Chapter 7.
Whilst Spikings was hurrying to his wife's side, Jason, Nev and Chang were rushing Davey to a tame doctor whose special practice dealt exclusively with the criminal underworld.
Wrapping a bandage round his head and diagnosing mild concussion, he recommended Davey take a day or two to rest and recover, so they immediately made tracks to 'The Kentuckian' and fed him several shots of whisky!
It wasn't long before the mixture of alcohol and pills sent him to sleep, his head resting on the table in front of him, while the other three discussed what to tell Jimmy Hofton the next time Jason had to go and see him.
"Don' tell 'im nuffin." suggested Nev. "Jus' say we 'aven't bin able ta get near Spikin's yet, but we're workin' on it."
"Yeah, that's 'bout all I dare tell 'im." agreed Jason. "Better 'n sayin' we've tried twice and ballsed it up good and proper!"
"Yeah an' anuvver fing." said Nev.
"What?" replied Jason.
"The bitch never 'eard our names or saw our faces did she!" he said. "So she can't identify any of us."
"Only by our voices." warned Chang.
"Yeah well, that ain't likely is it?" said Jason. "We'd better get our 'eads togevver an' work out anuvver way to get at that bastard copper!"
When Mary saw Spikings walking towards her, she ran to meet him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest, sobs racking her body. It was the first time in years they'd actually hugged each other.
Having helped her over to the car, he sat down next to her on the back seat and put his arm around her shoulder, instructing his driver to take them home.
When they arrived, he led her into the lounge, sat her down on the sofa and poured them both a large glass of brandy, before sitting down next to her and taking her hand in his.
After a little while, fortified by the drink, she started to relate what had happened to her, Spikings occasionally interrupting her to ask a question.
"Could you identify any of them, do you think?" he asked at one point.
"No Gordon I couldn't, I'm sorry." she replied. "As I've told you, I was knocked out and when I came round I had a hood over my head. The only thing I might recognise is a voice or two. Oh and yes, they were driving a gold coloured car. I saw it when I looked out of the window when the doorbell rang."
"Any idea at all of the make?"
"It certainly wasn't a modern shape." she said. "I've seen cars like it on old TV programmes, especially detective ones strangely enough, but I couldn't tell you what make it was."
Finally, emotionally drained from recalling her ordeal, she asked the question he'd been dreading.
"Why did they do this to me, Gordon?"
There were two main reasons why he never discussed his work with her, the first being he didn't want to frighten her, the second because he wanted to leave the trials and tribulations of his working day at the office door, go home and wind down, although seeing as she had no idea of the pressures he was under, it often led to tension and argument.
Now however, she'd been forcibly dragged into his dangerous world and he had little option but to answer her honestly.
"Someone wants me dead." he replied. "Their first attempt failed, so this time they tried to use you, to get to me."
"First attempt?" she repeated, looking at him questioningly, alarm in her eyes.
"Yes, you may as well know that our chief garage technician, whilst out road testing the Granada, was mistaken for me and rammed off the road." he explained. "He's still in hospital and the car's a write off."
"Oh my God!" she said. "And that's why you were so miserable at breakfast this morning, wasn't it."
"Yes dear." he admitted.
"I'm sorry, Gordon, I thought..."
"Yes I know what you thought, Mary." he interrupted. "It doesn't matter now. Look, I think it best if you stay with your sister until this present situation is resolved. Do you agree?"
She looked at him and nodded.
"If you don't mind, I'd like a bath and to rest for a while." she said. "Perhaps we could go to Janet's this afternoon."
"Fine, I'll call her." he said, as she got up and disappeared upstairs.
He called the office too and told Chas he wouldn't be in for a few days as he'd decided to take his wife to stay with her sister in Brighton until they'd arrested the gang.
"Is she okay, sir?" he asked, Dempsey listening to him from his desk a few feet away.
"Yes Chas, thanks." replied Spikings. "She's told me all that happened, not that it will assist us much. They kept her locked up in a room, but she's no idea where that is, and with a hood over her head, she's no clue what any of them look like. However, she says there were four of them and the car they drove was a gold colour, although she's no idea of the make, except it wasn't modern."
"As you say, not much to go on." said Chas. "All the guys send her their regards, by the way, Guv."
"Thank them for me will you?" asked Spikings. "I'll be back on Friday, but I'll keep in touch in the meantime."
"Right you are, sir." said Chas. "See you Friday."
"What gives pal?" asked Dempsey, looking over at him, Harry glancing up too, as Chas replaced his receiver.
He told them, adding. "Although she says she doesn't know where she was taken, we know it must've been in the Hackney area, seeing as it was a local copper who found her lying on the pavement."
"Poor lady." said Harry. "She must have been absolutely terrified."
"I've been thinkin' guys." said Dempsey to the both of them. "I guess the only way we're gonna nail these creeps is to throw out a wider net."
"What do you mean, Dempsey?" said Harry.
"If ya think about it, whoever it is wantin' revenge is likely to be banged up right now."
"I don't agree." challenged Chas. "It could easily be someone just out of jail and itching to get their own back."
"No Chas, I'm with Dempsey on this." said Harry. "If it was someone just out, I think word would have reached the street by now. They'd find it almost impossible to keep it completely under wraps, especially if they'd been planning it for years."
"Yeah." agreed Dempsey. "An' no-one has heard the slightest goddam whisper!"
"So why is that significant?" asked Chas, still nowhere near convinced.
"'Cos someone whose been festerin' behind bars an' seethin' cos' he's missin' out on all the good things in life he once had, will be ragin'." explained Dempsey. "An' 'specially if he's only been in for a few months 'cos memories're still real an' raw. But he ain't got no-one to listen to him, so word stays cooped up in his cell."
"Yes, and the one thing that will be keeping him from losing it in there will be the thought of revenge." added Harry.
"But then he has to put a gang together to carry out his wishes." argued Chas, although beginning to see where they were coming from and warming to it. "So why doesn't word break loose then?"
"It's easy for them to keep it quiet, simply because they don't own the vengeance or anger." explained Harry. "They're just in it for the money, so secrecy is paramount."
"Yeah, an' they don' wanna get banged up either!" added Dempsey.
"Okay, so what do you suggest?" asked Chas.
"We draw up a list of everyone Spikings has been personally involved in puttin' in jail over the last twelve months." said Dempsey. "Then we go see 'em!"
By the end of day, the list was complete and Dempsey and Harry took it with them to study that evening at home. Before dinner, they sat on the sofa together, each studying a copy while sipping a couple of drinks, a dry martini for her and a whisky for him, the newly lit fire roaring away in the fireplace.
Suddenly they looked at each other as one name leapt off the page at exactly the same moment.
Jimmy Hofton.
"Oh boy!" said Dempsey, taking a slug of his drink. "What's been goin' down has Hofton's shitty little fingers all over it, Harry."
"Hasn't it just!" she agreed, placing a forefinger on her lips, deep in thought.
"What?" said Dempsey, studying her expression.
"How do we find out?" she said, finally. "And how do we prove it?"
"He's banged up in Wormwood Scrubs, right? he said.
She nodded, then sipped her martini.
"Okay. We take a trip there tomorrow an' speak to the Governor." he said. "An' we ask to see a list of who's been visitin' the slimeball in the last month."
"Do we speak to Hofton?"
"Nope." answered Dempsey, finishing his drink. "Wouldn't do no good. He's a slippery mother an' would clam up, demandin' his brief be present. What we do, is find whoever it is been payin' him visits, an' put the screws on him."
"Uh oh." she said, also emptying her glass. "I can see I'm going to have to turn a blind eye to your New York methods again, aren't I."
"If it comes down to it honey, yes you are." he replied. "Jus' remember, princess, this pond life's already put Jerry in hospital havin' nearly killed him, grabbed Mrs Spikings an' scared her to death, an' is still out there plannin' to waste our Chief."
She put her list down and moved up close to him, slipping her arm through his and nestling against him.
"Yes I know, darling." she murmured, her head resting against his shoulder, her eyes watching the flames as their shapes flickered and changed in the fireplace. "I've got used to it now."
She closed her eyes, visions of his interrogation techniques vivid in her memory and remembered how horrified she'd been at first when he'd lost patience with an interviewee and had him stretched up against the wall on tiptoe, one hand round his throat, the other with his Magnum shoved in his ear.
But it had got results and, in the end, no-one had got hurt either, just a little roughed up.
His violence was always measured and always matched the severity of the situation they may have found themselves in, their safety paramount to him. Yet he'd never overstepped the mark, although, in the early days of their partnership, when it used to disgust her, she'd discuss it with Freddy.
Having been a high ranking officer in the British Secret Service, Freddy knew all about the various methods of interrogation and had explained to her that Dempsey, in fact, was one of very few who, from what she had described, could control themselves.
It made her more aware of his abilities and eventually she was able to fully trust him when vital information had to be extracted for the good of the case they were on.
She now saw it as a strength of his, not a weakness as she had first thought and it made her feel so safe with him.
Her heart swelled at the thought.
"Want another drink, honey?" he asked, interrupting those thoughts, whilst gently running his fingers through her hair.
Conscious of the sensuous warmth of his body and the touch of his fingers, she shivered with a tingling, mounting physical need for him and, ignoring his question, pulled his head down to her, searching for his lips, before whispering. "Make love to me."
At ten o'clock the next morning they were sitting opposite the Governor of Wormwood Scrubs, explaining why they were there and what they needed. Ten minutes later they were back in the car with one name in front of them.
Jason Dickins.
"You heard of him, princess?" asked Dempsey.
"No, I can't say I have." replied Harry. "Maybe he was one of Hofton's many soldiers."
"Let's see if Chas knows anythin'." said Dempsey and patched himself through to SI-10. "Chas! We got any info on a Jason Dickins, ex Hofton mobster?"
"Hang on and I'll check." he replied, as he tapped the name into his computer. "Yes. Aged forty-two, six foot one, eighteen stone, divorced, no kids. Jailed in 1966 for robbery with violence, released 1970 and has been associated with Jimmy Hofton ever since, most likely as muscle."
"Address?" asked Dempsey.
"Er, last known address, 5, Highcourt Road, Camden." confirmed Chas. "Dempsey, are you suggesting Jimmy Hofton's put the contract out on Spikings?"
"Yeah Chas. Tell you why later." said Dempsey, hooking his radio back on its cradle. "Well princess, best we go see the guy."
"No." she replied, raising Dempsey's eyebrows. "He's only visited Hofton once, which could be deemed as natural, but if he sees him again, in a short space of time, it makes it harder for him to deny that they're planning something. I mean, as far as we know, they weren't close friends, Dickins was just one of several employees, so why would he suddenly start making regular visits?"
"Okay - so you reckon we should watch him."
"Yes I do." confirmed Harry. "Spikings is out of danger for the time being seeing as he's gone to Brighton for a few days, so we're not risking anything by waiting and watching. Let's just see if Dickins pays Hofton another visit soon."
"Okay, but we'd better see if he's still livin' at that address in Camden." said Dempsey, starting the car. "We'll just have to hang out an' see if he shows."
Highcourt Road was lined with small, terraced houses originally built at the turn of the century - step out of the front door and you're straight onto the relatively narrow pavement.
They parked a few doors away from number five and braced themselves for a lengthy wait.