Fear the Past Page 26

  “Ah… I see,” Caslin said. “So, you’ve done all of this in order to give your dad a nice retirement? I didn’t understand, I’m so sorry,” Caslin said with emphasised sarcasm. “That’s what the rest of us call life. It’s not fair and you don’t always get what you deserve but you persevere and make the best of it you can.”

  “Thanks for the advice, Inspector but I’ll go about things my way,” Louise bit back.

  “You do that,” Caslin said, “and then watch as your lover here gets tired of you. Then you’ll be the next one floating in the sea.” Caslin inclined his head in Ollie’s direction. “How devoted to a woman do you think a man can be if he’s willing to pimp her out to get his hands on some money. Albeit a lot of money, I’ll grant you, but still makes him no better than your pimp and you… well, you know what that makes you. Come to think of it that’s probably giving you too much credit. Some people sell themselves as it’s the only way they can get by. You didn’t just sell yourself for money but you cost Jody Wyer his life.”

  Ollie stepped forward and struck Caslin across the face with the butt of his pistol. Caslin staggered backwards grimacing at the sharpness of the pain from the blow. Blinking tears from his eyes, he felt blood running from his nose. Reaching up, he wiped it with the back of his hand. “That’s enough,” Ollie said, through thinly veiled aggression.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Mark asked.

  “We’re a little short of hands all of a sudden,” Ollie said, pointing to the still forms of both dead men lying on the floor but his eyes never left Caslin. “We can always use some help to get stuff down to the boat.”

  “Speaking of which,” Louise said, “we probably ought to get a move on. Dad will be waiting.”

  “So that’s the plan, is it? Daddy brought his fishing boat down the coast and you’re going to load it up and get across the channel.”

  Ollie laughed. “You’re one hell of a detective.”

  “I expected something a little more sophisticated, I have to say. We’ll be carrying it along the cliffs, will we?”

  “Something like that,” Ollie said, smiling. “You look like a man who could do with a workout.”

  Ollie gestured for Caslin to walk towards him at the point of a gun. Caslin held his hands up in supplication. Ollie shook his head.

  “Put your hands down Inspector, it looks embarrassing.” Caslin did so as Ollie stepped to one side, indicating for him to continue. Caslin walked towards the main entrance door. “That will do,” Ollie said. He stopped where he was, Ollie pointed to his right. “Open that door.”

  Caslin eyed the cabinet next to the main door. It was a standalone cabinet, nondescript with two doors. He pulled open the left-hand door and inside were a number of rucksacks stacked against each other. They looked full. Heavy. Casting an eye over them, he raised an eyebrow at Ollie.

  “If they’re full of gold, I’ve no chance of lifting it.”

  Ollie laughed. “They are full of cash, Inspector. We’ve been trading the gold a little at a time. It’s not as profitable an exchange rate but cash is a lot easier to spread around.”

  “Any particular one?”

  “Whichever takes your fancy.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Reaching for the nearest rucksack, Caslin took a hold and tested the weight. It was heavier than he’d thought. Looking at the others, he knew this couldn’t be all of it. There were only four. As if reading his mind, Mark Bridger answered the unasked question.

  “You didn’t think it would all still be here, did you?” he said, grinning. “We’ve been shipping it out bit by bit over the last few months.”

  “I thought that’s why Bradley came back from the dead,” Caslin said over his shoulder. He’d dropped to his haunches and was awkwardly attempting to fit the straps over his shoulders.

  “No. Bradley’s been receiving it at the other end on the continent,” Mark explained. “He figured he’d done his bit and wanted to be finished with it all.”

  “That’s why we had to make a move,” Ollie explained. “Couldn’t risk him doing another vanishing act which is exactly what I expect he was planning. Only this time, we would have had no idea where he was headed.”

  “Still figured you’d have more,” Caslin argued.

  “MacEwan cut a deal with whoever masterminded that job years ago. He probably didn’t get to keep as much as you thought.”

  “I see,” Caslin said, nodding and hefting the rucksack into the air and over his shoulders.

  “While you’re at it, you can help Mark to put one on.”

  Caslin looked at the younger of the Bridgers. Mark had managed to slide his coat back on but there was no way one of his arms could be used to bear the weight of the remaining rucksacks. Caslin looked down at them choosing a black one with yellow trim. He pointed to it.

  Mark nodded. “Yeah, that’s my colour.”

  With the weight of his own, Caslin struggled to pick up the rucksack. With a surge of effort, he managed to hoist it up just high enough for Mark to slip his arms through the straps and then onto his shoulders. The younger man grunted as he took the strain. It would certainly be an uncomfortable walk for him down to the shoreline. Ollie looked to Louise.

  “I’ve got him,” she confirmed, keeping an eye on Caslin. Putting his own gun back into his waistband, Ollie crossed over and picked up the next rucksack. Once he’d adjusted the straps, he assumed responsibility for Caslin again. Louise then picked up hers. The last one remaining.

  “Let’s go,” Ollie said. “Mark, you take the lead, then Louise with our friend here and I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Mark unlocked the front door. Poking his head out, he double-checked that their route was clear before leading them out into the brilliant sunshine. The sudden change in light caused Caslin to put his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. Following the first two, he walked to the gate. There was every chance that they would bump into Hunter. He prayed that they didn’t. She should have been there by now and would almost certainly have come across his car. The real question would be whether Broadfoot, Freeman and his team would make it in time. Caslin doubted it.

  Louise took hold of the gate and opened it fully, allowing the others to pass through all the while scanning the approach road for signs of trouble. If it weren’t for the bloodstains on the sleeve of Mark’s coat as well as his own bloody nose which thankfully had stopped flowing, they could have been forgiven for being out on a day’s hike. Apart from Caslin that is for he looked very much out of place, dressed in his suit but there was no one there to see them in any event.

  “To the right,” Ollie instructed, guiding Caslin towards the start of the walking path along the cliff top. He chanced a glance in the direction of the café, hoping to see a friendly face but he didn’t. His heart sank.

  The path was a well-known rambling trail that extended from Bridlington around the coast to the Flamborough Cliffs and on to North Landing. Subsequently, the going here was relatively easy with the path being well managed to accommodate the number of visitors throughout the year. After descending in single file for approximately a hundred yards the path split with the left fork marked as the continuation of the coastal trail. The right-hand fork continued downwards in a steeper descent to the water’s edge of Selwick Bay. The sea was crashing against the cliffs and on another day Caslin would have been uplifted by their beauty but from his vantage point as they walked, he could see a small boat anchored some distance off the coast. He assumed that was Scott Tarbet’s. The water here was too shallow for him to bring the boat closer. However, an inflatable rib was beached beneath them with one solitary figure sitting at the stern watching the small party descend towards him.

  The weight of the rucksacks was significant. Along with that fact the steep incline also forced them to take their time in order to reach the pebble beach safely. They were in a natural cove, hemmed in by vertical chalk cliffs on both sides. The bay was not large and was accessible by the ri
b until high tide. By then the approach would be far too treacherous. Had Scott Tarbet managed to arrive before dawn, as expected, there would have been every chance they could have been well clear before anybody knew that they had ever been there. As it was now, only the café’s owner had noted their arrival. Without Caslin’s previous visit, he would no doubt have made very little of the presence of the small group of hikers nor even seen the rib landing below.

  Crossing the beach towards the boat, Caslin saw Scott Tarbet become increasingly agitated as he realised Caslin was with them. No sooner had they come within earshot, he jumped off the rib and marched purposefully towards them.

  “What the bloody hell is he doing here?”

  “Calm down, Scott,” Ollie said, attempting to placate the older man.

  “He’s a bloody policeman.”

  “I know exactly who he is,” Ollie stated forcefully. “And I will handle it.”

  “Handle it!” Tarbet barked, red faced. “How exactly are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll do what I have to do,” Ollie replied calmly before adding, “same as always.”

  “Is that so?” Tarbet said in a condescending tone mocking the younger man.

  “Dad,” Louise cut in. “If Ollie says he’ll deal with it, then he will okay?” Tarbet seemed to accept his daughter’s word.

  Caslin laughed. “That means they plan to kill me, Scott. Are you comfortable with that? You might be many things but not a killer.”

  “You know nothing about me, Carson.”

  “Caslin,” he corrected him. “Although, you did turn a blind eye to these two killing your cousin.”

  Tarbet looked into Caslin’s eyes and then at the Bridgers in turn. He made a show of not caring but he didn’t fool anybody. The news was a shock to him. He shrugged. “Phil hung me out to dry. What kind of man does that to his own family? I guess he had it coming.”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps the same kind of man who allows his daughter to get mixed up with the likes of this scum,” Caslin said pointedly, looking directly at Ollie Bridger. If the latter was offended, he didn’t show it. He merely grinned at the insult. “Just one more innocent life taken for your ridiculous moral crusade.”

  “Ridiculous?” Mark asked.

  “Ridiculous,” Caslin repeated. “Those people who died in the bombing. Clinton Dade. The carnage that is likely to follow his assassination. All of that so little Mark and Ollie can settle a score on Daddy’s behalf… and earn themselves a fortune while they’re at it.”

  “Too right,” Mark said. Caslin looked to him. He was sweating but it was clearly more than just the result of the short hike down from the lighthouse. The bullet may well have passed clean through his arm but he was still bleeding and the last thing you really want to do with a gunshot wound was cart a heavy rucksack down a cliff face.

  “I think your little brother is going to need to see a doctor quite soon,” Caslin said, turning back to Ollie.

  “He will be just fine,” Ollie countered. “Won’t you, Mark?”

  “I’ll be grand. Don’t worry about me,” Mark said, but his tone was edged with a touch of fear belying the bravado.

  “Get in the boat,” Ollie said to Caslin.

  “He’s not coming with us,” Tarbet said, remonstrating with Ollie.

  “What? You suggest we just leave him standing here on the beach?”

  “We don’t want him with us, do we?” Tarbet argued, the pitch of his voice raising to match his anxiety level.

  “I don’t know,” Ollie said, thinking about it. “It’d be quite poetic for a son to face the sins of his father, don’t you think?”

  “Another angle for your revenge?” Caslin asked. He was acutely aware that every minute he gained on the shoreline offered his colleagues a better chance of reaching them before they put to sea, but he had no way of knowing how much extra time was required.

  “We weren’t intending to go after the bent coppers,” Ollie said. “From our point of view getting nicked is an occupational hazard even if the arresting officers are lining their own pockets at the same time. Sometimes, these types of people can prove to be quite useful.

  “Yes, you found Bradley useful,” Caslin said. Something in Ollie’s reaction indicated that wasn’t who he was referring to. If not Bradley, then who?

  His mind was racing through the key elements of the case. The Bridgers managed to carry out their revenge attack on Bradley, running his car off the road, with or without MacEwan’s knowledge. It was an act that Caslin had wrongly attributed to Pete Fuller. The attack on his father was initiated by Fuller no doubt as a result of the Bridger’s intervention. Both Keith Wyer and Greg Tower were already dead and that left only one other, Chief Superintendent Toby Ford. A man who was at the heart of the original investigation commanding DCI Bradley, Keith Wyer and his own father. A man with the power to direct the inquiry. He was also the surviving witness to Bradley’s apparent death at sea. Caslin’s father implied there may well be others further up the chain, names he claimed not to know. Ford had the potential to orchestrate everything that had come to pass. The moment of their first meeting flashed through his mind, the recognition of Caslin’s name when they were introduced. He picked up on it at the time but failed to realise the significance.

  “I see the wheels turning, Inspector Caslin,” Ollie said as he interpreted his facial expressions. “People say you need a little luck in this life. Personally though, I prefer to make my own. You’re right. Mark and I couldn’t have done all of this by ourselves. I mean, we’re good… but we’re not that good. Life becomes far easier with a benefactor, doesn’t it?”

  “Even the limit to your revenge has its price, eh?”

  “We made our peace and we cut a deal.”

  “And I’ve figured out who with. I met him for the first time recently, you know, and I’ll take great pleasure in bringing him down.”

  Ollie read Caslin’s determination. He was unnerved. “The problem for you is if you were somehow able to get yourself out of your current predicament, then the only way you can take him down is to burn your own father. Are you prepared to do that, Mr Caslin? Or are you willing to trade those principles of yours to save him?”

  “We do what we have to,” Caslin said calmly, reiterating Ollie’s own position. “But you are right about one thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “We do have our own choices to make.” Caslin reached up and unhooked the straps of his rucksack, arching his shoulders back and allowing it to slide down his arms and on to the beach.

  “Pick it up,” Ollie instructed. Caslin smiled but remained as he was. “Pick… it… up!” he repeated. Caslin glanced down at the rucksack and then at the gun Ollie was waving at him, gesturing with it towards the rucksack. Caslin proceeded to fold his arms across his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making my own luck,” Caslin argued. “There’s no way you’re getting me into that boat.”

  “Bloody hell!” Mark exclaimed, depositing his rucksack in the rib with Tarbet’s assistance. Drawing his brother’s attention, he pointed back up the path. Ollie turned and followed Mark’s indication up the cliff face. A number of figures, all clad in black, were heading down the path at speed. Caslin felt a sense of relief but he knew he was far from out of danger. Knowing they were without a sharp shooter amongst them it would be minutes before they were in a position to aid him. Ollie looked back in his direction.

  “Get his rucksack,” he barked at no one in particular having given up on forcing Caslin into the rib but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot him.

  Louise ran past her boyfriend and came alongside Caslin. “You know, you’re a massive pain in the arse,” she said aggressively.

  “You sound like my ex,” he replied. She knelt and braced herself. Taking a hold of the rucksack, she made to lift it. As she rose, Caslin grabbed her shoulder and spun her so she was between himself and Ollie Bridger. The rucksack fell to the ground. Slip
ping both arms under hers, he brought his hands up behind her head interlocking his fingers at the base of her skull and clamped them in place. Louise struggled but no matter how much she attempted to wrestle herself free, Caslin held her in a vice-like grip.

  Ollie stepped forward, raising his gun and aiming for Caslin’s head. Ensuring Louise was in between them so Ollie couldn’t get a clean shot, he leant into her making it harder still. A shout came from above. It was a warning from the armed police even though they were in no position to action an arrest. Caslin knew they were following their engagement protocols. Once a warning was given, they were legally allowed to open fire if they felt it necessary. Caslin appreciated their forethought.

  “Get the bag,” Ollie shouted. The police were closing in and Caslin recognised the growing panic in his voice. For all his cunning, the meticulous planning, everything was beginning to unravel.

  “Just leave it,” Mark shouted.

  “Get it!” Ollie barked. Mark clambered back out of the rib and ran the short distance up the beach to where Caslin held Louise. Tentatively, he ducked low in order to keep out of his brother’s line of fire. Grabbing the bag, he dragged it clear of Caslin. The exertion made him wince.

  “What about my daughter?” Tarbet shouted from the boat. He and Mark had already turned the boat into the breakwater and Tarbet was firing up the outboard engine.

  “Let her go,” Ollie said.

  “Not going to happen,” Caslin whispered, his face pressed firmly against the back of Louise’s head. Ollie looked towards his brother heaving the weighty rucksack out of the water and into the rib before clambering aboard himself. Then he spied the distance between them and the officers approaching as fast as they dared. Weapons were trained upon those below but they had to acknowledge from that range they would endanger everyone by firing. Likewise, to descend any faster could put themselves at risk. Should they receive fire, then they needed to be able to take cover. All this combined to make Caslin’s wait feel like hours rather than minutes.