Collision Course Page 20

  Temperance aided Villere’s cumbersome march up the stairs with a fist bunched around his jacket collar, tugging him upward. Sampson prodded Villere with his pistol. With each step Villere took, Dom swayed from foot to foot in anticipation. As the trio neared the top of the stairs he backed down the hall, flourishing his arms in encouragement to join him in the room, his torture chamber.

  Within the hood Villere’s head tracked left and right.

  ‘Sit him down,’ Dom commanded, relishing being in charge.

  Temperance pushed Villere down into the chair.

  Dom would prefer his captive’s arms tied to the arms of the chair, but it’d have to do the way he was. He tossed a roll of duct tape to Temperance. ‘Secure him best you can.’

  She needlessly warned Villere to stay still as she began binding him: Villere should know he was going nowhere without being shot by either of the men. She wound tape around his chest and the back of the chair. She then bound his ankles to a chair leg apiece. She moved to remove the hood.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Dom.

  Over the gloves he fixed the brass knuckles.

  Then, without warning, he practically ran at Villere, winding up his fist. His punch slammed Villere, connecting – Dom approximated – on his right cheek. Villere slumped.

  ‘Some fucking tough guy,’ Dom growled.

  ‘Good start, asshole,’ Sampson observed. ‘How we meant to get our message across to him when he’s unconscious?’

  ‘What message? Oh, wait. Didn’t you hear? The plan’s changed, Sampson. This motherfucker doesn’t leave here alive. He’s going in a barrel and dumped from the next boat out to sea.’

  ‘Is that your plan, Dom?’ Sampson stood directly in front, holding his gaze.

  ‘I take it you haven’t spoken with Blake recently?’

  ‘Blake wants Villere dead?’

  ‘He said I should teach him a lesson first for fucking with Blake’s business, and then I should bury him at sea.’

  ‘I need him alive and conscious for when I speak with his partner,’ Sampson said slowly, as if explaining to a dullard. ‘We need her to comply with instructions, and she won’t do that if Villere’s already dead.’

  ‘So I’ll wake the fucker up. Don’t worry, Arlen, I don’t intend killing him quickly. He’ll be around long enough for you to trick his girl here. In fact, it’ll be more fun if we get her, do her in front of him, before I finish Villere off for good.’

  ‘Blake thinks that murdering a couple of private eyes is the way forward? Has he completely lost it?’

  ‘He wants them killed as a warning to anyone else who thinks he’s to be messed with.’

  ‘This is insane!’ Sampson looked to Temperance for agreement, but she dropped her chin and wouldn’t meet his gaze. ‘You knew about this? It’s why you snuck up on him like that? I should’ve known you were in position too soon.’

  ‘Dom called me just after you got out of the van,’ Temperance admitted. ‘He said Blake’s order was to bring the PI’s here to Dom. When I heard you talking with Villere, and I spotted the shutter wasn’t locked, I saw my chance.’

  Sampson shook his head in disbelief. ‘That’s why Blake sounded so pleased when I called him after and told him we had Villere; he thought I’d done as ordered. Why didn’t he disagree when I told him I planned convincing Tess Grey to leave us alone in exchange for her man?’ He pointed a finger at Dom. ‘Because it was unnecessary, right? He’d given you different instructions and knew they’d be followed.’

  Dom wafted him away like a bad smell. ‘If you don’t have the stomach for the job, leave me to it.’

  Sampson glared, chewing his bottom lip. Finally he came to a decision. ‘I have to call Tess Grey with instructions. Wake him up, Dom, for when she asks for proof of life.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Dom. He slammed his augmented knuckles into Villere’s midriff, jolting him awake as he gasped for breath.

  Sampson fished Villere’s phone from a pocket and brought up Tess Grey’s number.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Pinky followed Mike Toner’s pickup truck down a slipway off Rockland’s Main Street, and Tess asked him to draw the Volvo alongside the truck so she could converse with him through their open windows. They were parked on a hard-pack patch of ground just above the rocky shore of Lermond Cove, mostly obscured from view by the trees that butted up against the beach. To their right a launch ramp was submerged beneath the high tide, and a long narrow jetty was in danger of being pulverized by the tumultuous ocean. A boat yard behind them was deserted, those working there having taken shelter inside a workshop from the latest incoming storm.

  ‘D’you see that building there?’ Toner indicated the nearest spur of headland a few hundred yards to the north. On it were clustered several buildings and dozens of dry-docked boats in various states of repair. He was more specific, ‘That old one with the tin roof and the tree growing up the back wall. I’m positive that’s where I was held.’

  Tess studied the structure. It was set slightly apart from the rest of the shipyard, squatting on an ancient concrete platform that stretched over the sea along one side. A wooden pier ran cater-corner to the building, ending with a gazebo-type structure. At ground level the windows were opaque, and it was a moment before she realized plywood boards had been nailed over them. On the second level there were large picture windows, but they reflected the moody sky and she couldn’t tell if she was watching the clouds shift, or people inside. The place looked abandoned, in a state of disrepair, but looks could be deceiving. At the rear of the building, adjacent to the sea there was a service yard, and in it were parked two vehicles, concealed from the rest of the shipyard by a tall timber wall. One was a dark blue saloon car, the other a panel van. Even from a distance Tess was certain the van was the one used to snatch Po, but it wasn’t enough.

  ‘I need to take a closer look,’ she announced.

  ‘If we drive any closer we could alert the bastards,’ Pinky said.

  She indicated the beach. ‘I’ll go that way. On foot. Wait here, I’ll only be a few minutes.’

  Pinky reached across and grabbed her elbow, stopping her from getting out. ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘No, Pinky. No offense, but you’re too noticeable. With my hood up, I’ll pass for a local walking on the beach.’

  ‘Take a look around you, Tess. D’you see any other locals walking the beach? In this weather they’ve more sense, them.’

  ‘Then I’ll pass for a reckless tourist.’ She squeezed him a smile.

  He acquiesced, releasing her elbow. But he said, ‘Wait up. You’ll need this.’

  Tess had to scrunch back in her seat as he leaned awkwardly and flipped open her glove box. ‘Reach up inside there,’ he said.

  Tess did as asked. Her fingers touched the grip of a pistol secreted in the dashboard.

  ‘You brought a gun?’ she asked. ‘I thought you’d put guns behind you?’

  ‘I’ve put trading in illegal arms behind me,’ he corrected. ‘I’m still of the old saying that it’s better to have a gun and not need it than need a gun and not have one.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Ordinarily Tess would employ her grandfather’s old service revolver in a situation like this one, but it was locked safely in its strongbox back at Po’s house. She unclipped the pistol from its hidden mounting. She held it on her lap alongside her cellphone, checking the workings and magazine.

  ‘It’s a CZ-75 chambered for nine millimeter Parabellum rounds in a sixteen rounds double-stack magazine,’ Pinky began.

  ‘Yeah? Save me the sales pitch,’ Tess said, and aimed a smirk at him. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘If I hear shooting, I’m coming in, me,’ he told her.

  She shoved the gun away in her coat pocket. ‘Like I said, I need to take a look around first. If there’s any shooting it won’t be me doing it.’

  ‘More’s the reason I’ll be coming in then.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she repeated. She squeezed out between th
e Volvo and pickup truck. Toner’s forehead shone with a layer of sweat. He was risking a lot by assisting her, and could even regret making the decision he had back in Bangor. ‘You should go back and get the girls out of the apartment, take them somewhere until it’s safe to show your faces.’

  ‘I’m not leaving, Tess,’ he answered. ‘Whatever happens next, unless all of these guys are taken down, rounded up or whatever, my daughter’s life’s in danger. If they win, there’s no safe way of coming back from this for us, because they won’t allow us to live knowing they were the ones responsible for killing you and your partner. They’ll want to shut us up permanently, your friend Pinky too, and anyone else they think is involved.’

  He was probably correct. ‘OK. Sit tight here then. I’m going to get closer; once we know Po’s here we’ll decide what we’re going to do about it. If anything bad happens, listen closely and do as Pinky says.’

  Toner checked with Pinky, who nodded sagely. ‘You heard her, you.’

  Tess left them, moving close to where the trees grew at the high-tide line. The surf bubbled almost at her feet, foaming and swishing between the large pebbles and occasional boulder. Raindrops slanted sideways. She pulled up her hood, could feel the comforting weight of the pistol in her pocket. Her cellphone she kept in her hand, risking dropping it in the surf as she negotiated the driest strip of land available. Mid-way to the shipyard, she’d to clamber over a fallen tree. She was stepping over the trunk where it had been rubbed to a silky sheen by the countless backsides of beachgoers that’d rested on it, at her most unsteady, when her phone rang. Straddling the trunk, she plopped down on it, checking her screen. Po was calling. More correctly, his captor was.

  ‘Tess Grey?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘You obeyed my instructions?’

  ‘No cops,’ she answered, ‘and I’ve waited for your next instruction. I’ve upheld my side, now you must do something for me. I want to speak to Nicolas.’

  ‘You’re not in a position to make demands.’

  ‘Am I not? Unless I hear his voice right now, the gloves come off. I will have to believe the worst, and there’ll be no stopping me calling the cops then, or from hunting down every last one of you.’

  Unmoved by her threat, Arlen Sampson said, ‘Give me a minute. I’ll let you hear him.’

  ‘No, hearing’s not enough. I want to speak with him, to check Nicolas is all right.’

  ‘I can’t promise you that.’ Sampson moved the conversation away from his hostage with a demand of his own. ‘Tell me where you are.’

  Tess thought quickly. He must have heard the surf crashing behind her. ‘I’m still in Bangor,’ she lied, but added a layer of believability to it. ‘The Toners kicked me out of their apartment – they want no involvement with me or Nicolas, especially not now – so I’m across the road with our car, you know, in that parking lot alongside the river?’

  Sampson grunted in response.

  Tess thought about mentioning the wind blowing through the trees, the rushing of the storm-swollen river, as an excuse for the surf, but thought she’d be overdoing it. To keep up the charade though, she added, ‘You expected me to be somewhere else? How can I go anywhere when the only set of keys for our car is in Nicolas’s pocket? Actually, by now you probably took them from him, so you know I’m telling the truth. I’m standing in the rain, freezing half to death, but I don’t suppose you care?’

  ‘Frankly, no, I don’t care.’

  There was a note in Sampson’s voice that told a lie. Tess tried to capitalize on it. ‘What do you hope to gain from taking Nicolas? If it’s to ensure my silence it’s bound to do the exact opposite. If a hair on his head has been harmed I’ll scream bloody murder. You strike me as an intelligent person; surely you know this can only end one way, and it’s with you all in prison?’

  ‘If that’s true, it’s important you listen to me, so we can come to some kind of compromise.’

  ‘Here’s the compromise. Let Nicolas go, and turn State’s evidence against Blake and Kelly Ambrose.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Grey, but what you ask is impossible.’

  ‘The first or the latter?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Then I can’t imagine there being any compromise between us.’

  ‘Things have happened that do not sit well with me …’ Sampson began.

  ‘Good. You should feel ashamed.’

  ‘But they are what they are,’ he finished.

  ‘Release Nicolas, leave the Toners and Hayley alone, and I give you my word—’

  ‘Don’t make empty promises you’ve no intention of keeping.’ He exhaled heavily. ‘Miss Grey, I know a little bit about you and your partner. You’ve both proven determined and resilient in the past. There’s no way that either of you will back down. Take your man here … Nicolas; are you telling me that if he’s released he won’t immediately come back at us seeking revenge?’ Sampson paused briefly, allowing her to consider his question, but not expecting a reply. He went on. ‘You’re going to do everything in your power to stop us, and that’s admirable in its own way. You should. And you should do it quickly.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Perhaps this will galvanize you.’

  He must have adjusted his phone, or perhaps opened a previously closed door, because she could hear other voices, and the repeated solid whack of a blunt object impacting flesh. Faintly she heard Po curse his abuser for being a coward.

  ‘Po? Po!’ There was no possible way her fiancé could hear her. She turned her attention back to Sampson. ‘What’s happening? Do not touch him. Goddamn you, I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll make haste here. If you hope to save Nicolas, you shouldn’t waste any more time, just get here.’

  ‘Where’s here?’

  ‘Come off it, Miss Grey. Don’t take me for a fool. We both know you’re not kicking your heels in a parking lot in Bangor.’

  Frowning, Tess looked towards the ramshackle building only a couple of hundred yards ahead, wondering if at that moment Sampson was watching her from behind one of the picture windows. If he were, he didn’t admit it.

  ‘I’m about to leave,’ he continued. ‘Dom and Temperance will entertain Nicolas until you arrive.’

  ‘Wait! What are you—’

  ‘I’m leaving,’ he repeated. She could hear footsteps descending a staircase. ‘Don’t try stopping me, it will be time better served saving Nicolas’s life.’

  Sampson ended the call.

  In the distance, Tess spotted a figure emerge from the building. It was the first time she’d laid eyes on him, but she knew the man marching towards the blue saloon car was Arlen Sampson. What was he up to? Was this a devious attempt at drawing her into a trap? She couldn’t quite grasp his reasoning; it was as if he wanted her to stop Dom and Temperance, and had given her an opening to do so. What was his motive though? If he thought it’d buy him her silence, he was wrong. Sampson started the car and sped from the service yard.

  Torn with indecision, Tess rose up from her tree trunk perch, intending to rush towards the building in a blind assault, but it’d be rash. Instead she vaulted back over the fallen trunk and dashed towards Pinky and Toner. Already, concealed by the trees between them, Sampson’s car flashed by her, headed for an unknown destination.

  Pinky scrambled out of the Volvo, taking her urgency for something else as she rushed back along the beach. He scanned the area behind her, and towards the distant building, seeking a living enemy.

  ‘Get back in the car,’ Tess hollered as she bounded towards him.

  ‘What’s wrong, Tess? Is it Nicolas, is he—’

  ‘Right now he’s still alive, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last. Come on! Get in.’

  Pinky went headlong into the driver’s seat, while Tess danced between the Volvo and pickup for the passenger door. Toner assaulted her with questions, but she was almost deaf to them. She took a chip out of his truck’s paintwork as she flung open the Vo
lvo’s door and scrambled in. She pointed in the direction of the shipyard. ‘Get us there now.’

  ‘What about me?’ Toner called.

  ‘If you’re coming, come, but you’d better keep up, you,’ shouted Pinky, throwing the Volvo into drive and hitting the gas. He powered up the slipway, and Pinky – recklessly – didn’t halt to check for traffic. Luck was on their side, and he took a squealing turn onto the main road without hitting another car and headed north. Behind them Toner’s pickup truck roared in pursuit.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Po had been forced to reassess his plan to go willingly as a hostage to the bad guys’ lair. It hadn’t garnered him access to Blake and Kelly Ambrose for starters, and had earned him an unnecessary beating in the meantime. Recognizing the error wasn’t his finest moment, he scolded himself for being an impulsive fool. Tess had warned him that one day his impetuous nature would get him into the kind of trouble he might not be able to get out of. He must get free and turn the tables on his captors.

  The hood over his head was a hindrance. It muffled noise, but Po could still sense he’d entered a larger, open space. He tried to form a mental image of his confines, seeking an escape route. He’d no way of knowing that the vestibule behind him was the only regular way in or out, a reason the restaurant owners’ plan to expand as an entertainment venue had been turned down because it had failed fire safety regulations.

  Through the hood’s tightly woven mesh, he could barely make out their shadows as Dom and Temperance moved around him. They were indistinct, giving no hint of limbs or speed of movement. He took half a dozen blows to his head and neck from Dom, none of which he could avoid or try to absorb because he didn’t sense them coming. The hood offered meagre protection, dulling the blows a little, but the edges of the brass knuckles still bit through it to split his skin. Blood washed from a severe nick above his left eyebrow and another cut on his left cheekbone. Po’s lips were swollen and a tooth had been chipped. His tongue felt lacerated, probably from biting it with his chipped molar, and he tasted copper in the back of his throat. It didn’t deter him from cursing Dom, or goading the thug into punching a little harder.