Part Four: Nick
I came round with the three of them standing over me as I lay back on that stinking mattress. There was a terrible pain in my shoulder from the blow of the crowbar and I suspect I must have been kicked in the face as I felt the swelling over my other eye. My arms and legs were tied to the sides of the mattress and I was unable to move.
Bulmer was not smiling now. He was coughing and held a bloodied handkerchief to his throat.
I was glad.
“You pathetic little shit,” he spluttered. “I was gonna make things easy for you. But not now, you prat.”
I screamed as his fist slammed down and hit me in the groin. I screamed again as the second and third blows hit me in the same place, along with his feet. The pain was almost too much and I nearly passed out.
I wished I had.
“That good, is it?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Feels great to me ... what a shame for you that cock-sucking pansy of yours couldn’t do a simple task for me.”
He stepped back and coughed more violently. He needed medical attention.
Good.
“Are you all right, boss?” Jacky asked.
“Of course I’m all right,” he snapped. “Pass me that needle. It’s time he got it.”
Jacky pulled a syringe from his top pocket and handed it to Bulmer, who snatched it from him. He stood over me and pulled the plastic cap off.
“Go on, son, have a good look at this,” he said sadistically. “This is how you go, sunshine. A heavy trip, a special cocktail leaving plenty of evidence inside you. This will prove that you’re just a smack-head like all the other losers, a regular junkie.”
I watched as he brought the needle down to my arm. There was nothing else I could do.
“Time to say your prayers, nancy boy,” he spluttered. “Sleep well ...”
It took me some time to make sense of the confusion which followed.
There were loud, incoherent sounds before the police stormed into the room and then what I presume was a shot, which I felt close to my head. Jacky fell on top of me, screaming in agony, but my arms were not free to push him off. I could not see what was going on amidst the confusion and all I heard was Jacky’s screams.
I heard loud footsteps running across the floor and Jacky was pulled off me. A man I had not seen before looked down at me and asked if I had been shot. I later learnt that he was Inspector Bisson from the EEC Customs and Border Police.
I think I said, “I’m okay,” before passing out.
It was at least two hours afterwards that I opened my eyes in the hospital. The light was bright and I was disorientated for a few seconds. There was a noise to my side and I turned to see Inspector Bisson whisper something to a uniformed constable.
He realised I had woken.
“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living,” he said with a grin on his face. “How do you feel now, or need I ask?”
His voice was pleasant and welcoming with only just a hint of an accent.
“Terrible,” I said. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
“Probably worse.” He smiled.
I winced as I remembered how I’d got that terrible pain in my face.
“Please, don’t try and move,” he said. “You’re safe now and so is your daughter. Your friends are on their way back from Suffolk and should be here soon.”
I tried pulling myself up on the bed and this made me feel nauseous.
“My throat is very dry. Pass me some water, please?” I asked.
He poured me a full beaker from the carafe at the side of the bed.
“You English. How do you drink this stuff from the tap?” he asked as he passed the glass.
I drank deeply and immediately felt better.
“So, what the hell happened and where did you come from?” I asked as I lay back on the pillow.
Bisson pulled the stool from under the bed and sat close to my face.
“I’ll give you all the minor details when you have had a good rest. But for the moment, you should be proud of yourself. I am Chief Inspector Bisson from the EEC Joint Customs and Excise Police. You, my friend, have enabled us to tie together a loose connection, as it were. This man that trapped you, Monsieur Bulmer, he has been known to your police for a while but we were not aware of his connection with a person named Fabrier in Paris. He is a man you would not want to know and we have so much on him now that he will very soon no longer be a menace to other citizens in Europe.” He hesitated. “I am sorry, but we have had all your movements tracked since you left the detention centre in Paris yesterday.”
“What?” I tried to sit up. I was not sure how to accept this.
“You mean you knew I was being held? And beaten up?”
“Please, calm down,” he said. “We knew where you were but we had no idea that you had been kidnapped. Please remember that until this evening, we had no idea what this was all about. Your friend and yourself have become involved in something much larger and grander than you could have imagined. For a long time, we have been tracking the French connection; the life and times of Joseph Bulmer were known but we knew he would only ever be a small fish in a pond far too big for him. It appears that we have stopped two birds in their tracks without knowing it. The man in Paris, Fabrier, was all we were concerned about but he has always had powerful connections and we were not aware of the consequences in just bringing him to court. Everything else, your connection and Bulmer, has developed coincidentally.”
I lay back on the pillow. It sounded to me as if someone was reading the script of a James Bond movie.
“This is all unbelievable,” I started and laughed to myself. “Just a couple of days ago I was a happy parent and now look at me. If anyone had told me all this, I would think they were crazy.”
“Yes. I can understand that. The world of the petty thief, swindler and drug dealer runs side by side with the world that most of us exist in. The two usually do not meet but sometimes cross in mid-stream. You, my friend, appear to have been thrown in at the deep end.”
He poured me another glass of water and passed it to me.
“We had no idea and also no proof that Bulmer was involved and had to allow the events to happen. Bulmer is not a strong man. Yes, he has dreams of making the big time but I am confident that if we had called him in, he would have willingly told us all we needed to know about his connection to Fabrier. This is a man way out of Bulmer’s league. We have most of your conversations with him on tape and these will be enough to get your friend Eamon off most of the charges. Bulmer will go away for quite some time and will co-operate with us when we explain to him what has happened to other accomplices that Fabrier has collected along his way.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed.
“The chances are that Bulmer would have been disposed of by Fabrier after the ordeal. Fabrier is not a man who carries partners or suffers fools. Bulmer would not have been accepted or invited into the world of Fabrier. In some ways, you have actually saved his life.”
“And so you allowed me to become a part of this sordid business?”
“Yes. We had little choice. For all we knew, you too were part of it. It was unfortunate but events took hold so quickly and we had to stand back and evaluate the situation. We’ve also known for a while that there was a leak in our organisation; the dealers were always one step ahead. There will be a number of arrests very soon but we could not risk taking the case to court without the full details. Many people have worked hard world-wide to get this far. We did not want the case to be dismissed on a technicality.”
I then remembered Eamon.
“My God, what about Eamon?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But at the moment, my colleague and your solicitor friend are taking care of things. His confession against Fabrier plays an important role in this along with many others. Eamon will be protected but the main part is that you, your family and friends are all safe.”
My name was ca
lled from across the room.
“Nick ... thank God,” she called.
I looked over and Chrissie was walking toward the bed. She stopped at my side, took my hand and kissed my swollen face.
“Oh Christ, thank God you’re still alive,” she said.
I was never more pleased to see a familiar face.
“Am I glad to see you. How are you?”
“Don’t worry about me, stupid. How are you?” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “You look like shit.”
“Well thanks. I’ll remember to ask for your advice next time I need cheering up. Is Sally with you?”
“Yes, of course she is. But I made her wait outside with Imogen. I didn’t know what to expect. The police said that you had taken a few blows to your face. I didn’t want her to be frightened.”
“Do I really look that bad?”
“You look worse.”
Chrissie looked over at Inspector Bisson, who was standing the other side of the bed.
“Oh, this is Inspector Bisson,” I told her.
Chrissie’s expression changed.
“Yes, I recognise the name. Jean-Pierre mentioned you. Customs police, isn’t it?”
“That is correct, Madame,” he replied.
“It’s you people that arrested my brother and caused all this mess,” she accused him.
“Chrissie,” I said, “you have it all wrong. There’s too much explaining to be done.”
Bisson picked up his hat from the side cabinet.
“Well, I must leave now and will drop in again in the morning,” he said and turned to go.
“Will I send your daughter in now?”
He didn’t need to ask.
Sally walked into the private room. She looked a little confused and unsure and Imogen followed her. When she saw me, she ran over and jumped onto the bed. She stopped, however, when she saw my bruises. It was painful but I could cope now with real pain.
“Daddy?” she asked “What happened to you?”
The tears welled up in her eyes and mine as I wrapped my sore arms around her shoulder and pulled her to me.
“You don’t want to know, baby. You don’t want to know.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN