Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1) (46 page)

‘Inspector,’ said the solicitor.
‘My client is the innocent party here. He was employed to drive a car from A to
B, which he did, and nothing more.’

Leaning forward on the table and
folding his arms, Radcliffe gave the solicitor an icy stare. ‘Let me remind
you,’ he said, ‘that we are here so that I can interview your client. We did
not invite you to a party so that you and I could have a chat. Your function
here is to advise your client, not speak for him. The more you obstruct us in
this investigation, the harder you make it for your client. Do I make myself
clear?’

Having admonished the solicitor,
Radcliffe turned his attention to the client, and continued in a much warmer
tone. ‘Look lad,’ he said, ‘I’m not particularly interested in you. It’s the
big boys that I am after. Several million quid’s worth of fancy cars have gone
missing over the last few months, and three men have been murdered.’

All the colour suddenly drained
from the face of the young man facing him. His eyes bulged and he clenched his
fists on the
tabletop
.

‘Murder!’ he spat out. ‘Murder? I
know
nowt
about murder. Looking first at his legal
representative, then Fraser and finally Radcliffe, he was visibly shaken
– but none of the three spoke. Having gained neither support nor
information, in a shaky voice he added, ‘I don’t. Honest, I don’t.’

Still with his arms folded,
Radcliffe leaned further forward, increasing the intimidation. ‘I don’t think
you do at that son,’ he said. ‘Actually, I think that you are small fry. I
think that you are just a little nobody.’ Letting it sink in before continuing.
‘Now that might not be so good for your ego lad, but if you help by giving us
the information we need, then your lowly position might actually help keep you
out of more trouble than you are already in.’

Looking the terrified man
directly in the eye, Radcliffe continued to keep the pressure on. ‘I want you
to tell me who runs this operation, what their names are, who does what, who
lifts the cars and who changes their identities – you know, switches the
VIN plates and alters the engine and chassis numbers. And who does the
strong-arm stuff. In fact, everything about them.’

Opening the folder in front of
him, Radcliffe looked at the first sheet and then returned his gaze to the man
across the table. ‘I’ve just had a nice chat with your mate in the next room,’
he sad, ‘and he’s been very cooperative. So in return I’ll help him. He told me
a bit about you too, so I can check that against what you tell me and see who’s
telling the truth.’

Clasping his fingers together and
keeping his elbows on the table, Radcliffe delivered his ultimatum. ‘It’s your
choice son. We know that you are involved and one way or another I will get the
information that I want. Are you going to give it to me or not?’

On the point of breaking down,
under his breath the young man replied, ‘I can’t. They’ll k . . . . . . ‘

Closing the folder, Radcliffe
knew he had made his point. The boy only needed a little push and he would be
tipped over the edge, spilling everything he knew. But how much was that? Would
it be enough?

‘Can I have a few minutes with my
client please?’ asked the solicitor.

‘Of course,’ responded Radcliffe.
We will be back in five minutes. I suggest that you talk a little sense into
your client before we get back.’

Fraser announced the termination
of the interview and switched off the tape, restarting it when they returned a
few minutes later.

‘My client wants to cooperate
fully Inspector,’ said the solicitor, opening the session. ‘He does have
several reservations however. In particular he is concerned for his safety. If
it got out that he had given you information then he would be a prime target.’
Getting into his stride, the lawyer established direct eye contact and stated
his client’s price. ‘My client wants to cooperate but will need full immunity
from prosecution himself and protection.’

Radcliffe considered the two men
in front of him, one timid and obviously on the verge of crumbling anyway, the
other attempting to create a hard bargaining force. The two did not gel.

‘I think that you know better
that that,’ he replied. ‘As yet we do not know the extent of your client’s
involvement so there is no way I could enter into any bargain. I don’t think
that he’s very far up the ladder and he may not actually have broken the law
himself, but I do believe that he has some of the information I need. So if he
delivers to me, I will do my utmost to support him. I can promise no more than
that.’

Turning to face the young man he
added, ‘Like I said son, it’s your choice. Do we start now or do you want to go
back to your cell and just await the outcome?’

Just the word “cell” had a
remarkable effect. Though clean, its painted bare brick walls and a simple
built in bunk did nothing to combat any feeling of austerity, a toilet in the
corner underscoring the difference between room and cell, bringing into sharp
focus it’s purpose.

‘Ask
yer
questions,’ he said. ‘They
din’t
tell me
nowt
, but
peraps
I might know
what
yer
want know. I might of bin around when
summat
were said like.’

Radcliffe hated the sloppy way in
which the younger generation now communicated. Email and text messaging had
resulted in today’s youth speaking in abbreviations, leaving out some words
completely and mispronouncing others. Pronouncing, “have” as “of” particularly
grated.

‘That’s better son,’ he replied,
again opening the folder. ‘Now, what’s your part in all this?’

‘I just drive cars.’

‘From where to where?’ replied
Radcliffe. ‘And how often?’

‘About once a month, he phones me
to do a job. We drive five or six cars to the same place. There’s usually a
couple a containers like.
Ya
know, like this
mornin
. Then he pays us and we go.’

‘From where do you collect the cars,
is it always the same place? And do you always drive them to the same place as
well?’

‘No. Each of us usually takes a
couple of cars from different places but we all met up at same place. My run
used be from a big ‘
ouse
out
int
country, Billy drove his from a farm and Pete from that unit near tut railway
but this time
all’t
cars were at the same place near
tut train line. We
allers
take
em
tut same place though.’

That fitted what they already
knew thought Radcliffe. Three holding points meant that too many cars wouldn’t
be seen coming and going from one place. In the next room, Billy had told them
as much just half an hour earlier. The big house would be the former Catholic
College and they knew about the farm near
Burscough
.
Bringing cars together once per month would be for distribution – or
transportation to the ultimate client.

‘Who telephones you and gives you
details of each job then?’

The young man reverted to his
original attitude, scared and non-committal. ‘Don’t know,’ he said sheepishly.

‘That’s a load of shit Gerry,’
burst in Fraser. ‘If somebody phoned me every month I would soon recognise the
voice. I’d soon recognise if it were the same man calling me too. Now then
Gerry, who calls you and is it always the same person?’

‘Fraser,’ replied the lad after a
pause. ‘Fraser Downing,’ pausing again before adding ‘Always.’

‘Always?’

‘Yes, always.’

‘So who’s the boss then? Who is
Mr Big?’

‘I can’t tell you that. I’ll be
in deep shit if I do.’

‘You already are,’ advised
Radcliffe. ‘Answer the question Gerry, who is the boss.’

‘They’ll kill me for this,’
responded the young man. ‘Fraser is one and Edward’s the other. They run it
together.’

‘OK Gerry. So what do they do? Do
they nick the cars? Or perhaps they do the work on the numbers?’

‘No. No, they do
nowt
.’

Having been pushed over the break
point and with nothing more to lose, young Gerry was now offering information
without being asked. Perhaps he was worried about what his friend Billy had
divulged. Or perhaps he wanted to outdo Billy to gain a better deal. Whatever
the reason, Radcliffe sensed that between them Gerry and Billy might be able to
provide the information that would break the case. Whether he would later
retract his claims remained to be seen. For now Radcliffe had a gut feeling
that not only core information but also loose ends might be being tied up.
Though right at the bottom of the pile, the drivers appeared to know more than
was healthy for them and Gerry had no doubt been wise to be scared. Perhaps the
time had come to turn the screws.

‘If they are the bosses then they
cannot do nothing Gerry,’ observed Radcliffe.

‘The cars you drive every month
have all been stolen Gerry,’ added Fraser. ‘Somebody steals them, somebody
takes them to where they are stored, somebody changes their details and in some
cases, somebody disables their tracker units. Where do you, Billy, and the
other drivers fit in? And, since you say that you don’t steal them or do any of
the other work, who does? Is it this Fraser and Edward?’

‘Shit nah,’ responded Gerry. ‘
Thi
do
nowt
.
Thi
wunt
git
ther
‘ands dirty
them two.’

‘Why not Gerry?’

‘Well,’ he replied, ‘
thi
dunt
want git
ther
poncy
clothes dirty do
thi
?’

‘OK Gerry,’ cut in Radcliffe,
‘let’s take a step backwards shall we? I want to establish two things. First
off, who the mysterious Fraser and Edward are and what they do when they are
not disposing of stolen cars. Then I want to know exactly who does steal them,
who changes their identities and so forth.’ Putting on his friendly uncle
expression, Radcliffe ended with, ‘Then we’re through Gerry.’

‘Does that mean my client will be
released without charge?’ asked the solicitor.

‘What happens next depends on a
lot of things,’ said Radcliffe, ‘but you can rest assured that once we have
what we need, for my part I will do whatever I can to support him. Within the
limitations of the law of course.’

‘But you promised . . . .’

‘I promised my support,’
responded the DI, ‘and I keep my promises. But you wouldn’t expect me to do
anything illegal would you?’

When neither of the men opposite
him responded, he just said, ‘Well, are you going to tell me or not Gerry?’

‘Edward has some sort of company
I think,’ said Gerry, ‘and Fraser as well, but I don’t know what. They’re
allers
dressed up like. Posh suits and them cuff link
things.
Yer
wunt
get them
under a car or nicking it.’ Thinking for a while he added, ‘’I’ve never seen ‘
em
touch one
ert
cars come
ter
think o’ it.’

‘That’s not surprising,’ said
Fraser. ‘They wouldn’t want their fingerprints on them in case their nice
little earner came to light would they?’

‘Like it has,’ added Radcliffe.
‘Now then, this Fraser guy, what does he look like?’

‘Just a normal bloke really,’
replied the young man.

‘Are you sure that he is really
called Fraser?’ asked the DS. ‘My name is Fraser too, but it’s my last name.’

‘It must be. He’s got his
initials on his number plate. It’s FJD something or other – I can’t
remember the numbers.’

‘So what about Edward, what’s his
last name then?’

‘How do I
fuckin
know? He
guz
mad if
yer
call ‘
im
Eddie or Ted – won’t answer to
anything other than Edward. And I’ve never known ‘is last name ‘
av
I?’

‘All right then Gerry,’ said
Radcliffe taking a photograph out of his folder and sliding it across the
table. ‘Don’t get shirty lad. Is this the mysterious Edward?’

‘No. That’s Fraser Downing.’

‘OK Gerry. Now we are getting
somewhere.’ Sliding another photo across, Radcliffe added, ‘so who is this
then? It was taken today when you were delivering your cars to the depot near
the Post office. That’s you in the Ferrari isn’t it? So who is talking to you?
I thought that that was Downing.’

Looking at the photograph, Gerry
gulped. He had been caught on camera. No way could he claim innocence, for the
proof was in the photograph in front of him.

‘Yes, that’s me,’ he said. ‘But I
weren’t doing
owt
. I were just driving it like.
That’s Edward. He were
tellin
me to leave the car
round the back near to the container and then get a lift back with Fraser coz
there were another car
fer
mi to drive.’

‘Thank you Gerry,’ said
Radcliffe, so who nicks the cars and gets them ready for shipping out then?’
asked Radcliffe.