Chapter Thirty-Five
YELLOW SUBMARINE
Following the ‘off the record’ advice from Phil and after a lot of thought, Roger sat down in his room at the Milton Motel and dialled his mum’s number.
A voice he recognised as Kevin O’Connor answered with a gruff “Yeah.”
“I’ll do a swop for my father. I’ve already started to put things in place to raise the cash. But I need forty-eight hours. If you look after my father in a decent way and I get to speak to him just before the exchange, then we have a deal.”
“What about the police?”
“I haven’t spoken to them and I won’t. I think you know I’m not going to get them involved. You’ve taken virtually everything from me, my only daughter and my lovely mother. All I have left is my dad. I just want to make sure he’s safe at the end of this.”
“Two days it is. Your dad stays healthy until then. And no funny business.”
“That’s more your sort of thing. I play by the book, as you are aware. I’ll call you as soon as everything is in place.”
Roger dropped the phone by his side on the bed and put his hands over his face.
One chance. That’s all he had. If something went wrong, then his dad would be dead. The problem was, he knew even if he did the exchange, in all probability, O’Connor wouldn’t let his father walk free. He knew too much.
He had already checked the tracking devices he had attached to Kevin’s 4x4 and the Transit van on his computer, but there was no signal. The batteries must have gone flat.
Suddenly his phone dinged with a text message from a withheld number.
‘Alley club. Tomorrow night. 1 to 3 a.m., Park Street. Call 07239 445445. Yellow Submarine. Good luck.’
Roger dialled the number.
“Hello.”
“I was given your number by an associate. He told me to say Yellow Submarine.”
“So how can I help you?”
“I need to get my hands on a couple of special items not available in the shops, if you get my drift.”
“Okay. Give me the details, and I’ll see if I can help you.”
The following evening at eight, Roger received another text from the withheld number.
‘Received confirmation. Green light for tonight.’
At ten o’clock, Roger drove the 59-plate VW transporter van he had purchased for £3,000 into Park Street Car Park in a position where he could see each car as it drove in.
The two rear windows of the van had been covered with a one-way mirror film tint purchased from a local auto store. The instructions had made it quick and easy to apply. “Once the mirror tint is applied to glass it will give a mirror finish from the outside whilst allowing clear vision from inside all in a colour of your choice. The self-adhesive backing allows easy fitting with the aid of a little soapy water.”
Forty minutes later, the car Roger had been waiting for appeared in the car park. It drove up the ramp where Roger had parked and continued to the third floor. Roger got out of his van and walked up the ramp to see where it had been parked on the far side against the wall. Once he saw the lone occupant make his way towards the exit stairs, he waited a couple of minutes and then went back to his van and drove it up to the third floor and parked with the rear doors facing the back of the white BMW he had been observing.
Roger sat in the back of the van and waited. When he had parked, the third floor had about twenty cars parked but as time passed many of them were driven off until by 1 a.m., there was just a handful.
Roger heard the doors at the top of the stairwell open and watched as Tyson O’Connor walked towards his car. There was an unforeseen problem. He was not alone. Tyson had his arm around an attractive young lady.
Roger hesitated. He didn’t want to harm anyone other than the scumbag he had come to get.
Should he, shouldn’t he? He needed to make a move if he was to stand any chance of getting his father back safely.
Luckily, Tyson helped.
He walked the young lady round to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her and then walked around the back of the car.
“I’m gonna take a quick piss,” he informed the girl.
Tyson stood behind his car, looking down as he relieved himself.
Roger quietly opened the rear doors of the van and got out. He crept up behind Tyson, and as he heard something and turned, Roger zapped him with the Taser gun he had purchased illegally following the Yellow Submarine phone call.
Tyson sank unconscious to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Roger grabbed his hands and pulled a pair of police-issue handcuffs from his pocket, also supplied by Yellow Submarine, and made sure Tyson’s hands were secure behind his back. He then put two long plastic ties around his legs and pulled them tight and lifted him into the back of the van. He placed a ski mask over his head and turned it 180 degrees, making sure Tyson’s mouth was in line with the slit Roger had made in the back of the material, and so he couldn’t see the route they would be taking if he gained consciousness.
As Roger drove away, he noticed the young lady get out of the car and walk around, trying to work out where her male partner had gone. Roger drove at normal speed to the exit and off into the night. So far there was no sound from the back, which either meant Tyson was still unconscious or pretending to be and biding his time.
Twenty minutes later, the silver coloured van turned into the narrow private driveway that led down to the premises of the equestrian centre Roger had purchased and was going to give to his daughter at
