Nick Oldham - Nightmare City

‘ I’ll show you. Tread carefully.’

Rider pushed the door open and edged into the room. It was large and expansive. There were windows but all were boarded up and blocked out any light. Henry stuck behind him but found that he could see quite well; his eyes were taking advantage of all available light.

Rider went down onto his hands and knees in a movement so swift that Henry thought he’d gone through the floor.

‘ Look at this.’ He had found a trapdoor which he hauled open. Henry bent down onto one knee and peered into the hole.

‘ This room is directly above where the main part of the casino used to be. There’s a few of these trapdoors in this room. I think the management used them to keep tabs on the tables below, using one-way glass.’

‘ Bit primitive.’

‘ Before the days of CCTV.’

Henry looked into the void. It was black. ‘Can’t see anything.’

‘ No, you won’t be able to. That’s a false ceiling you’re looking at, and below that there’s another suspended ceiling. If we’re careful, we could remove a panel from this ceiling and try to move a panel from the suspended one, then maybe we could see down into the club, find out what’s going on.’

‘ Risky, but what the fuck.’

Rider reached into the space and fumbled about. ‘Got it.’

Henry fully expected Rider to come back with a ceiling panel in his hand, but he got the shock of his life when the other man produced a revolver which had been hidden in the space between floor and false ceiling.

‘ We may need this.’

‘ I suppose you shot Munrow with that, did you?’

A beat passed between the two men which sent a tingle of apprehension down each one’s spine.

‘ Thought so,’ said Henry, feeling sick.

‘ There’s two bullets left…’

After a whispered debate they decided that the best time to do any messing with the ceiling would be round about 4 to 5 a.m. From Henry’s experience, this was when people were at their lowest ebb. In the meantime, they tried to get some sleep — after Henry had set the alarm on his Casio wrist-watch.

Completely drained though he was, Henry could not sleep on the dusty, uncomfortable floor. His mind whizzed and banged as it thought through his predicament from every angle.

He made one incontrovertible decision. In the morning he would seek out Karl Donaldson and with his protection he and Rider would go to Police Headquarters and demand to speak to the Chief Constable. She was his only hope of salvation and fairness. Karl was his only hope of staying alive.

He knew he could not go on the run. No doubt Rider would be able to guide him through the low-ways and by-ways of the underworld, but it wasn’t for Henry.

He believed in justice. Old-fashioned though that belief was, it had seen him through twenty-one years as a frontline cop and he wasn’t about to have those values shattered by a corrupt squad which believed itself to be beyond the law. At whatever cost he would fight. Even if it meant becoming a protected witness, a change of name and address and that job in Asda stacking shelves. He would win… because they had made him angry. He almost laughed at the triteness of it: ‘They have made me angry.’

Talk about a fucking understatement.

As for Rider — he could do whatever he wanted.

‘ Henry… time?’ Rider asked.

In the darkness Henry could see the tip of a burning cigarette brighten as Rider sucked.

He checked his watch. ‘Four-fifteen.’

‘ I take it you can’t sleep?’

‘ You guessed.’

‘ Ten minutes, then we’ll do some joinery.’

Breakfast was conducted at a leisurely pace. Champagne, strawberries and then a choice of full English or continental. Coffee or tea to finish off with.

Morton had departed early, leaving Conroy to entertain Hamilton and de Vere. McNamara was scheduled to arrive shortly.

At 9.45 a.m. Conroy said, ‘We need to be moving now.’ He was annoyed that McNamara had not yet appeared, because part of the deal would be that his haulage company would deliver the weapons to any point in Europe requested by the client. Conroy was also dying to tell McNamara the good news about the prostitute, which he’d only just heard himself.

But there could be no further delay. De Vere wanted to see what was on offer. His customers were pressing.

On the steps outside the country club, Conroy’s Mercedes drew up, ready to take passengers. A second car drew up behind, two bodyguards on board.

De Vere and Hamilton settled in the rear seat. Conroy was about to drop into the passenger seat when his attention was drawn to a car speeding up the driveway towards the club.

The car skidded to an ostentatious stop and two good-looking young men dressed in jeans and trainers bounced out, all smiles and teeth — appearances which belied their chosen profession.

Hamilton got out of the Mercedes. ‘These are the gentlemen I told you about — the professionals: Wayne and Tiger Mayfair. Old friends of mine.’

‘ Hi,’ they said in unison and with a wave.

‘ Glad to meet you,’ Conroy said. He looked closely at Tiger and saw four scratches down his cheek. ‘Problem with a lion or something?’

Tiger chuckled. ‘You could say that.’ He exchanged a knowing glance with Hamilton.

‘ I want these wankers out of here now,’ Morton said to Gallagher, eyeing the motley assortment of men who had made the bridgehead into Rider’s club. ‘Fucking shite.’

‘ Right, lads, you’ve done your bit. Now you can fuck off. You’ll get your dosh later, as arranged.’

They trooped out of the place with fierce looks of contempt on their faces at being ordered around by cops.

‘ A car stolen from Preston last night has been found in Blackpool, boss. It was nicked at the same time we were searching for Christie and Rider.’

‘ So?’

‘ Could be they’re here in Blackpool, lying low. There was blood on the passenger seat. We might’ve shot one of them.’

‘ You should’ve shot ‘em both — in the back of the head,’ Morton said sarcastically. ‘How hard can it be?’

‘ Just bad luck.’ Gallagher pointed to his swollen eye and held up his bandaged wrist. ‘We’ll get them. It’s Donaldson who worries me now. Where did he hide those statements?’

‘ I presume you searched everybody in the house?’

The look on Gallagher’s face gave the game away. ‘In view of the fact we were searching for a wanted man, I think it would have been OTT to start strip-searching folk, don’t you?’

‘ No, I fucking don’t. You stupid, stupid bastard. How can I soar like an eagle when I’m surrounded by donkeys?’ he wanted to know. He took a deep sigh, but try as he might, he could not shake his sense of foreboding. Henry Christie was proving to be hard to handle.

‘ Right,’ he said, consulting a piece of paper in his hand, ‘we’ve got thirty different weapons to show, so I suggest we set up about fifteen of the tables on the dance floor and put two on each with boxes of ammo. Then de Vere can wander about to his heart’s content. You do that, and I’ll go and help the others bring the gear across from the station.’

He left, fuming.

Twenty minutes later he returned with Siobhan and Tattersall. They were each carrying heavy holdalls which contained the guns. They had been removed openly from the armoury at the station because openly aroused less suspicion.

Morton directed their distribution.

Ten minutes later he walked round the tables, checking the merchandise.

At one point he stood on some grit on the highly polished surface. He scuffed his shoes in it, gave it a moment’s attention, then forgot it. His mind was consumed with other matters.