onto him and beckoned him forward and pointed to an empty seat at the desk opposite. Delivering a faint smile Harry held onto Hunter’s gaze as he talked over the phone. Hunter quickly picked up that Harry was engaged in a private conversation as opposed to a job related one and unable to make sense of the one-sided conversation impatiently drummed his fingers as he waited for the detective to finish. A couple of minutes later Harry hung up and pushed himself back in his seat. “Now then young Kerr, you look as though you’ve got something you want to get off your chest.” Hunter held up the note. “I’ve just been told where Peter Jackson is holed up.” “Oh aye.” “Yeah. He’s down on the old Manvers Coking Plant site.” Harry’s brow tightened. “Anywhere specific? That’s a big area.” “It is , but my snout tells me he’s got a vehicle – a Nissan Bluebird – red.” “Your snout eh? Six months in and you have a snout! Can I ask who this snout is?” Hunter shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t say. It’s someone who owes me a favour.” “Okay I respect that.” Harry pushed himself out of his chair and picked up a bunch of keys. “The old coking plant it is then. Come on we’ll go in my car and see if we can catch ourselves a big fish.” Hunter launched himself up, “What about back-up?” Harry balled his hand into a fist and held it in front of Hunter’s face. “This is all the back-up we’ll need.”
Inside ten minutes Harry Hemsworth was pulling the CID car off the main road and onto a narrow dirt track which led towards the old coking plant. Overgrown hedges flanked either side of the track, scraping the sides of the car and slowing their progress. The dark blue Peugeot bumped and rocked across dried ruts of mud and coal dust for approximately a hundred yards. There the track opened up to a wider lane with ditches either side. At the end of it, before them, was a pair of battered, half-open, metal gates, an old ‘warning security’ sign hanging at an angle upon them. Harry slowly edged in the unmarked car, the engine only giving out a purr. Ten yards inside the huge compound he killed the engine and coasted for a few more yards before coming to a halt. They both wound down the ir windows and scoped the derelict coking plant site, stretching web-like for hundreds of metres in all directions. Hunter was just doing a second sweep when, without warning, Harry hissed, “Over there.” Hunter whipped his gaze sideways to where Harry’s outstretched arm was pointing beyond the driver’s side window. He followed the line, to where fifty yards ahead, he could just make out a red car roof appearing from behind a line of old rusting coal tubs. “You did say he had a red Blueboard?” said Harry. Hunter nodded. “ That red roofs good enough for me. Shall we see if our friend is with it then?” Harry started up the car again and hardly touching the accelerator inched the Peugeot forward towards the old coal tubs idling on red-rusted rails. Twenty yards from their quarry Harry brought the CID car to a standstill. He nudged Hunter and whispered, “Just check it out. If he’s in it give me a shout.” Hunter hardly made a sound as he gently opened the car do or. Checking his footing, avoiding a scum topped puddle, he straightened his top coat and zeroed in on his target. Hunching into a crouch he set off at pace towards the coal wagons and throwing himself against the last tub he took a deep breath. He had hardly broken sweat. Poking his head around the wagon he had a view of the rear and offside of the Nissan. He made out that someone was in the front seat, head set back against the headrest, as if in slumber. Half turning Hunter gave Harry Hemsworth the thumbs up and then changed his approach stepping up onto tiptoes, sneaking out from behind the coal tubs. Hunter spotted that the driver’s side window was half down. The driver was still in recumbent