Action: Pulse Pounding Tales Volume 2

JARDINE RIDES AGAIN By Ian McAdam

The night was just right for what I had to do. Only the slightest hint of a moon. It was cloudy with a wisp of a breeze.

It was the first time I'd been down to London in the four years since my marriage had broken up. The phone call, when it came, set the wheels in motion. It was from my ex-wife Julia to say that our son Nick had been missing for over 24 hours, she said she had repeatedly rang him but got no answer. I knew that wasn't like him so I rang his mobile and I was surprised that a voice I recognised answered.

'Hello Jimmy'

'What do you want? Where's my boy?

'Easy Jimmy, he's ok. For the moment anyway. I believe you have something that belongs to me.'

I didn't, but unfortunately he thought I had.

'I was never involved, I've told you that. Just let the kid go'.

'Look Jimmy, I don't believe you. Get me what you owe me or the boy goes back to his mother in little pieces. You've got until the end of the week to get it sorted'.

The phone went dead!

Damn, I knew I had to do something and do it quickly. There was no way I could plead my innocence with him, I knew him of old. I thought of my son with those maniacs, he was ten stone wet through and took after his mother – he wasn't a fighter and it would have been so easy for them to grab and intimidate him.

I had previously had many a run in with the caller, Cartwright was his name but what he wanted I never had. His name was Charlie Cartwright but I wouldn't show him that much respect. To me he was a cancer and he needed to be eradicated. He had always managed to keep on the right side of the other London gangs by not muscling into their territory. He would dip his fingers into many pies, drugs, prostitution and even kiddy porn. That's what really got to me. There was no way I would've got involved with any of his dealings, so I must have been set up but it was too late to worry by who. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

If I got this wrong then it wasn't just me who would die. They would get rid of my body and dump the rest of my kid somewhere to be found as a lesson to others. The worse thing was I hadn't crossed him and that meant I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to either of us.

After a lot of phone calls I finally found out where my son was being held. It seemed I still had mates left down here and the fat man had enemies he didn't know he had!

The drive didn't seem as long as I thought and it was just after midnight when I parked the car in a cul-de-sac of a housing estate in Romford next to some industrial units.

I had done a recce earlier in the day and I quickly found the hole in the fence that separated the warehouses from the residents. Some of the estate kids must have made it, you know how youngsters are. I slipped through easily. I had dressed to be almost invisible, clad all in black with only the whites of my eyes showing.

I made my way through the disused warehouses until I found the one I wanted.

I peered round the end of a unit and could see two goons silhouetted by the amber night light, standing outside the door to the warehouse. I could hear them talking very faintly on the wind and it sounded like they were speaking Russian. I had picked up several languages working my way round Eastern Europe for whoever wanted me, as long as they paid me.

I took out my gun, a black Steyr GB. I'd had the gun a long time, a nine millimeter that held eighteen rounds but weighed less than two and a half pounds unloaded. I could take it apart and put it back together in less than fourteen seconds. I had cleaned it, oiled it and it was ready to go. I screwed on the silencer and squatting down I found what I was looking for. A piece of broken concrete that I skimmed along the road in front of them. Amateurs, I thought as they followed the sound to where it was headed, not the direction it came from.

The first bullet from my suppressed gun caught the nearest guard in the back of his skull. His companion looked down when he heard the body drop to the floor and when he looked back up I put a bullet through his eye socket, killing him instantly.

Stepping over the bodies and gently opening the small door into the warehouse, I let my eyes get used to the dim light inside. There were large unmarked cardboard boxes piled all over the place and I wondered what they contained.

I looked around and saw wooden stairs leading to a landing where it looked like there were offices. I moved up them silently, listening for any movement around me.

A light shone brightly in a room at the end of the corridor. As I quietly moved towards it I could hear the low hum of more than one voice inside.

Tentatively looking into the office I saw three men sitting on a battered sofa opposite the fat mans desk. Cartwright was behind it smoking a cigarette. They had put a lot of trust in Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum outside to be acting so carefree. My sixteen year old son was hooded and tied to a chair in the corner.

I was incensed seeing my boy like that but I knew I had to be calm and deliberate if I was to get him away alive.

Suddenly one of the men got up and walked towards the door. I melted back into the recess of the adjacent doorway and as he passed I grabbed him, pulling my left hand tightly over his mouth and instantly slashed his throat with my Blackhawk knife. The razor sharp blade penetrated his windpipe and cut through his carotid artery. It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to struggle. I held his mouth shut while pushing his head down until blood replaced the air in his lungs before silently laying him on to the floor of the landing.

Fastening my knife back into its pouch I took out my gun. This time I unscrewed the silencer as I wanted to create confusion in the room.

I burst in and put a bullet into the head of the bodyguard nearest to me. My next shot hit his companion in the throat as he jumped up whilst trying to aim his gun towards me. I finished him off with a shot to the heart. I turned just in time to see the fat man reach for his desk drawer. He was too slow as I put a bullet in his right shoulder. His office chair spun and crashed back into the wall behind him.

Fuck you Ji…

… I didn't want Cartwright to say my name so I put another bullet in his left shoulder. I aimed at his stomach. His eyes bulged as he realised what I was about to do. I could hear the stream of urine running off the leather seat and onto the wooden floor below as his bladder gave way. I wanted to fill him full of holes and to watch him die in agony. No one threatens my family!

Look, we can sort this. Please J…

I had no choice but to shoot the bastard square in the forehead. I didn't want him to talk. The bullet penetrated his brain. Cartwright's dead body slipped off the chair and onto the floor to lie in his own piss.

That'll have to do, I thought.

I went to Nick, pulled his hood up to just over his nose and ripped off the gaffer tape gagging him. 'Who are…' He tried to struggle but he never got to finish the question as I ripped open the polythene package and placed a chloroformed cloth over his mouth and nose. He was out in seconds.

I cut through the bonds holding him to the chair, his wrists and ankles were still secured by tape but I didn't have time to do anything about it. I pulled him up and over my shoulder and made my way out of the office quickly and then carefully down the stairs. Going past the boxes again I wondered what was in them but now it didn't matter and I really didn't care!

Opening the door gently I peeked outside. Luckily it was all quiet.

I made my way through the industrial estate as quickly as I could until I found the gap in the fence that separated it from the houses and dragged Nick through after me. Pulling him down the embankment to the car I opened it without taking the keys out of my pocket. The car lit up like a Christmas tree as the hazards flashed and the interior light came on.

I quickly pushed my son into the boot and closed the lid. It wouldn't be too uncomfortable, as I'd put a thick duvet in there.

I didn't want to be stopped by the police with a comatose body trussed up like a turkey on the back seat of my BMW. If I was stopped all they would find was a pub bouncer going home after his shift.

I drove carefully back to his mothers house making sure I didn't get caught by any speed cameras and even at that time of the morning there was a lot of traffic around.

When I got him back to his home I cut off the rest of the tape and carried him to the front door and propped him up against it. He would be awake soon.

I removed the hood and rang the doorbell for a few seconds before running back to the car. As I slowly pulled away I could see the hall light come on and the door opened a few seconds later.

I headed the car northwards with plenty of time to think about who set me up. I promised to find them and then there would be hell to pay!

BIO:

On sick leave from his job in banking Ian McAdam read books by Matt Hilton and Stephen Leather as well as many short story compilations. It was whilst on holiday that he thought to write short stories himself. With help from Matt Hilton, Graham Smith and Col Bury he forged out several stories that were distributed to friends and family. It is, he has come to realise, a long journey.