Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) by J J Salkeld

almost completely calm.
    ‘It’s a funny thing’ said Brockbank, ‘but you haven’t asked me what the pay for this job is.’
    Mann’s stomach turned.
    ‘I thought you wanted to try me out, that’s all.’
    ‘This aint no freebie marrer, there’s five hundred quid in it for you.’
    Mann whistled.
    ‘Listen, those tractors will bring me in six grand, which I split fifty-fifty with Dave, the driver. So you’re well worth your share.’
     
    The lights on the lot went out. ‘Come on then’ said Brockbank, ‘let’s get this done.’
    They got out of the car, and Mann took his bolt cutters from the boot. The barrier was the swing up and down type, secured by a heavy duty padlock and chain. Mann decided that the chain would be the easiest to get through, and he was right. Within twenty seconds he had gone through both links, and was swinging the heavy counterweighted bar upwards. As he did so he heard one of the tractors start, and it drove past him just as he was locking the barrier in the up position. Mann ran back to his car, threw the cutters in the boot and headed for the trailer. The first tractor was already on, Brockbank was out of the cab and running back to the lot, and Dave was already pulling the straps down on one side of the trailer. He motioned to Mann to do the same on the other side.
     
    It felt to Mann like they’d used all of their fifteen minutes and more by the time they’d tied down all three tractors and put fake plates on them. Dave hadn’t said a single word to him, but he waved as he finished and ran towards his cab. Mann and Brockbank ran back to his car, and Brockbank told him to drive east to the next junction, and turn there to drive back to Brampton. ‘We’ll clock the cops coming the other way I expect’ said Brockbank calmly.
     
    He was right, and just before Brampton they saw a marked car heading east fast, with its blues and twos on. Brockbank laughed, and Mann just drove, checking his rear view mirror regularly.
    ‘You’re a cool customer Gary, I’ll give you that. Was that really your first time thieving?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Aye, it does that.’
     
    Mann drove at the speed limit, and pulled over in the side street in Brampton where Brockbank had left his Subaru. Mann remembered that he should ask about his money.
    ‘How long ‘til you can settle up Ben?’
    ‘Won’t be long Gary. Just when I get paid. Like I said those tractors are for export, and it takes a few days for them to reach their destination. I get the cash then.’
    Mann nodded. ‘No rush, I’m not short at the moment.’
    Brockbank reached for the door handle, but didn’t get out. The courtesy light had come on, and he looked over at Mann.
    ‘Do you like a flutter?’
    Mann shrugged. He didn’t want to commit himself.
    ‘Course you do. Tell you what. There’s the first hound trail of the season, just a practice run like, up Kentmere on Saturday. Two o’clock start. Come along and I’ll hand over the money then. See how much you get to go home with, eh?’
    ‘I haven’t been to a hound trail since I was a kid. One of my uncles was keen. Stupid sod lost the family car to a bookie one time on Kendal Racecourse.’
    Brockbank smiled. ‘It happens.’ He reached over and shook Mann’s hand. ‘There’s more where that came from, if you’re up for it.’
    Mann nodded, and Brockbank opened the door. Mann couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive.

    Tuesday, 26th February
     
    When Hall emailed Val Gorham with an update on Ian Mann’s activities of the night before, and what follow-up he’d put in hand, her reply arrived within a minute. How did anyone read and write so fast? What she wanted was an immediate meeting, involving Robinson, Hall, herself and Ian Mann. Hall tried to match her speed, and suggested that they meet in Kendal, to keep Ian well away from his new associates. ‘2pm’ came the reply.
     
    Superintendent Robinson was not