Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance (25 page)

Mr. Pearson dutifully followed orders, sprinkling petrol on the already prepared fire, then eventually igniting it after several failed attempts. He used up nearly the entire box of matches before he was successful, lighting one match after another and pitching them towards the petrol-soaked materials from a safe distance. Most of them fell short and fizzled out on the ground. After about the sixteenth effort, a match finally found its target, resulting in a sudden whoosh of flame shooting from the improvised hearth. It showed how sensible Mr. Pearson had been in displaying such caution. Had he knelt down and held a match too close to the petrol-doused material, there's little doubt that he'd have been deprived of at least his eyebrows, and goodness knows what else. He could possibly have become a human torch had he not been so careful.

Within minutes, the tyre began to do its job, and the smell of burning rubber sent them all scurrying off to a safe distance to avoid the stench. Thick black smoke then began to arise into the air, its suffocating fumes doing nothing to improve the environment, though in this case deemed necessary to alert anyone on the far side of the hedge that they had unexpected visitors. That's, of course, if the impromptu concert hadn't already done the trick.

*

Myles Moran was not amused. Not one to lose his temper under any circumstances, he was having no small difficulty in maintaining his serene composure to the full. Why on earth he was being bothered with trivialities at a time like this, he found it hard to fathom. And by Miss Conway of all people, his most trusted and reliable second-in- command. Myles could hardly believe it. It was twenty minutes to five, he was waiting for one of the most important emails he was ever likely to receive, and now this! Perhaps the strain of the whole operation was beginning to take its toll on her. He took several deep breaths, then reminded himself that she was still only a relatively young woman, despite her enormous potential. Allowances would have to made, even at this vital stage of the operation. He pressed the button of the speaker on his desk.

‘I really think this is something you should handle yourself, Miss Conway,' he said pleasantly enough. ‘I'm rather tied up at the moment. And as you are only too well aware, our deadline is fast approaching. I've much more important matters to attend to.'

‘Sorry for disturbing you, Boss,' Anna answered into her own speaker. ‘It's just that I thought you should know. They're making a terrible racket out there. I was listening to them on the sound system for as long as my ears could stand it. They're having some sort of a party, bawling their heads off, even though none of them can sing a note. And they're burning rubber tyres or something. I was afraid they might draw aerial attention to our position.'

‘Then please take the necessary measures, Miss Conway.' Myles replied with just a hint of sarcasm. ‘I believe a couple of our employees equipped with fire extinguishers should solve the problem.'

‘Right away, Boss!' Anna responded, wondering why she hadn't already thought of such a simple solution. ‘I'll see to it immediately.'

Myles cut her off and engaged his outside monitor, minus sound, to see what all the fuss was about. Black smoke was streaming skywards like a twisting snake, writhing its way upwards before thinning and disintegrating into little dark shapes before dispersing into nothingness. At least the four vagabonds had the sense to have taken themselves far enough away from the fumes not to choke themselves, though why on earth they were burning tyres, heaven alone knew. It was only themselves could say, and he really wasn't in the slightest bit interested in discovering what motivated them. They probably hadn't more than a dozen brain cells to share between them, Myles thought contemptuously, as he switched off the monitor, still awaiting the vital email.

*

Dapper Desmond and Needles trudged towards the hidden gate, carrying a fire extinguisher apiece. Dapper was anything but pleased about it. He was on a few free hours and had been watching his favourite video,
Goodfellas
, when Anna called himself and Needles and told them what she wanted done.

Big deal, Dapper thought. So what if some smelly tramps had wandered down the track and were barbecuing tires? Maybe they were hungry. It wasn't exactly a world crisis. He'd tried to protest that he was on free time, but Anna was having none of it. When you work for Moran Enterprises, you don't have free time, she'd snarled at him. And, as usual, it stuck in his craw having to heave himself off the couch and go do what
she
wanted done, especially without being able to tell her what he really thought of her. Some day, he thought, some day - -.

Needles was struggling under the weight of the extinguisher, despite his regular workouts. It was heavier than he'd imagined, and was getting heavier with every step he took. All he needed now was to stick his foot in a hole or something and have to endure a ribbing from Dapper. Pity Anna hadn't sent Teddy with him instead. He'd have carried both extinguishers and maybe given Needles a piggyback into the bargain. Needles was almost on his knees, and the gate was still a couple of hundred yards away. It had been a funny sort of day all round. He couldn't get the image of the kid on the flying goat out of his head. He'd seen them plain as a pikestaff, even if they had been whizzing along pretty fast before they disappeared into the trees. He'd kept his mouth shut, though. He wasn't going to give Dapper the satisfaction of guffawing at him at the very idea. He'd thought of mentioning it to Teddy or Anna, casually bringing it up and asking if that was now another part of the general fortifications, like the howling wolves and stuff, but he didn't. They might think he was a candidate for the Looney Bin if they didn't know what he was talking about.

Dapper thought he'd have a little fun, seeing as Teddy wasn't with them to step on his toes about ragging Needles. It might put him in better humour after being dragged away from the educational video he'd been watching. ‘Want me to carry that for you, Needles?' he asked, smiling with all the sincerity of a guy just about to whack someone who'd ratted to the cops. ‘You're never gonna make it with all those bulging muscles.' He tossed his own extinguisher in the air and caught it as though it weighed only a few ounces. ‘Bet I can juggle the two of them all the way to the gate.'

But Needles wasn't falling for it. Not after all the times he'd been made the butt of Dapper's jokes. ‘Get knotted!' he managed to gasp, feeling the perspiration begin to trickle into his eyes. ‘I can cope.'

‘Sure you can,' Dapper said, switching to the condescending tone that drove Needles to distraction. ‘Trouble is, we've got to douse this fire and shift these smellers before
next week
. You think you can heave that thing all the way out there before that?' Then he started into his infuriating spluttering laughter. ‘Maybe you should have brought along a wheelbarrow while you were at it.'

N
eedles did his best to ignore the jibes. What he'd really have liked to do was set off the extinguisher right there and then to turn Dapper into a snowman. And if there wasn't enough foam to complete the job, he'd make sure to start at his big mouth and shut it up once and for all. But his knees were buckling and he knew that even if he did manage to get the pin out and set the thing off, he'd probably collapse with the effort. And Dapper would have scarpered to safety by the time he'd be ready to aim, squawking his head off like a demented hyena. For about the millionth time in his life, Needles cursed the hand he'd been dealt in the physique department. But his thoughts had taken his mind off how far more he had to tote the extinguisher, for the next time he looked, he was surprised to discover the gate practically staring him in the face. And Dapper was unlocking it, not bothering to make any secret of the fact either, banging the padlock against the steel, then shooting the bolt free with a clanging that Needles was sure could be heard all the way back to the house.

The noise was heard quite plainly by those outside displaying all the signs of living a much less privileged life than those within. The Superintendent gave a grim little smile of satisfaction on hearing the gate starting to swing open behind him. It was what they'd all been praying for. The second the key had been inserted in the padlock, the Superintendent had signalled to his team to remain exactly where they were. Danny, with Charlie sitting beside him, and Mr. Pearson sat facing the gate, well back from where the tyre smoke was still ascending in a thick black spiral. The Superintendent and Harrington sat with their backs to the gate. Both of them glanced questioningly at Danny. Danny nodded his head in reply.

As soon as they got the nod, both leapt to their feet and faced one another, snarling at each other like a couple of wild animals. ‘What did yar say?' Harrington roared into the Superintendent's face from a distance of about ten inches. ‘Yah puffed-up, musclebound, knock-kneed kin of a slitherin snake? Yah say another word about me Ma and I'll swing for yah, so I will!'

‘Yah will, will yah?' the Superintendent yelled back, rolling up the sleeves of his ragged jacket in readiness. ‘Come on then, yah flea-ridden miscalculatin upstart, for I'll not take a single syllable back! Yar Ma and all the rest of yar family aren't fit to sit on nothin nor lily pads, so them aren't! Descended from tadpoles, the lot of yah!'

Harrington hurled himself forward. The Superintendent caught him in midair, and the pair of them dropped to the ground and started to wrestle each other as though their lives depended on it, snarling insults at one another as they did so. Mr. Pearson and Danny, pretending to be totally unaware of the extinguisher-carrying figures standing in the gateway, jumped to their feet, rushed over to the frenzied combatants, and made as though to try to pry them apart.

Dapper thought it was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen in his life. He remained where he was to enjoy the entertainment, going so far as to hold out an arm to stop Needles in his tracks as he tried to struggle past him to put out the fire. ‘My money's on the muck monster,' he said under his breath. ‘That's if he doesn't pass out first from the pong of the other one breathing down his throat. Fifty euros says the big smeller comes out on top.' He looked at Needles enquiringly. ‘You gonna to take on the bet?'

But Needles wasn't even listening. He was staring at Danny, trying to figure out where he'd seen him before. Something smelled, and it wasn't just what Dapper was talking about. Needles racked his brains, watching Danny hop about the pair on the ground, pulling vainly at an arm or a leg, trying to untangle them. Mr. Pearson was doing the same thing, but Needles hardly noticed him. Danny had all his attention. And then it hit him. Holy - -. It couldn't be! Not the same kid - -.

Needles pulled himself together fast. He tapped the grinning Dapper on the elbow, at the same time easing his handgun out of his shoulder-holster. ‘There's something fishy going on,' he whispered as soon as he got Dapper's attention. ‘I saw that kid earlier from my bedroom window.'

‘Fishy ain't the word for it, ‘Dapper grinned back at him, pinching his nose meaningfully, before noticing the gun in Needle's hand. ‘What's with the shooter all of a sudden? You know the rules. You don't make with the artillery unless you have to.'

‘Just like you in the old guy's room,' Needles couldn't resist throwing back at him. ‘I heard the Boss gave you an earful sent you crawling out on your hands and knees that night.'

Dapper's face darkened. ‘That was different,' he said defensively. ‘Pops was trying to break down the door. Only for - -.'

‘You're not listening, Dapper,' Needles hissed, still convinced their presence hadn't yet come to the attention of the tramps. ‘I'm telling you I saw that kid before.'

‘Where?'

‘I can't remember,' Needles said quickly, aware he'd be in for ribbing if he told the truth. ‘All I know is that something's out of kilter here.'

‘Good old Needles!' Dapper chirruped. ‘Always on the lookout for sugar in the petrol tank.' He squared his shoulders. ‘Put the shooter away, for Pete's sake, and let's go. First we smother that fire, then we send these smellers on their way. Okay?'

Needles sighed. Something wasn't right, but he didn't know what it was. The wrestling match was still being vigorously contested. Dapper made a nonchalant detour around the entwined bodies, one hand holding the extinguisher, the other still up pinching his nose to block any ascending pong he thought might make him nauseous if it invaded his nostrils.

Needles, his knees like jelly under the weight of the extinguisher, struggled in his wake. Maybe he was mistaken. Neither the pair on the ground or the other two trying to pull them apart appeared to even know they'd been rumbled. The nearer he got to the fire, the more his lungs began to suffer. He knew the smouldering fumes were enough to put his lights out if he was stupid enough to go too close. But he needn't have worried. Dapper had come prepared. He had one of those smog masks covering his nose and mouth, and already had the foam from his extinguisher trained on the fire by the time Needles had set his down on the ground and was trying to figure out how to get it working. Dapper did the job all on his own, making him look foolish yet again. Before Needles knew it, the fire disappeared under a hillock of foam, and the dirty black smoke had been buried under what looked like a mould of snow. Needles grimaced, annoyed Dapper hadn't mentioned the fact he'd brought a mask along. But Needles didn't get the chance to dwell too long on his annoyance before something happened to concentrate his mind on other things. Like a familiar voice coming from behind him he hadn't ever expected to hear again in his life.

‘I wondered where you two had disappeared to,' the Superintendent said casually, making both of them wheel around in astonishment. ‘I'd no idea you'd joined the Fire Brigade.'

‘Clifford!' Dapper snarled, immediately recognising who it was, despite his dishevelled state. He hurled the extinguisher with all his might at the Superintendent, at the same time fumbling frantically for his Glock beneath his jacket. ‘This is one time you ain't gonna stick me back in no prison cell.'

The Superintendent took the full force on his left arm. There was a sickening thud and he fell to his knees, his face a mask of pain, his arm deadened and hanging uselessly by his side. He knelt there gritting his teeth. Dapper laughed triumphantly, pointing the gun at his helpless victim's head. ‘How you like the shoe being on the other foot for a change, Clifford? You got any last wishes before I send you to the police station in the sky? Maybe you wanna to say a prayer to the patron saint of coppers, tell him to have some beans on toast ready for when you arrive?'

The swiftness of Dapper's action had momentarily stunned the others into shocked impotence. Things hadn't been supposed to work out like this. ‘Well?' Dapper demanded, enjoying himself thoroughly now. ‘You just gonna kneel there like a dumb schmuck and say nothing at all before I whack you?'

‘Don't be a fool, Dapper,' the Superintendent managed to say through his pain. ‘There won't be anywhere small enough for you to hide if you murder a police officer.'

‘But who's gonna know about it? Huh?' Dapper sneered, looking meaningfully in the direction of Harrington, Danny and Mr. Pearson. ‘There ain't gonna
be
no witnesses. We got plenty of shovels and a whole heap of waste ground inside just waiting to be dug up. You see what I'm saying here?' He took careful aim dead centre of the Superintendent's forehead and squeezed the trigger. ‘So long, copper!'

*

Anna Conway heard the gunshot and couldn't believe her ears. It shattered the comparative silence inside the house with its deadly message. She knew the Boss wouldn't have heard it from his soundproofed office. Anna raced to her outside monitor and switched it on. If she had doubted her ears at what she'd heard, she now began to have the same problem where her eyes were concerned. She gasped in astonishment at what she saw.

*

Ten past five and Myles Moran had received an email at precisely five o'clock from his off-shore bank informing him that the ransom had still not been transferred. He phoned the manager and made a personal request that a vigil be kept until midnight, explaining the importance of the transfer, and ensuring that the manager would receive five million euros for his personal attention to the task. The manager had complied without argument. He was an extremely wealthy individual in his own right, but like all people who dedicate their lives to the accumulation of riches to the exclusion of everything else, he wasn't about to spurn another five million for a mere six or seven hours of his time. He was sure his wife would forgive him for being unable to take her to the opera this evening as they'd arranged.

After speaking to the manager, Myles spoke to the Minister of Justice on his untraceable phone. He was extremely polite. He reminded the Minister of his obligations. The Minister assured him he was only too well aware of them, at the same time frantically gesticulating at the circle of police officers who strove in vain yet again to trace where the call was coming from. All he received in return were the usual sighs and scowls of disappointment.

‘You do realise, Minister,' Myles purred down the line,' that time is rapidly running out? It would be extremely unfortunate should it be allowed to fizzle into extinction like a damp firecracker.'

‘I'm doing everything I can!' the Minister said desperately. ‘Everything! I've just this minute stepped out of a cabinet meeting to take your call. My colleagues are in full agreement that the transfer should be made within the next few hours. The Central Bank has been instructed, and all avenues of communication remain open as we speak. You have my word of honour on the matter.'

Myles smiled to himself at this. The man was obviously fighting for his political life, still unsuccessfully trying to convince the rest of the cabinet to pay the money and have the hostages freed once and for all. He could almost picture the scene inside the cabinet room. The obdurate Minister for Finance defending the State coffers as though it were his own personal property, while at the same time attempting to assure everyone in attendance he was every bit as concerned about the Governor and his granddaughter as the ordinary man and woman in the street. ‘A grave and terrible situation,' Myles could all but hear him intone, ‘but really, five hundred million would all but bankrupt the country. Surely there must be some way of convincing these – these heartless criminals to accept a lesser amount.'

The man Myles was speaking to would have to resume the battle on his behalf. Myles knew that he was so addicted to power that the very notion of being dumped from his post at the next election would be about the worst possible disaster he thought could ever befall him. Therefore, it looked as though the game of poker would be stretched out to the very last hour. The Minister for Finance must be persuaded to change his thinking. Myles held all the aces. ‘I'm pleased to hear you're working so assiduously on my behalf, Minister,' Myles said sarcastically. ‘It's comforting to know.' He paused for a mere second before adding, ‘But just in case you're unsuccessful and your Mr. Moneybags Minister is more interested in preserving the nation's nest egg than the welfare of innocent lives, I think now is as good a time as any to inform you you'll shortly receive information regarding where the bodies may be collected from. A double funeral would enhance your prospects of election quite splendidly, I should imagine.'

Before the Minister had time to make any further appeal, Myles rang off. The Police of Chief, who'd been listening to the exchange in an outer office, wiped the perspiration from his brow before desperately trying to contact Superintendent Clifford on his mobile. But there was no answer.

*

At the precise second Dapper Desmond squeezed the trigger to assassinate the Superintendent, two things happened simultaneously. Needles, horrified at the unthinking stupidity of his companion, flung himself bodily at Dapper to try and knock him off balance. He was only partially successful, due to his lack of bodyweight. It was Mr. Pearson's quickness of thought and action that saved the Superintendent's life. He'd already been easing his gadget out of his pocket as Dapper had been taunting his victim. He had to be extremely careful to ensure he wasn't spotted. The exact second Dapper fired, Mr. Pearson pressed the freeze button. The bullet had already left the muzzle of the gun, but the beam caught it in its vicelike embrace and it hung in the air, frozen in position. Then Mr. Pearson directed the beam at both Dapper and Needles.

If the situation the team were involved in hadn't been so serious, there's little doubt that they'd all have burst out laughing. As it was, it was difficult not to smile at the creation Mr. Pearson had brought about. Even the Superintendent, his arm still throbbing painfully, and only narrowly having missed being shot dead, couldn't resist the tiniest of smiles. Michelangelo himself would have applauded the tableau had he been taking a stroll in the vicinity.