Spotlights lit up Hancock’s yard, but the high fences and walls blocked our view. It was half an hour before all was revealed. Derek re-emerged pulling a commercial car transporter with six damaged, high-end cars loaded onto it.
‘Transporting cars at this time of night?’ Dylan said.
‘Maybe Derek’s trying to beat rush hour traffic.’
Dylan frowned at me. I smiled and gunned the engine.
We followed Derek back to the M25 and all the way back to the south-west. It looked as if Derek was going home. We were running low on fuel. I filled the tank at the M4 motorway services at Swindon. Once I had the car refuelled, I kept the accelerator floored to catch up to Derek. I needn’t have worried. He kept to the speed limit and it didn’t take long to catch him up.
We followed him all the way to Bristol. He threaded his way through the city to a street area filled with shabby and rundown industrial units. He stopped in front of an anonymous looking workshop with no company signs, but protected by a chain link fence. It was close to midnight, but a crew was there to receive him. They helped unload the cars off the transporter and into the workshop.
‘Do you recognize those two?’ I said pointing out Morgan and Strickland.
Dylan’s expression turned angry at the sight of Derek’s two shotgun buddies. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘This is getting pretty intertwined.’
From the way Morgan was ordering Strickland and the others around, this was his place.
‘What do you think they’re doing — running a cut and shut operation?’
A cut and shut is a Frankenstein-style approach to car salvage. Say you have two identical car models but one has front end damage and the other has rear end damage. Instead of repairing both, the cars are cut in half and two good halves are welded together.
‘I don’t think so. Derek delivered six different cars and that place isn’t big enough to hold another six matching cars.’
‘He could be stripping them for parts.’
I shook my head. The cars he’d delivered were high-end and obviously handpicked based on their value. While their spare parts value was high, they were worth even more as the complete cars.
My mobile rang. I pulled it out. Steve’s name appeared on the small screen.
‘Hey, Steve.’
‘Aidy?’ Steve croaked.
Steve sounded sick.
‘Steve, are you OK?’
‘I’m at Archway. Come get me.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Someone tried to torch the place.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Just get back here.’
Lap Sixteen
The Subaru’s headlights bore holes in the darkness. I chased the light with my foot planted on the accelerator, hoping to catch it.
Dylan had taken my phone and put it on speaker. ‘How are you doing, Steve?’
‘OK.’
Dylan and I shared a glance. He didn’t sound it.
‘Are you hurt?’ Dylan asked.
‘I took a bit of a pounding, but I gave back as good as I got.’
I was trying not to panic, just concentrate on driving, but I was failing miserably. Nasty images kept filling my head.
‘Who came after you?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. The bastard was wearing a balaclava.’
It sounded like the same person Derek had sent to take care of Paul.
‘Steve, have you called an ambulance?’ I asked.
‘No.’
‘I’ll call,’ Dylan said,
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘If you call an ambulance, they’ll take me away and this place will be totally at Derek’s mercy.’
Steve was right, but I wasn’t about to lose him over Alex’s car. I was going to nail Derek one way or another, with or without the car. ‘Steve, if you’re hurt bad, you need a doctor.’
‘I’m OK for now. Just get here. How far out are you?’
‘We’ve just gotten out of Bristol. We’re at least an hour out,’ Dylan said.
‘I’ll survive.’
Dylan covered the phone. ‘He sounds bad, mate.’
‘Keep him talking.’
Dylan nodded. ‘What happened, Steve?’
‘I was working on the car for the Festival. I’d put the ratios in the gearbox and was setting the car up with the factory settings.’
‘We were going to do that tomorrow,’ I said.
‘I was enjoying myself and I wanted to get a jump on tomorrow. I heard a car pull up. I thought it was you coming back. I called out your name, but I didn’t get an answer. Nothing happened for a minute. I called out again. This time the door opened and a man in a balaclava came in carrying a petrol can. He opened it up and started splashing it about. I rushed him and he knocked me down.’
‘Jesus,’ I said.
‘He thought he’d dealt with me and went straight for Alex’s car. He yanked the drop cloth off and started looking the car over as if he wanted something off it. When he didn’t see what he wanted, he shoved it off its stands and came back for his petrol can. I think he was going to torch it, but that’s when I got him back.’ Steve coughed out a laugh. ‘I lamped him with the adjustables. Got him good in the ribs. I had to have broken one. He turned on me after that, but that was just so I wouldn’t follow him. Once he had me out of the way, he made off.’
Dylan kept Steve talking. He asked him how the Mygale was shaping up against my old Van Diemen and got little anecdotes out of him. Each story helped eat up the miles.
I kept my speed around a hundred. It was easy to do at that time of night. The first signs for Reading flashed by and my fear began to subside. We were only twenty miles away.
Steve was talking when he suddenly trailed off in the middle of a sentence.
‘Steve?’ Dylan asked. ‘You there, Steve?’
Steve didn’t answer.
‘Shit, Steve, you’re scaring me,’ Dylan said. ‘Talk to me.’
Still, Steve didn’t answer.
Dylan checked the phone. ‘The call might have dropped.’
We both knew he was trying to find an excuse not to scare us.
‘Call him back.’
Dylan redialled Steve’s number. ‘I’m not getting through.’
‘Call an ambulance.’
Steve punched in 999. The call got picked up after twenty long rings. ‘Hello. Yes. I need an ambulance out to Archway Restoration, Six Goswell Arches. There’s a man there. He’s been assaulted. We had him on the phone and he lost consciousness. Thank you.’
‘Christ, I hope he’s OK,’ I said.
‘He will be.’
I pushed the Subaru to its limit. The speedometer needle hovered near the hundred and twenty mark. We were travelling at two miles a minute and it still felt slow. I wanted more out of the car, but I wasn’t getting it.
‘Aidy, slow down,’ Dylan pleaded. ‘You’re going to get us killed. And what good would that do Steve?’
I shot him a glance. Dylan had purposely pressed one of my buttons and I bottled the urge to lash out at him. I had no tolerance for reckless driving because of my parents. I drove fast on the roads, but never stupid. I always left the high speed stuff for the racetrack. I took my foot off the gas and the needle dropped down to ninety. It was as slow as I was willing to go.