Jim's Revenge Read online

  Jim’s Revenge

  Andrew R. Williams

  Jim’s Revenge – reviewed by Piaras O Cionnaoith for Emerald Book Reviews

  “A first-class comedy mystery thriller with perfect pacing.

  I enjoyed the story, character development, and dialogue. There were plenty of plot twists that I didn’t see coming and that added to the book’s mystique. When I stopped reading to work, I found myself wondering what happened in the book, and replaying parts of the novel in my head to see if I could figure more out. It has been a while since I enjoyed a book this much. It’s a first-class comedy mystery thriller with perfect pacing. Not much is as it appears here, which is just the way fans of mystery, thriller and suspense will want it.

  Jim’s Revenge had every element a good story should have. An intriguing plot, attention to detail, but best of all fleshed out, well-written and well-rounded character development. There’s an abundance of well-illustrated scenes that make you feel like you are right there in the story, and that’s something I really look for in a good book. It’s one of those stories that come along once in a while that makes you want to read it non-stop until you get to the end. I’m giving nothing further away here. And this, I hope, will only add to the mystery and enjoyment for the reader!

  I’ll be looking forward to reading more from Andrew R. Williams in the future. I would definitely recommend this book. Although, for those who are linguistically sensitive, profanity is used and there are some scenes of a sexual nature.

  A well-deserved five stars from me.”

  Copyright © 2019 by Andrew R. Williams. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Dedication - To Tom, Beryl, Bert, Peggy and Colin: gone but not forgotten.

  The Author

  By day mild mannered Andrew R. Williams is a chartered surveyor.... but after twilight falls, he snatches up his pen and lets the writing take control. The Arcadia’s Children series are sci-fi thrillers which pour out of Andrew on only the coldest and darkest of nights. When he isn't writing, or chartered surveying, Andrew spends time with his wife Geraldine, staring up at the stars, and plotting eventual world domination. Don't let that calm demeanour and easy smile fool you, oh no.

  Other books by Andrew R Williams:

  Science Fiction

  Arcadia’s Children (Samantha’s Revenge)

  ISBN 978-1- 61309-710-6

  Arcadia’s Children 2: The Fyfield Plantation

  ISBN 978-1- 61309-630-7

  Technical Domestic Building Surveys

  ISBN 0 419 178000 7

  Practical Guide to Alterations and Extension

  ISBN 10: 0-415-43426-2

  Contents

  Title Page

  1. Morgan Flechley Prepares for a Police Raid

  2. Jim and Moira

  3. Saturday: Three Weeks Later

  4. Gerry Fulstrum Hatches a Plan

  5. The Fleecems Travel North

  6. The Urnwood Tribe

  7. Wednesday: A Month Later

  8. Thursday: Jim’s First Day

  9. Thursday Afternoon and Evening

  10. Friday: Day Two Starts for Jim

  11. Saturday

  12. Sunday

  13. Monday: While the Cat’s Away

  14. Tuesday: Jim goes to the Post Office and Flinnett Pays a Visit

  15. Wednesday: Jim Takes on Car Park Duty

  16. Thursday: Another Early Dart

  17. Friday: No Show Day

  18. Saturday Morning

  19. Saturday Afternoon

  20. Saturday Evening

  21. Sunday: Jim’s Revenge Starts in Earnest

  22. Another Monday

  23. Tuesday: Delivery Day

  24. Wednesday: Morgan Flechley Smells a Rat

  25. Thursday

  26. Friday

  27. Saturday Morning

  28. Saturday Afternoon

  1. Morgan Flechley Prepares for a Police Raid

  One of Morgan Flechley’s mobiles rang and a muffled voice said, “You’re going to be raided tomorrow.”

  Before Flechley had a chance to speak, the phone went dead.

  Fearing the worst, Flechley picked up a tablet computer and flicked between the camera stations sited in his garden and the surrounding woods. Carrying out another sweep, he established there were no police in the immediate area, so he flicked through the internal cameras.

  Finding Chloe, his girlfriend, and her daughter swimming in the indoor pool, Flechley connected to the audio system and said, “Al and I have a bit of business to attend to, you okay?”

  Chloe called back, “No, probs hun.”

  Satisfied they wouldn’t be interrupted, Flechley glanced at Big Al, one of his minders, and said, “We’re likely to have visitors tomorrow. So, let’s get set up. Plan A.”

  Big Al didn’t need to ask questions; in Flechley speak having visitors meant a police raid was imminent. Knowing what was required, Big Al went to a large storage cupboard and pulled out second-hand computer equipment. He started to set up dummy computer stations at previously agreed locations before turning them on and making sure they were working.

  Flechley said, “Okay. Get a large shopping bag and two dummy computers for upstairs.”

  Once Big Al had returned with a stout plastic carrier bag and had grabbed the two remaining dummy computers, Flechley led the way upstairs.

  Once at the top, Flechley said, “So what d’you think?”

  Big Al frowned; he hadn’t entered Flechley’s sanctum since Billy Hufton had finished working up there a few days before. He said, “What exactly is he supposed to have done?”

  Flechley looked pleased, “You can’t tell, can you?”

  “Can’t tell what?”

  “What’s been done,” Flechley replied. He rapped on one of the partitions and it rang hollow. When he repeated the exercise on the other side, the walls didn’t ring at all.

  Taking pity on Big Al, Flechley said, “Billy stripped the plasterboard off these partitions, reinforced the floor and the partition framework and then lined both sides with plywood. As an added precaution, the outside has had steel sheets screwed to it and plasterboard fixed back on top.”

  When Big Al showed surprise, Flechley said, “Here’s another nice feature,” and pushed a button on the wall. A heavy fire door shot out of the slot behind them and sealed off the staircase. He pointed at the other doors in the reinforced partition.

  “These are heavy-duty and fitted with hook bolts. They’ve also been lined with steel sheet and then mouldings planted on to match the other doors. Even if someone came up here with a sledgehammer, they’d have a hard job getting through.”

  “Billy Hufton did this?”

  Noticing the surprise in Big Al’s tone, Flechley smiled, “He certainly did. I’ve told you, despite some of the nasty comments people make about him, he’s a good craftsman.”

  “So, when the police come,” Big Al said, “You’re going to lock yourself in there?”

  Flechley shook his head. “Don’t be daft. They’d take that as an admission of guilt. I’ve reinforced the walls in case we’re attacked by rivals.”

  He added, “I’ve no intention of locking myself away when the police come calling tomorrow. We’re going to play smart. Like I said, we’re going to
instigate plan A.”

  Unlocking the door to his private office, Flechley walked over to a storage cupboard above the staircase and pushed a button. In response, the computer server turned around and disappeared into a fake chimney stack.

  Big Al’s eyebrows rose, “Did Billy Hufton make that as well?”

  Flechley nodded, “Looks like a chimney, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure does,” Big Al admitted.

  “Even the police would think twice before smashing a hole in a chimney stack,” Flechley said. He beckoned Big Al over to the other side of the room and opened another heavy door. “This is a new emergency staircase which goes down to the garage. If the opposition tries to set the house on fire, we can escape.”

  After closing the door, Flechley pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and tossed another pair to Big Al before beginning to disconnect a laptop on his desk and wiping it clean. Once he’d finished, he told Big Al to fix up a dummy in its place.

  With the computer swap completed, Flechley packed away the laptop in a carry case. He said, “When you leave, take the computer with you, and take Brian’s computer too.”

  Brian was Flechley’s son.

  Flechley pointed an electronic wand at a heavy cabinet. There was a distinct clunk as hook bolts disengaged, and he moved the cabinet to one side and a hole in the wall became visible and it was possible to see into the hidden recess behind a pipe duct in the adjacent bathroom. Inside the duct, there were sealed mason jars, each containing several small labelled parcels and a Walther PPK pistol.

  Stooping down, Flechley grabbed the mason jars and the gun and dumped them into the carrier bag. Slamming the heavy cabinet back into position, Flechley re-engaged the hook bolts and said, “Take my computers and this bag to Arundel Avenue but give Brian his computer. When you leave, make sure you go the back way. I can’t see any, but there may be police watching the road; I don’t want them stopping you and searching the car.”

  “What about Laurel and Hardy? They’re due here tomorrow,” Big Al queried.

  “I’d forgotten about them,” Flechley admitted.

  “There’s also Groucho,” Big Al reminded him.

  Most of Flechley’s regular distributors had nicknames to protect their identity if anyone was listening in.

  “Yeah, we need to make sure they get their supplies,” Flechley said. He pointed to one of the mason jars, “Both Laurel and Hardy’s and Groucho’s orders are in there. Give ‘em a call and make alternative arrangements for picking them up. They obviously can’t come here if the place is crawling with cops. It’s still cash upfront. The rest goes to Arundel Avenue, including payments received. Got it?”

  Big Al nodded.

  Arundel Avenue was a cheap terraced house Morgan Flechley had bought with a false identity over a year ago. No one lived there; it was a dead drop, a place where correspondence and small parcels could be pushed through the letterbox and collected later by one of Flechley’s associates.

  “Any questions?”

  “No, boss.”

  “Good,” Flechley said. “And make sure you’re not followed.”

  “I always do, boss.”

  “Good. One last thing; when you’ve finished, pick Brian up from school and take him to Shirley’s. Make sure you give him his computer.”

  Big Al nodded; Shirley was Flechley’s wife, but they’d lived apart for years. “Okay boss, understood.”

  Once he’d been into Brian’s room and swapped computers, Big Al went clattering down the stairs carrying everything with him. Leaving by the back door, he jogged along a covered way and left via a stout lockable gate before crunching his way over a wide gravelled security strip. He ran into the surrounding woods making sure he kept undercover all the way.

  After covering fifty yards on foot, he came to a large, hidden carport. There was a battered all-terrain vehicle parked beneath it, one that had mottled camouflage paintwork. Jumping in, he swiftly ran a bug detector over the interior. Satisfied the car was clean, he started up and began racing down the dirt tracks running through the woods. Eventually, he joined a main road and set off towards Tipham.

  Once he arrived at Arundel Avenue, Big Al let himself in and disabled the alarm system. A moment later, a security camera whirred into life and pointed straight at him.

  Flechley said, “I hope you weren’t followed.”

  “I was careful, I wasn’t followed,” Big Al assured him. Opening one of the mason jars, he extracted Laurel and Hardy’s and Groucho’s orders and dropped them into his pocket. Sealing the jar again, Big Al dropped it back into the bag, before pulling up a loose floorboard and lowering the carrier bag into the void below. He then lowered the bag containing Flechley’s portable computer into the same hole.

  Pulling a storage crate over the floorboard, he glanced at his watch and looked at the surveillance camera. “All done. I’m going to pick up Brian, boss.”

  “When you drop him off with Shirley,” Flechley said, “make sure he’s got his computer and don’t say anything about the police raid to Shirley. Make sure Brian keeps shtum too.”

  Big Al nodded, re-activated the alarm and returned to the car, but instead of racing back the way he had come, he drove off at a far more sedate pace and made his way to the local school.

  Ten minutes later, the school’s external doors burst open and the first group of prisoners made a break for freedom. Eventually, Brian Flechley came out surrounded by a small group of friends.

  Big Al climbed out of the car and walked around to the pavement, glancing in Brian’s direction. When Brian walked through the main gates, he stepped forward, saying, “I’m afraid we’ve got a family crisis, Brian. Your Dad has told me to take you to your Mum’s.”

  Brian pulled a face but didn’t argue. Over the last few years, there had been several family crises. Saying goodbye to his friends, he climbed into the car.

  Once well away from the school, Brian said, “So what’s happened?”

  “We’re expecting a police raid tomorrow,” Big Al said. “Your computer is in the back, don’t forget it.”

  “How d’you know there’s going to be a raid?”

  “We were tipped off. Don’t worry, everything is under control; nothing to worry about but don’t tell your Mum about it.”

  “What do I tell her then?”

  “You don’t have to tell her anything,” Big Al said. “I’m just going to tell her your Dad’s been called away on business and he didn’t want to leave you alone in the house.”

  Brian said, “What about my supplies for school?”

  “Don’t worry,” Big Al assured him. “Everything will go back to normal in a couple of days. In the meantime, I’ll drop stuff off for you at Shirley’s but don’t go letting on. You know she doesn’t approve of your father’s trade.”

  Brian snorted. “If we didn’t supply the demand for drugs, someone else would,” he said. “Mum might not approve but she’s quick enough to accept the money Dad pays her, isn’t she?”

  ~*~

  Paul Tupal and Flin Rheingold walked into Cunningham Park around 5.30; they’d come directly from work.

  Within seconds, Tupal’s nerves began to show. “I don’t like it. Why are we meeting here? Why aren’t we going to Morgan Flechley’s house as per?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Rheingold said. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

  He led the way to the agreed meeting place, a discreetly recessed arbour with picnic benches at the edge of the park.

  He hissed, “Sit down and stop looking so furtive. We have as much right to be here as anyone else.”

  They’d barely sat down before the lake erupted and ducks began leaping out of the water. Glancing sideways, Rheingold saw an old man throwing food to the birds. While he was watching, he heard another old man sitting on the same bench as the duck feeder say, “They’re going to ban people feeding the ducks y’know, Jim. They say it attracts rats.”

  Rheingold didn’t go to the park
that often but on hot sunny days it was well used by local office workers. Although he hadn’t known Jim’s name before, Rheingold remembered seeing him in the park several times; he was a regular.

  Taking advantage of the diversion caused by the quacking ducks, Big Al walked over to Tupal and Rheingold and sat down next to Rheingold. He said, “The boss has asked me to give you a parcel, Mr Laurel.”

  He put his hand into one of his pockets and slipped it under the table.

  Rheingold reached under the table and tried to take the parcel out of Big Al’s paw. Instead of releasing it, Big Al said, “You know the rules, Mr Laurel; money first; under the table.”

  When Rheingold did as instructed, Big Al growled, “It had better be right. If it’s light, I’ll pay you a visit at work. I know you work at Slobend, Fleecem and Skinnem, Mr Laurel.”

  “The money’s all there,” Rheingold assured him. “I counted it myself.”

  “It better be,” Big Al said and released his grip on the parcel. “Stay here for five minutes after I’ve gone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I say so,” Big Al snapped.

  When Rheingold frowned, Big Al added, “I have other people to see and I don’t want you clowns following me. If I see you following me, I’ll hammer you into the ground, understood?”

  When both Tupal and Rheingold nodded, Big Al said, “Glad we understand one another.”

  ~*~

  Once five minutes had elapsed, Tupal and Rheingold stood up and began walking casually towards one of Cunningham Park’s exits. They were level with Jim, the duck feeder, when the man sitting next to Jim turned in his seat and roared, “They’re drug dealers, Jim. I saw them collecting a package from the other man who was over there.”

  Jim Godwin glanced around. Although he’d never met Tupal and Rheingold before, their faces became etched on his mind. He thought they looked guilty.

  Jim’s companion repeated his accusation, “They’re drug dealers, Jim.”

  Tupal took to his heels but Rheingold stood his ground, “What did that silly old fart say?”