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.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
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.
Thirty feet above, Rider and Henry peered down through the two-inch crack they had engineered in the ceiling to give them a restricted view down to the room below.
‘ What are they doing?’ Rider said more to himself than anything.
‘ Haven’t a clue.’
From their position, laid out side by side in the old casino office, chins hanging over the edge of the trapdoor, squinting down through the minute gap, they could see a couple of the tables Gallagher had dragged onto the dance floor.
‘ Rearranging the furniture,’ Henry said.
The top of Tattersall’s head came into view. He placed something on a table with a clatter of metal. His shoulders hunched over his task, obscuring the view. A minute later he moved away, revealing two guns lying on the table. One was a semi-automatic pistol, the other a big revolver. Boxes of ammunition stood by them.
Tattersall moved to the next table within their view and left two more weapons on it. One could have been an Uzi, the other was a semi-automatic pistol. And ammunition to go.
‘ A gun bazaar, I’d say,’ Rider murmured. ‘Marketing their goods.’
‘ They’ve got police property tags on them too,’ Henry noted. ‘I think they’re the ones we found in the back of Dundaven’s Range Rover. The cheeky swines.’
They drove in convoy to Blackpool, the Mercedes followed by the Mayfairs and then a Mondeo driven by Conroy’s minders. They arrived outside the club at 10.30 a.m.
Morton met them at the door, then led them inside to the dance floor and main bar area. Gallagher and Siobhan were left to guard the entrance. De Vere sniffed the atmosphere huffily but said nothing. He began to browse through the display, lifting up and examining the goods closely. He was impressed.
Hamilton introduced the Mayfairs to Morton as the men who would be killing Henry Christie and John Rider.
