CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

By the time Dan had finished his third refill of coffee he was beginning to sober and realized he had been staring out of the window in the café for almost two hours. At some point he had decided that the old adage of a criminal returning the scene of the crime may have some merit, and took up the position at the window where he and Michael had sat together the day before to keep an eye on the street outside and Laohu's Chinese Medicine Shop across the road. He had read the papers cover to cover, but still no sign of any triads, only hungry customers. He chided himself for thinking his ad hoc observations would come to anything, his lonely vigil at the window only serving to further frustrate him.

He called Jude over from where she stood talking with her friend, the morning rush of customers now behind them, and a steady build-up of trade beginning for lunch. He asked for the bill.

"Well? You lingered on this morning, Danny. Everything OK?"

"Fine thanks, Jude. I was just killing a bit of time, that's all."

He stood to leave, and as he made his way to the door he watched a large white van with CARTER INTERNATIONAL LOGISTICS displayed on the side, pull up nearby. It parked in the disabled bay and the front seat passenger climbed out and walked towards the café, shielding his head and face from a sudden gust of wind with a paper he carried. Dan felt Jude tugging at his elbow and whispering in his ear as she passed by with a coffee pot.

"Here we bloody go. No BMW today? Well I never..."

He turned his back and ducked into a cubicle, sitting down with the menu and studying it as the man strode up to the counter. He was Chinese and looked like a gangster, but Dan simply couldn't be certain if it was one of the three from the shop. Everything happened so quickly at the time that he never got a chance to study their faces, only the dragon tattoo – which this guy didn't have. The van they pulled up in was similar, if not the same as the one making the deliveries the previous day. What were the chances? It had to be them. Was Dragon Tattoo the driver?

With his heart now racing, Dan struggled to maintain his composure and decide what to do. If he confronted him here in the coffee shop, considering what happened the last time, there was likely to be another gunfight and the café was packed with civilians. But in fact, there wouldn't be a gunfight, because Dan had no gun! If he could make it out to the street then maybe Dan could summon a passing police vehicle or catch the attention of the officer on cordon duty across the road at the crime scene.

Dan got up to leave before his suspect had placed an order. He made his way outside to make a call on his mobile to the Police, and maybe steal a look at the driver to assess his chances of containing any potential situation.

As he spoke with an operator and worked his way through the rigmarole of connecting to an actual police officer, Dan exited the café and smooched towards the front of the van, keeping himself shielded from the worst of the weather underneath the canopy attached to the shop front and preventing the driver from seeing his face.

Neither of his attempts to gain assistance or information were working well. The operator on the phone failed to connect him to the police in Belfast, and instead insisted on asking him for details about his date of birth and home address. The driver was unidentifiable due to the driving wind which now swept rain down the road, blurring the windows of the van and trying its best to knock Dan from his feet.

As he worked his way back to the café for shelter, the passenger exited the door holding two take-away cups. He looked up at Dan, and Dan looked back at him; a frozen moment in time with all else phased out except each other. Recognition turned to alarm behind the man's eyes.

Momentarily caught off balance, a powerful gust of wind pushed at his back and Dan was bowled forwards into him. The man dropped what he was carrying and launched into a ferocious attack. Dan received several blows to the face and body before he regained his balance, dropped his mobile and entered the fight. It was short and sweet, if it could even be called a fight. After several clumsy attempts at strikes, none of which found their intended target, Dan was knocked on his back with a roundhouse kick which struck him square in the chest. It afforded the man time to run to the van and make his getaway long before Dan could gather himself up from the tangle of tables and chairs he had fallen amongst.

The van fired up and swerved into the oncoming traffic, performing a U-turn in the road and creating a chorus of horns and shouts of anger from the other motorists as it raced away towards the city.

Back on his feet, Dan was soon greeted by two burly policemen, who had run from the crime scene and were now doubled over gasping for breath.

"What happened here? We watched a bit of a scuffle from down the street. Is everything OK?"

Dan watched the van disappear down the length of the Lisburn Road and turn left onto Tate's Avenue.

"That was two of the guys from the shooting last night. My name is Daniel Harpur. I was there. One of them recognised me."

"What was the registration?"

"I don't know, I was getting my fuckin' ass kicked when I should have been noting it! Any Carter Logistics van will do, stop them all!"

"That's a lot of vans. Carter Logistics is one of the biggest couriers in the country. They're everywhere."

Just then, an old and haggard looking woman approached them. She was waving a walking stick and pointing it at Dan.

"I watched it all, Constable! This man attacked that poor fellow for no apparent reason! It's a disgrace in this day and age. Racism is totally unacceptable!"

Dan shook his head and turned away, hoping for a glimpse of the van in the distant streets. The policemen took out their notebooks and began recording the ladies complaint as she continued to shout and wave her stick in his direction. Others from inside the café gathered around to add their tuppence worth and Dan walked slowly away, pushed along by the driving wind and soaked by the rain, wondering how much worse things could get.

# # #

Lei Wu settled back into the deep leather armchair that he knew Gabriel Carter enjoyed so much, and watched as the man shuffled papers around his desk, trying his best to appear in control.

From what he had told Lei, the police knew little about his identity and even less about the tiger bone and other sought after products that they shipped into the country from China. It was unfortunate that the other had lived to tell a tale, but it seemed Carter had a contact on the inside who assured him the problem would go away without the need for Lei to take action. That was a pity, Lei thought, as he had so enjoyed the unexpected and violent exchange in the medicine shop. It fed a deep hunger that Lei often found lay close the surface. A hunger that yearned for pain and suffering.

Carter had a lot at stake as the main importer of their product and would not be keen to see his business, and the small fortune he had amassed from it, be taken away from him. In fairness to the man, he continued to come up with ever more inventive ways of storing and shipping their goods – no matter what the quantity. He had connections in every port and airport in Europe, and turning a blind eye to a few containers here and there never seemed to be a problem. There was very little need for Lei in Belfast at all.

In the beginning it had only been the tiger bone, which due to its relatively small size and composition, had not been difficult to smuggle amongst other similar items. But as their operation grew, Lei's boss, Meizhen Chen, along with greedy old Liu and the reluctant but resourceful African Kojo Selassie, had encouraged Carter to take on ever increasing and varied cargos. Everything from whole elephant tusks to living reptiles was now being smuggled across the globe. Selassie sourced it, Liu bred it and used his 'Wildlife Sanctuary' as a front, and then Carter transported it. Meizhen Chen, with the help of Lei, simply scaled up their operation and provided some much needed muscle.

The profits to be made from selling such products far exceeded that which could be made from narcotics or firearms, and it had been Lei himself who had stumbled across Liu and Selassie's little earner. When he had brought it to the attention of Meizhen Chen, and impressed upon her the profits to be made combined with the lack of regulations and policing upon it, she rewarded him with his new revered position as a 'Straw Sandal' or Liaison Officer. Unfortunately for Lei, she stationed him in the furthest reaches of Europe, to where Carter shipped the products from China and from there, onward to their final destinations.

It was a far cry from his beloved home and the hustle and bustle of Hangzhou City, where Lei now yearned to return; to get away from this quiet backwater town where all he had to do was babysit Carter and muscle a few careless couriers and disgruntled vendors. His boredom was beginning to show, and it was unsettling Carter.

"So, you tell me that you have removed all of the product from this warehouse. Is that not a little excessive, Gabriel, considering that you also tell me you have the situation under control and I have nothing to worry about? Our supply is going to be disrupted as a result of your actions."

Carter pushed papers around his desk. Clearly agitated, his eyes occasionally flicked up to look at Lei as he replied, never lingering too long in one place. Lei helped himself to a glass of the expensive cognac he knew Carter reserved for his most important clients as he waited. It unsettled Carter further still.

"I've already told you. Drawing attention to our business the way you did, is not how it's done here. I have exposed myself and my business dealings to others unnecessarily in a plea for help to clean up your mess. That's money that will have to be recouped from your pockets as well as mine, and a further risk that must be dealt with!"

Lei looked up from his drink and arched an eyebrow at Carter, who quickly buried his head once more into his paperwork. Lei was curious. His methods had never failed him. Fear was a persuasive factor in any agreement or negotiation - Carter was fact and case.

He watched as a bead of sweat formed on Carter's brow and ran down into his eye. He wiped it away, plucked up the courage to speak again, and continued.

"This whole situation is getting out of hand. I told you to stay away from Laohu's until I speak with my source, and now you tell me that your men were in one of my vans at the shop when they were chased off by a witness!"

"Thousands of pounds worth of product are in the storeroom of Laohu's shop. I cannot afford to lose it! And anyway, Gabe , you entered our agreement with your eyes wide open! You say nothing of the millions you make from our business, but bleat like a goat when any small problems arise. I will deal with this new risk of yours, just give me the details and go home."

"No. We must wait. I have been assured that no connection will be made between our business and the murder. The witness is a drunk, his word cannot be relied upon. That is what I have been assured. We must let the investigation take its course. You must lie low! What the police do have, is a very good description of a man with a dragon tattoo."