Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance (26 page)

Dapper, a sneer distorting his handsome face, was standing like a statue, bending forward slightly, the gun still in his extended hand, aiming it with evil intent straight at the Superintendent's forehead, the bullet he'd fired suspended in the air no more than an inch beyond the muzzle. But what caused the suppressed smiles wasn't anything to do with Dapper's stance. It was the look of startled surprise on Needle's frozen little ferret face when the beam caught him and glued him to Dapper's side as he was trying to prevent him shooting the Superintendent. He was about three feet off the ground, trapped in mid-flight just as he came into contact with Dapper. He really did look comical. Mr. Pearson had been responsible for creating the most unlikely set of Siamese twins in the history of the world. But what really mattered was that they were both now out of commission.

‘Two down,' the Superintendent said grimly, gritting his teeth as he rose to his feet, ‘and heaven knows how many more to go before we complete our rescue mission. At least it's a start. Thanks, Mr. Pearson. That's the second life you've saved in the last few days.'

‘Don't mention it,' Mr Pearson replied modestly. ‘It was nothing. I'm only too glad I'm helping in some small way.'

Danny shook his head in disbelief. Mr. Pearson was really something else. Only for him, they'd
all
probably be dead by now.

‘Are you all right, sir?' Harrington asked, concerned. ‘Your arm isn't broken, is it?'

‘Just bruised, Harrington. Don't worry, I'll be fine. As soon as the numbness goes away, I'll be as good as new. I think you should disarm our two friends here before we leave them. Just in case the effect of the beam wears off.'

‘Oh, there's no fear of that, Superintendent,' Mr. Pearson assured him. ‘They won't be able to move again until I release them.'

‘I'd still like to take their guns away, Mr. Pearson. Merely police routine where armed criminals are concerned. All right? Eh?'

‘Whatever you say, Superintendent. I'll just unfreeze the big one's hand and Officer Harrington will be able to remove the gun quite easily then.'

*

A few seconds after hearing the gunshot, Anna was standing staring at her outside monitor, watching every thing as it transpired. The second tallest of the tramps was taking Desmond's gun out of his hand without the slightest show of resistance from Desmond. She couldn't understand what was going on. None of the tramps were armed, yet there was Desmond, standing stock-still, letting his weapon be taken away as though he couldn't care less. One of the tramps had a television remote control trained on Desmond. What was that all about? And where was Needles? She adjusted the setting on her monitor, and her mouth fell open. She shook her head to clear her eyesight, but it didn't serve to change anything. Needles was attached to Desmond's side. Both of them looked as though they were frozen solid. The tramp who'd confiscated Desmond's gun was now helping himself to Needle's, sliding his hand in under his jacket and removing it from its shoulder-holster. He pocketed it before handing the Glock to the big tramp. Anna was so surprised at what she was watching, it had slipped her mind to turn on the sound. She did so now to listen through the many microphones hidden in the hedges.

There was a remarkable alteration in the accents she now heard from what she'd heard earlier when listening to the awful attempts at singing, etc. The head tramp was issuing orders. ‘Unfreeze Nelligan, Mr. Pearson, if you please. I want to pick his brains.'

Anna had to think for a few seconds before she realised who he was referring to. Then it struck her. Patrick Camillus
Needles
Nelligan. The only other person she'd ever heard calling him Mr. Nelligan was the Boss. But it was ages since she'd been present when he'd done so.

The thin rake of a man aimed the remote at Needles and he fell to the ground, dazed and blinking, looking around him in bewilderment, like a particularly surprised ferret trying to figure out what was going on. As he struggled to his feet and stared at the tramp who'd given the order to restore him to consciousness, he gave a long drawn-out sigh of relief. ‘Welcome back, Nelligan,' the tramp said, giving him a friendly smile as he did so. ‘And thanks for your earlier intervention. I'll make sure it's mentioned in your favour when you're up before the beak for this one.'

Needles still looked like a fish out of water. He gazed at Desmond, still stuck in his frozen pose, the sight only serving to increase his perplexity. ‘What – what in the name of tarnation's happening, Superintendent?' he asked foolishly. ‘One minute I was - -.'

‘No time to explain now. I want information, and I want it fast. Where are the old man and the girl being held?'

A look of fear flashed into Needle's eyes. He knew he was more than likely being watched and listened to from inside the house. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' he managed weakly. That was as far as he got. Harrington strode over to him purposefully and stuck the muzzle of his gun to his temple. ‘Talk, you little creep!' he growled. ‘I'm going to count to three. After that I'll pull the trigger.'

The Superintendent eyebrows arched in surprise. He knew Harrington was bluffing, but still! ‘Okay! Okay!' Needles said. ‘Take it easy!' Whether he was being viewed from the house or not suddenly seemed irrelevant now. It looked like he was going to get it just that bit sooner if he didn't squawk. Some gratitude, he thought, flashing the Superintendent a resentful look and me after doing my best to save your skin earlier. But this lulu with the shooter looked like he means business. ‘They're in separate sections of the house. The old guy's locked in a bedroom and the kid's in there somewhere else.'

That was all the Superintendent wanted to know. He fished out his mobile and called the Chief. ‘We've hit the jackpot. Call off the transfer.' That was all the startled Chief of Police heard before the Superintendent rang off, all his frantic efforts to regain contact with his subordinate being met with an engaged tone.

‘Zap him again, Mr. Pearson,' the Superintendent ordered as he pocketed his mobile. ‘It's for your own safety, Nelligan,' he said with a grin. ‘And it'll keep you out of mischief for a while too.'

Mr Pearson duly obliged.

D
espite being unable to get Superintendent Clifford back on line, the Chief of Police was ecstatic at what he'd heard. He made his way hurriedly towards the office of the Minister for Justice, striding purposefully, his chest inflated, both thrilled and relieved to be able to convey the good news he'd just received. As he turned the corner of the corridor leading to his destination, he collided with the Minister, who was just as hurriedly rushing back to the cabinet room to try and persuade his colleagues to transfer the ransom money. Both men were halted in their progress, the unexpected impact serving to make them bounce off each other like a couple of rubber balls. The Minister, being the smaller and lighter of the two, was sent sprawling on his backside to the floor. It was varnished teak, and it did nothing to either add to his dignity nor prevent his tailbone from receiving a painful jolt. The collision resulted in igniting his normal fiery temper into a raging inferno.

‘Carter!' he yelled, scrambling to his knees, one hand clutching the base of his spine, the other clawing at the wall to drag himself erect. ‘You useless idiot! What in hell's bells do you think you're playing at? Aren't things bad enough without you trying to cripple me?'

Carter rushed over to assist the Minister to steady himself. ‘Leave me alone, you incompetent nincompoop!' He began to frantically brush down his immaculately tailored suit, straighten his glasses, then ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘Get out of my way! I've to get back to the cabinet room immediately. I wouldn't be in this mess only for you! Time is running out and that - that
tightwad
controlling the purse strings in Finance is playing hardball.' He glared at Carter with all the malevolence of a cornered rattlesnake. ‘I've just had a call informing me that I'll be getting another one soon to tell me where the hostage's bodies will be left if the ransom isn't paid over soon.'

Carter, despite the dressing-down he'd just received, appeared remarkably smug about something or other. The Minister couldn't believe it. He felt like slapping him across the face, but hadn't the time right now.

‘Everything's under control, Minister,' The Chief said importantly, like Napoleon informing his listener of yet another successful campaign ‘The secret operation I've put in place is on the verge of completion. It's only a matter of hours before my forces will have freed the hostages and captured the kidnappers.' He paused to allow the information to sink into the Minister's mind, drew himself up to his full height and, had he been a peacock, there's little doubt he'd have displayed the magnificence of his fanned feathers into the bargain. ‘My men are closing in as we speak.'

The Minister looked at Carter in bewilderment. He was desperately trying to assimilate and decipher what he'd just been told. One half of his mind was doing a jig of joy, the other half still wary and disbelieving. He was fully aware Carter was everything he'd just called him and more besides, yet here he was, now telling him the case had been solved and that the Minister's troubles were over. Which would result in his status being elevated to heroic proportions when he relayed the joyful tidings to every television set in the land. Letting the voters know that
he
,
and not Carter, had personally supervised everything from the word go, that there had never been the
slightest
fear of the criminals getting away with it, would, without doubt, see him in line as the next leader of the Government, something for which he'd been striving towards from the first day he'd entered politics. The only trouble was that he'd have to accord some of the credit to Carter. It went against the grain, but if that's what had to be done, so be it. The benefits to his own career would far outweigh the few words of praise he'd be forced to toss in the Chief's direction.

He stared at Carter for another few seconds. ‘Are you sure?' he asked with great deliberation. ‘Absolutely one hundred per cent certain?'

The Chief's chest swelled yet a fraction more. Superintendent Clifford had never failed in an undertaking before. ‘You have my solemn word on it, Minister,' he replied confidently. ‘I've been issuing instructions to the operation step by step.' He looked as though he might burst like a balloon shortly as his ego swelled by the second. ‘There were certain things I couldn't reveal even to yourself, Minister, until I was certain we had everything in place. The most innocent comment from either yourself or any of your colleagues could possibly have jeopardised the entire campaign.'

‘Yes, yes, all right! All right!' the Minister intervened, more determined than ever to give him several slaps in the face when this was all over to put him back in his place. ‘What I want to know is when I can release a statement to the media?'

‘Anytime now, Minister,' the Chief said confidentially. ‘I'll inform you promptly as soon the kidnappers are in custody. Just leave everything in my hands.'

The Minister
really
felt like slapping him now instead of waiting till later. But refrained from doing so in view of how popular he himself was going to become very shortly. Minions like Carter could be put on the long finger while he savoured the lion's share of the plaudits. He could hardly wait to get back to the cabinet room to relay the news of his success. The faces of those of his colleagues who'd been revelling in the catastrophe he'd been plunged into should be worth watching as they strove to disguise their disappointment when he revealed all. And, as for that Scrooge in Finance, he knew
exactly
what he could do with the five hundred million now.

‘Now listen, Carter,' the Minister said earnestly, doing his best to sound as reasonable as possible. ‘I want to know the very second these people have been apprehended. You understand?' He straightened his tie before heading for the cabinet room with a lighter spring in his step than he'd had for quite some time. ‘The very single second!'

*

Not long after Myles Moran had concluded his brief conversation with the Minister, he was once again disturbed by the buzzing of his in-house speaker-connector. He was in two minds whether or not he should ignore it. He glanced at the screen. Miss Conway. It must be something of importance. She certainly wouldn't have been contacting him again otherwise after his earlier rebuke. ‘Yes, Miss Conway,' he said patiently, depressing the button. ‘What is it this time?'

‘ We're got big trouble, Boss,' Ann a said. ‘The police are on to us. Those tramps out there aren't who they've been pretending to be. And they know the hostages are here. They've just pried it out of Mr. Nelligan by way of a gun to his head.'

‘How very barbaric of them, ‘Myles replied serenely, seeming not in the least bit concerned to learn the police were practically on his doorstep. ‘One would have thought the fools would have learned more sophisticated ways of extracting information in this day and age.' He sighed as though disappointed at having to resort to similar methods. ‘I suggest you arrange a welcoming committee for when they approach the house. Some well directed sniper fire should put paid to their heroics. After all, there are only three and a half of them. I hadn't realised they've descended to recruiting young boys. The one I saw out there earlier couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen.' He paused slightly, eyeing his manicured nails in his usual admiring manner. ‘Have the necessary USB personnel placed in position immediately. I'll view the proceedings from here, and issue further instructions should they be deemed necessary. In the meantime, I'll leave matters in your hands. I'm still awaiting that vital email. Otherwise, I'd join you and direct operations myself. But I've the utmost faith in you, Miss Conway. I know you'll deal with the matter in your usual capable manner.'

‘What about Mr Desmond and Mr. Nelligan?' she asked tentatively. ‘They're both out there standing like statues. It's as if they've been turned to stone or something. As soon as Mr. Nelligan was forced to grass on us, something funny happened to him
.
Neither
of them are moving so much as a muscle now.'

‘Let
them
be the first to be shot, Miss Conway. Their incompetence deserves no less, not to mention Mr. Nelligan's disloyalty. And it will give our marksmen some shooting practice as they await the raiding party before also despatching them to early graves. Their high-powered rifles should have no problem finding their targets from their camouflaged vantage points on the roof. See to it immediately, Miss Conway.'

Anna sighed. Orders were orders. She issued the command, and watched on her monitor as the two snipers rode the escalator which took them on to the flat roof of the building. From there they'd have a clear view of their victims, without being seen themselves as they settled into position beneath the abundance of vegetation. She couldn't help feeling sorry for Needles. Granted, he'd been guilty of the unforgivable sin of giving information to the cops, but she wondered what she'd have done herself if placed in the same situation and there'd been a gun pointing at her head with only three seconds in which to make up her mind. She tried not to think about it as she switched locations on her monitor to ensure the Boss's orders were promptly carried out. She didn't particularly want to watch as the executions unfolded, but knew she'd no choice in the matter. At least it would be over quickly. Once caught in the crosshairs of the telescopic sights, neither Desmond nor Needles would know what hit them. Then it would be the turn of the so-called tramps. Anna sighed again. She hoped Lily and her grandfather wouldn't have to be added to the body count at the stroke of midnight.

*

‘Well, I don't care what you say, sir!' Harrington was exclaiming heatedly. ‘I think we should go straight in! I can't bear to think of those poor people locked up in there and all we're doing is
talking
about what strategy we should adopt. I say we take the bull by the horns and storm the house!'

‘And put the hostages lives in danger, Harrington?' the Superintendent demanded. ‘Eh? You'll have to curb that impulsiveness of yours for a little longer. And that's an order!'

‘I think the Superintendent's right,' Mr. Pearson said mildly. ‘Throwing caution to the winds wouldn't be the most advisable thing to do at the moment. May I be allowed to make a suggestion?'

‘By all means, Mr. Pearson,' the Superintendent replied, thinking he was about to hear another rational voice added to his own.

‘Well, I'd like to make another scouting trip just like Danny did earlier. On my own, of course. I wouldn't dream of endangering Charlie again. I'm sure I could crawl right up to the house without being noticed.' He smiled shyly. ‘As Mrs. Pearson is always reminding me, I'm so thin, I'm practically invisible anyway. Being so insignificant might prove to be an asset in this situation.'

Charlie could hardly believe his ears. Mr. Pearson insignificant! How dare that woman! He was sorry now he hadn't taken a few chunks out of Mrs Pearson that day he had the chance to.

‘That's out of the question, Mr. Pearson!' the Superintendent said adamantly, ‘You're much too important to our team to be let go risking your life like that. You're anything but i
nsignificant
as far as I'm concerned.' He was about to add something regarding Mrs Pearson, but thought to himself this wasn't the time or place for such pettiness.

And then the first rifle shot rang out. They could actually hear the whine of the bullet as it sped through the air, directed with deadly accuracy at Dapper Desmond's heart. A second followed in quick succession, this one in transit towards Needle's frozen form. Danny, the Superintendent, Harrington, Mr. Pearson and Charlie flung themselves to the ground behind the steel gate they'd set at an angle earlier as a form of protective shield while they discussed their next move. They heard the ricochets clearly as the bullets rebounded harmlessly after striking the two immobile figures.

The two snipers looked at each other in bewilderment. Both were sharpshooters of the highest calibre, recruited by Moran Enterprises after they'd been dishonourably discharged from a crack team of the army's Undercover Specialist Branch (USB for short), which didn't, of course, officially exist as far as the public were concerned. But their dismissal hadn't escaped Myles Moran's Communication's tentacles, and they quickly found themselves in suitable employment again.

Now, for the fist time in their undistinguished careers, they thought they'd missed their targets. Which, they knew, was impossible. Yet, the intended victims were still standing as they'd been prior to the squeezing of the triggers. They checked their rifles. Nothing was amiss. The scopes needed no adjustment. Perhaps they'd merely been careless themselves because of the simplicity of the task. Shooting fish in a barrel could sometimes be taken for granted, resulting in minds wandering at the vital moment. At least their former colleagues were still there to be finished off properly. The snipers took more time with their second shots, but the end product was no different. Then they became annoyed and fired a veritable fusillade in rapid succession. Still no joy.

The snipers, not given to panic or anxiety due to their specialised training, began to think that someone had exchanged their live ammunition for blanks. They were wearing protective ear-plugs and hadn't heard the dozens of ricochets twanging off Dapper and Needles like angry metal hornets. But the four figures, plus Charlie, lying flat-out behind the gate, certainly had. Quite a number of the hornets had come their way, biting into the steel above their heads, whining in frustration at their failure in doing what they'd been specifically designed to do.

‘What's going on?' Harrington hissed, his hands up covering the back of his head, his mouth down in the dirt. ‘Are those bullets coming around corners or something?'