Nick Oldham - Nightmare City

The van reached Marton Circle outside Blackpool and picked up the A583 towards Preston.

Still restless, Henry shuffled along the bench seat until he was directly behind Tattersall and Siobhan who were squashed up on the double passenger seat. Henry peered through the toughened glass window, shading his eyes with his hands, watching the journey unfold through the poor headlights which struggled ineptly against the weather. Although the wipers worked at double speed, they were fighting a losing battle. Gallagher was forced to lean forwards constantly as though the extra inches would give him some sort of visual advantage.

They stuck on the A583, with the town of Kirkham to their left, eventually reaching the traffic lights at Three Nooks — and the junction with the A584 — where only a week before, Henry and Dave Seymour had made a decision to go towards Preston instead of turning back to Blackpool, and then found themselves in a life-and-death car chase with Dundaven. It felt like a year ago, not seven short days.

Half a mile later they bore left onto the dual carriageway which would take them into Preston. The River Ribble and the old docks were on their right.

Just a few minutes from the police station now. Then Henry could voice his feelings to Gallagher. He was relishing the prospect.

At the first set of traffic lights, Gallagher filtered into the offside lane and then into the right-hand lane specifically for vehicles turning right into Nelson Way. The lights were on red and he stopped.

Henry could see the indicator flashing a right.

‘ What the fuck’s going on?’ he demanded suspiciously, alerting Rider who shook himself out of his reverie, opening his eyes at the sound of Henry’s utterance.

The lights went to green. Gallagher let out the clutch and turned the wheel.

‘ We should be going straight on here,’ Henry said. He rapped the window with his knuckles and shouted, ‘What’s happening?’

He was ignored.

He looked quickly at his travelling companion.

‘ This takes us onto the shit end of an industrial estate.’

Rider leaned forwards, concern on his face.

Gallagher gunned the van down the road which was lit for about a hundred metres. Then nothing. It was like driving into a coal mine. Open fields were on either side.

‘ Get me out of these, Henry,’ Rider said urgently. He pushed his hands forwards, presenting his cuffed wrists.

Henry looked at him, but Rider’s face was only shadow on shadow.

‘ Come on,’ the other man hissed. ‘If this diversion is legit, then put ‘em back on. If not, I think I’d be better hands free.’

Henry did not hesitate. Within seconds Rider was massaging the blood-flow back into his hands.

The van slowed down and turned. The beam from the headlights swept across the outer wall of an old factory. The van stopped about four feet from, and pointing into, the wall.

Henry knocked on the glass again.

‘ Hey, what’s happening, folks?’ he shouted, trying to sound jovial and unconcerned. The reality was that he was shitting bricks.

The interior light came on in the front cab. Siobhan handed something across to Gallagher. Something metallic. A gun.

Rider had seen it too.

Something inside Henry twisted like colic. He wanted to burst into tears.

Gallagher flicked a switch and the light in the cage came on.

With the engine still running and lights on, the three detectives stepped out of the van.

Henry caught Rider’s expression. He was just as petrified.

The back doors of the van opened. A burst of cold air whooshed in, making Henry shiver and feel weak.

Gallagher, Tattersall and Siobhan pushed their faces up to the metal grill.

Gallagher’s face, in the light given out by the interior bulb, looked evil. He smiled.

‘ End of the road, Henry.’

‘ What do you mean?’

‘ Exactly what I say. It’s been decided to whack you, pal — and you, mate.’ He indicated Rider and rested the muzzle of his pistol on the cage door. ‘Sorry an’ all that, but you should have taken the hint and done what you were told. Your life would have been good, with all sorts of perks, not least shafting Siobhan here as and when you liked.’

‘ I’d rather fuck a rusty drainpipe,’ Henry said.

‘ So you’re gonna shoot us, is that what you’re sayin’?’ Rider cut in.

‘ Yup.’

‘ And how you gonna explain that?’ he asked incredulously.

Gallagher jerked a finger at Henry. ‘He knows enough about us to answer that one, don’t you, Henry?’

‘ Creatively, I suppose,’ Henry conceded.

‘ Spot on,’ Gallagher said. He shrugged. ‘Just thinkin’ off the top of my head… you’re overpowered by the prisoner in the back of the van who has secreted a knife on him. We… ahh… realise that unless we accede to his demands he’ll kill you and so we play it safe. Drive down here as he tells us and open the back door. He’s got the knife to your throat… demands our guns… he shoots you in the back of the head. We overpower him and in the struggle he gets shot dead too. Something like that. And we’ll be heroes.’

Siobhan said, ‘Whatever the circumstances, we’ll fit a story to answer the evidence. What it boils down to is that both of you are due to die.’ She spoke with glee and a sneer.

‘ Like all the others?’ Henry demanded.

‘ Exactly like the others,’ she confirmed.

‘ Derek Luton had you sussed, altering those statements. Which one of you killed him?’

Tattersall gave Henry a friendly wave and a smile through the cage door.

A lurching sensation went through Henry.

‘ And Geoff Driffield? What about him?’

‘ Team effort,’ Gallagher said. ‘He thought we were going to catch that gang of gypos, poor sucker. We turned up instead. Just unfortunate they hit that shop up the road at more or less the same time as we hit dear old Geoff.’

‘ And what had he done to you? Looked at you wrong?’

‘ Got caught collecting evidence against us. He had to go.’

‘ You know other people are involved with me — people like the FBI?’

‘ We’ll deal with them as and when we need to. Anyway, I’m sick of talking now,’ said Gallagher, ‘getting pissed wet through. What I want you both to do is climb out of here nice and slowly, walk up to that factory wall and put your noses up to it, OK? I see you’ve taken his cuffs off, Henry, but it makes no odds. If you piss about, we’ll shoot you anyway, so it’s as broad as it’s long. If you want it over quick and clean, just follow orders.’

Henry and Rider exchanged glances.

‘ Is that FBI shit true?’ Rider asked.

‘ Yeah,’ Henry squeaked.

‘ Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better.’

Henry’s throat felt like his windpipe had been constricted by a boa and despite the cold, a clammy sweat had formed under his armpits.

Siobhan smacked the release catch and the locking bar sprang open.

The three armed detectives took a few paces back and covered Henry and Rider as they slowly descended out of the van. Henry saw Siobhan was holding some kind of machine pistol and looked very confident with it.

‘ Up to the wall,’ Gallagher reiterated.

Henry’s heart-rate was incredible. He thought it had reached his limit. A myocardial infarction was more likely to be the cause of death than a bullet.

He and Rider walked side by side to the wall. By the time they reached it they were both drenched.

‘ Right up to it,’ snapped Gallagher.

Henry stood with his nose pressed up to the bricks. His hands hung loose and weak. He closed his eyes despairingly and let his forehead drop onto the wall.

‘ Who’d like to be first?’ Gallagher offered the choice.