Meltdown bs-4 Read online

  Danny helped Teddy up and they started to make their way towards the door, but then Teddy stopped, turned, wincing with pain, and looked at Fergus. 'The other two… they might still…'

  'You don't have to worry about them. Danny's taken care of them.'

  Teddy stared at Danny, then at Fergus, and then back at Danny as he struggled to take in what they had done that night.

  Danny just nodded and smiled and supported Teddy as he shuffled slowly out of the apartment.

  As soon as they had gone, Fergus pulled out his mobile and speed-dialled Lee's number. 'Are they still out?'

  'Sleeping like babies.'

  'Give them another burst and then clear out. Danny's on the way down with Teddy. I want him to see exactly what we've done for him.'

  Teddy spotted the two sprawled-out bodies the moment Danny eased him around the turn at the landing above.

  He froze. 'Are they… are they dead?'

  Danny shook his head. 'Stunned. They'll be out for quite a while.'

  'But when they do come round… they might-'

  'They'll get out, Teddy, that's what they'll do. And they won't come back.'

  They moved slowly down the stairs. When they reached the landing, Teddy stopped by the two bodies.

  Mr Muscles was snoring beneath Blubber Man, who still had blood oozing from his face.

  Teddy's own face contorted in anger. He leaned on Danny and then viciously kicked Blubber Man in the guts.

  'Bastards!'

  Blubber Man didn't even stir, and Teddy was ready to get in a few more kicks, but Danny pulled him away.

  'Steady on. A few more of those might just wake them,' he told him. 'Let's get you to hospital.'

  14

  The atmosphere in the office at the coach yard was thick with tension. Will had never before even considered challenging his brother's unspoken leadership and authority. But seeing Teddy's bruised and battered face, and the way he kept flinching as he got another jolt from his cracked ribs, somehow made him seem vulnerable and a little pathetic.

  And Will was determined to take advantage of his brother's sudden vulnerability.

  'Why should we bring in Watts? He's done his job; he's got rid of the threat. We can pay him off and let him go.'

  Teddy was on the defensive, but he'd made up his mind on what he wanted, telling his brother he'd decided to bring Fergus in on 'all aspects of the business' so that he could oversee their complete security and protection.

  'We don't know that what happened last night was anything to do with the attacks here,' he said. 'They might be totally unconnected.'

  'So there are more people out there who know about Meltdown? Is that what you're saying? So who's telling them?'

  'I don't know!' Teddy flinched as a stab of pain shot through his ribs. 'Maybe a dealer has got word on us; maybe it's one of our own. I don't know, Will. All I do know is that I want to bring Watts in. We don't need to tell him everything, just enough. And we'll test him out before we say anything.'

  'It's a crazy idea, a total non-starter. We've got our own team,' insisted Will. 'They've always looked after us well enough. What happened in the apartment was a one-off; we're safe now.'

  'Our team?' said Teddy. 'Albie? And the rest of them? They were OK when we got going but you know Albie's become a liability.' He paused. The medical staff at the A amp;E department had patched up Teddy's physical wounds, but the image of Siddie Richards with a bullet hole in his face would not fade from his mind. 'Look,' he said, failing to conceal his impatience. 'We're going to need someone like Fergus.'

  Will's face was flushed with anger. 'And how do you know you can trust him?'

  'Because he killed someone for me last night! He committed murder to keep me alive! Isn't that enough?' Teddy shifted in his chair to ease the pain from his ribs. 'Watts will do whatever we ask of him as long as the money's right. He said as much last night. That's all he's interested in.'

  Will was still glaring at him, obviously intent on saying a lot more.

  Teddy levered himself to his feet and crossed the room to where his brother was standing.

  'Will, you weren't there! I nearly died!' Danny drove into the yard and parked up. As he got out of the silver Mazda, he saw Storm standing by the stairs to the office. She was frowning but still looked stunning in a designer suit and high-heeled boots.

  'If you've come to look at the computers again, you'll have to wait.' She smiled and then glanced up towards the office. 'They're arguing. I don't know exactly what the problem is, but Teddy's in a terrible state – he's in such pain, and his face looks terrible. Whatever happened to him must have been awful.'

  Danny closed the car door as he considered his answer. 'He's just not used to trouble. It's probably not as bad as it looks.'

  'But what happened? They said you were there.'

  Danny wasn't giving away a thing. 'What did they tell you?'

  Storm shrugged. 'There was this guy – some sort of gangster – who was trying to take over the travel business. He beat up Teddy but then your granddad came in and scared him off.'

  That's about it,' said Danny. 'He won't be back, anyway.'

  'Then why is Teddy still so scared?'

  'I don't know, Storm. You'd better ask him.'

  He could see that Storm was puzzled by his evasion. She stared into his eyes, and frowned, searching for the truth.

  He returned the look, realizing as he did so that he was quickly becoming as accomplished as his grandfather at telling lies. It went with the territory.

  Storm's searching look suddenly turned into one of her most dazzling smiles and her brow cleared. 'Would you like a cappuccino? The twins want me out of the way for a while and if d be nice to have some company. There's a place down the road that's good. We can walk.'

  Danny smiled. 'Yeah, why not.'

  As they walked towards the gates, they heard a shout from the workshops.

  'Storm!'

  They looked back and saw Albie standing in the open doorway.

  'Oh, what does he want now?' whispered Storm as he came striding over. She moved closer to Danny, almost as though she was silently looking for his protection.

  When he reached them, Albie glared briefly at Danny and then focused on Storm, forcing a smile. 'You all right?'

  'Fine, thanks, Albie. You?' Storm's voice quavered a little.

  Albie nodded but said nothing more. He just kept smiling at her. The silence went on and on, but Albie had obviously run out of conversation. He just stared at Storm with barely disguised adoration.

  Storm glanced at Danny and then turned to head towards the gates again. 'Bye then, Albie.'

  'Where you going?'

  'We're, er… we're going for a quick coffee.'

  'I'll come. I'm not doing anything.'

  Danny could almost see Storm searching for a plausible excuse to get rid of Albie. But when it came, it sounded pretty lame and a very obvious putdown. 'We… we have to talk about business, Albie.'

  'What about later then?' insisted Albie. 'Late. When I finish work. A drink? Or a club maybe?'

  Storm smiled. 'Another time, eh?' Albie watched them until they had passed through the gates, his eyes burning into Danny's back. Then he walked slowly back towards the workshop.

  Inside, two of the guys who doubled as security and general workers around the yard were leaning against one of the newly cleaned coaches.

  They instantly recognized the look on Albie's face. They'd seen it before and they knew better than to say anything as he passed them. They watched him head across to a greasy metal work-bench and pick up a large monkey wrench.

  He held it in his right hand and hit it against the open palm of his left hand a couple of times. Then his eyes flashed and he raised the monkey wrench above his head and smashed it down on the workbench. The bench crashed to the ground, the legs collapsing under the vicious blow as nuts and bolts and tools went flying like shrapnel in every direction.

  Albie dropped the monkey
wrench on the concrete, then turned and glared at the two guys, his eyes daring them to make a comment. The argument in the office was still raging and Will was giving as good as he got. But there was more than twenty years of history between them to overcome.

  Teddy was the older brother by a full twelve minutes. He'd always made the major decisions and Will had gone along with them. It worked that way. It was easier. But not this time.

  'I don't like it, Teddy. We've only known the guy a couple of weeks and you want to tell him everything.'

  'But I don't. Just enough. Look, Will, we've got to face it – if Siddie Richards managed to find out about us, then there's a bloody good chance one of the other gangs might show up before too long. If that happens, I want Watts around.'

  'But we've been so careful with security. We've done everything we've been told.'

  'Maybe we let something slip. Or someone did. Maybe we're coming to the end of it, Will. We've had a great run. Maybe we need to start thinking about winding it up and moving on.'

  'That won't be popular. You know the instructions.'

  Teddy sat up in his chair. 'It's our business. We can do what we want.' He looked closely at his brother. 'Now, are you with me on this, Will? Just trust me, like you always have done.'

  Will hesitated for a moment but then sighed and nodded. 'But I don't like it, Teddy. I really don't like it.'

  Teddy smiled. 'We'll talk to Watts together. Then we'll decide on whether or not he joins us on the Barcelona trip.'

  'You mean, you'll decide.'

  'We'll decide, Will.' Teddy opened a drawer in the desk and took out a pay-as-you-go mobile phone. 'And now we'd better start organizing tonight's production meet.'

  15

  Doug was the no-questions-asked variety of truck driver, wheels and wagon for hire. He was bowling along the M60, sticking to the speed limit and driving carefully, as country rock blared from the cab's speakers. The traffic was unusually light and Doug was smiling, thinking of the wad of cash he'd pocket for this job.

  It was all going like clockwork, as it always did. He'd picked up packages from three different supply depots, then stopped as instructed at the Birch service station on the M62 to collect his passenger.

  He was there in the trailer park, sitting reading Motor Cycle News on a worn patch of grass by the bins, wearing scruffy jeans, a baggy puffa jacket and a striped scarf, iPod ear-buds in place, a rucksack at his feet. As Doug pulled in, he stood up, folded his paper and pulled on a pair of thin gloves.

  The articulated truck's hydraulic brakes hissed as Doug drew the vehicle to a standstill and then jumped from the cab to open the rear doors. Within a couple of minutes the skinny young guy was in the back of the truck and Doug was pulling back out onto the motorway, heading for the M60. Where possible, he would stick to motorways to keep the ride smooth. Today it was easy. It was going to be the M60 almost all the way.

  Doug had no idea that the young guy he'd just picked up was a highly qualified chemist who was supplementing his meagre research assistant's pay carrying out the first half of the Meltdown process in the mobile laboratory in the back of the truck. But he only had the first part of the formula.

  The whole operation was based on the way the wartime French Resistance movement operated; the way terrorist organizations still operate today. No one but the twins knew the whole story. Everyone else, from the chemists, through to drivers, loaders and security guys, only knew just what they needed to know when they needed to know it. It was brilliant. By keeping the process in two parts and mainly mobile, even if someone did blab about the location of the meet, by the time the police or security forces arrived, the DMP would be long gone. Eventually, Doug arrived back at the Birch services, dropped his passenger off, sent a coded text message and received a postcode and a hangar number in return. For the second time that day he pulled out onto the motorway and headed for the M60.

  The production meet was at a decommissioned airfield about an hour north of Manchester. During the Second World War it had been the base for an RAF bomber squadron, but its glory days were long gone.

  All that remained of the runways was cracked and broken stretches of concrete, with grass and weeds growing from wide, ugly fissures. The old hangars had been supplemented by newer factory units, creating a ramshackle industrial estate. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't purpose-built, but it was perfectly functional.

  The twins had taken a short lease on one of the hangars. The location was good. Ten or more other organizations used the neighbouring units. A vehicle-hire company garaged and maintained its fleet of vans in one; an electrical supplies company used another for storage. Even the police had a presence on the site: the unit next door but one was used by the force as a dog-training centre.

  Businesses came and went on a regular basis; there was frequent traffic in and out of the site and no one asked questions. It was that kind of place.

  Doug backed his artic into the hangar, watching carefully in his wing mirrors for the signals from the pale and puffy-faced young guy with dark shadows under his eyes who always seemed to be in charge at the meet. There was a shout and his hand came up to signal a stop.

  Doug applied the parking brake and switched off. He knew he had backed up to the open tail of another artic. He knew from the sounds that the back of his trailer was being opened and people were getting in. To one side, he could see two sleek black luxury coaches parked up, but he'd decided long ago that if this was dodgy stuff, he didn't want to know about it. Just as long as he got paid, he was happy to sit in his cab, read his paper and listen to his music until he was told to go. Hear no evil, see no evil was his philosophy.

  16

  Teddy had watched the coaches pull out of the yard on their way to the meet, before he asked Fergus if he'd heard of Meltdown. Fergus shook his head.

  'It's a drug, a chemical drug. A bit like Ecstasy, but much better.'

  'Yeah, I reckoned this was about drugs.'

  'Do you have a problem with drugs?'

  Fergus smiled. 'I've had a lot of problems with drugs over the years. Specially in Colombia.'

  'I mean morally. Do you have a moral objection to drugs?'

  Fergus had mentally prepared for this conversation, knowing which way it was likely to go. 'Morality is something you leave behind when you do my sort of work. You just get on with the job. If you stopped to think about what's right and what's wrong, you'd never do it.'

  Will couldn't stop himself from interrupting. 'But you were in Colombia trying to bust the drugs cartels – we've read the stories.'

  'I was a soldier. I did what I was told.'

  'But then a better offer came along?'

  'That's right. I spent half a lifetime doing the heroic Queen and country stuff. And for what? Pisspoor pay and a medal to shove in the back of a cupboard and forget about. FARC offered me a lot of money and I grabbed it. And when I got caught, I didn't have anyone to blame but myself.'

  'So money is what motivates you now?' said Will.

  'Totally' Fergus smiled. 'For some reason they took away my army pension.'

  Will wasn't smiling. He was the one who still needed convincing; he hadn't been through the Siddie Richards experience. 'And this last job, the suicide bombings. Why you? Why did they pick you when they knew you were a traitor?'

  This was the test. Fergus knew his answer had to be believable, and like all the best lies it had to be based on truth. 'MI5 had tracked me down – me and Danny and his friend Elena. The guy behind the bombings was targeting teenagers, grooming them on the Internet, and Elena was brilliant with computers and the Internet, even better than Danny. My speciality is explosives, so they gave us a choice, work for them or' – he lifted his right hand, made a pistol shape and held it against his temple – 'goodnight.'

  Will still wasn't smiling. 'But why not just use their own people?'

  Fergus was calculating his physical responses as carefully as his words, and now was the moment to act as though he was getting
bored and irritated with the questioning. 'You think the security services only work with the good guys? That's bollocks. They'll work with whoever can get results. And the best thing for them, with us, was that if it all went wrong, they could deny any knowledge of our involvement.'

  'And this… Elena – what happened to her?'

  'She's dead. There was a complete fuck-up and she got shot.' Fergus looked at Teddy. 'Just like your friend from last night.' He turned back to Will. 'But they didn't tell you that bit in the papers. And you'll understand why neither Danny nor I have any particular love for the security services or the British government.'

  Fergus pushed away his chair and stood up. It was time for the big gamble, the walkout. If it went wrong, there would be no coming back. 'Look, I don't need this. You boys just go play with your Meltdown, or whatever it is you call the stuff.'

  He headed for the door of the office, opened it and took a step outside, thinking that maybe he had blown it, when he heard Teddy's voice.

  'Mr Watts!'

  Fergus stopped and turned back. He stood in the doorway and watched as the brothers exchanged a nod before Teddy spoke.

  'We make Meltdown and sell the tablets here and in Europe. We're prepared to show you how we export the tablets but not how or where they are manufactured. Only we know the complete formula – no one else has access to that information – and we would like you to be responsible for our personal security in the immediate future; I don't want to risk another Siddie Richards situation. You'll be paid very very well. Does that appeal?'

  Both twins watched Fergus closely as he considered his reply. 'Yeah, the money appeals, but I have to consider our security – mine and Danny's. The places where you make this stuff – are they safe? You get busted and it wouldn't be good to be around.'

  Teddy glanced at Will, who nodded his agreement for big brother to continue. 'It's been working perfectly for months and it's quite safe. That's all you need to know.'