Dead Silent (40 page)

Laura kept her thumb on the lighter button to keep the butane flowing and began to look around.

She looked down first, saw her bare feet against the mud wall. The light was reflected in the sheen of muddy water that was seeping into the hole, and, looking upwards, her eyes were met by the brown of the rusty metal, a solid ceiling just inches from her nose, no weak points visible except for the line of rivets on a join in the centre. She couldn’t turn over, was unable to get into any position where she could use her body effectively.

Susie’s legs were lifeless next to her. Laura tracked the lighter up her body, saw the clawed fingers, and then she almost dropped the lighter when she got to the face. Susie’s cheek and temple looked sunken, as if she had been struck with something heavy, and blood had collected below her head and was now being rinsed away by the rising water.

Laura turned her face away and let the lighter die out. She knew she would die if she stayed where she was. And so she kicked at the metal, and her hands scraped at the soil, her elbows pushing against Susie to give her some space.

She heard a noise like a scream, and then she realised that it was her own voice, shouting as loud as she could and all the time her fists and feet were hitting out, seized by panic, no longer able to hold it in, trapped. She knew she was going to die.

I ran up the drive towards Frankie’s front door. His Vespa was outside, pulled up onto its stand by the front door. I didn’t knock, just twisted on the handle and ran inside.

‘Frankie!’

There was silence.

‘Frankie?’

I was met by silence again, but then I heard a sound, like the creak of a door. It was coming from upstairs.

I sprinted up the first flight, pausing when I reached the landing. I looked around, tried to work out where the sound had come from. The house seemed still. Maybe it had just been the wind in an old draughty building.

Then I heard it again. Just the creak of a floorboard. Upstairs once more. Frankie’s room.

I ran again, two steps at a time, onto the small landing, and then rushed into his room. Frankie was sitting in a chair, looking out of the window. He turned and smiled at me.

‘You are in my house,’ he said.

‘What you said this morning, Frankie, that you had seen Laura with someone,’ I gasped, my heart beating fast.

He smirked. ‘I’m not sure I remember.’

‘Yes, you do, Frankie, and I’m not in the mood for fucking around. Tell me what you saw.’

Frankie glanced at the bare wall. ‘I’m not sure I’m allowed. The police took away all my pictures.’

‘That’s because you look into people’s bedrooms,’ I said. ‘This is different. This is about saving a life.’

Frankie seemed to like that, and he rocked faster, his teeth bared as his smile grew bigger.

‘I want my pictures.’

‘What kind of man are you?’ I said.

‘One who knows what he likes,’ he snapped. ‘And who has got something you want.’

‘I could just look at your computer.’

He shrugged. ‘Go ahead, but it’ll take you some time to get past the passwords.’ He watched me, and then smirked again. ‘You don’t have time, do you? I can tell that, from the way you burst into my home. You’re in a panic.’

I paced up and down quickly, losing my temper. ‘You said you liked Laura,’ I said, turning to him, pointing. ‘So help her.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’

Frankie shook his head. ‘My pictures first.’

I took a deep breath, and then I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the envelope containing the photographs.

Frankie snatched them from me and flicked through them, his cheeks flushing red.

‘Show me, Frankie,’ I said. ‘The pictures from last night.’

After a few seconds, Frankie put his photographs down and wheeled towards his computer. He clicked the mouse as the cursor hovered over the ‘My Pictures’ icon and, as the folder opened, I looked at the screen and saw a collection of images, some showing my house.

‘You said there were passwords.’

‘Maybe I was wrong,’ Frankie replied.

I tried to bite down on my anger. ‘Print them off,’ I said, and a few seconds later the printer started whirring away under his desk.

When the printer had finished, I snatched up the pictures and studied them. They showed Claude coming out of my house, looking around. It was taken from a distance, but I recognised him.

The other pictures made me sit down, Frankie’s bed creaking under me. They showed two people by a Mini, Laura and Claude, the latter with his unkempt beard, his hair hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, more Salvation Army hostel than eighties charmer. In each one, though, there was a good view of his face, and I recognised him. More than that, there was a number plate visible. I would call Joe with that as soon as I got outside. But it was the sight of Laura that shocked me. She was being taken to his car, bound by her wrists and feet, and her face looked swollen and bloodied.

‘I’m taking these,’ I said to Frankie. ‘If you remove them from your computer, I’ll burn your house down.’

He smiled, but I could tell from the twitch in the corner of his mouth that he heeded the threat. And right then, I meant it.

‘We’re even,’ he said.

‘Not even fucking close,’ I snarled, as I slammed the door.

Laura gulped at the air. It was getting harder to breathe. The freezing water had collected as high as her hips and she was shivering.

She tried to stay calm—panic was an enemy—but it was hard. She didn’t want this to be the end. Goosebumps flashed across her arms and legs. She didn’t know if it was the cold or the thought of what lay ahead.

Laura thought of her parents, made herself think of the happy teenage years she’d had. She had learnt to do things her own way, make her own decisions—the police, the move north—but her parents had always been there for her, supporting, loving. She tried to imagine her mother’s voice, soft and warm, and the memory lifted her for a moment.

She turned her face away from Susie. The buzz of insects had grown louder. Or was she imagining it? There was no way of knowing in the darkness. It had got harder to hold the lighter, her fingers now too cold to grip it, and so she had dropped it into the water.

Laura reached up to wipe the sweat from her eyes and she found herself out of breath, her chest moving in hard quick pumps. Her hands shook as she lifted them. Her clothes were getting heavier in the water and she felt tired and cold. Precious sleep would take her away from there.

She shook her head. Don’t think like that. Stay alert. Where was Jack? He would know what to do, would have the right words.

She kicked at the metal again, angry now, but her foot moved sluggishly, her jeans heavy with water, her muscles aching. The sound came back as a dull thud followed by a small splash as her foot went back into the water.

Laura hit out again, and then she stopped, panting. She couldn’t last much longer, she knew that. The air was getting thin. She was wheezing, her lungs working hard for the oxygen, every deep breath replacing it with carbon dioxide, squeezing out the air that she needed.

Would she be awake when she took that last breath, when there was no more air to be had?

I drove quickly from Frankie’s house, my phone wedged between my shoulder and ear. It was against the law, but fuck it, give me the penalty points.

‘Joe, it’s me, Jack,’ I shouted when he answered.

‘Where are you?’

‘On my way to Alan Lake’s house. Meet me there.’

‘Why there?’ he asked.

‘Because he’s the link in all of this, and he might know where Claude is,’ I said. ‘And more than that. I’ve got pictures of Claude, taken last night, getting into a green Mini, with Laura. He’s taken her.’

‘What’s the registration number?’

I reached across for the photographs and balanced them on the steering wheel, flicking through. I knew I was pushing more than a mobile phone offence now, but that didn’t mean I was going to stop.

I barked the registration number at Joe and then threw the photographs back onto the seat.

‘If you want a photograph of Claude to circulate, meet me at Alan Lake’s house,’ I said, and then I clicked off my phone.

I ignored the speed limits all the way there, and there were at least two bright flashes in my rearview mirror as I went over the dashed lines on the road in front of the speed cameras. As I drove towards Alan Lake’s house, I saw another car I recognised: a red Jaguar. Chief Inspector Roach. I should have expected it. He was just leaving.

‘What brings you here?’ he said when he saw me.

‘No, Roach, what brings you here?’ I said, and then I pointed at the house. ‘I’m going to speak with Mr Lake, your business partner. Would you like to join me?’

He paled, and then his brow furrowed. ‘Yes, I think I ought to,’ he said, and I was aware of him following at my shoulder as I marched towards the big glass door.

Alan Lake looked round as I entered the house, Roach just behind me. He stared at me, his face confused, and then at Roach. I saw Roach shake his head.

‘Do you know why I’m here?’ I said.

‘The same as always,’ Lake said. He pointed at Roach. ‘Look, you’ve got the scoop, another player here.’

‘Don’t be smart,’ I said. ‘Let me tell you what I know about you both.’

He held out his hands and smiled. ‘By all means.’

‘Northern Works,’ I said, and I saw the smile disappear.

Lake looked at Roach. ‘It’s okay, Paul, I’ll handle this.’

I turned round. ‘No, stay, I don’t mind.’

Lake pursed his lips. ‘No, it would be better if he wasn’t here,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk.’

Roach looked at me, and then at Alan Lake, before nodding to himself. ‘Okay,’ he said, and then he turned to me. ‘Don’t make trouble.’

‘Trouble has already arrived, Roach, so go fuck yourself,’ I barked.

Roach flushed for a moment, but then he turned and left. I stayed silent until the door had closed, Lake gestured towards a chair. ‘Sit down.’

‘I haven’t got time for pleasantries,’ I said. ‘Claude has got Laura.’

Alan walked to a cabinet and poured himself a whisky. He raised the bottle to me to see whether I was interested, but I shook my head. He walked to the sofa and sat back, pausing to take a sip, letting out a small sigh of pleasure. My fists clenched and I focused hard on not going for him.

‘So, you want to know about Northern Works,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘No, I want to find Claude,’ I said, ‘and it seems like you’re pretty good at finding him somewhere to hide.’

He raised his glass in salute. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, although the snipe in his smile was obvious.

‘Why did you shield Claude Gilbert?’

‘Are you asking as a journalist, as a copper’s bed partner, or because you’re so damn fucking nosy?’

I sat down on the chair opposite and leant forward. ‘I just want to find Laura—and to do that, I need to find Claude,’ I said. ‘I’ve got enough to cause you problems, especially if anything happens to Laura, so stop fucking me around and talk. Where’s Claude?’

‘I don’t know where Claude is.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I don’t care whether you believe me or not,’ he said. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘So what do you know about him?’ I said. ‘Anything you’ve got might help.’

He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

‘I haven’t got much,’ he said. He looked at me. ‘Are you definitely going to print?’

‘One hundred per cent. Northern Works is the follow-up story, and finding Laura is the happy ending, so get a move on,’ I said. ‘Tell me what you know, but if I find out later on that you knew things that could have saved Laura, then I will come after you, and I won’t stop.’

He thought for a moment, and then he said, ‘Claude came to see me in the cells during my trial. He told me that he was going to run. He didn’t tell me the details, just said it was a personal thing, and I didn’t ask. You move with crooks and you learn not to ask questions. He needed my help to escape.’

‘Why did he ask you?’

Lake fidgeted at that, though I could tell that he had been waiting for the question for twenty-two years.

‘Because he thought I had influence.’

‘And did you?’

‘More than him.’

‘But helping him out would keep you in prison for longer,’ I said. ‘You were halfway through your trial.’

Lake gave me a wry smile. ‘But I
was
going to be convicted. The witnesses were good, and Claude, well, he was all over the fucking place. I was glad he was going. Waste of time. I knew it would cost me a few more weeks inside, but I was looking at another couple of years if I lost the trial. Empires crumble in that time, and so it was an easy decision to reach.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t accept that. I know how criminal minds work. You think you’re going to get away with it every time.’

Lake looked at me, his stare direct. ‘I wasn’t some grubby little house burglar or drug runner. I knew what I was doing. The little fuckers who can’t keep out of prison are the stupid
ones, the cannon fodder. The big guys never get caught. Those are the rules.’

‘If you’re trying to impress me, save your breath.’

Lake sighed and sat back. ‘Those days are behind me. And even then I was moving on.’

‘By helping your barrister to flee the country?’

‘I know how it looks,’ he said. He held his glass to his cheek for a moment as he considered me, and then he sighed and looked vulnerable for a moment. I was surprised.

‘The girl I glassed,’ he said, and then added, ‘…allegedly.’ I didn’t appreciate his joke. ‘She was the girlfriend of someone who did errands for me, but that ended when he went to prison.’

‘How come?’

Lake became more reflective, his brow becoming furrowed, an uncertain look in his eyes. ‘There was a girl, a kid really. Twelve years old. Innocent, not yet old enough to cause anyone any harm. One day, she was crossing the road, had been to the shops or something, all excited with her bag of sweets.’ Lake swirled the drink in his glass and looked down as he spoke. ‘She ran in front of my car. It was over so quick. One minute it’s a normal drive, and the next she’s on the bonnet of my car. She hit the windscreen, smashed it right through with her head. Someone got my number, and so the police came to me and wanted to know who had been driving the car. I told them I didn’t know.’