Numb: A Dark Thriller (17 page)

Outside, approaching the car, Davison looked back over her shoulder and said, “We may be back to see you. If it’s convenient?”

“If I can help,” Dainton said, “I’ll be glad to.”

Davison and Burns climbed in the vehicle. Seconds later they were heading down the driveway towards the gates.

“You still think he’s behind this?” Burns asked.

Davison stared back at the house as Dainton disappeared back inside.

“Absolutely,” she said. “We just have to prove it.”

From the bay window in the living room, Dainton watched the car pass through the gates and out of sight behind the trees at the bottom of his garden. Then he walked to the phone on the wall. Lifted the receiver from the cradle and dialled.

It rang only once before a man answered.

“Yeah, boss.”

“I’ve just had the police here about that shooting last night,” Dainton said. He was pissed off. He didn’t need the heat with what he had planned. “I want you to find out what’s going on.”

“No problem,” Shaun Rodgers said. “I’ll get onto it right away.”

24

After the meeting with Nash and the others, Riley ran a few errands like he usually did on a Saturday, buying things like bread and milk and other basic rations for the week like a normal person would. Then, at four, he called on Dr Carter as promised. He even took a bottle of single malt along and Carter smiled and said he’d only been joking but took it anyway as he invited Riley inside.

Before any chit-chat, the bullet wound was checked (it was healing - good) and the dressing was changed. Carter then handed Riley the box of antibiotics. Told him to finish the one week course and if he was concerned about anything to give him a call or go to the hospital. Riley promised he would (not the hospital bit of course) and popped two pills in his mouth for starters.

After an hour of friendly conversation, Riley said he had to leave.

“Work?” Carter had asked.

“What else?”

They shook hands and Riley left.

Back home he changed into his outfit for tonight; black T-shirt; black jacket; black jogging pants; black trainers. Then he phoned Danny Atkins, head doorman for Gideon’s nightclub and told him that he wouldn’t be available tonight and that Atkins would have to run things in his absence.

“You ill?” Atkins had asked.

“No, just busy.”

“Got you,” Atkins replied. He was just outside the inner circle and knew what was what and didn’t ask any questions.

Then, as night set in, Riley tucked the black balaclava into his jacket pocket (he often thought that anyone buying a balaclava should be immediately reported to the police) and drove back to the flat above the vacant butcher’s shop where he met up with the others. Everyone one but Purvis was there. He wasn’t needed for this kind of work and Riley was glad of that.

With Nash overseeing the meeting like a chairman of the board (one that was high on coke and half cut on brandy) they went over the plan that McCabe had come up with. Tonight’s endeavour was his speciality and it had been left to him plot things and as Riley listened, he still couldn’t make up his mind about his colleague. His actions outside the club last night had been suspicious enough to put him in the frame as a traitor, yet now he seemed overly keen to get revenge on the very people he was suspected of siding with.

Riley kept quiet and agreed with the plan. Tonight he was going against other criminals and so it was easier for him. Only people who deserved it would be hurt tonight, he promised himself. No innocents. Not like before.

After a few hours, and once everyone knew what was required of them, they left to get into position. Nash and Turner drove off in one direction. Howden headed the opposite way to pick a couple of things up from a couple of trusted friends of the firm’s. Riley drove McCabe to a small unit on a nearby industrial estate and they switched the Mercedes for McCabe’s black transit van that would be used for the job. Then they headed back to the city centre and crossed the bridge onto the North side of the river.

Before they knew it, it was approaching midnight and Riley and McCabe were parked across the road from Roller’s Casino, a real dive of a place that looked frozen in time in the seventies. Not only was this side of the river Dainton’s territory, but he also owned the casino. It had been his first major venture nearly thirty years ago and, although Dainton rarely stepped foot inside the place anymore, it still brought in a steady income from its many members who were serious gamblers with serious problems. One of which was a man in his early thirties, someone who they’d watched head inside almost two hours before; Mark Dainton – Lenny Dainton’s nephew.

Although the line about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer has gone down in cinematic history, it was very true in real life too. Knowing their routines and favourite haunts was a must because you never knew when that information might come in handy. Nash knew most of the main men on Dainton’s payroll (just like Dainton probably knew about Riley and Howden and McCabe), and even though Mark Dainton wasn’t a high up member of Dainton’s firm, he’d been tagged long ago. His uncle Lenny had taken him under his wing many years before as a favour to his only sister and had tried his best to help the lad become a success in life by employing him in numerous different roles as manger of this bar or supervisor in that club. But Mark Dainton was what could only be termed a ‘fuck up’. He had little brains and no business sense. He drank and gambled and slept around, living a playboy lifestyle, and after more than one little mistake had found himself in trouble with the law. Dainton didn’t need the heat and fired his nephew from all of his duties. But blood was blood and Dainton couldn’t simply turn the boy away. Instead, he let him live in a plush apartment rent free and paid him a decent monthly salary for doing as little as possible and that seemed to suit Mark Dainton fine. He slept by day and partied at night and each Saturday, after a few drinks, he’d head here to the casino to place a couple of bets on the roulette to see if he could recoup some of his money he’d wasted during the week. He never won and was usually out by one in the morning and tonight wouldn’t be any different, Riley thought as he and McCabe sat awaiting his reappearance.

And a few minutes later, there he was.

“We’re on,” McCabe said.

Riley looked across the road. Watched Mark Dainton and two women leave the casino and head around the back to the car park. Dainton looked unsteady on his feet as he walked between the two blondes, an arm around each of their waists. Riley hadn’t expected him to be alone. Playboys never went home alone.

“He’s going for his car,” Riley said.

“Just as we thought,” replied McCabe. “He always takes it out. It helps him get the birds.”

“He can hardly walk straight let alone drive.”

“Maybe he’ll crash and do us a favour then.”

A few seconds later, the Black Audi pulled out onto the road and headed west.

“Let’s go,” McCabe said.

Riley started the van and followed at a safe distance, both vehicles joining the mild traffic out of the city centre, Dainton driving better than he could walk.

McCabe phoned Howden and said, “We’re following him now. I’ll call you again when we’re closer.”

They followed for almost two miles before the Audi turned off the duel carriageway and headed onto a quieter road, one flanked on both sides by trees and fields and one that Riley and McCabe hoped would be deserted at this time. Very few people used this road, especially at this hour, but it was the quickest route to Dainton’s apartment and he had no reason not to use it. There were also no speed cameras or CCTV around here, which meant that this was the prime location. And so far everything was going to plan – apart from the two women being with him. Riley would have to make sure that they weren’t hurt. They’d be scared, obviously, but they’d live through this, he’d make sure of that. When it all went down in a few seconds from now, he’d make them his priority.

When the Audi was about a quarter of a mile onto the quiet road, McCabe called Howden again.

“He’s almost there. You ready?” He paused. Nodded his head. “Good. You should see his headlights soon.” McCabe hung up, pulled on his balaclava and picked up the shotgun that had been resting at his feet.

Riley felt a little relieved. If McCabe was taking the trouble to hide his identity, then the girls in the Audi had a good chance of surviving this.

He took one hand off the wheel and pulled on his own balaclava and found the eye holes just in time to see the Audi suddenly spin out of control.

Sparks flew from the exposed wheels rims, the tyres having burst. The police stinger had done its job and the Audi was slowing dramatically. No doubt Mark Dainton would be utterly confused at what had just happened. He’d be panicking that he’d hit something. His heart would be racing. The girls would probably be screaming.

Riley kept following as Dainton’s car finally came to a halt in the middle of the road, sideways on. He saw Howden by the side of the road, stooped low, almost hidden by his dark clothing and masked face as he reined in the police stinger, clearing the road of the razor sharp barbs that had worked so effectively, allowing the van to pass safely.

Riley screeched to a halt close to the Audi and left the engine running as he and McCabe jumped out.

McCabe carried the shotgun with him. He raced to the driver’s door and pointed it at the window, yelling for Dainton to get out. Riley pulled open the left rear door and was hit by a blast of female screams.

“Out!” he shouted at the two women. They were both blonde, both slim, both young and wearing next to nothing, and they both screamed louder as he grabbed them by the arms and yanked them out onto the road.

Howden suddenly appeared by the Audi and dragged Dainton out onto the road as McCabe continued to scream at him, shoving the barrel of the shotgun against his head. Dainton was yelling something back and squirming around but Howden quickly subdued him with a few punches.

“Give me your purses,” Riley demanded of the women.

One was crying so much she could barely breathe let alone move. The other begged, “Please, don’t hurt us...” but Riley wasn’t listening. Time was of the essence and he had to get them out of here quick. If anyone came along, any witnesses, things could turn very nasty. McCabe wouldn’t take any chances.

“Purses, now!”

Both women jumped at his voice and handed over their handbags.

As Howden stuffed a rag into Dainton’s mouth, taped his lips shut and then began to tie his wrists and feet together with wire, Riley pulled out the purses and routed for some ID.

In one he found a driver’s licence. The ‘woman’ was seventeen. In the other he found a school bus-pass. Her friend was fifteen.

Riley looked back at Mark Dainton. Howden was shoving a cloth sack over his head.

“Okay,” Riley said to both girls. “Kerry Wells and Donna Black. We know your names and addresses.” He turned to the younger of the two. “We even know which school you go to.”

The girl sobbed louder. Her friend now had tears streaming down her face as well.

Riley put the ID’s back in the purses and placed those back in the handbags. He then found their mobile phones, took out the batteries and dumped the phones back in the bags. He put the batteries in his jacket pocket and handed them back their handbags.

“We know who you are,” he said, “and where you live. Say a word about what happened tonight and we’ll come for you.”

“We won’t,” the older girl swore. “We promise.”“Walk back the way you came and don’t look back.” When the girls hesitated, Riley pushed them away from the Audi. “Walk!”

They did, and despite the shock, the bleak surroundings and chilly, damp weather, the two of them were a good hundred yards away within a matter of seconds.

By now, Howden and McCabe were dragging Mark Dainton towards the van.

“Sort the car out!” Howden called over.

Riley jumped in the Audi and floored the accelerator. It moved slowly. The wheels screeched. The steering was jerky and he struggled to keep in a straight line.

The lorry was parked up around the bend in the road and looked to be the same one which McCabe had driven the Aston Martin out of yesterday. The back was already open, the ramp down ready for him to drive up on. Howden had collected the lorry earlier from a garage whose owner was friendly with Nash and would be getting a nice little run-around to keep in return. Come tomorrow there would be no trace of it or its owner.

Riley carefully drove inside the lorry and pulled on the Audi’s handbrake. Then he jumped out and had just slammed the heavy steel door shut as Howden appeared next to him.

“Right,” Howden said, a little breathlessly and obviously in need of a nicotine fix. “Dainton’s nice and comfortable in the back of the van. I’ll meet you two back at the unit.” Then, carrying the stinger (another borrowed item from a friend of the firm’s who did business with the more less-than-honest police officers of the city) he jumped in the front cab of the lorry and sped off.

Riley hurried back to the van, past the empty space in the road where the Audi had stood. Apart from a couple of skid marks, no one would be able to tell it was ever here this night. A real ‘now you see it now you don’t’
moment.

He slid behind the wheel and pulled off the balaclava. Through the rear view mirror he could see the two girls disappearing into the dark, both of them probably affected for life by this ordeal and too terrified to tell their story.

But at least they were safe.

McCabe removed his balaclava and winked at Riley. They could hear Dainton rolling around in the back, helpless and terrified. His cries were muffled under the gag and the cloth sack.

“Couldn’t have gone any better,” McCabe said.

Riley didn’t reply as he drove off.

The night was far from over.