Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (17 page)

Powell was grateful the commune was well organised and had a regular routine. Hattie always went shopping on a Thursday morning and he hoped recent events wouldn’t have changed the schedule. Powell and Jenkins had parked their car across the road from the supermarket to avoid attention.

Although Thursday morning was shopping day, the exact timing of the visits had been flexible. They watched impatiently for two hours, hoping they weren’t wasting their time, before the Land Rover finally pulled into the supermarket’s car park.

“That’s them,” Powell announced with a feeling of great relief.

Jenkins pulled himself up straighter in his passenger seat. They both watched as Hattie and Roger stepped out of the car and headed into the supermarket.

“That’s Roger,” Powell said. He’s mean enough but less capable than Tommy.

“She looks cute,” Jenkins said with a smile.

“So are lions and tigers at a distance.”

“How are we going to do this?” Jenkins asked.

“Keep it simple. When they come outside they should have their back turned for a minute while they load their shopping into the car. You come up behind them and ask Roger nicely to go for a  ride with us. By that time I will have brought our car alongside and we bundle him in the boot. With surprise on our side, it should be easy enough.”

“What do we do with the girl?”

“Nothing. Tell her to get in her car and go home.”

“What if she doesn’t do as I suggest?”

“I leave it to your discretion.”

Powell was relying on Jenkins a great deal. Powell’s leg made it difficult for him to move and if Roger was to resist, Powell wasn’t confident he could subdue Roger, without shooting him and a dead Roger was of no value. A further death also wouldn’t endear him to the police authorities, whatever the provocation.

“There they are,” Powell said, spotting Hattie and Roger exiting the supermarket. Roger was pushing a very full shopping trolley.

Jenkins stepped out of the car and ambled in the direction of the supermarket entrance, which would take him right past Roger and Hattie. The sky was overcast and there was a cold wind blowing so everyone was intent on getting in and out of their cars, as quickly as possible.

Jenkins was wearing a black hoody and a woollen fisherman’s hat, which was pulled down over his forehead, hiding most of his face. He was staring down at a mobile phone in his left hand to make it difficult for cameras to get a picture of his face. On a sunny day, he would have looked out of place but today he was dressed perfectly for the weather.

When he’d covered half the distance, Powell switched on the car engine. Roger had unlocked the rear of the Land Rover and was starting to put the shopping bags inside. Powell put the car into gear and slowly moved forward.

Jenkins timed his arrival at the Land Rover for when Roger was loading a bag into the car and thus had his back turned. Hattie was already sitting inside the car to escape the cold weather.

Jenkins withdrew a gun from inside his pocket and holding the barrel, brought the gun down hard on the back of Roger’s head, before he even knew he was in danger. Roger slumped forwards into the boot and Jenkins grabbed him under the arms before he could fall to the ground.

Powell parked his car across the back of the Land Rover. He jumped out and had the boot open in a second. He grabbed hold of Roger’s ankles while Jenkins held his wrists and together they threw him into the boot. It all happened so fast, there was little time for anyone to see anything.

Within less than thirty seconds after Jenkins struck Roger, they were driving away. There was no over revving of the engine or wheel spins, which only looked good in films. Powell didn’t want to attract attention and nobody was giving chase.

Powell caught a glimpse in his rear mirror of Hattie standing by the Land Rover, looking bemused. She must have been wondering what the hell had just occurred but they were quickly turning onto the main road and speeding away.

“That went well,” Jenkins stated. “Even the bad weather was on our side. I don’t think anyone will be of any use to the police as a witness.”

“We deserve some luck. It helped Hattie was already sitting in the car; gave you one less thing to worry about. There’s no chance of her calling the police so this may never get reported.”

“She didn’t get much of a look at me,” Jenkins said. “But Scott will probably realise it was the same person from the park.”

“I think Scott will also work out I’m involved. I’m the only person who would know about the regular shopping trip.”

“We’ve hit them quite hard in the last forty eight hours. He’s going to be more cautious in the future.”

“That’s shutting the door after the horse has bolted syndrome. We’ve achieved what I wanted.”

“When Scott realises you were responsible for today, he’s also going to assume you had a hand in events in the park, yesterday. He’s going to want to know how you knew about the exchange. That could put Carol in danger.”

“I don’t think Hattie saw me. It all happened so quickly and she was inside the car.”

“You may be right but if she did see you…”

Powell had been thinking about Carol. He regretted allowing her to return to Tintagel, not that he could force her to quit the commune. As long as she didn’t admit to ever mentioning her meetings, she was in the clear.

Scott had to at least consider the possibility Hattie or one of the others had let slip the information. It was also possible that Powell had followed Carol from Tintagel. He couldn’t be certain Carol was responsible

In any event, Scott would be on his guard and as dangerous as a wounded, wild animal. Whether he knew Powell was involved or not, he might unleash Tommy and point him towards Carol, suspecting she was involved. Powell hoped not as he felt sure Tommy would enjoy having an excuse to hurt Carol.

It took less than thirty minutes to reach their destination. Powell turned off the A27 at the Shoreham flyover and took the road to Upper Beeding. A large wire fence alongside the road announced their arrival at the old Cement Works. The main manufacturing structures could be seen on the right hand side of the road in various stages of dilapidation. Powell turned left into the half of the works open to visitors, where various small transport businesses were based.

“What is this place?” Jenkins asked.

“It used to be a Cement Works but it’s been closed for more than twenty years. I have a friend here who buys up old mobile homes, rebuilds them, and then sells them as good as new.”

“Seems like a graveyard for old buses,” Jenkins said, noticing the large assortment of old coaches and buses off to one side.

They drove down a road, which split the middles of the site and would once have been used by the staff to get between the different administrative buildings. Powell pulled to a stop in front of one of the many mobile homes, which had been converted into an office.

“My friend’s out at the moment,” Powell explained. “Checking on an old home near Hastings.” Powell had explained he needed somewhere quiet and out of the way for a few hours and his friend had told him to use one of the homes. Powell had explained nothing further but told his friend it would be best if he could not be around for the afternoon.

They stepped out of the car and looked around for signs of life.

“Seems deserted,” Jenkins said.

“We’ll use that home,” Powell said, pointing to a small caravan tucked behind other larger homes and well away from the road. Powell glanced around one final time and then said, “Let’s get the boot open and Roger inside the caravan.”

Powell took the gun from his pocket and approached the car. He opened the boot and then quickly stepped backwards, pointing his gun at the inside. Roger was fully conscious and looked ready to strike at anyone who came within range. 

“Out you get,” Powell instructed. “Let me warn you, my leg has been very painful where Tommy shot me. I seem to remember you found that highly amusing. I’m just itching for a chance to demonstrate getting shot in the leg isn’t really a laughing matter.”

Roger climbed slowly out of the car in silence. He looked around to check his surroundings. “Where are we?”

“It’s our turn today to ask the questions,” Powell replied. “Let’s go.”

Powell motioned with his gun to indicate the direction Roger should walk. Jenkins kept a few feet to one side, well out of Powell’s line of fire.

The caravan was unlocked. Powell’s friend had confirmed all the caravans were left unlocked.

Jenkins moved ahead and opened the door of the caravan, leading the way inside. Powell followed Roger inside.

The caravan was gutted and there were no chairs or furniture. It was just an empty shell.

“Get us a chair from the office,” Powell directed Jenkins. “And the tool kit from the car.”

Powell noticed Roger’s eyes widened a little at the mention of the tool kit. There was a hint of nerves beneath that tough exterior.

Jenkins was gone two minutes and returned with a folding metal chair plus a rucksack.

“Sit down,” Powell ordered, after Jenkins placed the chair in the middle of the bare caravan.

Jenkins opened the rucksack and took out some nylon rope. They had stopped at a DIY store first thing in the morning, before heading for the supermarket.

“Hands behind your back,” Jenkins instructed Roger, who did as he was told. Jenkins tied Roger’s wrists and then further tied him to the chair. He tested the ropes and happy with the results stepped back.

“Roger, I want to tell you what is going to happen next,” Powell explained. “I am going to ask you some questions and you will answer them truthfully. I am not one for torturing people. To be honest, I don’t like all the blood and gore. However, my friend has no such inhibitions.”

Powell allowed his words to sink in as Jenkins moved in front of Roger and tipped out the contents of the rucksack onto the floor. There was a mixture of knives and an electric drill. Jenkins briefly turned on the drill and as it noisily proved it was fully charged, Roger’s eyes revealed the first signs of fear.

“Jenkins has done this sort of work before,” Powell continued. “He assures me he can keep someone alive and able to answer my questions for many hours, despite the grievous pain he will inflict with the drill.” Powell moved closer to Roger. “Did you know that they use a drill like this for operating on people? I would have thought they used some sort of special medical drill but Jenkins says that’s not the case.” Powell stooped down so he was looking Roger in the eyes. “ Jenkins tells me it’s particularly effective for bones in general and knees in particular. Although, to be honest, I can’t remember if he meant for surgeons mending knees or effective in his particular line of work, which involves drilling into the knee to get answers to questions.” Powell stood back up. “I suppose I should be grateful. Tommy shot me in the leg but I’ll make a full recovery. If you’d been of a mind to use a drill on me, I would never have walked again.”

“It’s good for more than just knees,” Jenkins interjected. “I usually warm up with simple things like ears, nose, hands and toes. Hey, that rhymes!”

“Poetry,” Powell agreed. “Roger, I think it’s time to begin. We have plenty of time so why don’t you start at the beginning. Tell us how you met Scott and come to be working for him.”

Roger hesitated.

“Have you ever listened to the radio show called, Just a Minute?” Powell asked. “One of the key rules is you are not allowed to hesitate when answering. We’ll let you off that one but I won’t be so generous the next time. Hesitate again and Jenkins will give you a new airway in your nose. So how do you come to be working for Scott?”

“Tommy brought me on board,” Roger quickly answered. “I knew him from when we were both in the Paras together.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“About three years.”

“Tell me about his drug business. Where does he get his supplies?”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Roger asked. “I’m not a fool. You aren’t just going to let me go once I’ve answered your questions.”

“I should have explained the full rules of Just a Minute. Not only are you forbidden to hesitate but you are also not allowed to deviate from the subject. I’m not sure Roger is taking us seriously, Jenkins. We need to make him understand that he has only two choices; answer our questions or suffer excruciating pain.”

On cue, Jenkins switched on the drill. “Would you like me to remind Roger of the rules?”

Powell was thoughtful for a few seconds as if considering the idea. “No, I guess Roger is asking a fair question. Once you’ve answered all our questions you will be free to leave.”

“Bollocks!”

“You can leave with them if you tell us what we want to know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well I don’t think Scott and Tommy will be very happy to see you. They will know I would only let you go free if you answered all my questions. They will have expected me to record your implicating them in a series of serious crimes. I think they might see you as a liability. However, tell me what I want to know and I’ll even give you some of Scott’s money so you can go away somewhere. You can look on it as severance pay.”

There was silence in the caravan. Roger was digesting Powell’s offer and considering his options. “Basically I’m fucked,” he said succinctly, after a minute. “Soon as you bastards grabbed me, I couldn’t go back to Scott.”

“That would be my view,” Powell agreed, secretly pleased he wasn’t going to have to resort to violence. His appetite for violence had diminished. There was a time in his youth when nothing would have been off limits if he needed to extract information. Age had brought a different perspective to life.