LoM/DW
Part 4
“Well done, Tyler,” Gene said harshly as he joined his DI by the hospital bed. “I put you on the case and someone else gets shot the same day.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Jack, who was sitting by the bed. In it lay a young man, maybe twenty years old and with no marks of a hard life. His face was cherubic, his hands pink and clean, his hair neatly cut. He was unconscious.
“Well who is he then?” Gene asked.
“Alexander Simkin,” Sam said. “Apparently he’s got form. One instance of handling stolen goods last year, that’s it. He could conceivably be linked to Chambers.”
“That’s not good enough, Sam. Get onto his family, the place he works, his mates. I want to know everything about him. And this time do it without your new companion.” Gene was about to leave his DI to get on with it when Jack stood up suddenly.
“Inspector Hunt, wait! I’ve been thinking. The things I heard the other guy say to Chambers when I first met him - something about Tuesday and Osmond. And Tuesday’s today...”
Different emotions flickered through Gene’s eyes as he looked at Jack. First disgust at what he was, then a grudging acceptance of what he had said, and finally determination to get Chambers however they went about it. If it was Basher who had been talking to Chambers that night, then surely they were organising a job, and if it was as violent as the other ones then someone else might get hurt. He frowned. “Did you hear anything else?”
Jack thought for a moment. “Nothing clear. But it sounded like Chambers gave the other man directions to some place. He said something was behind something. A warehouse maybe? But I’m not completely sure that’s what he said.”
“Gov, there’s a few warehouses on Osmond Street, aren’t there?” Sam said suddenly. “That has to be it!”
***
The tyres of the Cortina screeched as Gene pulled up sharp outside a large building on Osmond Street.
“Are you sure we should being doing this so... visually?” Sam asked, looking about nervously before he got out of the car. “We don’t know what we’re going to find here, gov.”
“Oh come on, Sam Tyler,” Jack said cheerfully, getting out and clapping him on the shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” With that he strode confidently around the corner of the building.
“I knew we shouldn’t have brought him,” Gene said.
Soon they found themselves in a crooked alley full of cardboard boxes strewn about with abandon. The smell of stray dogs and machine oil was pungent in the dark, narrow space as they picked their way forward. At the end, the alley opened out into a small courtyard, empty except for a dirty grey van and some metal scrap in the corner. On the other side was a smaller building with barred windows, a sign declaring it the ‘Overseer’s Office’ and an open door.
“Well this might be the place,” Jack whispered. “There’s only one way to find out!”
Sam caught his arm. “No, wait. We should watch for a while, see what’s happening. Gov, maybe we should move the car...”
Just then, a loud crash issued from the small building. In the ensuing silence, Sam and Jack held their breaths, while Gene felt for the reassuring hardness of the pistol in his pocket. A few moments stretched out unbearably. Then a man ran out of the door with a wild look of fear in his eyes.
They waited, hidden in the shadows, to see if someone would follow. But instead, the man who had run out stopped and looked back at the door. It was clear now that his face was badly bruised, and his wrists were bleeding as if they had been bound with a harsh rope.
“Why isn’t he running away?” Jack hissed quietly, watching the man look mournfully back at the door and even take a step towards it.
“There’s someone else in there,” Sam whispered after a moment. “Must be. Someone he cares about. He wants to save them but he’s too scared. Gov, we should get back-up.”
Just as Gene opened his mouth to say something scathing about Sam’s amateur psychology, there was a loud bang, a gunshot from inside the Overseer’s Office. The three of them sprang from their hiding place and ran across the courtyard, stunning the escapee who had been about to re-enter the building himself.
The building was dark inside, as Jack led the way, having outstripped his companions in the flight to the door. A woman’s sobbing could be heard somewhere, and a man’s voice growling a quiet warning at her. Then footsteps to the right. The click of a gun.
“Stop there!” shouted a gruff, Cockney voice. The sawn-off shotgun was held steadily at Jack’s face. “If any of you tries anything, he gets it. Understand?”
“Yes,” Sam said, raising his empty hands in the air before shooting a look at Gene, who had quickly returned his own gun to his pocket before following suit. In the dark, no-one had noticed.
The man holding the shotgun was dark haired and stocky, his snake tattoo partly visible under his rolled up shirt sleeves. “Get in there!” he said, pushing the three of them through a door and into a large room where a woman sat on the floor, her arms around a young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen, whose arm was bleeding badly.
Leaning against a desk piled up with invoices and other paperwork associated with the warehouses was Dan Chambers, who looked quite aghast when he saw Jack.
“The lad needs help,” Sam said as calmly as he could. “Let me help him.”
“You’ll stay where you are,” Basher growled, waving the gun at him.
“Well, well, DCI Hunt,” Chambers said with a subdued anger, ignoring the exchange. “You’ve been breathing down my neck for months now, but at least I thought you were a decent enough copper. I didn’t think you’d get some rent boy doing your dirty work. Or is he another copper you put in danger?”
“That’s not how it happened,” Jack said, wanting to preserve everyone’s reputation. “They didn’t pick me up until after that night, I swear.”
Chambers clenched and unclenched his fists several times. To look at, he did not seem like a gangland thug. He wore a smart suit, he was tidy, businesslike. His voice was not rough and he did not look like he had ever been in a physical fight. But there was deep, brooding emotion in his eyes.
“What’s up, Chambers?” Gene said. “It’s fine killing kids, but you didn’t want us to know you’re a nancy boy?” He snorted.
Chambers gave an emotionless smile. “Such a shame,” he said slowly, “that everyone in this room will have to die now.”