Snatched (10 page)

‘So how’s the wife and kids . . .?’

Initially baffled, Mac felt the anger rising. How arrogant this woman was to assume that he would be waiting patiently in the kitchen for her to come back, instead of escaping. It was the same arrogance that assumed he wasn’t armed and willing to use it.

‘Look Tom, we can catch up later but there’s been a change of plan . . .’

She was talking to Tom Bracken. Mac resented her familiar tone but Bracken was the obvious person to get in touch with, if Garcia’s extradition was to be cancelled. Still, he resented it all the same.

‘You’ve got bigger fish to fry than Garcia. I can help you with that. Get something organised on Garcia’s extradition and we’ll talk when I get home . . . Oh really? That would be perfect. Give me the details and I’ll sort something out here . . . Hold on a minute, I’ll need a pen and paper . . .’

Mac heard her footsteps approaching the door. He hurried back to the kitchen and was sitting at the table when she came back and asked him with a smile. ‘Babe, have you a pen and paper? I’m wrapping something up for us here.’

‘Babe’ reached into the pocket of his policeman’s uniform with leaden fingers and passed her the notebook and pen.

When the lounge door closed, he crept back to his listening post and heard her say, ‘OK, that should do it . . .’ There was a long pause before Elena added, ‘It’s always about Roman for me Tom. Nothing else matters. You know that . . . Ciao bella . . .’

Mac hesitated for a few seconds before heading back to the kitchen when he heard her footsteps again. What – or who – was ‘Roman’?

Elena passed him the notebook as soon as she re-entered the kitchen. ‘Pass this information onto Garcia’s lawyer. The extradition papers state Garcia’s wanted for laundering money through a private bank registered in Paraguay. But the bank isn’t registered in Paraguay, it’s in Brazil. The papers are wrong.’

‘But his lawyer’s sharp, he would have noticed that.’

‘Not unless he’s an expert in Latin American company law, and goes to Paraguay and Brazil to check. Do you think his lawyer can do that?’

Mac decided Stephen Foster probably could, but this scrap of notepaper would save him the trouble.

‘Why would Bracken let a slip-up like that remain on the papers?’

Elena picked up the coffee cup and drained it. ‘Everyone’s watching their back in this business Mac; you should know that. Tom always makes sure there’s a minor error in the paperwork so if he needs to cancel an extradition application he can tip off the other side’s lawyers. That way everyone’s saved embarrassment, apart from the poor fool in the office who drew up the extradition paperwork – because that’s the person who gets the blame.’

‘Who’s Roman?’

Elena gave him a half-smile. ‘Are you jealous Mac? Do you think I have a lover hidden somewhere?’

His anger rose again. ‘What you decide to do—’

‘It’s our son’s American name,’ she explained. ‘When I wind up the business in the US I don’t want anyone to be able to trace him.’

Mac shook his head. ‘A false name? That’s no way for a baby to begin his life. You’re already turning him into a criminal.’

Red crept up her face. ‘I’m doing what I think is best—‘

But Mac wasn’t listening. He’d heard noises on the street. He jumped up and headed for the stairs. Elena followed him. He went into the front bedroom and gently flicked the net curtains. The street outside was a beehive of activity. Further up the road, three heavies were lying face down in the road being handcuffed. In front of the house, armed cops were crawling behind cars and walls, training their Heckler and Koch semi-automatics on the house.

A suddenly anxious Elena whispered by his ear, ‘What’s going on?’

Mac took a couple of steps backwards from the window.

‘Looks like neither of us will see our boy again.’

Seventeen

Elena rushed out of the bedroom. Mac looked back out of the window. The police were nearly all in position. It was only a matter of time before the loudhailer started blaring, telling them to come out with their hands up.

Elena returned in a panic. ‘They’re out the back too. We’ll have to shoot our way out.’

He laughed at that. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s dozens of them out there. This isn’t Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid—’

‘I can’t go to prison; I won’t go. I just want to get out of here with my son.’

The aching emotion in her voice meant he couldn’t deny what he wanted too – she really did love their child. Both their bloods flowed through that tiny body.

Mac sighed and took her hand, leading her to the bed where he sat her down. He held her trembling hand for a few moments. ‘There’s only one way out of this. One of us will have to go down while the other one escapes and looks after the kid.’ His voice sounded calm. ‘That’s the only option. And as it’s me they’re looking for, I’ll have to take the fall.’ She looked at him with incomprehension so he went on. ‘They must have surveillance on the house. They’re after me for various things and they’ll have seen me come in through the front door and called an armed response team. They’re not looking for you. They don’t even know you’re here.’

‘Of course they do. If there’s surveillance, they’ll have seen me come in.’

‘I’ll tell them you were a third burglar and you escaped out the back. They won’t know anyone else is here and the other two witnesses are dead. There’s a hidden room behind the bathroom. The panels they pulled off to find it are resting against the sink. We’ll hide you in there, find some discarded nails and hammer the panels back. You’ll have to hide in there for a day or two but they won’t be looking for you. I’ll give myself up and take the rap for the two dead kids. When Garcia’s released, I’ll get word to you that John Mac’s free and you can collect him.’

Elena seemed to be looking for the catch but couldn’t see one. With an expression like wax, Mac held out his hand. ‘Give me the gun Elena. I’m going to need it to prove I shot the kids. Get in the bathroom and I’ll hammer you in the secret space.’

She gave him a malicious look. ‘You must think I’m stupid.’ She got off the bed and went to the window, drawing her gun and peering out of the narrow gap in the nets. A light from outside passed over the house, illuminating her beautiful face for a few moments before the darkness fell again. She stood for a long time before a loudhailer outside bellowed, ‘Mac? It’s Phil. Don’t do anything crazy. We can work this out. I’m going to call you on your mobile. Just stay calm and we can sort this out.’

The light from outside flickered over the house again. Mac’s mobile went off. He fetched it from his pocket and took the call.

‘OK Phil, I’m alright. Just give me few minutes and I’ll come out . . . No, I’m on my own, there’s no else here. I’ll chuck the gun out the window first. Don’t panic –don’t storm the house – everything’s cool, and I’ll phone you back in the next ten minutes.’

Mac rang off. Then he got up and walked to where Elena still sat on the bed. He put his hand around the barrel of her pistol and pulled it from her yielding fingers before ordering, ‘In the bathroom . . .’

He took her by the arm and led her away. Like a small child, she allowed herself to be put in the hidden space. Mac picked up the panels and found discarded nails from the raid scattered on the bathroom floor. Panel by panel he knocked the nails back into the holes with the handle of her pistol.

‘This is how it’s going to work. When I’m dragged off to prison, I’m going to get the same lawyer as Garcia. His name is Stephen Foster. Give a contact number to Foster, I’ll tell him you’ll be in touch. When Garcia walks free, he’ll advise you where to pick up the baby.’

When there was only one panel left, she was in darkness and said, ‘I did love you, in my way . . .’

Mac knocked the last panel back into place.

He went back into the bedroom and called to Phil Delaney. ‘I’m going to toss the gun out of the window and then come out of the front door. But on one condition.’

‘You’re in no position to make deals.’

Mac ignored him. ‘Before I’m roughed up and dragged off, I need to speak to you first. That’s an essential. OK?’

It took a few seconds of an off-phone conversation before Phil told him, ‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’

Mac walked up to the window and opened it. The street outside bristled with movement as the police trained their weapons on the window. Mac held Elena’s pistol out in the open air for a few moments before dropping it. Two cops crept forward, guns trained, to recover it and bagged it as evidence. Mac walked out onto the landing. He took a brief glimpse into the bathroom to admire his handy work with the panels and then checked the bathroom lock again to make sure it worked. He walked down the stairs and to the front door. Pulled it open. Once again, the street was alive with nervous movement. He held up his two hands and pushed them around the door to show he was unarmed before poking his head out. There seemed to be guns pointing at him from all angles. He walked a few steps down the path before he was pounced on with a shout of, ‘On your front, hands out!’

Bundled to the path, sat on by three cops, hands cuffed, Mac was frisked before someone shouted he was unarmed. Then he was dragged back to his feet and frogmarched to a waiting police car. Phil Delaney appeared. Mac felt a hand on his head as he was pushed onto the back seat. He called out to Phil who was standing watching.

‘You bastard, you promised!’

His boss walked up and looked into the car. ‘I want a doctor to check you over first. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.’

‘Tomorrow morning’s no good. We need to talk now.’

Another officer climbed in so Mac was trapped in the middle. The back door slammed shut. Phil Delaney walked off up the garden path and went into the house. The car idled while the driver arranged over the radio to get an escort before it set off. Mac hung his head. He wasn’t going to see his son again.

Hammering on the car’s bodywork made him jump. The back door was flung open and a furious Delaney appeared, shouting, ‘Get him out!’

Mac was dragged from the car and stood up in front of his superior.

‘There are two dead kids in there. What the fuck? What the fuck?’

‘I didn’t kill them and I can prove it. Take me back in the house and I’ll show you what happened.’

‘No fucking chance. You’re a murderer; you tell your lawyer what happened.’

‘Check the gun I threw out of the window. It’s got my prints on the barrel where I handled it but not on the handle or the trigger. They’re someone else’s. Take the cuffs off me, take me back inside and I’ll show you what happened.’ Delaney said nothing until he was reminded, ‘The whole street’s full of our armed colleagues. What am I going to do?’

Phil called for the gun that was sealed in an evidence bag to be brought over. He held it up to the light and examined it as if that would tell him anything. When Mac pointed out that it wasn’t the kind of firearm you could buy second-hand for five hundred quid from a scrap metal merchant in South London, his boss looked at him and nodded. ‘OK, since you seem to be the man with all the answers, you take me inside and show me what happened.’

Intrigued and reassured by Mac’s calm manner, he also agreed the cuffs could come off.

The two men, accompanied by an armed escort, walked into the house that was now being treated as a crime scene for a second time. The two burglars were being removed while the house was being searched and was full of activity. They climbed the stairs and when they reached the landing, Mac gestured at the bathroom with his head and whispered, ‘In there. Tell your friend with the gun here to stay outside and I’ll show you the explanation’. He raised his hands to remind his suspicious boss that he was unarmed.

When they were inside the bathroom Mac leaned his head close to his boss’s, whispered, ‘The panels.’

Phil’s face screwed up in confusion. ‘Who put the panels—’

Mac placed a finger on his lip, again whispered, ‘Shut the door.’

‘Mac . . .?’

Voice still low, Mac said, ‘Trust me.’

That got an eyebrow lift from his superior. They remained still for a few seconds, then Phil followed through with Mac’s instruction.

‘Lock it.’

Phil slipped the heavy Victorian lock into place. Mac moved away from the wall panelling and pulled off a panel under the bath. He let his hand go inside. Straightened. Turned.

‘Oh Mac,’ Phil said as he looked at the Beretta Mac was pointing at him.

Eighteen

Mac pushed the gun slightly down.

‘Trust me . . .’

A quick tap-tap-tap on the other side of the door followed by, ‘Are you alright in there sir?’

‘Trust me . . .’ Mac again whispered holding Phil’s gaze.

There was a long delay while Delaney assessed the situation before he shouted, ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

Mac nodded with approval and then whispered, ‘We can sort this out but first we need a third person to join us.’

He walked across to his handy work with the panels, inspected it and then began to violently kick it until it caved in. He gestured with his gun and Phil went to look inside the space. It took a few moments before Phil looked back and shrugged his shoulders. Mac hurried to look inside.