The Stealers Read online

  *

  Bradley’s conjecture about Mullah was correct. Within twenty-four hours, in order to save his own skin, Mullah had told the police everything he knew about Bradley. As a consequence, Bradley was a wanted man for the murder of two policemen and a woman found buried in the grounds of Mullah’s chateau. Bradley had just crossed the mountains and was well over the border and into Spain when he heard the news on one of the French radio stations.

  Bradley congratulated himself. He had the foresight to change the number plates on the BMW he was driving and on the Mustang that was being transported south. In case he was stopped at the border, he was wearing a false moustache and carrying a different corresponding passport.

  *

  Crane checked the flights to Almeria, but vacant seats were three days away and so there was no option; they would have to drive. According to the satnav, it would take about sixteen hours. He thought it would be a challenge to do it quicker, but then he would not want to give Daniella a white knuckle ride, besides, they would share the driving. Daniella looked fondly at her companion and said anxiously, ‘This Bradley man, he has killed two French policemen and seriously injured a third. Do you think it may be better to help the police find him?’

  Crane looked pensive for a moment before he replied, ‘I tried the police right from the beginning at home in England; it comes down to time and evidence.’

  There was a pause and Daniella began to worry again, ‘The wounded policeman… ’

  Crane cut in, ‘Probably didn’t know what or who hit him, besides it’s become far too personal; I’ll do it my way… and if he’s lucky, I’ll hand him over to the police.’

  *

  The movie studios were set amongst the arid hills of Almeria, a few kilometres from the small town of Tabernas. Crane and Daniella could not fail to be impressed by the grey, dry, dusty-looking terrain. In years gone by, the studios had been famed for producing hundreds of so-called “spaghetti westerns”. Crane pulled the Rover into the parking lot and approached the main entrance of the studios. They stepped from an air-conditioned car into the dry stifling-hot day, that was totally lacking any kind of humidity. Eager attendants, with cameras at the ready, rushed to greet them. For a few euros, they would be ready to dress the pair up, complete with western-style guns, in less than a minute, in order to snap an authentic looking picture. Crane threw up both hands and said, ‘Habla Inglais?’

  ‘Un poco – a leetle,’ came the smiling response with shrugging shoulders.

  Crane enquired about movie making. With shrugged shoulders and smiles, the attendants, who resembled Mexican bandits, said they were sorry and told them that movies were no longer made there; the studio location was for tourists only. As they were about to leave, one of the bandits called out grinning, ‘Maybe the other one – leave here – go right – maybe three kilometres further on.’

  Back on the road, Crane spotted a small insignificant signpost pointing in the direction of a grey, dust-laden desert trail. Leaving the main road they found themselves on a track, which was more fit for a wagon and horses. The twists and turns of the track where it skirted around dry riverbeds, made the area look as though water was a far distant memory. Crane glanced in the rear-view mirror at the dense cloud of shimmering dust spiralling skywards in the Rover’s wake and began to wonder if there had been some mistake: a wrong turn, a wild goose chase, a sign misplaced perhaps. There was no sign of civilisation.

  After several kilometres of anxious uncertainty, they suddenly came across a mock stockade with high wooden surrounds, the kind Indians attack in Hollywood movies, but this was not Hollywood, it was sited in the only desert in Europe. It was unbelievably desolate. Just beyond the stockade, like an oasis, lay a complete western town. Daniella giggled and childhood memories flooded back, as excitement mingled with anticipation. Crane parked the Rover amid a number of classic American cars, some of which were covered and loaded on transporters. He paid the entrance fee at the car park kiosk and walked up to an area that was covered by cine-graphic equipment. Cameras and lighting were suspended on overhead gantries and there was a, far more realistic, Wild West town that lay in front of them. The film crew consisted of mixed nationalities, but were mainly Italian and English. They were told by one of the crew, ‘Some of the places will be off limits while filming takes place.’

  They also found out, from the crew man, that it was just as Ryan had told Crane from the hospital bed; a three-day shoot of an advertisement for some Italian television company. Crane thanked the friendly crew member for the information and together with Daniella skirted around the area. Men and women were busy setting up lighting on one of the boardwalks, and Crane felt satisfied that he had found the right place. This was at last confirmed when he saw his Mustang being offloaded from one of the transporters and set down at the edge of the mock town.

  *

  Bradley felt at ease whilst driving across Spain and, upon arriving at the port in Malaga, he sold the left-hand drive BMW that he had been using to a local Spanish worker at a ‘knock down price’. This was on the proviso that the new owner would drive him to the movie set in Almeria.

  Bradley was pleased with himself. In spite of recent setbacks, everything was going to plan. It took a little over two and a half hours for the BMW’s new owner to drive him from the port to Almeria and then to the movie set near Tabernas. When the movie company had finished using the Mustang, he planned to drive it back to Malaga, where it would be containered for shipping to the USA.

  Bradley arrived at the mock-up Western town in time to see the Mustang being offloaded from the transporter, under the watchful eye of the film company’s props man. A small gathering surrounded the vehicle, extolling their approval of the vehicles appearance and condition. After brief introductions, one of the film unit’s crew led Bradley to a refreshment trailer which was set up near one of the saloons.

  In common with many people, Bradley had never been to a movie studio or a film set before, so he was invited to take himself and look around whilst preparations were being made for the company to start filming. The buildings were substantial and some of the interiors were used for inside takes. One of the rooms contained a wardrobe which was filled with prop clothes for current use.

  Another room, much larger than the previous, was set aside with a selection of nineteenth century weapons. Winchester rifles were slotted in a long line on a wall rack. Single action Colt and Remington pistols were neatly laid out on a table. These were taken out and fired whenever a Wild West show was put on for the public. The weapons were working copies of the real thing; exact replicas made in Italy by Umberto.

  Bradley could not resist picking up one of the old handguns. It was a short-barrelled weapon, the kind they use for a fast draw. It was known as a Colt Peacemaker and, as he spun the chamber, he noted that it was fully loaded with six cartridges. The handguns however, were very weighty, when compared to a much lighter modern piece like the Glock. Helping himself to a leather belt, he strapped it on, slotted a short barrelled Colt into its holster and walked over to a full length mirror. He stood for a moment, turning and admiring himself from different angles and began practising quick draw, although his attempts at this skill were somewhat clumsy. Whilst he was doing this the door opened. Bradley, feeling a little peeved at this interruption, stared hard into the mirror at the intruders who had just entered the far end of the room. They were no more than six metres away from him. Crane and Daniella stood, framed in the entrance, casting their eyes around the room until Crane noticed someone at the far end. He began with, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise… ’ his voice trailed off.

  Through the mirror, their eyes met and locked together for a split second. Both men, remained motionless, staring at each other in disbelief, astonished to be at such close quarters. Bradley quickly recovered, spun round, drew the Colt and levelled it towards Crane. Anticipating this obvious move, Crane pushed Daniella away through the open door. Bradley snarled as he thumbed back th
e hammer of the single action forty-five calibre pistol and pulled the trigger. A loud ear-splitting blast sent a flash of fiery flame spewing from its barrel.

  Crane had already seen the neat display of guns spread out on a table in the centre of the room and he dropped down, rolled over on the floor towards them and quickly snatched at a long barrelled Remington New Army model. Bradley loosed off two more shots. Crane darted behind a cupboard but as he returned the fire, the realisation dawned upon him; the handguns were loaded with blanks.

  Crane stood up and Bradley threw his head back sneering as he cocked the hammer once more and aiming at Crane’s chest, pulled the trigger, quickly repeating the action. As the smoke cleared, Crane began to move towards him. Bradley felt cheated and muttered, ‘Fucking blanks,’ and in classic Western movie style, threw the gun at Crane’s head and made for the open door. Crane dodged out of the way and ran across the room after him. Stumbling towards the exit, he bumped into a shocked Daniella. Relief spread across her face as she began, ‘I thought you were… ’

  ‘Not yet; the guns were loaded with blanks.’

  Daniella began to laugh nervously with relief as Crane said, ‘Where did he go?’

  She raised an arm pointing, ‘Down the side alley,’ and she remained by the door of the now empty room, as Crane chased along the narrow opening. Crane poked his head around the end and cast his eyes along the rear of the buildings. A cowboy gun-belt lay in the dust but Bradley was nowhere to be seen, so he guessed that, like himself, Bradley must have left his gun somewhere else. Crane remained still for a moment; listening intently for sounds that might betray Bradley’s whereabouts, but all was quiet. Then, at the far end of town, a shout resonated, ‘Action!’ And the whole area was brought to life with instant shuffling, bustling and a general cacophony of noise. Unseen, Crane and Daniella skirted the players acting out their scene and wandered back to where they had left the Rover. It was parked in a strategic position and when they got in it, they were able to eye everyone who was coming or going. They stayed there for some time, gazing at the actors, entering the saloons and lazily strolling along the boarded sidewalks on cue. There were many shouts of, ‘Action,’ and ‘Cut,’ until eventually there came a call for a lunch break. As they got out of the car, Crane pocketed the handgun which he had removed from the glove box. They walked over to a group of filmmakers. Crane sidled up to the director of the unit, whose face was buried in a huge sandwich, ‘Excuse me, do you know the whereabouts of the guy that brought the Mustang here?’

  In between gulps of coffee the director replied, ‘Sorry – never even met him. You might try the props guy, he’s around somewhere.’

  However, unlike the director, who had his name on the chair, ‘the props guy’ was difficult to locate amongst the sea of faces.

  *

  Substantial white-washed replica buildings of a Mexican-style church and village were conveniently located immediately adjacent to the Western town but this area was not being used for filming. Bradley’s view from the white church bell tower was restricted. He kept an eye on Crane and Daniella as they drifted across the parking area and out of view. He had sighted the refuge whilst scampering out of Crane’s way, during which time he had managed to collect the Glock handgun from the holdall which he had left in one of the changing room lockers. He regretted, that given the distance, it would be pointless trying to use the weapon, he knew a rifle would have been ideal.

  *

  Crane eventually found the props man at the edge of the film set but trying to explain the ownership of the Mustang was difficult, because the man was Italian. He could not speak much English and his interpreter was unavailable. However, at this point in time, the director was now calling everyone back to their positions to recommence filming and Crane and Daniella were politely required to leave the set. Crane had no wish to incur the wrath of the security personnel and so, with a view to contacting the props man later, they withdrew from the area and wandered off the set into the replica Mexican town.

  From his hiding place in the tower, Bradley watched the pair, like a hawk, as they sauntered around. He was in a quandary; he could either conceal himself or take them both by surprise. He decided to remain where he was but, as a precaution, he took out the Glock and screwed on a suppressor, ready for action.

  Crane paused for a moment and regarded his surroundings. He spoke quietly to Daniella, moving to one side as he did so, ‘Follow me.’

  They were out of sight of the bell tower and tugging the handgun from his trouser waistband, Crane said in hushed tones, ‘That church tower; it’s an ideal place to snipe from.’

  ‘Do you think he’s still here?’

  ‘I’m certain of it and there’s only one way to find out.’ Crane pulled back the slide on his semi-automatic, stepped into the middle of the road took aim and sent two nine mil bullets into the opening of the bell tower.

  Bradley was well hidden at the top of the church tower and knew that he couldn’t be seen, but the ricocheting slugs around the small space unnerved him. He concluded that Crane was only guessing and he was not going to be drawn into a gunfight until he had the clear advantage. He slid down the ladder and exited through the back door, stealthily making his way behind the buildings until he came to the edge of the dusty road that turned into a Wild West section. Hoping to come up behind Crane and the woman, he gradually inched his way out onto the side of the road, but was disappointed to find they had disappeared.

  Bradley dodged back into the shadows. He paused, standing framed in the doorway of a building. He listened intently but he found it difficult, because of the cacophony of sound that emanated from the movie makers in the adjacent street. Daniella, not daring to move, was propped against the shadowy wall inside. Her trembling hands were clasped firmly over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with fear as she watched every move of his silhouette a few metres away. A silenced gun dangled menacingly from his right hand. Bradley suddenly lifted his head and sniffed the air; his nostrils were filled with the unmistakeable scent of a woman’s perfume.

  “They must be near,” he thought, as he thrust his head out of the doorway and looked up and down the street. Empty. Bradley did not like a cat and mouse game, unless of course, he held a distinct advantage. To Daniella’s intense relief, he slipped out of the doorway and keeping in the shadows, made his way back to the props room; he guessed Crane would not visit there a second time.

  Crane decided that Bradley was no longer there – if he had been there at all – and walked back to where he had left Daniella. He was about to whisper her name when she rushed towards him, throwing extended arms around his body and said shakily, ‘I felt certain he would see me. Don’t leave me again, and I don’t even care if bullets are flying!’

  He comforted her until she calmed a little.

  Crane and Daniella made their way back to the extreme edge of the western town and looked over the parking area. It was a haphazard arrangement; about fifty vehicles in all. They seemed to be scattered all over the place and Crane could not pin anything down that might have belonged to Bradley.

  The pair eventually walked back to their Rover. Crane settled back in the driver’s seat and said, ‘I reckon we’ll have to wait until they finish filming for the day. Most of the company guys will probably drift off except for security. Those that do stay here will use the large caravans.’

  Daniella was relieved to escape the tension of the last few hours and, reaching for the thermos, poured out the remains of the coffee in two plastic cups and as she handed one to Crane said, ‘Not very warm, but I need something to settle my nerves.’

  Crane took the cup and with a smile commented, ‘I thought you had nerves of steel.’

  ‘Usually, but they are beginning to erm, wear thin. Wear thin, is that correct expression?’

  Crane nodded and looked at her for a moment, he thought she was showing signs of strain, ‘I’d feel a lot happier if you were to stay in a hotel until I finish this once and for all. Perh
aps it won’t take any more than a day to sort things out.’

  She gave a half smile, inwardly pleased at his concern and began, ‘I should only worry… ’

  ‘There’s no need to,’ Crane cut in, ‘but it would be reassuring to know you are safe.’

  *

  ‘Cut!’ The director’s voice screeched bad-temperedly through a loudhailer. The raucous sound boomed across the set, bringing an abrupt halt to the filming. Everyone froze – like a photograph – and all went quiet, their eyes transfixed on the man standing next to a high camera boom.

  The director used his loud hailer once more and pointing with his free hand shouted, ‘You! Who are you and what are you doing?’

  A sea of eyes followed the pointing finger and became focused on Bradley who was strolling nonchantly in the middle of the street. Bradley looked up and said calmly, ‘I’m taking my car back now.’

  The props man threw a glance at the director, signalled to his interpreter and together they rushed up to the strolling Bradley, ‘You can’t, we haven’t finished with it, besides we have a contract and I paid you cash for three days.’

  Bradley produced his Glock handgun and waved it at him, ‘This is an amendment to the contract; it’s now null and fucking void.’

  The props man and his interpreter said no more; they shrunk back, their faces registering shock. The director couldn’t make out what was going on, but he understood enough to call on security through the hailer. Two men moved forward, but stopped dead in their tracks, when Bradley loosed off a shot, sending a bullet in their direction, which thudded into a sign board above their heads. Bradley climbed into the Mustang and, spinning the rear wheels, exited the film set, shrouding it in a cloud of dust.

  Bradley’s unexpected move took Crane by surprise. A red streak, its rear wheels churning up clouds of grey, choking particles of dirt, which infuriated everyone in its wake as it flashed past their parked Rover. Daniella was the first to break the silence with, ‘Isn’t that… ’