Fear the Past Page 25

  Hitting the table with a thud saw him immediately off balance. His inability to look beneath him and therefore to properly assess the drop made his landing awkward. In trying to counter balance, Caslin overcompensated and fell backwards off the table. Despite managing to get his feet out from under him and break his fall, he still staggered into the opposing wall. Holding his breath, he waited for the shout to go up signifying his discovery but it didn’t come. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he crept to the doorway and peered into the next room through the gap between door and frame.

  Three figures were in view although one, a woman, stood with her back to him. She was a brunette and her hair was cut short. She was dressed in hiking gear. Of the other two, Caslin recognised both Mark Bridger, who was similarly attired to the woman, and the man who was currently speaking, David MacEwan.

  “You told me he would be here,” MacEwan said accusingly. Despite being unable to see the entire room and anyone who might be out of view, Caslin guessed he was addressing the woman. A theory confirmed by her response.

  “And he will be,” she replied. MacEwan swore under his breath. “You just have to be patient. With this wind, the swell will be up…”

  “We should have been out of here before sunrise,” MacEwan snapped. Turning to someone out of view, he said pointedly, “It was your bloody plan. The longer we stay here the greater the chance of them finding us.”

  “They didn’t see us leaving the farm this morning and they haven’t tied this place to you in twenty years, so there’s no reason they should now,” a calm voice argued but Caslin couldn’t see who it belonged to. He tried to improve his angle of vision but to no avail.

  “He’ll be here,” the woman repeated.

  “Well, he better be here soon,” MacEwan said, looking to Mark Bridger beside him. Caslin was quite taken by how rattled he appeared to be. For all his perceived connections and criminal participation over the years, MacEwan struck him as a nervous individual quite far removed from the imposing figure of his imagination. The sound of the main entrance door opening and a burst of noise from the outside came along with it as another person entered. Caslin shifted position again and eyed the newcomer. He was athletically built and walked with the poise of a military man. Caslin assumed he was another of MacEwan’s men.

  “Is he here, Brad?” MacEwan asked the new arrival.

  “He’s here,” the man confirmed. “He’s dropped anchor and is bringing the boat in now.”

  “It’s about bloody time,” MacEwan complained bitterly.

  “You see,” Ollie Bridger said, striding into view from Caslin’s right. “Nothing to worry about.” He walked towards MacEwan and tapped Brad on the side of his arm in an overly friendly gesture. “Let’s get things down there.”

  “Wait,” MacEwan said. Ollie turned to face him with an inquiring look on his face. “It’s too late. People might see. We should call it off today.”

  “No way,” Ollie replied, shaking his head and coming back to stand before MacEwan. “We’re too far advanced for that. I know I said they won’t find us but tomorrow’s another day.”

  “No. It’s too risky now. We should have been gone under cover of darkness.”

  Ollie looked to his brother who met his eye. The two exchanged something unsaid between them. The significance of which only brothers as close as they were would comprehend. “Do you think?” Ollie asked.

  Mark shrugged, “It was going to be later… but now is as good a time as any.”

  “Fair enough,” Ollie said, drawing a concealed pistol from the rear of his waistband.

  “What are you doing?” MacEwan barked. In one fluid motion, Ollie brought the gun to bear and shot MacEwan twice in quick succession, once in the upper thigh of each leg.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The gangster screamed and collapsed as his legs gave out beneath him. Caslin jumped back in shock, overbalancing and stumbled, falling backwards. Reaching out and grasping a shelf he attempted to break his fall but it failed to support his weight, breaking away from the brackets holding it in place. Caslin hit the ground hard with the contents of the shelf coming down on top of him. A further two shots sounded coming almost on top of one another. Then silence descended for a few seconds before a final, solitary shot echoed around the building.

  Caslin was momentarily frozen in place. Had the shots and the screams masked the sound of his fall? Listening carefully, the sound of MacEwan groaning carried through from the adjoining room.

  “I can’t believe the bastard shot me!” he heard Mark Bridger say. He sounded surprisingly calm. Tentatively, Caslin detached himself from the miscellaneous items in and around him, careful not to make any further noise.

  “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that, Ollie,” the woman’s voice said.

  “Plans change, Babe,” Ollie replied and footsteps could be heard echoing on the concrete floor.

  Managing to get to his feet without drawing attention to himself, Caslin shook his head. He had no idea what his next move should be. Listening in, the woman was talking about the swell. With a boat anchored off the coast they were planning to move their haul out of the country by sea after all. Caslin looked at his watch carrying out a mental calculation in his head. Returning to his vantage point, he peered through the crack once more. Something crossed his sightline completely obscuring his view. He flinched taking a step backwards vainly hoping not to be seen. It was already too late. The door opened fully and there she stood with a gun trained on him. Her hair was far shorter and by the look of it recently dyed but she was unmistakable. Louise Bennett looked him up and down, smiling.

  “Inspector Caslin,” she said. “Very nice of you to join us.”

  She gestured for him to come towards her with the barrel of the gun, walking backwards as she did so. Caslin raised his hands slightly, palms up in a gesture of subservience. Stepping through into the room beyond, Caslin got his first look at what just happened. MacEwan lay where he had fallen with blood pooling around his legs. He was breathing heavily, ashen-faced and most likely experiencing the onset of shock. To their left the man MacEwan identified as Brad lay prostrate on the ground with what appeared to be a gunshot wound to the chest and another to the head. The latter was dead centre in his forehead, execution style. A semi-automatic pistol lay to his right as if he’d lost his grip on it as he went down.

  Mark Bridger was sitting on the ground nearby cradling a pistol in his lap. Ollie had placed his own weapon on the floor next to them and was tending to his brother. Neither man paid Caslin much attention. Ollie levered his brother’s arm from the sleeve of his jacket rather unceremoniously which brought a howl of derision as a fresh wave of pain struck.

  “Bloody hell, man,” Mark chastised him.

  “Behave,” Ollie replied, taking out a knife from his pocket and widening the opening in the sleeve of Mark’s undershirt in order to inspect the wound. Checking both sides of the arm, Ollie gently patted his sibling’s cheek. “It went clean through, little brother. You’re going to be fine.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Mark replied. “You’re not sitting here with a hole in your arm.”

  Ollie took the knife and cut the remainder of the sleeve off. Using it as a makeshift dressing, he tied it around the wound, tightening it which brought forward yet another complaint. Glancing to Louise, he flicked his eyes towards a window overlooking the approach road.

  “Take a look,” Ollie instructed her before retrieving his gun, standing and coming over to Caslin. Louise backed up a couple of steps ensuring she kept her weapon fixed on Caslin and quickly looked around outside. Ollie Bridger used both of his hands to frisk Caslin, presumably hunting for either a weapon or technology to indicate he was in communication with the outside world. He took Caslin’s mobile as well as his radio.

  “It looks clear out there,” Louise said, coming back.

  “I fear I may have underestimated you,” Ollie told him.

  “People often d
o,” Caslin replied.

  “I didn’t think you’d piece it together this quickly. Although,” Ollie said, glancing around, “this probably wasn’t your most intelligent move.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  There was a flash of light in Ollie’s hand as the screen lit up to display an incoming call. Ollie’s eyes lowered to the mobile phone in his hand. Caslin flicked his eyes to Louise as she shifted position slightly. Any doubts he may have had around her ability with firearms were dismissed as Caslin realised she was ensuring Ollie was out of her firing line if he should make a move. He had no intention of doing so.

  “I’m very sorry, Inspector but you’re going to miss Hunter’s call,” Ollie declared, dropping the mobile onto the floor. The screen smashed and then he stamped on it with the heel of his boot. Caslin winced as he heard the crunch and saw the screen go blank.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Louise said, indicating MacEwan with a tilt of the head. Ollie glanced at the gangster lying on the floor and then back to Caslin. With a slight shake of the head, he left his side and crossed to MacEwan. He beckoned his brother to come over and Mark laboured to his feet. The two brothers stood over the stricken man.

  “You thought you were so clever, didn’t you?” Mark said accusingly.

  “You want it all. Is that it?” MacEwan accused them both.

  “This wasn’t about money,” Mark replied.

  “Thought you could grass on our father and get away with it,” Ollie said. “You’ve been around enough. You know what happens to the likes of you.” The brothers brought up their guns and aimed them at MacEwan. Ollie cracked a smile whereas Mark remained stone-faced.

  “Fuck you!” MacEwan hissed just before both brothers squeezed their triggers. Two shots sounded throughout the room as MacEwan’s head fell backwards striking the floor. Ollie raised a hand and placed it on his brother’s shoulder applying an affectionate squeeze.

  “It’s done,” he said softly.

  Mark met his brother’s eye and nodded before looking at Caslin. “And him?”

  “Yes, what are we going to do with Caslin Junior? You’ve got some balls coming in here by yourself,” Ollie said.

  Caslin shrugged. “I could say similar to you.”

  “How so?”

  “You and your brother going up against Fuller, Dade…” Caslin said, glancing at MacEwan’s dead body, “and him.”

  Ollie laughed. “Oh… that’s one way of looking at it, yes.”

  “And now you’re going up against the police as well. There’s no end to the list of enemies that you’re willing to rack up in pursuit of what… revenge, money?”

  “It was never about the money,” Mark Bridger snapped.

  “You could have fooled me,” Caslin argued.

  “This was about justice,” Mark explained.

  Now it was Caslin who laughed. “Justice. Is that what Jody Wyer’s death was all about? I’ve seen the result of your kind of justice. What a load of bullshit. People like you are all the same… take whatever you want regardless of who gets hurt and dress it up with some twisted code of honour.”

  “Our father did what he was supposed to do. He played by all the rules… loyalty… trust… and we had no better example,” Ollie argued. “Look what happened to him - turned over by the very people who were supposed to be his friends.”

  “That’s naïve,” Caslin countered. “There are no friends in this business. I’m amazed you haven’t learned that by now.”

  “You’re right, Caslin. When it comes down to it, the only people you can count on is your family,” Ollie said. “And we set our own rules, same as you.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that? The rest of us follow the law,” Caslin stated.

  “Is that so?” Mark countered. “Can the same be said of your father? Where was his moral compass and your precious law when he was lining his pockets?”

  “My father will have to answer for what he’s done.”

  Ollie laughed. “And you will see to that, will you? You’ll take down your old man? We both know you’ll do everything you can to keep him out of prison because you’re not so different to us. You put your family first and morality comes second. A distant second at that. We’re not altogether different, you and me Mr Caslin. I’d argue we’re the same.”

  Caslin looked at MacEwan’s dead body. “Where is it going to end?” he asked. “You planted the bomb in the minicab office. You were family. They trusted you. Then you lured Clinton Dade out into the middle of nowhere and killed him. For what? To start a war between his people and Pete Fuller’s. Where does Dade fit into your righteous indignation?”

  “An unfortunate casualty but please don’t try to convince me that you’ll shed any tears over the loss of Clinton Dade. He was no better than Fuller or his two sociopathic children.”

  “Pete Fuller’s figured this out. You know he’s going to come for you?”

  “He knows as much as we’ve allowed him to. If he manages to come for us,” Ollie said, with no apparent concern for that eventuality, “we will be waiting.”

  “Fuller didn’t grass on your father,” Caslin said.

  “But he failed to protect him,” Ollie said. Caslin looked to Mark and then back to Ollie. “Our father was one of the last to be rounded up, you know that. When he went inside, Fuller was still trying to figure out where the heat had come from. He and Dad went back so far. He was married to his sister and kept his business afloat after good old Uncle Pete was sent down. And what thanks did he get? Pete shunned him. He may not have pointed the finger directly but by doing that word got around and people talked. Events took their own course as they were always likely to.”

  “He threw our father to the wolves,” Mark said, venom in his tone. “Pete Fuller deserves everything coming to him and one day soon he’ll be out. Then, he’ll be ours.”

  “This is never going to end,” Caslin argued. “The bitterness. The hatred. It will keep growing. You’ll have to take out Ashton and Carl, too, otherwise they’ll come after you. Ultimately, this will consume you until at some point in the future someone will put you down. This is the reality. These are the people you have taken on with your vigilante crusade. You’ve done well so far but you cannot expect to get away with it forever.”

  “Funny,” Mark said, “we’re pretty good at it.”

  Caslin thought about their apparent confidence. They didn’t strike him as fly-by-night. These two had proved quite adept at orchestrating their Machiavellian revenge mission perhaps with even more depth than he realised. If they were feeding information to Fuller, then they were arguably controlling his response in some way.

  “Fuller didn’t get to Bradley, did he?” Caslin asked. Mark looked to his brother and Ollie smiled.

  “No. We took care of Bradley. It was too good an opportunity to miss. We might not have got a better chance. He doesn’t come back to this country very often and once we realised, he was negotiating with MacEwan to be paid up then we knew he was going to disappear again. Just like he did two years ago. He had everybody fooled, even us. Not MacEwan, obviously but that was one fact he kept to himself.”

  “What about the police?” Caslin asked. “What about my father?”

  “That wasn’t us,” Ollie stated. “That was all Fuller.”

  “Someone must have tipped him off. If not you, then who?”

  “I’m not going to tell you where he got his information from,” Ollie added, with a smile. There was a smug satisfaction conveyed in that expression. He was toying with him. Caslin knew it.

  “You are a crafty little bastard,” Caslin accused.

  “Taken as a compliment,” Ollie said, the smile broadening into a grin.

  Caslin glanced to his left in the direction of Louise. “And where do you fit into all of this?” he asked. “Did you have any feelings for Jody Wyer or were you just manipulating him for the benefit of these two clowns?” For the first time there was a chink in Ollie’
s demeanour. Perhaps he had hit something of a nerve there.

  “Jody was a means to an end,” Louise argued.

  “When he outlived his usefulness, these monkeys killed him. Is that about right?”

  “You think Jody was on some personal crusade of his own?” Mark asked Caslin, the former breaking out into a fit of genuine laughter. “He was looking for his father’s share… his crooked father’s share… so that he could get out of a job where he was sitting up all night watching married men banging their mistresses on the side. Wyer was no better than the rest of us.”

  “He wasn’t a killer though, was he?” Caslin argued.

  Ollie shrugged. “He thought he could slip in and take a share of the money and then disappear. He fancied himself as a big-time player but he couldn’t even get the better of his business partner.”

  “Mason dropped Jody right into your hands.”

  “Mason was useful for MacEwan. Gambling debts make for decent leverage. But, at the same time, he was prone to running his mouth which is most likely what put Wyer onto us in the first place.”

  “Wyer didn’t know he’d let a fox into the hen house,” Caslin said, flicking his eyes towards Louise.

  “I watched my father lose everything because of what Phil Bradley did. His own blood,” she argued. “The police, the insurance company investigation and all the accompanying stress from the debt. Not to mention the guilt. My mother got sick and I watched as the doctors tried to save her but couldn’t. Then I watched her give up. Watched her die and my father crumble in front of me. The man he once was destroyed… Fifty years of graft to end up where he is now. A bucket load of debt and a…” her voice cracked momentarily, “and a dead wife. All of that while living with the suspicion of having killed his cousin for an insurance scam.”