A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (19 page)

The
next morning I woke with the thoughts of the night before heavy on my mind.
Alex had slashed someone across the chest and although my assessment of the
injury lead me to believe it would be non-fatal, it was still a terrible action
and I had let the young man get away with it.  My thoughts on the matter were simple;
I was showing some consideration for the circumstances in which the attack had
happened.  Morally I should have stopped him and waited for the authorities to
take him away.  I was, however, walking a thin line with morals at the moment,
happily breaking into someone's property one minute and then lecturing a drug
kingpin the next.  It was a grey area that, as a private investigator, I had to
live with but it wasn't necessarily something I had to enjoy.

To
clear my head and for a little exercise I decided on a light walk.  After
showering and other ablutions, I dressed in a black suit with a white shirt
under my long black coat and my comfortable loafers.  I was feeling the
after-effects of a couple of drinks the night before and my body was still recovering
from my encounter with Micky which made the decision against going for a run.

Walking
the cold winter streets, I made my way towards the docks and the river.  The
city centre was busy; my immediate thoughts turned to the resolve of the
British character.  Be it the Blitz of World War Two, the terror attacks of 7/7
or a crazed gunman on the loose, the people of this rain swept island would go
about their business as usual.  The large television screen near St. John’s
Shopping Centre scrolled with news reports and police warnings but few looked
up at the information, already knowing what it said.  Deeper into the city I
went, till eventually I was free and in front of the Royal Liver Building. 
Crossing the road, I admired the architecture, the surrounding buildings
beautiful to even my untrained eye.

Walking
away from the famous structure with its stoic birds, I found a spot to look out
across the Mersey.  I stood by the river side letting the wind billow around
me.  The grey and brown waters churning away.  I thought about the case in
starts, thinking about the revolver and why it had been turned in.  Personally
I would have thrown it into the Mersey like so much other rubbish, let it rust
up and be forgotten.  Giving it in like that was a statement, you wouldn't risk
anything else by doing that.

With
the thought of rusting detritus I took out the plastic bag in my coat pocket
and removed the knife from the night before careful not to get any blood on my
hands.  It was a short stubby blade but still long enough to be illegal in
Britain.  The edge wasn't particularly sharp and I wasn't impressed with the
manufacturing quality.  My opinion however didn't matter; it was still a deadly
weapon and the dried blood on the side was a reminder of that.  Looking around
and seeing no one near me I dropped the knife into the water.  The harsh winter
sunlight reflecting off the metal briefly before it disappeared beneath the
waves.

Although
I don't smoke, I'd taken to carrying a lighter with me.  It had become more of
a survival instinct thing with me, that I liked to have on hand a number of
things that might be of use in certain circumstances.  Turning my back to the
wind and sheltering the flickering flame I lit the plastic bag on fire from the
bottom.  I did my best not to inhale any of the noxious fumes and let go of the
burnt plastic as it melted away; the last of it fluttering away on the breeze
and out to the middle of the river.

I
breathed a heavy sigh which you could say was one of relief as I turned and
walked back towards my hotel.  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tucked my
chin to my chest as the cold winds sent a shiver down my spine.  My vision was
focused more on the floor and as such I didn't notice the black car that pulled
up in front of me as I went to cross the road till it was too late.

Two
large gentlemen who both lacked any visible neck or any hair on their heads
moved surprisingly quickly for their size and bundled me in the back of the
vehicle.  One of them hit me on the back of the head for good measure and I was
busy reeling from the blow as the car sped off.

With
my hand still on the back of my head I glanced around the darkened interior. 
It wasn't the first time I'd suffered this treatment and I doubted it would be
the last.  There was a flutter of fear in me which reminded me of the night
when I was shanghaied into the back of a waiting car in Ireland and beaten
bloody in attempt to make me break my cover.  I however saw Saul sat
comfortably in the far side of the vehicle and did my best to sit up and mask
the obvious pain.  He was dressed in a grey suit with a white shirt which
further enhanced his deep tan with the contrast.

The
car wasn't a limousine but I could tell it was expensive from the spacious
leather interior.  I was still close to the drug kingpin but was very aware of
one of the skin-headed thugs in the front with a pistol pointed at me from the
front passenger seat.

I
shook my head which was a bad idea but I was trying to show I could shrug off
the pain, “You know you could have just asked me to get in the car.”

“Yes,
my boys do tend to get a little carried away but I wasn't sure you would
willingly get inside,” Saul said in an even manner but there was an edge that
reinstated my previous feeling of trepidation.

“Well
why wouldn't I?  It's not like you would want to get rid of me when I'm helping
you now, would you?” I asked with a smile on my face.

Saul
looked at me for a moment before speaking.  He was skilled at intimidation and
even with my experience I was not immune, “No, I wouldn't, it would be a waste
of a valuable resource like that.  I heard about your attempt at riot control
last night.”

My
eyes narrowed at his words but I remained silent.

“You
handled that situation very well and I appreciate you not handing over anyone
to the busies.  Things are getting out of hand and fighting like that will only
ensure more trouble.”

“You
could have just called me with this information.”

Saul
laughed lightly, “I could have, but I thought you should be rewarded for your
efforts.”

“With
a smack to the back of the head?”

“No,
with a visit to the inner sanctum.”

I
did my best to relax as we drove, looking out of the window and trying to get
my bearings in the city.  It was extremely difficult as I wasn't that familiar
with the area but what I could do was note landmarks and then I could work it
back later.  We seemed to be circling around a number of times from the things
I could see, and since I wasn't blindfolded I doubted it was to confuse me;
much more likely it was to avoid being under surveillance.

My
work in narcotics had given me a great understanding of these types of men and
their paranoia, not that in all cases it was a delusion.  If Saul was as
powerful as people said then there would be a team investigating him and they
would surely know by now that he was in the country.  This was also an
interesting way of thinking about any investigation due to the current climate
in the city.  With so many police out on the street and the shootings being the
main priority, would the detectives usually involved in following Saul be
reassigned or would they think that the arrival of the man to the country
proves that there is a link and they should continue their efforts?

It
was obviously an interesting dilemma for the drug men and they as always would
err on the side of caution.  Their efforts to remain free from interference
from the law always astounded me.  The ones who were caught often aided to
their own downfall with mistakes that the likes of Saul just didn't allow.

For
his part during these driving manoeuvres, Saul just sat with his head facing
forward and his fingers linked together.  He didn't offer any conversation and
I was not inclined to try, so we sat in silence until finally we arrived at our
destination.  The door was opened for Saul and he stepped out into the cold air
with two more men flanking him.  One of the men beckoned me forward and I
followed Saul into the building.

I
was stopped in the foyer and patted down.  Everything I had in my pockets was
taken from me, and locked away in a small box before being placed behind a
counter.  My phone was dismantled and placed in another such lock-box.  The
lighting was low and the décor dark as we moved towards another room and I
immediately recognised the soft plinking noise that emanated from within.  It
was the sound of a snooker ball hitting another and the hall we entered was
busy with players.  Most of them stole glances at the new entrants but all of
them quickly ignored whatever they had seen.  I counted at least eighteen
people who had just caught sight one of the most dangerous people in Liverpool
but didn't bat an eyelid.

With
two of Saul's minders behind me, I didn't stop to dwell on the patrons as I was
ushered into yet another room.  This was a smaller and quieter meeting room, to
one side a well stocked bar that was open with an old man waiting for drink
orders.  A large circular table was the main centrepiece with at least twelve
chairs arranged around it.  Seven of those chairs were taken.  They ranged in
appearance from respectable well dressed older gentlemen like Saul to two
tracksuit wearing young men that looked like they were strung out on some
narcotic.  This was a round table meeting of the head dealers and as an
ex-copper I felt rather privileged and also even more intimidated.  As one they
looked at me, staring at the man who would enter this select room, but since I
was with Saul no one spoke, which was becoming a recurring thread.

Directly
opposite the main door there was a chair free and Saul walked straight to it. I
followed in his wake and stood to one side like his bodyguards.  However once
he was seated, he turned around and beckoned me to sit next to him on his right
hand side.  I hid my surprise; it was a place of honour in etiquette circles
and with the way Saul acted, I was sure he would know that.  Everyone seemed to
be waiting for him to speak and since they all knew each other, I doubted I
would be introduced to them all.  That was also a safety issue, I was certain,
ensuring that I couldn't use anything I heard in there against them.

A
glass of water was placed at Saul's side by one of his bodyguards and after a
delicate sip, he spoke, “Thank you all for coming.”

One
of the younger members of the group rolled his eyes and in his thick accent
replied, “We're here every week.”

Saul
glared at the man who surprisingly didn't look away, “Well I appreciate you
letting me join your meeting.  You may like to know it was myself who started
this tradition of meeting regularly to pool our resources and ease tensions.”

It
was if someone had opened all the windows in the place and let in the winter
air, the mood had cooled that much.  The young dealer turned his body slightly
away from Saul before saying, “Thanks for the history lesson.  Could we just
get on with this?”

“Yeah,
no disrespect, Saul, but with all the added heat I don't really think we should
be meeting like this especially if you're bringing in outsiders,” said a rather
large, bald, middle aged man waving an arm in my direction.  He was more
smartly dressed compared to the young dealer but didn't have the sartorial
elegance of Saul.

Saul
turned his head towards me before answering, “This man, gentlemen, is John
Harper and he is going to help reduce this unwanted attention from the law. 
I've tasked him with finding this shooter so that we are free to carry about
our business in relative peace.”

“What
makes him so special?” asked a well dressed West Indian man.

A
moment passed where I thought Saul was going to make me explain who I was, but
luckily he spoke which I'm sure reduced some of the ire in what was said to the
amassed drug pushers, “Mister Harper here used to be a detective for Greater
Manchester Police.”

The
sudden movement of all of the men in the room other than Saul and myself was
something akin to a scene of someone releasing a swarm of killer bees into a
room.  People stood up in disgust and shock, a couple went for the door but it
was barred by two of Saul's bodyguards.  Other men on protective detail went to
their pockets for weapons.  I tried to look as calm as possible, my hands flat
on the table before me to show I did not pose a threat, my face passive as at
least five people studied me with looks of hatred on their countenances.

“What's
the meaning of this, Saul?” one of the older men shouted. He had remained
seated, his eyes not leaving me since my former profession was revealed.

Saul
opened his hands wide and smiled, “Gentlemen, can I have your attention,” He
raised his voice; it wasn't loud enough to be considered a shout but conveyed
authority that quickly reverberated around the room.  Everyone stared at us now
and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the old barman place a shotgun on his
work surface, “Now you know that there is no love lost in my relationship with the
police.  I live outside of this country for most of the year to avoid their
interference.  You also know that I have spent a great deal of money to ensure
that this location is free from their surveillance techniques.  In my time I
have hired experts in many fields to ensure the protection of my business and
by extension, yours.  The products that you are able to sell with relative
impunity is due to this business model and development.”

“Don't
make out like it is all you.  I have my own resources and suppliers we all do,”
said the young man who had spoken earlier.

I
was close enough to hear the exasperated sigh come from the drug kingpin, “So
be it, but I have done my best to make this a contained business, protected
from the mistakes many make.”

“What's
that got to do with letting a copper in here?” the other young tracksuited
dealer asked, obviously emboldened by seeing his counterpart speak with such
venom towards Saul.

“Mister
Harper here is an expert in catching serial killers.  Some of you who read
newspapers may remember he was involved in that recent business in
Hollingswood.  He was already investigating the shootings before he came to my
attention.  With his help, we can hopefully get rid of this bastard who is
terrorising the city and with that the unwanted extra attention of police.”

“That
still doesn't explain letting him in here.  This is a sanctuary from their
interference,” said the old man who had remained seated during the commotion.

Saul
nodded, “I appreciate that bringing him here isn't what many of you would have
done.  I however don't need to justify my actions to any of you.  Harper is
here to help us and he didn't know this meeting was taking place.  I brought
him here so you would see there is help and that we do not need to escalate the
violence.  With everything that has been going on, it would be easy to point
fingers and turn on one another or bring in the heavy hitters.  Harper is our
chance at solving this problem peacefully.”

“What's
to stop him turning on us when this is all done?  Just because he says he has
stopped working for the busies doesn't mean we should trust him,” the first
young dealer said.

Saul
turned towards me and spoke in a low voice, “I think you should answer this.”

With
that prompting, I stood up.  It had been an unusual scenario being talked about
as if I was not in the room but now I had to address these men, gain their
cooperation and trust as well as pacify them to the extent that I wasn't going
to be killed within the next couple of days, if not hours, “Firstly let me say
that it is something of an honour being in a room like this.  I don't mean to
flatter you at all, during my work into narcotic investigations I would have
loved to be in a meeting like this, but that isn't what I do any more and to be
honest I couldn’t care less what your business is.  Secondly I have retired
from active investigations; before I left I worked homicide cases so again, I'm
not interested in what you do.  I worked in Manchester most of my career, I
don't know any of you by name or sight but do know that I should be intimidated
by the jobs you do and the power you wield.  I was hired by a concerned citizen
at the start of these shootings and I intend to find this culprit.”

“Harper
was involved in the chase and eventual death of Leo Ambrose earlier this week,”
Saul added.

“Unfortunately
he wasn't the gunman who is terrorising this city.  Now I understand if you
don't want me interfering with your business and that you don't want to give me
any help but I will still be here doing my job as a private investigator to
stop this madman.” With that, I sat down and folded my hands, my chin raised
high in an act of defiance.

No
one seemed keen to speak but the old gentleman who had first questioned Saul on
my attendance at the meeting finally broke the silence, “I don't trust you
Mister Harper, I doubt anyone here does, not even Saul, but we do need to stop
this man.  I trust Saul when it comes to business decisions, he's made me a
very rich man so I accept that if he has brought you in, it is for a good
reason and that you must also be very good at what you do.  With that in mind,
I'd like you to tell us what you do know.”

I
was in two minds whether to stand up again or not but decided on the formal
approach, “This gunman has some skill.  The likelihood is that the person is
male, very clever and somewhat of sociopath.  He is resourceful; he has used a
number of different weapons and has been very clever in his approach, masking
his killings and disposing of certain pieces of evidence.  Before the slayings
the other night it appeared he had a very specific set of targets; that is
people related to the drug trade in this city.  It could be perceived that he
is attempting to clean the streets and is acting as a vigilante.  Some
information the police have yet to release is that the pistol used in the
recent shootings has been handed in.  This suggests a mocking of the police's
failure to capture the gunman.  It also indicates to an extent that he believes
the police cannot do the same job as himself.”

“Then
what about killing that couple?  That doesn't fit with his MO,” asked the West
Indian man.

“You're
right, it breaks from his pattern.  This poses more questions than it answers. 
He could be devolving and simply escalating his violence or it could have been
a mistake.  There is of course the possibility that it wasn't him at all.  This
killer is breaking a lot of the standard rules that apply to LDSKs.”

“You
saying he is on acid?” questioned the second tracksuited dealer.

I
shook my head, “No, it stands for long distance serial killer.  They are much
more prevalent in the US than over here.  They tend to contact the police,
showing off their intelligence.  This man has finally done that, so we might
start to see some mistakes from him.”

“So
what can we do to stop him?” the bald dealer asked.

That
was the million pound question and at that moment I didn't have a friend to
call to help me with the answer, “At the moment, just keep indoors.  With the
increased police presence after shooting the civilians, he should keep his head
down.  If he does come out then it will be to attack someone major.  So far
shooting the dealers on the street was more aimed at inciting some sort of gang
violence between the warring factions.  The football shooting was more towards
attacking higher level members of the gangs, as far as I am aware.  He's slowly
gone up the chain of command which leads me to believe that, although he has
some training, he isn't necessarily a trained military sniper.”