‘I hope it hurt like a bastard,’ I said within the confines of the car.
I checked in with Steve and Dylan every thirty minutes to make sure they were staying awake. The long wait failed to eat into us. We’d prepared for this night. After the break-in, we spent time putting the house back in some semblance of order, then ordered a takeaway from a local Indian restaurant. We hatched out our plan while we ate. We went to bed late, but slept in late, so we were ready for a long night.
Sitting in the silence of the car, something Derek had said scratched at the back of my mind. He’d said, ‘If you had the tape, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t be still holding on to Alex’s car. You’d know the truth.’ I’d know what truth? That Derek was innocent? I didn’t believe that for a second. What was bothering me was that he believed in the tape’s existence. To him, its existence wasn’t a possibility. It was a fact. He hadn’t demanded that I tell him who the source of the recording was because he already knew. So my phantom tape story was true after all. It made me wish I really did have the tape. I wondered who was in ownership of the recording and why Derek hadn’t kicked down their door to get it. He didn’t have any problems doing it to mine when he thought I had it.
My mobile rang, jerking me from my thoughts. Steve’s name came up on the small display.
I answered the call. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ve got an empty car transporter coming my way.’
Good, the cars were being transported together. That gave us the advantage. It kept us together and, for once, we outnumbered them.
‘Is Derek driving?’
‘I can’t see yet. Hold on. He’s just passing me.’ The sound of an approaching diesel engine dominated the background noise coming from the phone for a minute. ‘Yes, Derek’s driving.’
‘OK. Tell Dylan what’s going on and I’ll call you both back when I know what’s happening,’ I said, then hung up on Steve.
The engine I’d heard on Steve’s phone cut the silence on the street. I powered down my window in the hope of eavesdropping and slumped down in my seat so as not to be seen.
Derek stopped the transporter outside the workshop’s gates. The noise of his arrival brought people out to greet him. Morgan was amongst the group of familiar men to emerge from the workshop. His arm was in a cast and a sling. Strickland and Tommy were among the group of mechanics I’d seen before.
Tommy opened up the gates and Derek pulled the truck forward to manoeuvre it into the yard before turning it around. His headlights lit up the parked cars across the street, including mine. I threw myself across the passenger seat before the headlights lit me up.
I stayed down and listened to the grind and growl of Derek changing gears as he manoeuvred the truck into position. I heard voices guide him in. I sat up the second the headlights were off me and I heard the clang of the gates closing.
Light spilled out from the workshop as the roll-up doors retracted. While Derek lowered the loading skids, car engines roared into life from within the workshop. The noise bounced off the silent buildings on both sides of the street. It was enough to draw the attention of the neighbours in a normal neighbourhood, but this part of town was dead and no one came running to complain about the late night disturbance.
I called Steve and brought him up to speed then told him to pass the message on to Dylan.
The cars filed out of the workshop and carefully climbed onto the transporter. They were the same six cars I’d seen before, but now in different colours and sporting number plates and no doubt the documentation to back it up. These cars were reborn the same way people with bent identities were reborn. Illegally.
It took a little time to load the cars onto the transporter and tie them down. Derek and his boys worked well and showed no signs that they were expecting trouble. Not that they would be with Brennan clearing the way for them.
My pulse quickened when a couple of the mechanics started shutting the workshop down for the night. This was it. This was where Derek put his head through his own noose.
I called Steve then Dylan and told them. ‘They’re getting ready to go.’
Derek, Morgan, Tommy and Strickland huddled around the truck’s cab for a team talk. I couldn’t hear them over the rumble of the truck’s engine.
The team meeting didn’t last long and Derek climbed into the cab of his truck. The others went over to a fairly old C-class Mercedes. Morgan opened the boot and Tommy and Strickland removed three shotguns.
‘Shit,’ I murmured.
Strickland jogged over to Derek’s truck with a shotgun in each hand and climbed up into the cab with Derek. They shared a smile before Strickland put the guns behind their seats. Tommy put his gun in the back of the Mercedes before getting behind the wheel. Morgan got into the passenger seat alongside Tommy.
Derek eased his truck out of the workshop with the Mercedes behind. Both vehicles turned in Dylan’s direction.
I jumped on the phone straight away. ‘Dylan, Derek’s coming your way. There’s a green Mercedes following behind. Strickland is riding with Derek and Morgan and Tommy are in the Merc.’
‘You want me to follow them?’
‘Yeah, but be careful. They’re armed.’
‘Shit. Why am I not surprised?’
‘I’m going to stay here and wait for the mechanics to leave. Then I’m going to catch you up. Call me if you hit any trouble.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
I hung up on Dylan. I called Steve and told him Derek was on the move and Dylan was following, but I needed him to stay put.
The minutes ticked by slowly as the mechanics locked the workshop down for the night. With their work done, they weren’t in a hurry to leave. They laughed and joked with each other as they switched off lights and closed doors.
‘Come on, come on,’ I urged. I didn’t want Dylan on his own any longer than necessary. Derek and his boys had him outnumbered and outgunned. It wasn’t like my presence would stop them from shooting at him, but it would make it harder for them if they had to shoot at two targets.
The last man out closed and locked the yard’s gates then climbed into an old Rover SD1 with the other three mechanics. They pulled away in Steve’s direction and I called him.
‘A Rover SD1 with a dented rear passenger door is coming your way. Follow it.’
‘I see it now.’
‘They’re the mechanics. I don’t know if they’re going to meet up or not, but stick with them.’
I heard Steve gun the Renault’s engine. ‘Will do.’
‘I’m going to catch Dylan up. Derek’s guys are armed.’
Steve didn’t say anything for a long moment. ‘Be careful.’
‘I will,’ I said and hung up.
Lap Twenty-Four
The second I hung up on Steve, I hit the road. Naturally, there was no sign of Dylan or Derek when I turned onto the next street. In this maze of streets with all its different turns, I’d never catch up with them. I punched in Dylan’s number and waited for him to pick up.
‘Where are you?’ I asked when he answered.
‘I’m on Newfoundland Way getting ready to join the M32.’
I made a left to get me heading towards the motorway. The M32 was essentially an arterial road from the M4 into Bristol. If Derek picked up the M4 he was either heading east to London or west to the M5. That would take him either south-west into Devon and Cornwall or north to Birmingham.
‘Where’s Derek?’