Nemesis Read online

  Vinnie walked back towards his Volvo and was preparing to try again to ring Delany when he heard a noise.

  He stopped and listened. It was coming from the Rover’s boot; he looked in the driver’s compartment and was relieved to see the keys still in the ignition. Seconds later Vinnie had the boot open and was looking at a smallish man in his forties with salt and pepper coloured hair mumbling through gaffer tape. His arms and legs were restrained with the stuff, and there was utter fear in his eyes.

  Vinnie used the edge of the Rover’s key to cut the man free. He pulled the gaffer tape from his mouth. There was no easy way to do this, so went for the quick rip approach; he’d seen beauticians doing it this way on telly, but not from a mouth, and not with gaffer tape. The man yelped.

  Vinnie helped him out of the boot and as the man looked pensively around, Vinnie spoke. “Relax, I’m a cop, and I’m guessing you are George Piper?”

  “Yeah, I am, but where’s that maniac?”

  “He got away I’m afraid, but fortunately for you I happened along.”

  “My God, you have no idea how true that is, but how come you both turned up at my gaff at the same time, give or take?”

  “I’m not sure, but how do you know?” Vinnie said.

  “I heard Moxley swear and say something about ‘what’s that Traffic Warden doing here’? then he started driving fast. I figured he meant the filth, er no offence.”

  Ignoring the slight, Vinnie said, “I’d also like to know too how he was there when I arrived, but what I do know; is that I don’t believe in fairies.”

  “What?” Piper said.

  “Oh nothing,” Vinnie replied, as he saw the first of two police cars enter the car park and head straight for them. “We’ll chat proper later, but for now let me do the talking, okay?”

  “Okay,” Piper answered.

  Vinnie quickly told the officers, most of what had happened, he said that Piper – though avoiding using his name – had been a witness at Moxley’s original trial. All true, of course, though he missed out the bit about being bent, or having been a protected witness. He wasn’t being unfairly evasive, there were things they didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want Piper to know too much either, well, not yet. Once briefed, one cop car left to join the search as a dog unit arrived and the handler put his hound to work.

  Vinnie felt relieved to see dog and handler pass the area of chipped wall as they trailed after Moxley. The handler had used the Rover’s driver’s seat to load up the dog’s nostrils with Moxley’s scent, which was now all the dog was concerned with. The second cop said he would wait with the Rover while a rota garage was turned out to total-lift the motor to the police laboratory.

  Vinnie told the officer that as much as the abduction had been a crime on their patch, he needed to get Piper back to Greater Manchester. His boss would ring their on-call SIO to explain.

  He rang Delany and chose his words carefully in front of Piper. Delany said he’d liaise with the Lancashire on-call SIO, and told him which hotel to take Piper too. Ending the call he turned to face Piper, “We’ll call at your place so you can pack an overnight bag.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Manchester, we need to have a long chat. Unless you’d rather go back to New Hall Lane and wait for Moxley to come back?”

  “Not likely, mate. Look whatever you want to know, not a problem, I’ll tell you.”

  Vinnie wasn’t too sure that was all true but, then, Piper didn’t yet know what the questions were. He was however sure that as long as Moxley was still at large, Piper would be at his most helpful. At least they could capitalise on that.

  Vinnie walked back to his Volvo. Piper followed and got in the passenger side. He was about to turn the ignition key when Piper placed his right hand on Vinnie’s left arm. He stopped and looked at him.

  “Just wanted to say thanks, man, thanks. You won’t believe what that maniac said to me.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Moxley flew down the stairs, knocking several people to one side as he did so. He half did it on purpose to slow the Traffic Warden down. At the bottom of the last flight was a young woman with a pushchair waiting for the lift to arrive. He head-butted her full-on in the face. No doubt the chivalrous Traffic Warden would be slowed even further by this. The pain in his left arm fuelled his rage; he couldn’t believe the Traffic Warden had shot him.

  He ran out of the car park entrance into a narrow covered walkway; right appeared to lead back to the main road, and left into a covered market. He chose the market, and once through that, the area was mainly pedestrian and full of shops, he was obviously near the main shopping areas. He’d been to central Preston many years before when he got nicked, but had only been in the centre at night. It looked different from how he remembered it.

  As he left the covered-market, he glanced back to see no sign of his pursuer. Good, it was time to stop drawing attention to himself, as he walked calmly away. The area was very busy; it was Saturday afternoon, after all. It only took seconds before he was amid the throng of shoppers and people who had been staring at him but had now lost interest, though it wouldn’t be long before the Traffic Warden got the local Five-0 involved and people would make connections. He had to get away from here fast.

  He headed down a pedestrianised narrow street and at the bottom saw an entrance to a multi-storey shopping centre. Perfect, he could hear a number of sirens shrieking and they were coming his way. No time to lose. He entered the complex and took the escalator to the first floor. This gave him a chance to assess his arm. It was stinging like mad but looking through the small hole in his jogging top, he could see he’d only been nicked. The blood was already congealing.

  Then he got his break. Sat on an old blanket was a man with a dog. He had a tin cup in front of him with change. The man had chosen a pitch next to the toilets, and Moxley guessed why.

  As Moxley approached he noticed the man was wearing a tatty green parka style of jacket with the large hood covering all his head. Most of the fur trim was missing. He stood directly in front of the man, and after a few seconds he looked up at him.

  The thin white countenance and scrawny neck were all the conformation Moxley needed. Probably only in his late twenties but he looked haggard and older.

  Moxley waited while a young couple walked past, who were giving them both a wide arc. “You on?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean, man,” the near prostrate man replied.

  He showed brown and black stained teeth as he spoke, which further confirmed Moxley’s theory. “Look man I need, I need now. I’m starting to rattle. A guy in the market said you could sort me out,” Moxley said.

  The man didn’t answer straight away, but Moxley could see a change of attitude in his eyes; suspicion turning to concern. Fool.

  “What do you want?”

  “H, one bag’s all I need for now,” Moxley said.

  “Okay. It’s fifteen and it’s my last bag,”

  “Okay,” Moxley answered.

  Moxley saw fear return to the man’s face as he grabbed hold of Moxley’s leg and told him to sit down quickly. Before he could say anything the man whispered, “Five-0.”

  Moxley did as instructed and looked around. He couldn’t see any uniforms anywhere. Then he heard a voice. He turned towards it, a man in his thirties wearing jeans and a white T shirt weaved through the shoppers in their general direction. He stopped and pulled a radio out of his back pocket and spoke into it. Moxley couldn’t hear above the noise of everyone, but guessed it wasn’t good news. He turned to face parka man. “Back in a mo,” he whispered and dashed into the entrance to the toilets while the man with the radio was distracted.

  He was as sure as he could be that the man talking into the radio hadn’t spotted him. He didn’t want to go into the toilets only to be trapped, so he took a risk and hid behind a concrete pillar at the entrance. The next time he heard the radio man’s voice, he was only a few feet away, and talkin
g to parka man.

  “I was about to come over to move you on, Micky, but it’s your lucky day.”

  “Sorry, boss, don’t know what you mean.” parka man answered.

  “You seen this man?” radio man said.

  Moxley risked a glimpse and saw that radio man had his back to him, but it looked like he was showing parka man his phone’s screen. He ducked back behind the pillar as parka man spoke.

  “No boss, why?”

  “If you do, bell me. I’ll leave you here all day, no hassles, but you must bell me if you see him. There’s a oner in it for you if you do.”

  “Sure thing, sir, no worries,” said parka man.

  He heard the radio chirp again, and it was moving away. Moxley waited a while before he rejoined parka man.

  “He’s the only one who ever talks to me, all the other plods leave me alone,” parka man said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Intel init. Soft lad thinks he can recruit me as a grass. Just tried again,” parka man said, before turning to look at Moxley, who saw his eyes widen before he spoke next.

  “It’s you, isn’t it? What you done man?”

  “Forget that, you obviously know I’m not a cop now. So, are you going to sort me out?

  “Follow me,” parka man said, getting to his feet. He told the dog to stay put and started to walk across the way to the toilets, before adding, “But the price just went up. It’s now a hundred and fifteen.”

  Moxley had expected this and sighed to himself as he followed parka man into the Gents.

  Ten minutes later, Moxley left the Gents with his new coat on. The ex-parka man had been taught a lesson about his greed. Moxley would have renamed him Mr Greed, but there was no point, he wouldn’t be using any name ever again.

  Moxley picked up the blanket and tin mug and told the white-haired terrier to shoo, but as he walked off, the stupid pooch set off behind him. Looking at the state of the dog’s hair it looked like a stray, a fact which seemed to be confirmed as he walked past a discarded chip wrapper. The animal went straight for it, losing all interest in Moxley. He was glad about that; he liked animals, especially dogs. Dogs were loyal.

  He took the down escalator at the end of the floor and made his way to the nearest exit. He had the parka hood pulled up to totally cover his face and the blanket strewn over his shoulder. It was amazing how much room he seemed have for himself as the good shoppers of Preston almost fell over themselves to get out of his way. Spookily, it had crossed his mind the other day, to hide in plain sight – as a tramp – and here he was now, living the dream, for a while anyhow.

  He’d set off towards the other side of the centre, near the railway station, and find somewhere else to pitch. He could wait there until things quietened down. As he made his way down what must have been one of the main shopping streets, he lost count at the number of cop cars flying about. None of them showed him the slightest bit of notice.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  The journey back to Manchester had been uneventful, Vinnie made sure of that. He dodged all of Piper’s questions and asked none of his own. He’d put his blues CD back on and told Piper to relax. There was no point trying to interrogate him in the car, nor did he want to show his hand yet. He went out of his way to get on with him, build a rapport, the sort of tactic the informant handlers used when trying to recruit a new source.

  He knew where the hotel was, but let the sat-nav find him the quickest route once he was on the East Lancs road towards the city. It was one of the same chain they had used for Johnson, but Delany had chosen one in a different part of town; well away from Rochdale.

  Their room was a large suite on the top floor; it was all they had left at short notice. At least this should help keep Piper sweet. They hadn’t long sat down around an occasional table in the lounge section, when there was a knock at the door. Vinnie told Piper to relax as it would be his boss. He answered the door to see Delany stood there, beckoning him into the corridor. Vinnie pulled the door to behind him.

  “How is he?” Delany asked in a lowered voice.

  “I’ve kept him sweet,” Vinnie replied, also quietly. “How did you get on with the Lancashire on-call SIO?”

  “No probs once I filled her in on the background. As we want Moxley for far worse crimes, she was only too happy to hand the investigation of the Preston offences over to us, but she did say she’d have CSI do Piper’s house for us, knock on a few doors, and check any local CCTV, which was good of her.”

  “I take it you didn’t mention Bob Dawson to her?”

  “No need, plus you don’t know how many friends he still has in Lancs.”

  Vinnie nodded, and then added, “Shall we?”

  Delany nodded this time, and both men entered the suite.

  Vinnie did the introductions and finished making the brew he’d started before Delany’s arrival. As they sat down, Piper was the first to speak.

  “Are we off the record here?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Vinnie. “You’ve been nicked too many times in the past; you’re the victim this time.”

  Piper smiled. “Granted, but this isn’t some boysy chat either.”

  “No it’s not, but there are no tapes running and no one’s writing anything down. You are in a safe place, for now. We’re just debriefing you, George, that’s all,” Delany said.

  By the look on Piper’s face, Vinnie wasn’t too sure he’d bought Harry’s speech; Piper had been through the criminal justice mangle too often for that. Vinnie knew that sometimes showing a part of what you knew bought respect, without giving too much away. He decided to try a more direct approach.

  “Look George, I wasn’t dissing you on the way here, just saving you the trouble of repeating yourself. We know what you did at Moxley’s original trial – be it as a witness, that is – so we understand why he’s got a grudge against you. And believe me when I say our main priority is catching him, and if I’d been a bit fitter, I would have already done that.”

  “Okay, but how did he know where to find me, or even what my new identity was?”

  “A fact we want to know too,” Delany said. “Which is why we are sat here and not at a local nick.”

  “Fair point, Mr Delany,” Piper said with an added respect to his voice, Vinnie noticed.

  “You said before, that I wouldn’t believe what Moxley had said to you,” prompted Vinnie.

  “He said he was taking me to a sewer – ‘cause that’s where I deserved to be – where he was going to make me pay,” Piper started.

  Vinnie looked at Delany, and he raised his eyebrows slightly at him, letting him know he’d picked up on that too.

  Piper listed the various methods of torture, physical and sexual, that Moxley’s fevered mind was planning to act out. He shuddered inwardly, either Moxley’s hatred for Piper ran very deep, or he was getting worse. Probably both. When he’d finished, Delany spoke.

  “Anything else?”

  “That not enough?”

  “I mean, about other stuff. Did he say more about this sewer?”

  Vinnie saw Piper shake his head as Delany continued, “Anyone else? I mean did he mention Bob Dawson?”

  Vinnie saw the reaction in Piper’s eyes immediately, which was followed by a hardening of his vowels as he answered.

  “What’s Bob Dawson got to do with it?” Piper said.

  “Bob?” Delany said.

  “So what?”

  “Intimate way to talk of the SIO, did you know him well?”

  Vinnie wondered if Harry hadn’t gone in too quick and tried to ease the increasing tension. “Look, George, we know you used to, well, er, talk to Bob Dawson on other matters. You know, professionally, before you witnessed what you saw.”

  Vinnie noticed Harry sit back in his chair.

  “Oh that, yeah, don’t suppose that matters now. Did Bob tell you I was his grass?”

  Piper’s use of the word ‘grass’ surprised Vinnie. Whenever he’d run informants in the past
he always avoiding using such terms; it never helped to remind them of what they were. He’d always preferred the term ‘agents’ as used by the security services. He glanced at Delany who appeared to take the hint and turned back to Piper whose body language seemed more relaxed.

  During the next ten minutes Piper reiterated the evidence he’d given at Moxley’s earlier trial, almost as if he was trying to convince them of its integrity. When he had finished, he excused himself and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  Vinnie whispered at Delany, “I thought you were going straight to Def Con One earlier?”

  “I must admit I nearly did. I know you pulled it back, but don’t you find it strange he was not more upset at being outed as a snout?” Delany whispered back.

  “Because he has worse to hide, such as his corrupt evidence at Dawson’s bequest, you mean?”

  “Exactly,” Delany said.

  Vinnie heard the WC flush and Delany hurriedly added, “We haven’t got time, let’s go for it.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” said Vinnie, as the bathroom door opened and Piper walked back into the lounge.

  “What are you two whispering about?”

  “You. Or more precisely, your corrupt relationship with Bob Dawson. Or to be exact, the bit where you made up all your evidence for dosh and a new identity,” Delany said.

  Vinnie wasn’t sure how Piper would react to Harry’s fairly blunt approach. He’d have gone in far more gently, but it was too late now. He half expected Piper to kick off, make a break for it. He tensed himself, ready.

  After several moments Piper spoke, and it wasn’t what Vinnie had expected.

  “Oh that, I wondered how long it would take. After your earlier dig I sussed what you nearly said,” Piper said, in a more resigned voice than Vinnie had expected.