CHAPTER NINE

 

 

On leaving the café, to the faint sounds of two police officers calling after him, Dan quickened his pace to reach the first corner and then ran as fast as his out of shape body would carry him. After what felt like an age, he ducked into a shop to catch his breath and check behind him for pursuers. When he was confident he was not being followed, Dan set off towards home at a more manageable pace.  

Now he had peace and quiet to think, and considering all that had happened and had been said to him in the last few days, Dan decided it was time for some positive action.  

When he arrived home, after checking that no police cars were waiting for his return, Dan hastily gathered up the equipment he might need. He had decided to do what Michael would have done, had their positions been reversed. Dan was going to find  Dragon Tattoo. He hadn't fully decided what he would do if he did find him, but he would worry about that later. For now he would follow the only lead he had and the one the police were unbelievably choosing to ignore – Carter International Logistics. 

After gathering up a holdall and filling it with gloves, a hat, binoculars and a crowbar, Dan paused to think. His plan was to watch the Carter Headquarters in the docks for any sign of Dragon Tattoo. Then enter the premises and either capture or kill him. But he had no weapon, no firearm, no rifle, and no back-up. Dragon Tattoo and his men had all these things in abundance, and were more than willing to use them. He had no chance! He wondered what would happen if he just sat back and waited; picked up the whiskey bottle in the kitchen and waited. Would the killers of his friend ever be brought to justice if he did nothing? 

Just then there was a faint knock at the door. 

"Danny? It's Rou." 

He moved the door and stood there behind it, resting his hand lightly on the frame. Should he answer? He was angry and in no mood to talk. All Dan wanted to do right now was leave this depressing building behind him and seek out justice for Michael. Kind words and sympathy, he could do without. 

"I heard about your friend, Danny. I feel awful. It's all my fault. I'm sorry." 

No matter what had happened, he couldn't leave Rou without a word. What happened wasn't her fault. She had warned him well. No blame lay at her feet and she needed to know that. 

He opened the door and waved her in, giving the corridor and the stairwell a quick check as he did so. Then he returned to his holdall and finished packing as he spoke. 

"It's not your fault, Rou. I should have listened to you...those men surprised me...Michael never stood a chance..." 

"If I hadn't burdened you with my problems then this wouldn't have happened...I should have gone myself. I'm sorry... Is there anything at all I can do for you?"  

"You can tell me about these men. Tell me where I can find them. Tell me anything at all?" 

"No! Please, you must forget them." 

"I can't." 

Dan finished packing and turned to face her. Fear was once more etched across her face. She looked away from him, nervously tugging at the sleeve of her shirt as he laid out his plan. 

"I'm going to find them, Rou, with or without you." 

"I only know they are evil, and even if you kill them, more will come." 

Dan placed a hand on her shoulder and forced a smile onto his face as she looked up at him. 

"Don't worry. If you think of anything just let me know. But I have to try..." 

Three loud and solid knocks shook the door. 

"Daniel Harpur! This is the police. Open up!" 

Dan grabbed the holdall and whispered to Rou. 

"It's not your fault. Go home. Tell them you're looking after my flat and you haven't seen me for days." 

She nodded and grabbed his waist, pulling him into an awkward embrace.  

When the police called out again, she pulled away and answered back to stall them. 

"Hold on! I'm coming!"  

Dan smiled at her again, then quietly opened the window in the kitchen and jumped down onto the garden below. He closed it behind him and made off into the city streets; mind made up. Partly anyway. 

# # #

The sun was dropping slowly from the sky, casting long dark shadows across the cranes and huge industrial buildings of the shipyard, as Dan watched the comings and goings at the Carter International Logistics Headquarters.

He'd caught a taxi from the city and got dropped off at the entrance to a disused warehouse, a few hundred metres along the road, and on the opposite side from the Carter buildings. He prised away a flimsy sheet of chipboard covering the door and slipped in behind it, leaving a small gap to spy through while scoping out the warehouse from a distance and waiting for darkness, when he would chance a closer look. While he waited, he surfed the web to find out as much as he could about the business, and its owner.

Not only did Gabriel Carter own a state of the art multi-million pound headquarters in Belfast, but he also had one in China. Carter International Logistics shipped goods worldwide, to and from both locations, but Dan found it interesting that after only a few minutes of searching he had already found a link between China and here. If what Rou had told him about tiger bone and triads was true, then it wouldn't be a huge leap of imagination to deduce that they would transport it to here from China using Carter.

Carter had secured a prime position for his company, and as ships containing cargos from all over the world arrived at the docks, Carter could dispatch his freight lorries to collect their goods from only a stone's throw away; then either store them in his warehouse or move them on by road or sea to their ultimate destination. Vans, lorries and other company vehicles moved in and out of the premises at a mind numbing rate, and Dan had lost count of the number of similar vans he had seen in the last few hours of his observations. Although interestingly, none of them were being driven by Chinese men.

By now, most of the staff had gone home and the traffic had thinned, leaving only a security guard on the gate with the occasional late delivery or returning vehicle to occupy him. Dan wondered if Carter himself was still inside the building, or if the men he wanted so badly were skulking in the cavernous corners of the monstrous storage facility, waiting for darkness to make good their escape. Would Carter even be aware of what his shipments contained? Was it just a case of one of his employees taking advantage of the already set in place supply network to distribute drugs, or was Dan simply making something from nothing? Maybe the whole episode was a coincidence and they had inadvertently stumbled into a racketeering operation, freaked out some trigger happy gangsters and Michael had paid the ultimate price.

He reached into his pocket and toyed with the small bag of powder it contained. Was Michael really murdered for this rubbish? Had they stumbled upon an organised triad crime gang operating in Belfast and shipping tiger bone worldwide? Rou certainly seemed to think so, her grave warning now returning to haunt him.

As he mulled these questions over in his mind, his mobile phone rang. It was a number he didn't recognise, but he answered the call through boredom. The quiet and shaky voice that spoke was one he should have recognised immediately.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Danny? It's Kelly."

"Who?"

"Kelly Ross, Michael's wife?"

"Oh sorry, Kelly. You caught me off guard there. How are you?"

Kelly Ross broke down in response to his question and Dan kicked himself for being so stupid and insensitive. How are you?! The woman had probably just identified her murdered husband and was still reeling from the shock and pain of it.

He had met her many times before on any number of drinking adventures he and Michael had embarked upon, and although she blamed him often for the sorry state her husband arrived home in, they had always got on well together when they met.

It took a while before she could compose herself enough to continue.

"I found your number on Michael's phone and I know you were with him yesterday....he was very excited you called him... he always spoke so fondly of you. Can you tell me what happened? The police aren't saying very much at all."

Dan closed his eyes and took a moment to think before he responded. What could he tell her to ease her pain? Why had her husband died? Was it Dan's fault?

"He died saving me , Kelly. It was my fault. I should have walked away or done something else...I don't know what to tell you...he was my friend and he saved my life."

Kelly Ross broke down crying once more and Dan held the line, not knowing what else to say. Eventually she stopped and there was a long silence before she spoke again. This time the quiet shaky voice was replaced with an intense and fuming anger."

"Get them, Danny. Get the bastards that murdered my husband. Promise me you'll get them!"

What could he say? Dan was all alone, building up an unquenchable thirst for alcohol and with the police hot on his tail for a racially aggravated assault. She wouldn't understand that. She wanted to hear the closest friend of her husband, the only man who had witnessed his murder, to tell her that he would make it better. She wanted revenge and she wanted Dan to get it for her.

Dan wanted it himself. Why else was he hiding in a derelict building outside the only location he thought the killers might be. It was now Dan's turn to get worked up and emotional.

"I'll get them, Kelly. Mark my words. I swear it."

# # #

Under the cover of darkness, Dan scaled the high mesh fence at the rear of the Carter International Logistics warehouse. With the holdall awkwardly slung over his back, the climb had proved difficult and he landed on a steep grass verge on the inside of the fence with a thud; rolling to break his fall and receiving a sharp jab in the back from the crowbar the holdall contained as reward for his clumsiness. He quickly moved to the cover of some near-by bushes before he opened the holdall and removed the binoculars to take a closer look for his quarry.

The large expansive yard behind the warehouse was well lit and filled with dozens of vans; all of the same make and colour to the one he had previously seen, with the registration plates varying only slightly. Occasionally, a forklift would exit the warehouse carrying boxes on a pallet, load it onto a waiting lorry, and return to the warehouse for more of the same. The lorry driver stood idly by his vehicle watching the forklift work, drawing on a cigarette. At the front gates, Dan could make out the flickering glow of a TV inside a small security hut, where a single guard manned the entrance. The whole place seemed depressingly normal.

He sat hunched in position and watched the yard for signs of life – in particular, Chinamen with dragon tattoos. For thirty more minutes, only the forklift and lorry provided any kind of movement, and eventually, with his load stored and several more cigarettes disposed of, the driver pulled out of the yard and made his way into the night with a lorry full of whatever. It left the warehouse deathly quiet, and when the large shutter doors that the forklift had been using slowly rolled down and closed, Dan seriously considered scaling the fence again and abandoning observations along with his half-baked plan to find Michael's killers.

How then could he avenge the death of his friend and fulfil the promise he had made to Michael's wife? What other lines of enquiry were open to him? When the police caught up with him and arrested him for God knows what, Dan's investigations really would be over and the triad murderer's gone forever.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, he watched a long black BMW saloon car pull up to the gates. He could see the arm of the security guard wave out through the window of his hut as the barrier lifted, and the driver of the BMW replying with a wave of his own. It turned left and drove out of sight to the front of the warehouse. He could hear the deep throaty engine of the BMW cut out and then the slamming of its doors and the 'Beep! Beep!' of the alarm being set.

In the silence of the night, where Dan could only hear the faint noise of Belfast's traffic in the distance, a new sound drifted across the open yard of Carter International Logistics – Chinese voices.

# # #

In his haste to apprehend Michael's killers, pumped up on a fresh surge of adrenaline, Dan had moved quickly from his position at the fence-line and found his way into the main warehouse through a door, wedged open at the rear. Before entering he made a call to the Belfast Police Control Room, requesting back-up for the arrest of potentially armed suspects involved in the murder of Michael Ross. It had been a hostile reception when he was eventually patched through to an actual police officer and it had been anger that had spurred him on to engaging with his suspects before the police arrived – he was beginning to regret that decision.

Considering Dan was conducting unauthorised surveillance on his own, wanted for assault on a member of the public and now entering the premises of a well-known and respected businessman as a trespasser, he didn't blame them. But Dan prayed to God they would trust his judgement, and the end result might just be worth it.

"Police! Police! Drop your weapons!"

In response to Dan's somewhat exaggerated and inventive demand, a barrage of gunfire rained down on his position. Rounds thudded into the boxes he hid behind, some ricocheting from the hard concrete floor near his feet.

The two men he challenged had once again not been shy on producing automatic weapons. When they eventually realised Dan was on his own, it wouldn't be too long before they spread out and cut him to pieces. At no other time had he wished to hear the approaching sirens of the police more than he did now.

He needed to stall them, pin them down where they hid and make them believe he wasn't alone.

"You're surrounded! Throw down your weapons!"

After a few tense moments and an elaborate exchange of Chinese voices, Dan couldn't believe his luck when he heard the metallic clank of their firearms striking the ground. He sneaked a peak towards them and watched as they raised their hands above their heads and slowly moved out into the open.

"Down on your knees! Hands on your head!"

As the two men complied, Dan moved out from cover and approached them. He quickly picked up one of their weapons and shouldered it, pointing it back towards them, but they grinned at him like he was a friend, or the whole episode was a game. Dan didn't like what was happening and his nerves were starting to get the better of him. Something wasn't right.

He wasn't sure, but these men had to be two of the three involved in killing Michael. But where was Dragon Tattoo?

When he was just a few feet away, he struck the nearest of the two on the side of the face with the butt of the rifle.

"What the fuck are you grinning at?"

Neither man spoke, and the one that Dan had struck picked himself up from the floor and spat at his feet. A sticky globule of blood and saliva splattered over the edge of Dan's boots. Tension grew between them and in the silence of the cavernous warehouse, Dan could hear the wailing of sirens in the distance as police made their way across the city towards him. He smiled down at his captives as his spirits picked up once more.

In the seconds that followed, he watched one of the pair flick his eyes to the side, focusing on something behind him. Dan swung around.

The last thing his eyes focused on before he was engulfed in pain and his vision filled with searing light, was a dragon. Its eyes blazed out from a huge spiked head and from between long curved white teeth, it spat balls of fire towards him.