There had been many scenes of urban disorder in the Big City, but they were all stage-managed and no one really ended up hurt, because each riot was risk assessed under Health amp; Safety regulations and it was rare for someone to get hit by a flying fridge these days.
The Big City could be found on the perimeter of an industrial estate and it was the public-order training facility owned by Greater Manchester Police. It was the cops themselves who affectionately referred to it as the Big City, but it was also known by other names, such as Dodge City, or sometimes Moss Side. It was a good place to play and learn, an excellent venue to practise tactics, where things could be made to be very real indeed. Even personnel carriers and the mounted branch could come along.
It was in the Big City that Easton had engineered his exchange meeting with Sweetman.
‘It’s as good a place as any. There’ll be no one around. It may belong to the cops, but it won’t be in use. It’s private and there’ll be no one to interrupt our business.’ Sweetman took a lot of persuading, but finally went for it with the proviso that each man could only be accompanied by two others and that no one should be armed. The no-arms requirement was ridiculous, but at least it had to be asked for.
‘All I want is the consignment back, then it’s over between us. I’ll drop the civil case against you, then it’s quits, OK. You get out of my life, I leave you be. Business, not personal.’
Easton agreed, knowing there would be no deal. It was all or nothing, and despite the words and the promises, each man knew that.
‘In my occasional forays into the uniformed branch, I’ve taken part in Regional public-order training exercises down there, when all the north-west forces get together and throw bricks at each other.’
‘Me, too,’ Roscoe piped up, shuddering distastefully. ‘I wonder if that’s where he’s going — and why?’
‘If memory serves me correct — and I have had a nasty bang on the head recently — there’s not much else down there, just a big industrial estate. So’ — he looked at Donaldson — ‘what do you reckon? Only one way to tell — on the hoof.’ He then twisted to Roscoe in the back. She was dressed in her normal work suit — nice jacket, nice skirt, heels on her shoes, not exactly appropriate dress for traipsing around an industrial estate on a dark evening. ‘You stay in the car. Me and Karl’ll go and have a snoop around. That OK?’ He expected some resistance and maybe some complaint about sexist treatment, but it did not come. She was relieved to be staying in a warm car.
Henry reached for his personal radio.
‘Take care,’ Roscoe said. Henry gave her a quick sideways glance and caught her eye in a fleeting moment. Something moved inside him, and he knew something had moved within her too, but he tried to ignore it. He was not going down that road again. He gave her a nod and dived out of the car.
He and Donaldson began to walk quickly toward the road junction Lynch had turned down, their heads down, fastening their jackets against the chill of the night.
The street lighting was poor and there was no problem in keeping to the shadows, two dark figures progressing cautiously but swiftly, keeping out of any pools of illumination. It was almost like a country road, overgrown verges on either side of narrow footpaths. In the distance, away to their right, could be seen the orange glow of the lighting on the M62, and they could hear the dull hum of motorway traffic.
Ahead, the road they were hurrying down did a sharp left, but straight on was the entrance to the industrial estate. Henry recalled it well now. It was a very large estate, rambling and untidy, with lots of open space on it, lots of waste ground and some huge units, one of which was the Big City.
Behind them, a car turned off the main road, headlights ablaze. Donaldson immediately pushed Henry to one side and both men dropped low on their haunches into a sodden ditch which was part of the grass verge. They watched the car drive past slowly, three people on board. It stayed on the road, did not go into the estate.
‘Make out any faces?’ Henry whispered. He could see the whites on his friend’s eyes in the available light.
‘No. . looks like a recce, though.’
Henry spoke into his PR, using the dedicated channel for the SIO team. ‘Jane, you receiving?’
‘Yeah — go ahead.’
‘If you haven’t done so already, move the car into a more discreet location, will you? We don’t want to spook anyone.’
‘Done it already.’
‘Good stuff.’
Henry and Donaldson were about to rise from their damp position when another car turned in from the main road.
‘Getting busy down here,’ Henry commented.
The car that had only just cruised by them moments before reappeared from the opposite direction. Instinct made the pair of detectives drop even lower, their bellies almost on the grass. The cars drove slowly toward each other and when they were alongside each other, only a matter of feet from where they lay hidden, they stopped.
Words inaudible to either Henry or Donaldson were exchanged by the people in the cars. Neither man hardly dared to raise his head an inch, but the temptation to have a look-see was overwhelming.
After a brief conflab, the cars separated. The one which had just turned into the road drove straight on into the industrial estate. The other executed a three-point turn and followed.
The two men rose from their secret place when they were sure the cars had gone.
Henry got on to his radio again. ‘Jane, call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I think it might be as well if we had some back-up here after all. It’s hard to say what might or might not be happening, but I’d rather have it coming and not use it.’
‘Yeah — what do you need?’
‘Whatever we’ve got closest to hand. At the very least get an armed-response unit on the way and see if there’s any support unit on in the Valley. You act as the RV point. Can you fix it?’
‘Yep. I take it you don’t want GMP telling.’
‘No — just use our people, OK?’
‘Roger, will do.’
‘And we will maintain radio silence for a while now. . we’re just going on to the estate.’
Crouching and running from shadow to shadow, they set off towards the Big City.
They discovered Lynch’s car parked up, unlocked, behind a block of industrial units some way from the Big City. One of the things Henry had always taken pleasure in doing was disabling cars belonging to criminals. He had often done it in his younger days just for fun. Now he took the opportunity to dive under the bonnet of Lynch’s motor and yank the spark-plug leads out, whilst Donaldson kept nicks. He knew it wasn’t a subtle thing to do, but it would be effective for a short time and might give Henry some advantage. Not knowing how things were going to pan out, he would be happy to gain any advantage. This done, the two detectives moved on, keeping to the building lines of the industrial units and using all cover available, their senses sharp, alert for anything. Both men were nervous, not having a clue what they were getting into.
They emerged from between two units and looked across a road to a huge, detached unit which seemed to go on forever. The bottom half of it was constructed of breeze block, the top half corrugated metal. It had no windows on the side they were looking at. ‘This is it,’ Henry said. ‘The Big City. GMP have it on lease for God knows how many years. It’s just like a little high street inside. I think there’s even a Burton’s shopfront. Lots of alleys, the works. What you’re looking at is the gable end, in effect, because the front entrance is round that side.’