Dead or Alive (24 page)

‘I'll do that, yes.'

‘Do you think you'd recognize the man if you ever saw him again?'

‘I think so.'

‘Can you remember anything about him or his car that might give us a clue to his identity?'

‘You sound fairly sure that his insurance details won't do that,' said Laura. ‘He was a smallish man and he spoke with a Birmingham accent.'

‘Fat, thin, how old?'

‘Average build. Fortyish … middle-aged, going a bit bald. His car was a dark blue Renault Clio. He was actually a bit of an old woman. I wouldn't have taken him to be a member of a kidnapping gang.'

‘No, you weren't supposed to.'

‘Oh, I see, sorry.'

‘Don't apologize. He may well be completely innocent.'

‘I don't think he was now.'

‘Oh, why not?'

‘Well, there was no reason for him to hit my car. I hadn't slammed on the brakes or anything. I'd been stopped at a junction for at least half a minute, signalling a right turn, and he came up behind and ran into me at about three miles an hour.'

‘Did you take his registration number?'

‘I did yes … do you want it?'

‘Please.'

‘You think it was a false plate, don't you?'

‘Possibly.'

‘Probably, more like.'

T
he Bentley Mulsanne, was parked beneath trees in a quiet lane beside the river Wharfe, ten miles north of Leeds. Its driver, Jez Copitch, was fishing in the river. It was a fine June morning and he had two days to himself, with his boss being away in London. DS Fiona Burnside had just arrived and was ascertaining her present postcode on her laptop. She needed to know the exact location of the driver before she contacted Danny. She got out of her unmarked car and strode, casually, along the path beside the road. Maybe Jez had picked up a girlfriend and impressed her enough with his car for her to go with him to a quiet spot where he could have his way with her. Fiona couldn't think of anything less innocent to explain why Jez had left his boss's car unattended. When she spotted him fishing it made her smile at how she'd misjudged him. Fishermen; who understands them? He was a good way away from the car, but the Bentley was almost thief proof, so why should he worry? Fiona knew this and smiled again. It was the word “almost” that should have made him worry. She took out her mobile.

‘Danny?'

‘Yeah.'

‘It's me, Sep's friend.'

‘Right. What have you got for me?'

‘I've got a post code – LS23 8BQ.'

‘Where's that?'

‘It's parked on a country road by the river near Wetherby. You need to be here ASAP.'

‘I'm in a truck, remember.'

‘I know. The driver's fishing.'

‘Fishing? Them fishing blokes have no sense of time.'

‘No, but I have. ASAP, Danny. I'm in a silver Mondeo parked about fifty yards away from the Bentley.'

It was a good half hour before the breakdown truck arrived. Danny pulled up in front of her as if she was needing his services. Fiona got out of her car and pointed out the Bentley to him, then she wandered up to where Jez was fishing, with his back to her and half hidden from by trees. He was now unwrapping some sandwiches and unscrewing the top off a flask. He didn't look to be moving from there any time soon. She turned and waved to Danny, giving him the thumbs up.

Ten minutes later, Danny had winched the Bentley on to the back of his truck and was driving away. Fiona took one last look at the contented Jez before following the truck. After driving just out of sight she stopped and turned her car around, parking it so she had a distant view of the road where Jez would emerge at some stage. It was almost two hours before she saw him appear, carrying his fishing tackle. He looked left and right, at first assuming he'd come out at the wrong part of the road. He walked away from her, then turned and walked back. His arms went up in the air, hands on his head in bewilderment. Even from her distance she could see his deep anxiety, and he had every right to be anxious. He'd just lost a two hundred thousand pound car that belonged to the most dangerous gang boss in Yorkshire. How the hell was he going to explain that? Fiona started her car and drove slowly towards him.

When he spotted her, he stepped into the middle of the road as she hoped he might. He waved for her to stop, which she did, remaining in her car with the doors locked, as any sensible woman would, having been waved down by this giant man. He came round to her side. She buzzed the electric window down an inch.

‘Did you pass a black Bentley up the road?'

He had an intimidating voice that came out as a low growl. His face was only inches from Fiona's, separated only by window glass. He had a scar running from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It was the sort of scar that hadn't been caused by any accident. It dragged his left eye down a little and the left side of his mouth up, marking him with a permanently fearsome expression.

‘Erm, yes, I think I did. About ten minutes ago.'

‘Ten minutes, oh shit! He could be anywhere by now.'

‘Why? Was it yours?'

‘Mine? No, it was me boss's. I was doin' a bit of fishin' and someone took it.'

‘Oh dear. I expect you're in trouble then.'

‘Yer could say that. Look, girl, I want yer ter give me a lift.'

‘Erm, I don't know.'

‘I'm not asking yer. I'm fuckin' tellin' yer!'

She knew that all she had to do was put her foot down and drive away from him. Instead she pretended to be scared of him. It wasn't difficult.

‘I … I'm going in to Leeds, if that's any help.'

‘That's where I need to be.'

‘Whereabouts?' she asked.

‘Chapeltown.'

‘Oh, right. I can take you right there if you like. Do you want to call into Allerton police station to report the theft? We'll be practically passing it. I can drop you off there.'

‘Yer drop me off where I tell yer.'

Forty five minutes later she was on the phone to Sep. ‘Right. We've got the Bentley and Jez's address.'

‘What about the tracker? We don't want the tracking people knowing where it is.'

‘It's in my pocket. In a couple of minutes it'll be in the back of a truck parked in the transport café car park where I'm ringing you from. It belongs to a Scottish haulier who's heading north – probably north of the border.'

‘You'll do for me, Detective Sergeant.'

‘It's as far as I go, Sep. I offered to take him to the police station to report the theft, but he declined. He's a scary man, Sep. I hung around until I saw him go into his house.'

‘He should have reported it in Wetherby.'

‘Silly me. I never thought to tell him that.'

‘Did he know you were a copper?'

‘Oddly enough, I didn't tell him that either.'

Sep smiled at her sarcasm. ‘OK, you did really well. I owe you a big favour.'

‘You also owe Danny a monkey. What will he have done with the car, by the way?'

‘It'll be under tarpaulin in a corner of his garage.'

‘I'm amazed he's taking that risk for five hundred quid.'

‘He owed me a big favour did the lad.'

‘Not as big as the one you owe me.'

‘Is Jez worried?'

‘Well, he's big and he's fearsome but I'd say he's a broken man. Apparently his boss had to wait over a year for that car to be delivered. Two hundred grand and there's people queueing up to buy 'em. Formosa's pride and joy by the sound of it. Good idea of yours to get it nicked. Shame
we
can't do stuff like that.'

‘Broken, eh? That's how I want him.' He paused, thoughtfully and added. ‘Last night Strathmore rang me. I wonder where he got my number?'

‘You know he got it from me, Sep.'

‘Yes, I do know that. He wants me to do the job directly for him … as if I need to tell you that.'

‘Formosa has a serious edge on us,' said Fiona, ‘especially with you not being on the job anymore.'

‘He's got the edge on everybody with Cope being in charge of the investigation.'

‘I know,' said Fiona, ‘and I'm thinking about those poor kids. When I heard Strathmore had been contacted and told they were alive, I gave him your number and told him you might be able to help but he mustn't mention it to Cope or to anyone at the station.'

‘That puts your job on the line, Fiona, never mind you helping me with Danny.'

‘Like I said, I was just thinking about those poor kids. So, what did Strathmore have to say to you?'

‘He offered me a hundred grand to find them.'

‘Did you accept?'

‘I said I'd do what I can.'

‘You know Formosa's asking two million for them.'

‘I do, but there aren't too many people who can raise two million in readies in a month, never mind a week. Strathmore certainly can't.'

‘I know.'

‘Which is why you gave him my number.'

‘Correct. You've got more chance of finding them than we have – especially now.'

‘I'm not too sure about that. This Jez character's an unknown quantity.'

‘I know, but I also know that you're not – not to me, anyway. He's got no chance once you get to work with your outrageous lies.'

‘I only lie to the criminal classes, Fiona. Oh, I have a car number for you to check. It's supposed to fit a blue Renault Clio.'

T
he children had been hooded and manhandled for thirty minutes. When the hoods were taken off, both of them had eyes red with tears; the cast in Milly's left eye was more pronounced and both of them had wet themselves with fear – the fear that they might be being taken to their deaths. Their situation was exacerbated by them still wearing the same school clothes in which they'd been abducted all those weeks ago. James spotted Milly's problem and felt it might ease her embarrassment if he admitted to his own problem first.

‘I've was so scared I peed myself,' he said, after their captors had left them alone in yet another cellar.

‘So did I. Is there a lavvy or anything down here?'

‘Dunno. I'll take a look through that door.'

The only source of light was a tiny window which was set at outside ground level. It cast a bleak light across the room, adding to its gloomy ambience. There was a rickety door in the corner. It opened on to a tiny room lit only by the dim light from the cellar. James peered into it until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. There was a toilet and a tap, underneath which was a large square sink. It was squalid room, laced with cobwebs and dirt and smelling of damp, rotting wood and distant drains. He looked into the toilet bowl and saw dark water, probably brown. He pulled the chain. The toilet flushed, dismally, but probably enough for a couple of kids on a starvation diet. He then tried the tap water which was initially brown, but after a while it cleaned up, perhaps even drinkable. He collected some in the palm of his hand and drank it. As far as he could tell it was OK.

He checked a single pipe leading from one wall and out through another, then he reported back to his sister.

‘There's a lavvy and a tap but it's really dark in there so if you need to use the lavvy you'll have to leave the door open to see. If you need to wash anything you could do it under the tap and hang it over the pipes.'

‘I think my pants and tights are a bit pongy.'

‘We do pong a bit, don't we?' said James. ‘I think my underpants could do with a bit of a rinse. There's a hot water pipe in there that'll help with the drying.'

‘What? We've got hot water, have we?'

James shook his head. ‘Just a hot pipe coming in and going out – better than nothing. There is some toilet paper in there though, so they are looking after us. You don't give people toilet paper if you don't want to look after them. Stands to reason.'

‘Looking after us? I thought they were taking us somewhere to kill us, James.'

‘Yeah, but they didn't. That means we'll be OK.'

‘Does it really?'

‘Yeah,' he assured her. ‘We're very valuable we are. Most prob'ly worth thousands, mebbe millions.'

‘I wish Daddy would hurry up and come for us. I hate these horrible men, James.'

‘We won't be here much longer, Milly.'

She was only slightly buoyed by her brother's optimism and her bottom lip began to quiver. James put his arm around her as she wept profusely and noisily. In a way it saved him doing the same. His sister was weeping for both of them. The light went on, but it didn't brighten their lives much. It would take more than a forty watt bulb to do that.

It wouldn't have saddened them one bit to know that their two captors would soon be dead.

J
ez was seriously thinking of leaving town. The trouble was that Formosa had fingers in many pies and in many towns and countries. He had methods of tracking people down that Jez couldn't understand. It involved Formosa having access to records that civilians weren't even supposed to know existed, never mind have access to. He'd have to change his name, he knew that. The trouble was, he couldn't change his appearance. He was a giant of a man who was further identifiable by the nasty scar on his face. He was sure Formosa could track him down eventually, no matter where he went. The knock on his door scared him rigid. No one ever came to his door at night. He went to a window and looked out at a large, scruffy man with long hair and a beard. He was holding a bicycle that he'd apparently arrived on.

‘Who the fuck are you?' he muttered to himself.

The man saw him in the window and waved a hand. Jez hesitated and went to the door, mainly out of curiosity. Vince wouldn't know about the car yet, so he had nothing to fear from that quarter. As he opened the door the man on the step held out a hand of greeting that Jez didn't take. Instead he repeated the question he'd just asked of himself.