The Dog Collar Murders Read Free Page A

for a hard landing. The front of the van landed first. It made a hell of a racket and jarred every bone they had. But they were back on the ground. They were grateful for that, but their arms and hands were shaking. They tried to open the cab doors. They had to push and kick them. It was hard work but they eventually prised their way out. The van was a wreck. They looked round. They were in a small private walled car park, but there were no cars there and the gate was closed. The crane grabber was rapidly retreating into the sky. Several men in balaclavas and carrying guns were busy at the back of the van. One of them sawthem, left the back of the van and dashed up to them. They knew he meant business. He herded them together to the corner of the car park well away from the mangled van. He told them to take off their helmets and lie face down on the ground. It was cold and hard. The van driver looked back to try to see what was happening.
    He felt a gun in his back.
    ‘Look down!’ an angry voice yelled.
    Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. They felt it through the ground.
    A few seconds later, men’s voices shouted jubilantly.
    One of the men said, ‘Fill that case. Hurry up.’
    There was a lot of activity and noise. Heaving and banging, metal on metal. A few moments later, the same voice said, ‘Don’t mess about. Come on.’
    Another man came across to the van driver and his mate. He had a roll of two-inch-wide black sticky tape. He quickly wrapped it tightly round the two FSDS men’s wrists behind their backs, their ankles and across their mouths and eyes.
    ‘Come on,’ the voice said. ‘Two minutes forty-five. It’s time we were out of here.’
    And they were gone.
    It was only a very short time afterwards that police cars screeched up to the car park, and five uniformed officers and three in plain clothes battered their way through the old wooden gate, rushed to the two men tied up in the corner and cut them free.
    DI Michael Angel was the senior officer there and quickly took in the scene. ‘Are you men all right?’
    ‘Think so,’ the FSDS driver said, rubbing his wrists.
    ‘Yes,’ the driver’s mate said, getting to his feet. His hands were still shaking.
    Angel looked round the car park. ‘What happened? How did you get here?’
    The FSDS driver pointed up in the sky. ‘That crane. The van with us inside was lifted out of the street, over the wall and dropped – literally – here.’
    Angel blinked, then stared briefly at the massive builder’s crane towering above the super structure of the multi-storey hotel building in progress two streets away.
    He called across to one of the patrolmen, and pointing towards the construction site, said, ‘Quick, Sean. Get the man who has been driving that crane.’
    Patrolman Donohue nodded and rushed off.
    Angel glanced at the FSDS van and saw that one of the rear doors was hanging precariously on one hinge and the other was on the ground twelve feet away. In the side of the van there was a black hole. He knew it must have taken four sticks of dynamite at least to have caused that much damage. The van was a write-off.
    Angel looked at the FSDS driver. ‘How many were there?’
    ‘Four or five. They had guns.’
    Angel’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Can you give me a description of them?’
    ‘Don’t know. Ordinary. Wearing balaclavas. Jeans, T-shirts, dark jackets or overcoats and trainers. One was in a dark suit. Black shoes.’
    ‘Did they have a car? Which way did they go?’
    ‘Didn’t see. Don’t know.’
    ‘How long have they been gone?’
    ‘A couple of minutes before you arrived.’
    Angel turned away and addressed the patrolmen. ‘Right, lads. Not much to go on. See if you find any of them. Anybody who looks guilty, or starts to run when you get near. Concentrate on the town centre for a start. Then work outwards. Constable Weightman, take the bus station. Hurry up. But be careful. They are armed. I don’t want anybody hurt.’
    The