The Stealers Page 24

  Her brain raced, she wished Bradley were here – he’d know what to do. But then, she considered it was because of him that she found herself in this position. Crane had his head turned towards her for a split second but it was enough time for Finn to try his hand and, picking up a chair, Finn hurled it clumsily towards the armed intruder. Crane saw it coming and moved to one side. The chair smashed and splintered on the stone hearth, knocking the fireguard aside and sending a shower of red hot sparks cascading onto the rug. Crane squeezed the trigger of the Walther and a bullet smashed into Finn’s elbow. Ignoring his cries of pain, Crane said calmly, ‘The next one goes in between your eyes!’

  Cordite, from the spent bullet of the Walther, mingled with the smoke from a singeing rug and made a strange cocktail that spread across the room. Crane hooked his free hand around the small wheelie case that he had recovered from his room and waved the handgun to usher the pair outside. Together they made their way towards Finn’s car. ‘Keys,’ Crane demanded, ‘put ’em on the boot lid.’

  Crane took the keys that Finn had placed on the car and without taking his eyes off the pair, felt inside the glovebox of Mickey Finn’s Audi coupe. His left hand came out with a Colt semi-automatic. The weapon was somewhat weighty and he recognised it as a forty-five calibre with a full magazine. From there he marched the pair to the jetty – lit up by a large moon in a cloudless sky. ‘Get in that boat!’ Crane said harshly.

  ‘My arm… ’ Finn began, but before he could finish Crane said, ‘Get in right now or you’ll have both arms to complain about.’

  Finn and Kathleen sat in the front of the craft, behind the steering wheel and Crane said, ‘It won’t steer. I’ve fixed your course for the middle of the lake and there should be just enough fuel in the tank for the ride. If you’re lucky, maybe you can make the island and join your friends.’

  Crane untied the boat, but before sending them off he added, ‘Oh, there’s just one more thing, you need the holes.’

  With that he pulled back the slide on Finn’s Colt and emptied the magazine into the bottom of the fibreglass hull. As the noise of gunfire abated another sound took its place; that of water pouring into the craft.

  Tossing the rope to one side he called out, ‘Off you go then, before I empty the other gun.’

  Finn looked at the gun. He had no choice. He started the boat and it roared off. The throttle was jammed wide open and the wires controlling the rudder were bound up.

  Crane stood momentarily until an orange glow made him turn. It was the hotel and it was on fire. With some haste, he strode to the hire car, placed the wheelie case in the boot and with a reassuring smile at Daniella drove off towards Dublin Airport.

  Within an hour and a quarter, Crane was returning the hire car. One of the hire companies staff drove them to the nearby Airport Hotel, where Crane booked their return flight. The following morning, feeling refreshed, they boarded the nine am flight to Southend. A complimentary Irish Times was thrust in their hands and, as they flipped through the pages, they came across a colour photo of Hotel Lana completely engulfed in flames. It was reported that the hotel was believed to be unoccupied at the time and the Garda were trying to trace the owner.

  Crane and Daniella arrived back at Canford just after 10.30 am. Crane felt, once again, that he had underestimated Bradley. He had fouled up big time, in such a way that it could have cost them their lives and so he once more delved into Ryan’s mobile phone searching for further clues as to where he may find Bradley.

  *

  Believing that Crane was now out of the way, after witnessing him being dispatched in an old, leaking rowing boat in the pitch-black dark of night, Bradley felt on cloud nine. So much so, that he had no worries about returning to his favourite hotel in Southend. However, two days after his return, one of his mobiles chirped. He stared momentarily at the tiny screen; he did not recognise the number, but he was familiar with the code; the call was from Ireland. He pressed the receive button and cautiously mumbled, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Is that you, Bradley?’

  ‘Kathleen, so nice to hear from you my dear.’

  There was a slight pause, ‘You won’t think so in a fecking minute.’

  Bradley thought she sounded distressed, ‘Why what’s up that can’t be fixed?’

  For the first time in her life, she became irritated by her English cousin’s laid-back attitude, ‘Where shall I fecking start?’

  Bradley tried to sound calming and replied, ‘Tell your favourite cousin, Bradley, all about it.’

  ‘That fucker Crane.’

  Bradley suddenly felt edgy, ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

  ‘In your fecking dreams. Him and that woman, they got away to an island. Finn’s two mates found them there but Finn’s mates were busted up and left on the island while that Crane got away on their boat. Then he comes to my hotel, he puts me and poor Mickey in a boat and shoots fecking holes in it and my hotel has been razed to the ground – burnt to a frazzle – finished.’ She stopped to catch her breath.

  Bradley was silent for a moment trying to take in what he had just heard.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Kathleen screeched.

  ‘Yeah, I can’t believe it. I did say a bullet would have been better to get rid of him, didn’t I?’

  She ignored his remark saying, ‘Well you’d better fecking believe it; I had to swim for me life, it’s a good job that I’m a fine swimmer, but poor Mickey, he didn’t make it.’

  ‘Mickey Finn is dead?’

  ‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’

  Bradley had heard enough. He disconnected the call and turned the mobile off. His ebullient mood sank to a new low and he immediately turned his thoughts towards leaving the area. He knew that Crane would not give up, but then his ego allowed him to believe that nobody can outsmart or get the better of Bradley Kemp. The thought of, “How did Crane know about his Irish retreat,” whirled around his brain. No one knew about it, not even Ryan. He laid the puzzle to one side and resolved that the next time he encountered Crane, it would be Crane’s demise for sure.

  *

  Jack Crane was tempted to find out whether Ryan had survived Bradley’s vicious knife attack and if so, and if it was possible, he would question him in hospital for any information as to where Bradley might be heading. A quick phone call to Southend Hospital confirmed that Ryan was lucky; he had survived.

  The nurse in charge of intensive care allowed Crane to visit Ryan. It was on the understanding that he was related, a deception that Crane used reluctantly. The nurse advised him not to stay too long. Crane poked his head around the door; Ryan was propped up in a semi-upright position, tubed and wired up. Doleful expressionless eyes stared up at Crane when he entered the small room.

  ‘Can’t get over Bradley knifing me,’ he said unhappily.

  ‘I’ve been through your mobile; I just missed Bradley in Ireland,’ Crane said, but he did not elaborate on what had happened. ‘Have you any other ideas where he may go?’

  ‘Your car,’ he said with some effort; ‘your Mustang, it’s tucked away in France somewhere not too far from Boulogne; Avenue de Parvenu in a place called Bellebrune, don’t know where exactly, but it’s just off the N42. I think he’s going to keep your car for himself for a while. I also overheard him talking to a movie company about using the Mustang on one of their sets. They were offering to pay good money.’

  Crane looked puzzled, ‘Any idea which one?’

  ‘No, but I do know it’s in Spain, somewhere in Almeria. That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry I ever got mixed up with him you know. You’re alright, Crane; I never thought I’d ever be thanking you, but if it weren’t for you I’d be dead for sure. I hope you get your car back and when you do, sort him out good and proper.’

  Crane left the hospital and, arriving back at the cottage, looked up the area of Spain on the computer. With a little more researching, he found that there were two movie studios near Tabernas in Almeria; both used for making west
ern movies, although nowadays one was strictly a ‘mock up’ for tourists and the other combined tourism with movie-making. He considered that a trip to Spain would perhaps be something of a ‘last resort’ and returned to scanning Ryan’s mobile once more. He realised that he had no idea how much information the phone held, although there were phone numbers and text messages that had never been deleted.

  Daniella sidled up with mugs of steaming coffee as Crane stared at the screen, ‘Any luck?’ she enquired.

  ‘Not yet,’ he replied. ‘I reckon Bradley knows by now that we are still in one piece. If he came back to Southend, then maybe he would move on fairly soon. In any event, for now, I assume my car is still in France.’

  Daniella nodded, ‘I shudder at the thought of that man still on the loose.’

  Crane picked up his coffee and talking through the mug he said, ‘Fancy a trip to France?’

  She looked at him and remarked, ‘Never a dull moment, eh! I have said it before – where you go, I go!’

  Crane stood up, put his mug down and curled his arm around her waist, ‘It could be… ’

  She pressed a finger against his lips and finished his sentence, ‘Dangerous? When is it not dangerous around you? I shall never forget how we first met, in that damn sea fort and I shan’t forget Ireland in a hurry. So, when do we leave?’

  Crane put his other arm around her waist and gave her a prolonged kiss, and when they came up for air he said, ‘I think we should leave right now before I get other ideas!’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  On the spur of the moment, Bradley decided to leave for France a few days earlier than he had planned; he was feeling paranoid. The same things had been continuously playing on his mind. He was confused as to how Crane seemed to be able to predict his whereabouts. This had happened on more than one occasion, but it was Ireland especially that puzzled his brain because not even Ryan knew about his cousin’s hotel in Ireland. His body jerked involuntarily and his thoughts were suddenly interrupted, by the abrupt, raucous sound of his mobile. He picked up the phone, thinking it may be his cousin, but then stared briefly at the unknown number, before answering the call.

  *

  Within minutes of receiving the phone call, Bradley felt more positive, he perked up a little, packed his suitcase and on leaving his room, he paused at the top of the stairs, briefly scanning the wide entrance hall. He settled his account at the reception desk and headed for the front door. He stood outside for a moment, in the dark. His eyes soon became accustomed to the change of light and he looked in both directions, seeking shadows lurking in the streetlights that might belong to his adversary. Then he took a deep breath and sidled hurriedly out of the hotel. As he walked quickly towards the rear car park, his head darted from side to side; he stared cautiously around, like a nervous wild animal. When he reached the sanctuary of his newly-acquired BMW, he quickly leapt inside and his hand shot towards the central door-locking mechanism. Powering up the engine, he slammed the car into gear and left the hotel parking area, like a bat out of hell, aiming for the Southend Arterial Road and the Dartford Crossing.

  *

  Crane fuelled up his Rover, then he and Daniella headed for the Channel Tunnel. It was a late night crossing and, by the time they arrived, they were among the last to drive on board the end carriage of the train. As fate would have it, Bradley had boarded earlier and he was situated near the front carriage. It was one o’clock in the morning, when the train completed its journey to Calais and, after disembarking, Crane and Daniella drove to Boulogne. They found an automated hotel to bed down in for the remainder of the night.

  Meanwhile Bradley had driven to a left-luggage depot in Calais and retrieved a large holdall that he had deposited there, the last time he returned to the UK. It contained an Uzi machine gun and a Glock semi-automatic handgun with some spare clips of ammunition. He now felt comfortable about the situation and he would retrieve the Mustang around mid-morning.

  *

  Crane woke up early and nudged Daniella, ‘Time to get up,’ he said quietly. She looked at him sleepily, turned to her side and slid reluctantly out of the bed. Within ten minutes they were dressed and on their way out, stopping briefly in the lobby, where they grabbed coffee and croissants from the hotel’s vending machines, before heading for the parking area.

  It was eight am and the chill morning air struck the pair full in the face, causing them to exhale small clouds of misty breath as they approached the Rover. As soon as they were inside, Crane warmed up the engine and in between mouthfuls of hot coffee he set the satnav for the area of Bellebrune.

  Within thirty minutes he had found the place where his Mustang was being kept. It was quite visible and plain for all to see from the main road, tucked in an open-ended hay barn on the outskirts of town. Crane approached the barn, looking about him as he went. He paced up to the car, and quickly appraised its condition and was satisfied that it was intact both inside and out. Producing his spare keys, he unlocked the door and started its engine which fired up straight away. He also noted that it had a full tank of fuel.

  Crane approached the nearby farmhouse, with some caution, and rattled on the front door. There was no reply. In the distance, he spotted a farm tractor with clouds of birds hovering above and around it. The farm worker on the machine seemed intent on ploughing the field and paid him no heed, so he walked back to the barn got in the Mustang and drove it to the road where he pulled up in front of the Rover. Daniella looked at him through the windscreen and, with a smile on her face, gave him the thumbs up. She slid into the driving seat of the Rover and together they headed back towards Boulogne.

  Crane led Daniella to the hospital where Girard was staying and after parking both cars, they entered the building and were taken to a private ward on the second floor. The nurse swung the door open and held it back to let them pass through, gesticulating with an open hand and commenting knowingly in French, ‘He’s quite a celebrity.’

  Girard was fully dressed sitting at a table laid with coffee and a large plate of croissants. Penny was seated opposite. As Crane and Daniella entered the room, Girard and Penny looked up and they both sprang to their feet, ‘Mon ami! Jack, it is good to see you,’ and looking at Daniella said, ‘and especially you Mademoiselle.’

  Crane laughed and introduced Daniella. They shook hands and, with his infectious grin, Girard said, ‘Jack has told me about you but he did not dare to say how beautiful you are; he is very fortunate.’

  Daniella could not hide her amused embarrassment; she guessed Girard’s archetypical comments would take a little getting used to as she blushingly glanced at Crane.

  Girard continued, ‘I too am fortunate; Penny and I are to be married when I leave here. I cannot believe it’s been ten days; I came in a wanted man and now they are calling me a hero – me – a hero, can you imagine? And you, my friend, are the “Mystery Englishman”, that’s what the newspapers are calling you. Penny and I, we kept your name away from the prying pens of the press, just like you asked.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ Crane replied.

  ‘Tell me, did you manage to catch up with that Bradley man?’

  ‘Not yet, although we’ve had some near misses.’

  Girard’s eyes widened, ‘We?’

  Crane told him what had happened since his return to England. Girard listened intently and remarked when Crane finished, ‘And I was beginning to think everything was settled but this Bradley is a very dangerous man… ’ Girard suddenly stopped talking as he stared out of the window into the car park. ‘Look!’ he said anxiously, ‘there’s a man out there and he’s getting into your Mustang!’

  Crane spun round and looked out of the window, his eyes narrowed and he snarled, ‘Bradley!’

  *

  Bradley had been caught in a line of traffic on the outskirts of Boulogne and was about to turn into the N42 road to Bellebrune when he had spotted the Mustang by chance. To the chagrin of other road users, he managed a slick u-turn and, kee
ping a safe distance, he had followed the Mustang unobserved to the hospital. The notion of a, “A slight change of plan,” ran through his brain. Noting where the Mustang was parked, he drove a short distance to the central car park where he left the BMW and then took a cab back to the hospital.

  His paranoia began to fade when he figured out that the only possible explanation for Crane’s arrival on the scene must have been down to Ryan, “It’s just as well I did for him,” he thought.

  Bradley unlocked the Mustang, using the spare keys he kept in his jacket pocket, and drove the car to where he had parked the BMW and pulled up alongside it and then transferred his luggage into its boot. He placed the holdall, containing the weapons, on the floor in front of the passenger seat of the Mustang. Within seconds, he had started up the car and was chasing across the other side of the city.

  *

  Crane and Girard stared out of the second floor hospital window as the Mustang veered out of the parking area, through the gates and out of sight. ‘I’m afraid your visit has cost you your car once more,’ Girard remarked.

  Crane shrugged and grinned laconically, ‘I’ll catch up with him. I have the new French licence plate number and hopefully it can be traced by that.’

  Girard flexed his appendage and said, ‘My left arm, it is still a little weak, I was lucky; the bullet lodged in an artery and it slowed down the bleeding, strong muscle I guess, eh?’ And with a huge grin he added graciously ‘but look at me; now I am fine and I am at your service.’

  Crane raised a hand and said, ‘Thank you, but no, you’ve done enough to help me,’ and glancing at Penny continued, ‘besides there’s no way I would want to hold up your wedding plans. I’ll take it from here.’

  As Crane was about to leave, Girard rested a hand on Crane’s arm and with a solemn look said, ‘Did you know that Mullah is out on bail?’