blue's striker shrugged but wasn't going to let the opportunity go
by. The crowd hushed, collectively holding their breath. Striker
crossed himself, ran at the ball, kicked hard, it sailed through
the air, hit the post, but went in. Goal.

Ref blew
his whistle. 'Extra time. Off for fifteen minutes.'

Morris
said, 'That gives us a fifteen minute break and another half hour
of play. Let's see how Marlow's getting on.'

Chapter 28

The
Chief looked at the damaged factory window. 'Dale? Which is the
target? Here or the stadium?'

'Both,'
said Andersen. 'They're dividing us up. Laughing at us.'

'Hancock?'

'Surrounding the stadium. But he may as well not be there.
Look at that window. They are not messing about.'

'So what
do we do?'

'Do?
There's nothing we can do. We need a bloody miracle.'

'Short
supply,' said the Chief.

* * *

Rod
Marlow said, 'Detectives. This is Mr J. J. Pullman and Mr Sandy
Shaw. The stadium directors.'

'We are
not happy, detective's,' said Pullman.

'Neither
are we,' snapped Crowe. 'We're missing the end of the
game.'

Morris
jabbed the big man in the ribs. 'We've bought us some time. Another
forty minutes max. Sir. Mr Pullman. Mr Shaw. I would not usually
advocate this, but are you in a position to buy these guys
off?'

'We
could do that, Detective,' said Shaw. 'But doing that is so wrong
on so many levels.'

'I
couldn't agree more. But I have seen the devastation these people
can do. As we speak, they are watching our every move. We can't try
to get the people out, because they'll blow the place up and those
not hurt in the blast will be hurt and possibly killed in the
bedlam. We have half an hour before the call. I leave the decision
to you. No pressure.'

Chapter 29

Sergeant
John Hancock had been teaching sixteen year old students self
defence when he'd had the call. Half hour later, he had his
officers in position. Every available fire appliance and ambulance
was either ready and waiting or on its way.

'What
are we up against, Sergeant?' asked a senior fire
officer.

Hancock
had gathered the fire officers and paramedics around him. 'Right.
Listen up, everybody. This is the situation as I understand it. A
highly professional gang has possibly planted explosives around the
stadium. They have already destroyed the Petrolex building and as
we speak, also have the Darlington factory ready to
blow.'

The fire
officer said, 'We can't organise a controlled
evacuation?'

'No.
They do this by remote control. They're watching us from some safe
vantage point. We make any sort of move, the stadium goes
up.'

One of
the paramedics said, 'I'll advise the hospital to be on high alert.
If the explosives do go off, everyone will panic and people will be
crushed in the rush.'

As the
paramedic did that, Hancock called Morris. 'Stan. We are as ready
as we can be. What's the situation in there?'

'John.
The directors and the general manager have been frantically trying
to organise the money. I don't think they'll be ready, that's
assuming they'll pay up at all.'

'People
come first, Stan. I don't need to tell you how bad things could get
if even one explosive goes off.'

'No. You
don't have to tell me. Are you prepared for the worse out
there?'

'Yes. As
much as we can be. We are short of manpower because of the
Darlington factory. These people are smart. They have us down to
the bone by having two targets. I'll give Dale a call.'

'Right.'

Hancock
called Dale Andersen for an update. 'Hancock, here. Are you still
bogged down there?'

'We know
for sure there's explosives in the factory. They've already
demonstrated that in no uncertain terms. I'll send all but one
ambulance over to you. Can't spare our fire appliances, though.
You'll have to deal with all you have there.'

'I'll
call the army. Get their medics over here. How long have we
got?'

'Seventeen minutes until the directors need to give them
their decision. If the money isn't available...John. Expect the
worse, hope for the best.'

'I
always do.' He ended the call to contact the army. Seventeen
minutes didn't leave much time.

Chapter 30

Sandy
Shaw was not happy. He told Morris and Crowe why. 'The banks are
being less than helpful. Being the weekend doesn't help, either.
Nobody wants to take ownership.'

'I
thought you said you had the money? said Morris.

'We're
businessmen. We invest. All of our money is in assets. There are
legal implications and contracts to break. To get it all turned
into cash would take a week of meetings and paying
penalties.'

Crowe
snapped, 'Are you more concerned about the money than the
people?'

'How
dare you, detective. In case you hadn't noticed, my partner and I
are right here in a stadium packed with explosives. We are in as
much danger as everyone else.'

'I'm
sorry,' said Crowe. 'I was out of line. Just the frustration of not
being able to do anything.'

'We need
to all calm down,' said J. J. Pullman. 'Detectives. We have raised
ten million and might scrape another couple of million together. It
isn't the full amount, but it may be enough to bargain
with.'

Shaw
said, 'Worth a shot. They are not stupid people. They'll know we
need more time than they've given us.'

Morris
said, 'Maybe we can get them to let us evacuate half of the
spectators while you get the rest of the money
together.'

Rod
Marlow said, 'Are they still trying to screw money out of the
Darlington factory owners?'

'Yes,'
said Morris. 'But they are just as cash strapped. Their money is in
the factory, the new equipment and a finished order. So if you were
thinking you could pacify them between you, forget it.'

'Just a
thought,' said Marlow. 'All I know is, in eight minutes, the lives
of thousand are in the hands of a gang of criminals.'

* *
*

Detective Senior Sergeant Noah Travis and Detective Sergeant
Josh Friar could only wait and hope with the rest of them at the
Darlington factory. Travis asked, 'There must be something useful
we can be doing, Sir?'

Andersen
said, 'We can only wait and see what happens. If this place doesn't
go up, we'll have the Scene of Crime team in there. Maybe this
time, we'll find a clue we can be tracking down. That's where you
two do what you do best.'

Friar
asked,'The owners still have nothing to bargain with?'

'They
tried. The banks didn't want to know. They told me the insurance
company will have the building covered if it goes up, which isn't
the case. I had to tell them the bad news. The owners lose
everything if it's destroyed.'

'Typical, the banks not wanting to know,' said Friar. 'Their
bottom line is obviously more important to them than the
livelihoods of three hundred people. I hope the owners change banks
when everything is sorted out.'

Andersen
said, 'At least it's only stuff in there, not people. I'll guess
we'll know in four minutes. The owners are standing by for the
phone call.'

Behind
the barriers and tape, shielded by the Tactical trucks, David and
Sean Davenport waited for a call that would change their lives. Two
hundred yards away was their baby. It was more than just a building
to them.

It was
the culmination of many sleepless nights, rolling up their sleeves
and working the machinery, their wives handling the paperwork and
packing. A day off once a month was a luxury. Gradually, orders
came in, George Maxwell was taken on, the business grew, people
were hired. And now, when they were on the cusp of seeing their
dreams come to fruition, all they could do was wait, pray and hope
it wasn't all about to be turned into dust and rubble.

Chapter 31

Eight
men sat smoking cigars in a rented room in a high-rise apartment
block. Before them were the ten screens showing black armoured
Tactical men running around trying to look like they could take
ownership of the situation.

'We will
get to see the end of the match, Uncle Steve?' Hank Andrews
asked.

'Of
course. I like a good game as much as the next man. Now relax and
don't worry. They'll pay up.'

'Just a
couple of minutes of the match left,' said Frank Telford, watching
the game. 'Did you see that bloody idiot? Thumping an opponent when
he has the ball is a no no. You let the bloke with the ball get
tackled while you kick the shit out of another player down the
other end of the pitch. Everyone knows that. Who is that
muppet?'

'Basher
Biggs,' Titch Raynes, his cousin said.

'Oh.
When did they let him out?'

Titch
said, 'He can play as long as he takes medication and a trained
psychiatrist is on stand by.'

They
relaxed, watching the big game with one eye, the clock with the
other. They were in complete control and they knew it. Which was
when the door suddenly opened. A man and a woman walked calmly
in.

* *
*

'Don't
mind us,' said the woman.

The
young man with her walked over to the bank of screens and turned
them all off, and placed a small metal case on the control consul
and clicked the latches but didn't open the lid. Eight shocked and
angry men stood up as one.

'Gentlemen,' said the woman. 'Please don't stand for my
benefit.'

Steve
Telford said, 'And you two are?'

'Your
worse nightmare. Sit.'

'Lady. I
don't think so.'

'I'm no
lady but I do have an ace up my sleeve.' From her pocket, she took
a small electronic device. 'I press this little button, we all
die.'

Frank
Telford said, 'Bullshit. Come on. Let's kick shit out of
them.'

The
woman said, 'Fine. But take a look under your chairs before you
do.'

Steve
Telford said, 'Hank. Take a look.'

Hank
Andrews got down on his knees and checked underneath the chairs
still warm from them sitting on them. 'Bloody hell. Uncle Steve.
She's telling the truth.'

Sandra
said, 'I thought you would appreciate the irony of sitting on a
load of explosives. Feel a little uncomfortable, does
it?'

'Right,'
said Steve, with a grin. 'I admire clever people. I have no idea
how you two did this, but I doubt you want to kill yourselves. Put
the remote down.'

'Why
don't you hand over your remotes first?'

'I don't
think so.'

Sandra
Mitchell looked at Fred Ducket who was leaning with his back
against the wall, his arms folded, his expression deadpan. He
shrugged. He was ready. Ducket said, 'Game over, boys. We just want
a little chat.'

'Put
your remote down,' said Telford.

Sandra
said, 'If I put the remote down, I might have to get rough with
you. Sure you want me to put it down?'

'Normally, I abhor violence. I can't recall ever hitting a
woman, but I'll make an exception in your case.'

Ducket
said, 'I'd strongly advise against it.'

'I
wasn't excluding you from getting bashed.'

'Oh. You want
me
involved?'

'Yeah,
Why not?'

Sandra said to Ducket, 'The
odds
are
a bit uneven, but we can be gentle with them.'

Frank
Telford snapped. 'I've heard enough crap.' He dived forward and he
was the first one on the wrong end of a woman with deadly hands.
She made just a couple of subtle movements and he was down. Sandra
took out another two, with minimum effort. Ducket dropped two more,
having been taught well by Sandra. Steve Telford grabbed Sandra
from behind, Ducket aimed his fist with precision and Steve dropped
to his knees. Ducket grabbed one of the others, had him pinned to
the floor and had thumb and forefinger at the side of his
neck.