Nemesis Page 23

  “Granted.”

  “And Johnson is safely in hospital or wherever, with Delany on the case,” she added.

  “Granted again.”

  “Okay, so where?”

  “Let’s assume that the top of Moxley’s hit list is Dawson,” Vinnie said.

  “Granted.” Christine said, smiling.

  “Okay, I’ll get to the point. Neither Moxley nor us know where, or even which country Dawson’s in. So his only other target is Piper, and he’s no idea where he is, but I do.”

  Vinnie explained that after he and Delany had finished interviewing Piper, he gave them the address he was going to until it was all over.

  “Who else know about this address?”

  “Only Harry and me, no one else.”

  “So, he’s safe?”

  “Absolutely, but he may know more that he told Harry and me, especially with regard to where Dawson could be. After all, they lived together so he should know his ways, how he thinks. If we can get to Dawson, we can use him to flush Moxley out as he’s got to be Moxley’s number one target.”

  “Do you think Dawson will go along with that?”

  “No idea. And to be fair, it’s a long shot that Piper will be able to give us what we need. Otherwise I’m fresh out of ideas.”

  “It’s better than doing nothing, I guess. Is Piper’s address far?”

  “Scotland,” revealed Vinnie, quite enjoying the look of surprise on Christine’s face.

  An hour later, with overnight bags packed, and the Volvo tanked up Vinnie aimed for the M6 to start the journey to Glasgow. He’d given Christine the address and she said she would do what research she could on her smart phone as they travelled.

  He knew it was a punt and would probably prove to be a waste of time, but what else could they do? The longer they got into the journey, the more he thought it probably was pointless. After all; when he and Delany interviewed Piper, albeit only briefly, Piper had made it clear that Dawson had left him and he’d no idea where he’d gone. Vinnie was hoping there may be something among Dawson’s personal belongings, letters or something, to give a clue to his whereabouts.

  Before they’d left Manchester he had briefly hinted to Christine to speak to Jimmy’s mum’s neighbours again, to see if they couldn’t find out more about the north Wales address, but Christine was adamant that they knew nothing. He nearly suggested other neighbours – widening the search – but she was very reluctant to go back anywhere near that house. In any event, the whole area would be a crime scene now and he knew Harry would be pursuing Jimmy’s location himself. He concluded they were better out of the way, even if it did prove fruitless, and as he settled down into the drive north, he put his blues CD on.

  Christine looked up from her phone. “Oh great, I love the blues,” she said.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Four and a half hours later, which included a stop at a service station in Cumbria, Vinnie turned off the M74 and headed east on the M8 through the outskirts of Glasgow. It was after seven in the evening, but traffic was still constant. He drove past Ibrox Stadium to his right and as he approached junction twenty-five the sat-nav instructed him to take the exit. He turned right on to the A739 heading due north. It was a relief to get off the motorways that they had been on all the way from Manchester. The journey hadn’t taken too long, and he and Christine had chatted effortlessly, which had helped to pass the time. He had totally revised his opinions of her. He used to think of her as an interfering reporter who probably didn’t really like the police very much; although this was true of some, she was not one of them. And to be fair, there were plenty of cops who were anti-press. He realised more than ever now that they just had different agendas. She had given him a couple of examples of how much pressure reporters were sometimes put under to get the story.

  She had done what research she could and apparently they were headed for an area of Govan west of the city that had benefitted from some substantial regeneration. The street they were after was a small road set back off Govan Road. A modern four storey tenement building with rough ground to one side and a row of shops to the other. The flat number was seven, which suggested a ground floor address.

  The sat-nav directed them on to Govan Road heading back towards the city with the river Clyde to their left. A few minutes later they were parking up on the rough ground next to a closed Victorian pub named The Glass Blowers Arms, paying due deference to a time before regeneration. It was fairly quiet except for a group of kids playing football further down the road in a cul-de-sac.

  “I hope he’s in after all this,” said Christine.

  “Me too,” answered Vinnie.

  It had never crossed his mind that he wouldn’t be. Why, he wasn’t sure. He had expected to do what they had to do and drive straight back. Even though they had brought overnight bags as a precaution, he actually never thought he’d be potentially sharing a hotel with Christine.

  He cleared his mind as they got out of the Volvo. Vinnie was glad to stretch his back and legs. A few minutes later they located number seven on the ground floor at the far end of the block; at the gable end, with waste ground beyond.

  “How do you want to play it?” Christine asked.

  “I’ll introduce you as DC Jones, it’ll be easier.”

  “DC Jones,” Christine said, as if savouring the words. “Why can’t I be a sergeant?”

  “Okay, DS Jones; happy now?”

  “Happy,” she answered, smiling.

  Vinnie was about three feet away from the solid hardwood front door, with Christine right behind him when he came to an abrupt halt. Christine jarred into the back of him.

  “What’s up?”

  “The door,” he answered as he peered to make sure what he’d seen. It was closed to, but not clicked shut. He could see a small space in the door jamb, although he couldn’t see any damage. He pointed this out to Christine.

  “Perhaps he’s left it on the latch while he’s nipped to a neighbour’s?” she suggested, in hushed tones.

  “What? In Govan?”

  “Don’t they have neighbours in Govan?”

  “You know what I mean; the door.”

  Christine gave him a sideways grin, as if to say, ‘just a thought’. Vinnie stepped nearer and put his ear to the door. He heard nothing. Then he did. It sounded like a muffled grunt, definitely human. He quickly looked around to check the area. There were no cars parked nearby, and no one about. Only then did he notice that the next flats, number five and three, had steel grilles securing the front doors. Not like security gates, but more like something the council would put up when empty.

  He listened at the door once more and he heard the grunt again, louder, harsher, restricted.

  “Come on,” he said to Christine, “but stay close behind me.”

  She nodded and Vinnie eased the front door open. There was a hallway with one door off to the right, which was open, and one at the end of the hall which was closed. He quietly closed the front door behind them and walked down the hall, pausing to check and confirm that the front room was empty. Then he heard a man’s voice from behind the closed door say, “It’s going to be a long night and we are going to have some fun.”

  He recognised the voice.

  “Is that Piper?” whispered Christine.

  “No, but I recognise it.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Dawson?”

  Vinnie told her to wait in the front room. As she started to protest, he pushed her sideways into the room. “Please, just wait in here.”

  He noted an injured look on her face at being shoved, but he had no time for a discussion. He approached the closed door and heard the muffled grunt once more. He kicked the door to fling it open.

  Beyond was a small rear room with two further doors to the left, and a rear door and small window above a sink that was part of a kitchenette. Off to his right on a carpeted patch was a small table and two stand chairs, one of them in front of the table with a man he recognised
as George Piper strapped to it. His arms were held to his side with grey duct tape, his ankles were secured to the chair legs and more tape was across his mouth.

  He turned to look at Vinnie who saw a mixture of terror, surprise and relief in his eyes.

  Standing in front of Piper was Daniel Moxley. He turned to face Vinnie, his gaze a mixture of surprise and hatred.

  No one spoke for what seemed like an age, but would have been mere moments, but then Moxley did.

  “Traffic Warden. You just don’t know when to keep your nose out, do you?”

  It was only then that he noticed Piper’s genitals were hanging limply out of his trousers. He turned his attentions back to Moxley and saw the kitchen knife in his right hand.

  Vinnie lunged at Moxley, aiming both hands at the arm that held the knife. Moxley was starting to pull his arm backwards, but was too late. Vinnie grabbed the arm with both hands, as his right shoulder crashed into Moxley’s chest. Moxley stepped back and kept his balance as Vinnie twisted hard on Moxley’s wrist. He noticed how slight the wrist was as his hands wrapped easily and firmly around it. He pulled his hands in opposite directions not unlike the Chinese burns he’d had done to him in his youth.

  It seemed to be working. He heard Moxley cry out and the knife fell to the floor. Vinnie kicked it under the table, but as he concentrated on that he briefly took his eye off Moxley.

  A moment later, he felt a crunching blow to his left temple. A sickening sound that resonated throughout his head, pulsing in all directions along with flashes of acute pain. He let go of Moxley’s hand and stood back as he instinctively put his hand to his head. Glancing at his assailant he saw a red spot forming on Moxley’s forehead.

  Vinnie felt disoriented and unsteady, yet still aware of what was going on. Then his legs buckled and he hit the floor. He was on his hands and knees and trying desperately to regain his full motor responses. He felt like a boxer on the canvas taking a mandatory count. He looked up as Moxley bent down and moved towards the side of the table. He had to stop him.

  As if reading his mind, Piper threw himself and his chair on to his side, crashing to the floor in front of Moxley, blocking his path.

  “You’ll pay extra for that,” he heard Moxley say as he reached over the prone man.

  The mists were starting to clear, but not enough as Vinnie tried to stand up but couldn’t take his own weight on his legs. Next he was aware of other legs rushing past him. He blacked out.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Several minutes later and Vinnie was awake and sitting on the second kitchen chair. He must have only been out for a couple of minutes, but that had been long enough. As he fully regained his faculties, he heard a voice.

  “This is going to hurt.” It was followed by a tearing noise and a yelp.

  His focus returned and he saw Christine removing the tape from Piper’s mouth.

  “Thank God,” he heard him say.

  Thank God indeed, he thought as he looked round, but saw no sign of Moxley.

  “What happened?”

  “What happened, was you passed out. I smashed Moxley over the back of the head with a vase as he was distracted. You two both owe me big time as I’ve never been so frightened in all my life, Vinnie Palmer. That’s what happened.”

  Vinnie thanked her, as did Piper as she started to rip the remainder of the tape from him. Christine explained how she had rushed in and hit Moxley as hard as she could with the heavy earthenware vase she’d found in the front room.

  Christine stood up and let Piper go to work on freeing his legs now that his arms were unrestricted.

  “What did Moxley do?” asked Vinnie.

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t pass out like you but it knocked him to the ground and I managed to collect the knife from the floor. We stood there looking at each other. He was obviously a little dazed, but looked more surprised than anything.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “We got lucky.”

  Christine explained that as the standoff ensued, a sudden blast of two-tone horns came from outside. An emergency vehicle was obviously coming in their direction. When she saw Moxley react to it she used her best Scottish accent to say it was her colleagues backing her up.

  “That’s brilliant, and he believed you?”

  “Not a hundred per cent sure, but he clearly couldn’t take the chance so rushed past me and legged it out the front door.”

  “Very well done DS Jones, I owe you, and some,” Vinnie said.

  He turned his attention to Piper who had finished making himself decent. “God only knows what he had in mind for you,” he said as he nodded towards Piper’s waist.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No; thanks to you two. He’d not been here long, but we have another problem.”

  “Which is?” Vinnie asked as he stood up.

  “He’s got Bob’s address and I’ve no way of warning him as Moxley’s got my phone with his number in it.”

  “Time’s on our side for a change,” said Vinnie, “and in any event Moxley has no passport.”

  “He doesn’t need one. Bob’s in a rented cottage at Gretna, near the English border.”

  *

  Moxley couldn’t believe his bad luck, that was three of them he’d lost in as many days. He felt the swelling on the back of his head as he hurried along Govan Road. He doubted he’d ever get the chance to make that Scottish pig pay for that, but at least he’d got away. He’d been keeping to the shadows as best he could, expecting a convoy of police cars to come flying past, all larging it up with the blues and twos. Then he realised he hadn’t yet seen one. No matter, he would get as far away as he could. He’d dearly love to make Traffic Warden pay for his interference, but he realised things were closing in and he wasn’t stupid enough to ride his luck for too long. He’d have to disappear soon, but before he did he had one more house call to make, but he’d have to be extra careful now.

  Then his luck kicked back in as he saw an approaching black cab. He hailed it as a police car rushed past, double result. He jumped into the rear and the driver asked, “Where to, mate?”

  “Gretna,” replied Moxley.

  “You’re not running off to be wed are you?” the idiot asked and then proceeded to laugh at his banal attempt at humour. It was going to be a long short journey.

  *

  The first thing that Vinnie did was to ring the local CID. After explaining the situation, he asked them to get some staff to the address in Gretna where Bob Dawson was supposedly living. The DC who took the call started to ask for a fax or email from GMP to back it up, but when Vinnie said there was no time, and if he didn’t act fast he’d be looking at a murder and a neglect of duty on his head, he caved in. He said he would get someone there straight away, but that he’d still need something official. Vinnie said he’d get his boss to speak to their on-call SIO. That was a phone call he wasn’t looking forward to.

  That initial call dealt with, he turned back to Piper to get a fuller brief so he’d have all that he could when he did spoil Harry’s evening. Piper explained how he had received a call from Dawson a day or so earlier claiming that Moxley was dead and asking to be forgiven and given a second chance.

  That’s when Dawson admitted where he was staying, in a rented cottage. Piper was due to go there the day after to talk things through with him.

  “Why would he think Moxley was dead?” Vinnie asked.

  “Don’t know. I asked him how and he became all vague, said I’d be better off if I didn’t know.”

  “Sounds like he was trying to bullshit his way back into your good books,” said Christine.

  Piper nodded. “You can understand my surprise when I got a knock at the door and saw that nutter stood there when I opened it.”

  He added that as far as he was concerned Dawson and everyone else could do what they wanted, but he was off up north until he was really sure Moxley had been caught.

&n
bsp; Vinnie opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as Piper continued.

  “I know me and Bob are in the shit for what happened at Moxley’s original trial, but right now I don’t care about that. I’ll take my chances when this is all over, I’ll even do my time, no problems, then I can have a fresh start without any of this.”

  Vinnie didn’t answer, he let Piper carry on.

  “I know you could stop me from going, arrest me for perjury or whatever, but I’m asking you for a break.”

  “We’ve just saved your life,” Christine said, sounding more like a cop than a reporter, Vinnie thought.

  “I know, and I’m very grateful. But let me do one until this is over and I’ll hold my hands up and tell you everything, and Bob will have to stand on his own two feet,” said Piper.

  Vinnie knew he had no choice but to agree. Even if he hadn’t been suspended, he’d have no jurisdiction in Scotland. So, he went along with Piper’s proposal and tried to make it sound like he was doing him a huge favour, but if he reneged, there would be no hiding place etcetera etcetera.

  Piper said he wouldn’t break his word and Vinnie believed him. In a show of faith Piper wrote down his brother’s address in the Highlands where he was going and pleaded with Vinnie not to show it to anyone. He would be there when it was over.

  Vinnie pocketed the piece of paper and they shook hands before parting company.

  Back in the Volvo, Vinnie pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at Christine, “I’m not looking forward to making this call.”

  “What about me?”

  “I think it safer for now if we leave you out of the script, don’t you?”

  “I guess, but he’ll have to know at some stage. This story is getting way beyond a third hand piece according to a source. It’ll be obvious that the narrator was present.”

  Vinnie thought about this for a moment. He knew he had to keep Christine happy and wanted to play it fair. He explained how she couldn’t report on today’s events if they were going to form part of a prosecution for what Moxley had started to do to Piper. Not until after the trial anyway.