Hell Hath No Fury by Anthony Vincent Bruno

Author:Anthony Vincent Bruno [Bruno, Anthony Vincent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-25T05:00:00+00:00

An hour later, while Joseph was meeting Sidney outside the Holloway Odeon, Jim and Bradley climbed into the back of Joseph's Mercedes van. The bomb disposal people had checked it out giving it the all clear. It had been parked on a side street between Westminster and Waterloo bridges where it was presumed Joseph had been looking across the river at Richmond Terrace where Jim and Bradley were parked waiting for the action to begin. Bradley looked through the personal effects of Joseph Cassidy, taking care not to disturb anything before they could be properly examined. A bomb disposal expert had taken away a Toshiba laptop found under the driver’s seat for examination.

Jim and Bradley were wearing plastic gloves; both swallowed hard so as not to inhale the stale musty smell of the vehicle.

Bradley looked at the tyre marks on the right side. 'They must have used this to transport their bikes around . . . organised bunch, weren't they?' Jim was busy going through the glove box where he found instruction manuals on the use of building site tower cranes and hydraulic lifts.

'Nothing here Guv . . . you got anything?' he asked turning to see Bradley's disgusted look. The Ferret had lifted a sleeping bag from the floor and was looking at a dried patch of blood.

'How can people live like fucking animals . . . I wonder whose blood this is?' he asked picking up a cylinder of prescribed morphine tablets. He opened the top to see one tablet left, 'let's see where the bastard gets his next supply, shall we?'

Jim had climbed into the back again and was looking through a rucksack when he felt something metallic. Delicately he removed his hand and pulled the rucksack's top down to reveal large bullet casings. He called to a bomb disposal man and showed him the ammunition,

'Any idea what make of gun these would be used for?'

The man took the bullet and studied it curiously before a knowing look swept over his face. ‘If I'm not mistaken, that belongs to a tree-faller.'

'A what?' Bradley enquired.

'A tree-faller sir, it's the slang name for the Barratt M82 50 calibre snipers rifle. Basically because it could knock a tree down!'

'Shit!' said Jim having his worst fears confirmed.

He joined Bradley who had walked down to the Thames' edge.

Looking up at Big Ben the dejected chief observed. 'We thought we'd have him but he's still out there . . . with this tree-falling gun. Who'd be a copper Jim?'

The Duke gazed up at the clock's huge face, trying to recall Cassidy's words - Something about time . . . time that was ticking away?

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