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  Rogue

  Dividing Line #14

  By Heather Atkinson

  Copyright Heather Atkinson April 2020

  CHAPTER 1

  Margery frowned at the snooty couple who’d been cooing over the diamond rings for almost an hour now in the jewellery shop in the centre of Manchester. Margery was proud to work in Taylor’s, which was one of the most exclusive in the city. All their clients were wealthy, as were this pair judging by their clothes and the diamond necklace glittering around the neck of the man’s fiancée but, like most of their clients, they were stuck-up arseholes too. Still, she was determined to remain polite, despite how much they were testing her patience. She would allow nothing to interfere with the hefty commission she was in for if they bought the eighteen grand engagement ring the silly blonde tart was admiring on her skinny finger.

  “Oh Max, I love it,” beamed the woman.

  “You want it?” he replied with a blinding white-toothed smile.

  “Yes please,” she said, eyes lighting up with greed.

  “We’ll take it,” he told Margery.

  “Of course Sir,” she replied, trying not to dance about the room as she thought of her commission.

  The man paid by debit card, not credit card, which went to show how truly coined up he was. His fiancée was having to restrain herself from hopping up and down with excitement, ravenous gaze wandering over the rest of the jewellery, wondering what else she could get out of him. Margery almost felt sorry for Max, she’d seen plenty of his type come and go in this shop - older men with gold-digging dolly birds on their arms. Some of her regular customers were onto their fourth or fifth wives. They never seemed to learn. No doubt this one would milk Max for all she could before leaving him, then he’d return with his next fiancée and go through the whole rigmarole again. Who was she to complain though? It was thanks to suckers like him that meant she lived in a very nice house and drove a flash car.

  Just as the transaction was completed the door burst open and three masked men brandishing shotguns charged in, making the blonde squeal with fright.

  “Get away from the panic button,” roared one of the men, aiming his shotgun at Margery.

  Calmly she raised her hands and took a step back. It wasn’t her shop so she wasn’t about to get shot defending it. Her colleague had the same idea, although she was shaking with fear, a tear sliding down her face. Max had curled up into a ball on the floor, hands over his head, seemingly forgetting about his fiancée, who threw him a disgusted look.

  Realising no one was going to give them any trouble, two of the robbers began smashing the glass cabinets with the butts of their shotguns and snatching up the jewellery. Margery noted they were obviously professionals, taking only the most expensive items and leaving the rest. The third robber watched over them all, shotgun at the ready.

  “Fifty seconds,” yelled the lookout, who also carried a stopwatch.

  “Move,” replied one of his friends.

  Their voices were deep and gruff and as they used minimal words she couldn’t even place their accents, although she surmised they must be local.

  On their way out the door one of the robbers spotted the rock on the blonde’s finger.

  “No,” she squealed when he tried to take it. “It’s mine. Max, stop him.”

  Max made no move to assist, remaining where he was with his hands over his head.

  The robber gave her a slap that knocked her sideways and Margery forced herself not to snigger. If anyone deserved it, she did. He wrenched the ring from her finger and was out the door with his friends. The blonde started screaming but it wasn’t fear, on the contrary it was rage that her treasure had been taken from her. It was the scream of a spoilt brat.

  “The engagement’s off Max you fucking coward,” she screeched as he sheepishly dragged himself up off the floor.

  Margery ignored them both as they began to argue. After pressing the panic button under the counter she attended to her shaking colleague, who was now in floods of tears. What did it matter? The unfortunate Max had already paid for the ring. She’d still get her commission.

  Robby Baker raced out of the jewellers in triumph, stuffing the ring he’d taken off that daft bint into his jacket pocket. They ran towards the getaway car waiting at the kerb, passers-by screaming at the sight of their shotguns.

  His friends flung open the car doors but before they could get in blood sprayed from their backs and they crumpled to the ground.

  “What the fuck?” cried Robby. Through the open car door he could see his getaway driver was already dead, lolling back in his seat, blood dripping from the hole in the side of his head.

  Snapping himself out of his shock he swung the shotgun around, only for it to be knocked from his hands. He almost shit himself when he was confronted by a group of five masked men only they weren’t carrying shotguns. They held silenced pistols.

  The bag he carried containing the spoils of the robbery was snatched from his hand by one of the men while the others retrieved the bags his friends had dropped when they’d gone down.

  “We’re not going to kill you,” said one of the men in a calm, even voice that Robby found fucking terrifying. “We want you to pass on a message to the Maguires and Laws – tell them they no longer rule this city. They’re done. Now fuck off.”

  The man fired, sending a bullet ploughing into the pavement at Robby’s feet, making him jump and he ran off with the speed of a gazelle and the agility of a hippopotamus.

  “Mikey run,” yelled Jules. “Faster, he’s going to catch you.”

  “Alright, calm down,” Jez told her. “It’s only school sports day for Christ’s sake.”

  “A race is a race, it doesn’t matter where it is.” She beamed with pride when Mikey came first in the fathers’ race, charging through the tape triumphantly. Jules couldn’t help but smirk at the dad of one of the biggest gits in Josh’s class, who had been hot on his heels. Judging by how sulky he looked his son got his gittishness from him.

  “Nice one babe,” smiled Jules, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck and kissing him, Mikey eagerly returning the kiss.

  “Take it easy,” said Jez. “This is a school you know.”

  “Relax,” smiled Mikey, slinging his arm around Jules’s shoulders. “Or are you worried we’ll get kicked out?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t take the embarrassment.”

  They resumed their places on the picnic blankets they’d set out on the sports field to watch their collective children’s sports day, Jules admiring her gorgeous athletic god of a husband as he reclined back on his elbows and gave her a wink. Cathy was already sat down, face tilted to the sky with a smile. Their youngest child George was in nursery, so she was finally able to enjoy some free time after making it perfectly clear to Jez they were having no more children. There was a two-foot gap around their group, none of the other parents wanting to associate with the most notorious people in the city. There had even been complaints to the headteacher about their family’s association with the school but the massive donations they regularly doled out ensured their children would always have a place. Fortunately the students didn’t share their parent’s prejudices and both Mikey and Jules’s kids and Jez and Cathy’s were very happy here.

  “Why didn’t you join in the race bruv?” Jules asked Jez.

  “Because I’m in the wrong shoes,” he replied.

  “Only you would turn up to a sports day in brogues and a three piece suit,” Mikey told him.

  “You know I always like to look smart.”

  “Ever heard of smart but casual? And you’re turning beetroot. Go on, admit it. You’re too hot.”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, resisting the urge to tug at his shirt collar.

  “Don’t be stubb
orn Jez,” said Cathy. “At least take off your jacket before you collapse. Fainting won’t do your image much good.”

  “You’re right,” he said, removing his jacket. He’d never been able to refuse a request from his wife.

  Jules was about to point out the sweat patches under his arms when she was distracted by activity across the field.

  “It’s Zach’s race up next,” she said excitedly as she watched him line up with the rest of the boys in his class, his shock of red hair making him stand out. He took after his biological mother Amber with his red hair and green eyes. She was dead, pushed off a cliff in Spain on Jez’s orders after she’d betrayed the family to their enemies. Mikey had been unaware of this fact until he’d been locked up in Manchester Prison for conspiracy in her murder and it had almost destroyed his friendship with Jez, which would have plunged the family into war - with itself. Fortunately the adversity they’d experienced in prison had united them and Mikey had decided to forgive his brother-in-law for killing the mother of his sons. He smiled as Jules shot to her feet to cheer on Zach. Besides, they had a new mother who was ten times better for them than the old one.

  “He won,” she cried, jumping up and down and waving her hands in the air.

  “Jules will you calm down?” Jez told her.

  “Why should I? The lad did good. He was like a Polaris missile going across that field.”

  “He’s had a lot of practice running away from you when you get embarrassing in public.”

  “You shouldn’t care so much about what people think little bruv. The stuck-up bastards here look down their big pointy noses at us anyway, so what does it matter?”

  “That’s a good point Jules,” said Cathy. “Leave her alone Jez. More people should get excited about their kids’ achievements. Look how many of the parents are too busy messing with their phones to even watch.”

  Jez glanced around and saw she was right. A third of the parents were flicking at their screens. He shuddered. “Zombies.”

  “Did you say zombies?” Jules asked him purposefully loudly, making him roll his eyes.

  Mikey sighed when his phone rang. “Yes Mark?”

  Both Jules and Jez went tense when he suddenly sat up.

  “What the hell’s happened now?” said Jules. “Whatever it is, I’m not leaving until sports day’s finished.”

  “Okay, keep me informed,” said Mikey before hanging up.

  “What is it?” said Jules.

  “I’ll tell you after. Nothing major, don’t worry. It can wait.”

  While this satisfied Jez and Cathy, who returned their attention to the next race, Jules gazed deep into her husband’s sea green eyes. Despite his words she got the feeling there was a lot to worry about.

  After dropping Cathy off at home, Mikey, Jules and Jez headed over to The Wherry Tavern. This pub had been in the Maguire family a long time. Beth had inherited it on Alex’s death but when Mikey continued to use it for business, she’d gifted it to him. The office in the back was soundproof, so it was the perfect place to talk.

  “Give me a pint of water with ice,” Jez told the barman, his face red and sweaty. As well as his jacket he’d removed the waistcoat underneath and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was sorely tempted to take off the shirt too.

  “I hope this will teach you a lesson about wearing suits in summer?” Jules told him.

  “Maybe,” he said, snatching up the glass the barman placed before him and gulping down the contents.

  Mikey and Jules got a glass of water each too and they headed into the office, once Jez had been provided with a second pint of iced water.

  They walked in to find Mark sitting with a chubby man who was throwing vodka down his neck with a shaking hand and sweating profusely, although they got the feeling this wasn’t because of the heat. When they assembled around him, he started sweating even more.

  “Give it us from the beginning,” said Mikey.

  Robby related exactly what had happened outside the jewellers, his grief for his friends mingled with fear at what this lot would do to him for allowing things to be fucked up so badly.

  When he’d finished they all looked at each other and he wrung his hands together with anxiety as he awaited their verdict.

  “Any idea who it was?” Mikey asked him.

  “No, none,” replied Robby. “Only one of them spoke but I didn’t recognise his voice.”

  “Was he local?”

  “Err, possibly. He was definitely northern but I can’t be certain he was from Manchester.”

  “Did you notice anything about them that could tell us who they are?”

  “They were cool, calm. I think they’d had training.”

  “You mean they were soldiers?”

  “Possibly. One thing’s for sure – they’re not strangers to danger.”

  “No shit,” said Jez sarcastically, taking a gulp of water. “What I want to know is how did they know you were going to rob that jewellers?”

  Robby swallowed hard when Jez’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No idea. I didn’t tell them and neither did my mates, I’m willing to swear on that.”

  “The only other people who knew about the blag were us three. Are you accusing us?”

  “No, course not,” he said, the sweat positively streaming down his face now. “But something could have happened that none of us know about yet.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied, expression stony.

  “We’re sorry about your friends,” said Mikey, patting Robby’s shoulder.

  “They shot them down like they were nothing,” he replied, blinking back tears. “We’ve worked together for years, they were my best mates.”

  “We’ll get the bastards for you Robby, have no fear.”

  “And we’ll give you some compensation for the jewellery that got nicked off you,” said Jules, earning an outraged glare from Jez.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate that,” said Robby, surprised by her generosity. He decided not to mention the ring in his pocket he’d taken off that mad stick insect.

  “Get yourself home, take some time out to get over the shock.”

  “I want to help you get those bastards. I want revenge.”

  “And you will,” said Mikey. “We’ll let you know when we find them.”

  “Good,” he said with a firm nod. “Right, if you’re done with me I’m off to the bar to get pissed. I need to raise a glass to my mates.”

  “It looks like you’ve raised several to them already,” said Jez, raising an eyebrow at the half empty vodka bottle beside him.

  “I needed that to steady my nerves.”

  “The police will be looking for you,” said Mikey. “We’ve got a safehouse you can stay in until everything dies down.”

  “Wow, that would be great, thanks. The coppers will come looking for me when they ID my mates.”

  “Wait in the bar. Mark will take you to the safehouse soon.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, picking up the bottle and walking out of the room on unsteady legs. He didn’t need to worry about the police coming into this pub. Since the zealot DCI Dwyer had done a runner after his colleagues had found out he was corrupt they stayed well away.

  “Why are we wasting our time protecting him?” said Jez. “The useless bastard got ripped off.”

  “Robby the Robber’s a good bloke,” said Jules. “He’s a professional who has never once hurt anyone or used his shotgun and he’s always given us a generous cut from his proceeds. He deserves our protection.”

  “He’s not our responsibility. Sometimes Jules you can be a little too generous. Now we’ve lumbered ourselves with him.”

  “Generosity wins loyalty and it’s not like we need to guard him, he can take care of himself.”

  “As he so ably proved today,” he retorted.

  “What was he supposed to do against five armed men?”

  “Were there even five armed men? He could have got ripped off by a couple of crackheads and come u
p with that story to cover himself. Or he could have killed his friends himself so he could keep all the jewellery.”

  “He’s telling the truth boss,” said Mark. “I’ve confirmed it with one of our police contacts.”

  “Oh that’s just great,” he sighed. “I knew things had been too quiet. It’s been two years since Dwyer got me and Mikey thrown into prison. Since he disappeared everything’s been harmonious. Now this shit’s come along to spoil it.”

  “We don’t know how big a problem this is going to be yet,” said Mikey.

  “I asked our contact to send us the CCTV footage when he gets it,” said Mark. “We’ll soon see for ourselves.”

  “Robby was probably exaggerating,” said Jez dismissively.

  “You mean you hope he was,” replied Jules.

  Ten minutes later Mark’s phone pinged and he brought up the CCTV footage their police contact had sent them. They watched it in shocked silence.

  “It seems Robby wasn’t exaggerating,” said Mikey.

  “He’s right, they are soldiers,” said Mark, who was ex-army himself. “I can tell by the way they move as one unit. The one who spoke to him was the leader.”

  “Where’ve they come from? And why are a group of soldiers ripping off and killing armed robbers and threatening us? Or have they gone rogue?”

  “They could be ex-army?” offered Mark. “I never went anywhere near this life until I’d been honourably discharged and found I couldn’t get any work. Maybe they’re doing the same?”

  “It’s a possibility. We’ll ask around our contacts. Someone must know if five unemployed soldiers are running about ripping people off. This might not be the first time they’ve done something like this.”

  “I’ll get right on it after I’ve taken Robby to the safehouse. Which one do you want me to take him to?”

  “The one on Lordsmead Street. Gregg Kiernan lives on there, he can keep an eye on the daft sod.”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  “Mark,” said Jez, halting him in his tracks.

  “Yes?”

  “If you’re right and these men are ex-soldiers, how would you feel about going up against them?”