Go Out With A Bang! (8 page)

Chapter 22

It was a
ten bedroomed home in five acres of gardens and lawns. In an
Olympic size indoor swimming pool, eight men were playing a game of
their own invention, involving a basket ball and small netted goals
at either end. Trying to half drown each other was quite
acceptable. After an hour, they climbed out, got drinks from the
small bar in the corner, put some pleasant sounds on, broke out the
cigars and relaxed on the recliners. The games in the pool served
two purposes. Keeping fit and bonding. When it came to planning the
crime and risk taking, they all had an input. No idea or suggestion
was ever dismissed out of hand.

But
Steve Telford was generally accepted as the leader. At forty five,
he was the oldest, most experienced and with a degree in physics,
arguably the brightest. Not that the others were dumb. Between
them, the eight men held six university degrees and many other
skills to call on.

They
were on their biggest campaign. It was their first crime and it was
also to be their last. The rewards would be plenty for several
lifetimes and their legacy would be the perfect execution of a
brilliant crime. It would be one that would be the basis of many
books and would undoubtedly be high-jacked by Hollywood for a
blockbuster film.

Steve
Telford blew smoke rings and sipped a small brandy on the rocks.
'You know? It's the idea of messing with their heads that I enjoy
the most.'

Frank
Telford, Steve's younger brother by three years, had to agree.
'It's all going to plan so far. And as plans go, this one is
brilliant.'

Steve
said, 'Don't you jinx it. No chicken counting until we have the
money. We've always tried to take out the elements of luck, and be
totally in control of our own destinies. But there are always
things out of our control so we still have to be prepared and
flexible.'

Hank
Andrews was one of the youngsters in the team at twenty five. Steve
and Frank were his uncles. His forte was electronics. During
planning meetings, the others would often propose far out ideas and
then they would look to him to determine if it was physically
possible to do. He had written several technical books that had
achieved modest acclaim from his peers and could be found in most
technical training institutions.

'I think
we have covered all bases and the back up plans are as faultless as
we can make them. The police think we have failed miserably so far.
Which is exactly what we want them to think.'

Steve
stubbed out his cigar. 'There's no place here for either cockiness
or complacency. Once the job's done and we can walk away free and
very rich, that's the time to slap ourselves on the back. We have
two weeks before the job. Everyone. Think the rest of the plan
through long and hard in the meantime. If any aspect has the
minutest element we can improve on, we do so. In the meantime,
relax and enjoy the day. Cheers.'

'Cheers.'

Chapter 23

The
detective's had done all they could, both in trying to solve the
crime and find the gang, and also take preventative measures to
identify possible targets, advising the people concerned about any
inadequacies in their security systems. Forensics at both crime
scenes had drawn blanks. All equipment from the surviving hotel had
been methodically taken apart and checked for prints. None were
found. All model and identification marks had been removed from all
electronic parts, down to the smallest resister. Most parts were
generic and commonly sourced.

The
explosives proved untraceable. Top electronic experts had been
impressed by the assembly, commenting on the professional work as
being from a first class craftsman. Other than that accolade,
nothing proved helpful in traceability.

They had
pinned their hopes on the bodies being recovered from the collapsed
building, but they now knew that wasn't about to happen. There were
a hundred ways that dead men could have told them who they were.
Fingerprints, dental records, even an appeal to the public with
pictures of their faces. Just good solid detective work. No bodies,
no leads. That done, the case was put to one side and new crimes
were dealt with.

* * *

'I
suppose a dog could have walked off with it,' said
Crowe.

Morris
stared at the headless body on the railway track. What was it with
him and heads? He remembered one poking up from hardened concrete,
his body completely submerged. Now here he was looking at a body,
the head missing.

'A dog
took the hands, too? That's one big hungry dog. Judging by the
amount of blood sprayed all over the place from the severed parts,
John Doe here was alive at the time the freight train went over
him.'

'So
somebody was waiting close by, then collected the head and hands
when the train had gone by.'

Morris
agreed with that observation. 'We have time of death almost to the
minute. The driver reported a bump on the line about here at nine
thirty seven this evening. He had no idea he had hit a
body.'

'The
train company can by-pass this stretch of line?'

Morris
nodded. 'Not easy, but doable with the twin tracks. They'll all
slow down here until we've finished. Andy? How's it
going?'

'Got
half a boot print,' said Carter. 'Clear. Just waiting for the cast
to set. Seeing as this poor headless guy is completely naked, run
with me on this, detectives, but my gut feeling is it doesn't come
from the dead guy.'

'Is it
me,' whispered Morris, 'But is Carter becoming more of toss-pot
than normal?'

'I
didn't think that was even possible,' said Crowe. 'Hey. Carter.
You're just on rubbish collection. Leave thinking to people used to
it.'

'Sure
thing. When do they get here?'

'Don't
encourage him,' said Morris. 'Andy. Are you stretching the overtime
or can we come down there now?'

'That
depends. What time is it?'

'Eleven
fifty four.'

'Perfect. That covers the tickets for the big
game.'

Crowe
said, 'You're going to the game?'

'Yeah?
So?'

'Eighty
thousand in the crowd; we can't be that unlucky to be sitting next
to you.'

'I'd be
the unlucky one. You two muppets can come over here
now.'

Morris
and Crowe made their way down the bank to the tracks. The lights
made the scene surreal. The air was full of the smell of ancient
oil and diesel fuel. The sleepers were black with oil from decades
of heavy loco traffic.

The
scene was less than a mile from where a devastating crash had
occurred a few years before. The pickup had made it across the
track-crossing as the train thundered down, but the caravan on the
back didn't quite make it. Twenty seven people in the train had
died, forty two had been seriously injured.

Morris
now did the Morris trick, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
Violent death left a residue behind. That was his theory and he
stuck to it. He opened his mind, soaked in the oil, the diesel and
the blood. The ghosts of the dead were close by, and all he had to
do was to reach out to them. The naked man on the tracks couldn't
say much, especially without his head, but his remains might speak
volumes. He opened his eyes to ask it.

'Toned
body. Worked out. Appendix scar. Bullet scar, right shoulder. Nine
millimetre?'

Crowe
agreed. 'Looks like it could have been.'

'Thirty
to mid thirties. Tattoo of a military regiment, left shoulder. Wore
a wedding ring until recently. Very recently. Ear stud, so no
longer in the army. Got that when he left the service. Bruises to
his body and on his arms. Fresh. This bloke's been tortured.
Missing ring off his wedding finger. Been out in the sun before he
took it off. That suggests some kind of hanky panky going on.' The
feet had been sliced off below the knees by the train wheels and
were still bound with the rope. 'My dad taught me everything there
is to know about knots. He was in the merchant navy all his life.
The man who tied this didn't think about it, he just did it.
Possibly a navy man. The heels are cut from being dragged along.
See the way the gravel's kicked about? Dragged along, literally
kicking and screaming. Probably not the screaming part. He'd have
been gagged. Coming from that direction. Andy. Tyre tracks up
there?'

'Nice
and clear,' called Carter from the road up the embankment. 'From a
van. Right front tyre bald as an egg. Engine badly leaking oil. A
total nail.'

'Right.
Thanks, Andy,' said Morris. 'Gut feeling, Vince. Navy man. Out at
sea a lot. Soldier boy here decides to keep sailors wife company.
She didn't know soldier was married. Navy man finds out. Gets a bit
annoyed. Tortures soldier boy to get the truth out of him. Decides
to kill the joker. Wants to cover his tracks. Drives his old van
here, drags him down to the rails, maybe knocks him out, the train
chops off his head and hands, so sailor boy can get away with the
bits that would identify the victim.'

Crowe
said, 'By tracing the tattoo we should be well on the way to
finding soldier boy. The appendix scar will help. Blood group and
bullet wound, too. His pubic hair will give us a hair colour. I'll
let the autopsy people determine that if you don't mind. I'd be
surprised if we didn't have him identified by this time
tomorrow.'

Morris
said, 'Andy? Done here, mate. Bag him and tag him.'

'Oh, wow
gee. Big of you. I get all the fun jobs.'

Chapter 24

After
another long but rewarding night, Morris and Crowe joined Andersen
in his office the following morning. With the evidence they had
acquired, many people had been working through the night putting
the pieces together.

Andersen
said, 'We've identified the regiment from the tattoo. They are
going through their records with the info we've given them. With a
Tattoo, bullet wound, blood type, appendix scar and marital status,
it shouldn't be too hard. Shouldn't take too long before we get a
reply. From that, it's just a matter of asking a few questions and
finding the woman he was having an affair with. Follow procedure to
the killer. Nice job, guys.'

'Basic
stuff,' said Morris, stifling a yawn.

'Anything new in the meantime?' asked Crowe.

'Armed
robbery at a liquor store. Go take a look.'

'On our
way,' said Morris, keen to get out of the office, grabbing his
coat. 'Keep me posted on soldier boy.'

'Will
do,' said Andersen. 'Have fun.'

* * *

It took
two days to find the soldier boy killer. He was on a ship to China
when the captain had received the call. The killer had been banged
up in the brig for the rest of the trip. Morris and Crowe were
chasing their tails with the armed robbery, getting nowhere fast.
Other cases came in, as diverse as the results they got. Even
without the Ferret, they were batting above average.

Andersen
had two other teams of detectives under his command, so Morris and
Crowe chipped away at all things wicked, unsavory and downright
unpleasant under their own steam. The end of another rough week was
coming to an end. All Morris and Crowe were thinking of was the big
game.

'Blues
got it in the bag,' said Morris.

'With
Holder and Briggs out of it?' said Crowe. 'This'll be a close
one.'

'Carter's a Red fan. Can you imagine life with him if Red's
win?'

'Red's
win, I'm booking a holiday. Carter's snide comments I can live
without.'

Morris
laughed. 'Come on. Red's are punching above their weight. They're
out classed, even without Briggs and Holder in our team. It'll shut
Carter up for months when we win. Well. A week or two.' He slipped
his jacket on. 'That's it, mate. See you Saturday.'

Chapter 25

Bernie
asked, 'Dare I ask?'

Poppy
said, 'I'll kill him. I swear to God I'll kill him.'

Bernie
looked over at Debbie. She gave him a “tread carefully” look. He
trod carefully.

'Poppy.
We know he's okay. That's the main thing.'

Poppy
got up from her laptop. The one she had checked fifteen times that
day in the hope of an email from her husband. She was carrying his
baby, but where the hell was he? Her expression wasn't a happy one.
'No. No, Uncle Bernie. This. Here in my belly. This is the main
thing. His baby. Our baby. How dare he go off for weeks on end, not
a word for the mother of his baby to be, leaving me here on my own.
I'll bloody kill him.'

'Poppy.
Fred doesn't know you're pregnant.'

'Oh. Oh.
That's okay, then. I'm his wife. I wasn't enough for him to stay
where he belonged? Is that what you're saying? I'm not enough for
him?'

Bernie
hugged his niece. 'It isn't like that and you know that. He
worships the ground you walk on. If this is down to anyone, it's
your mother.'

'Oh,
don't worry, I'll kill her as well.'

'I doubt
if you could even if you wanted to. Look. Poppy. Easy for me to
say...well, actually, not easy. Not easy at all. I see you breaking
your heart; with child. I know my sister and Fred are into
something ...God knows what. And I can't do a damn thing about it.
But I do know this. I lie awake all night, thinking of my sister,
your mother.'