Snatched (6 page)

Mac took the information in. If Garcia was telling the truth that would explain how John Mac came to be in London. But it left one important question. ‘And Elena Romanov, where is she now?’

‘Is that her real name?’ Mac just stared the other man down. ‘The answer to your question is that I don’t know. But the obvious answer would be back in the US, hunting for the boy. However, one of the tactics that Ms Romanov has employed to great effect in the past is to give information to law enforcement in the USA that they can use to arrest her enemies. In return they pass information back to her. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s unprofessional behaviour, but there’s no doubt that it’s effective. I’m afraid it wouldn’t surprise me if one of her friends in the FBI had already tipped her off that the boy was now in the custody of the British authorities. Nor would it surprise me to discover that she was already in London under a false name looking for him.’

Mac nodded; he’d already come to that conclusion himself. ‘Have you heard of an FBI agent called Tom Bracken?’

Garcia smiled as if an old friend had been mentioned. ‘Ah yes, Mr Bracken—’

‘Do you think he would tip Elena off that the baby was in London?’

Garcia’s fingers started rubbing together again. ‘He’s a very unscrupulous individual. I’m afraid that wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Although, of course, Ms Romanov would have to help him catch someone in return – which no doubt she would be delighted to do.’

The two men sat in silence. Mac studied the prisoner carefully as he’d done so many times in the past. Garcia had every reason to lie but the story about Elena rang true. It also explained why John Mac would be in London. In the minutes that followed, Mac devised a plan. He also noticed that Garcia seemed very pleased with himself, which pissed the hell out of him. ‘OK Mr Garcia, that’s all I need to know. If I require any more information, I’ll be in touch.’

‘Delighted to help you my friend and I’m sure you’ll help me in due course.’

Mac rose from his chair but then sank back down again. Something wasn’t right.

‘You seem very confident that I’ll be able to help you.’

Garcia had his malicious grin on again. ‘Yes, I’m very confident about that.’

When Mac got back to his car, he was in a panic about John Mac’s safety. With his suspicions about Elena confirmed, he decided to check straight away that his son was safely hidden. He rang Stephen Foster who was happy to put his mind at rest. ‘Yes, of course I’ve ensured the child is safely tucked away. A colleague of mine has taken the baby to his place in the country. He’s perfectly secure.’

Mac leaned back in his seat with relief. ‘You’d better give me the guy’s contact details so I can check my boy’s OK.’

Foster was dismissive. ‘There’s no need for that. In fact, it’s better that you don’t know. It will be more secure that way.’

Mac was alarmed. ‘I want to know where my son is.’

‘And you will, you will. And then you’ll be happily reunited with your child . . .’ There was a long pause before Foster added with menace, ‘As soon as Mr Garcia is released from custody.’

Mac reeled with horror. He’d recovered the son he thought he’d never see, only to lose him again through his own stupidity.

Nine

When Mac got home from the prison, he found his front door had been professionally battered in and left hanging open. Still in shock from his phone call with Foster, he walked through the hallway to find his property had been completely ransacked. Files, papers, ornaments and furniture were left scattered around. Doors on cupboards and sideboards swung wide and his home computer was gone. Then Mac noticed that on an armchair that had come to rest at an angle to the wall, a solitary figure was sitting, smoking a cigarette.

‘I was hoping you’d make an appearance.’

Phil Delaney.

Mac looked around at the ruins and then back at Phil. ‘Why wouldn’t I come back to my own home?’

Phil’s voice was laced with sarcasm. ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard – your son has been kidnapped from hospital.’

Mac didn’t need to play the role of a father whose son had just been stolen away. He was a father whose son had just been stolen away. ‘I know. I was at the hospital earlier. I can’t believe you allowed that to happen. I thought he was supposed to be under guard.’

Phil ignored the slight. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t call in when you found out?’

‘I was in shock. I’m still in shock. What’s happened to my home?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry about that but you know the drill. When a crime is committed against a member of a family, other family members are usually in the frame. Your son’s been kidnapped so I’m afraid we have to treat you as a possible suspect. I brought a team around to search for any evidence that you are connected to the crime.’

Mac picked up a fallen photo. A great photo of his other son Stevie a year before he’d died. He placed it back gently on the mantelpiece. ‘Yes, I understand that . . .’ Then he added with sarcasm of his own, ‘And did you find any evidence?’

His boss didn’t answer. He stubbed out his cigarette and got up out of the armchair. He looked around at the wreckage of Mac’s life. ‘I’ll get someone round to secure the front door.’

Mac realised that his superior’s people must still be trawling through the hospital’s security footage. Phil began to walk out of the flat but as he did so, he turned, walked over to Mac and put his arm around his shoulder. There was nothing supportive about his gesture.

He whispered, ‘Don’t come back to the office until this business is sorted out.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong sir.’ Mac had only called Phil sir on a few occasions. Times when the tension between them was like a line marking the hierarchy of their different ranks. ‘You know what the police therapist put in my notes: if I don’t work – even glued to a desk job – that could trigger my PTSD again. You wouldn’t want that would you?’

Phil squeezed Mac’s shoulder. ‘I’m warning you now, if I find out you had anything to do with the abduction of that child, you won’t be wearing a badge anymore.’

The following morning when Mac arrived at work, he checked the time: 9.00 a.m. London time, 1.00 in the early hours LA time. Meanwhile, Phil Delaney ignored him. When Mac went to visit his office, Shazia told him that their boss would be unavailable all day as he was busy organising the investigation into the hospital kidnapping. Although she did add pointedly, ‘I believe he may want to interview you about that when he’s got all the facts together . . .’

Mac checked his watch again: 1.10 a.m. in Los Angeles.

He left the office and took five hundred pounds out of two ATMs. Then he caught a cab to a scrapyard in South London and asked one of the workers there if he could speak to his boss. The guy went away and then came back to say he couldn’t, the boss was busy. Mac told him to go back and tell him John ‘Mac’ MacDonagh wanted to see him. The man did as he was told and, on returning, escorted Mac up a flight of metal stairs to a makeshift office that overlooked the scattered pipes, sheet metal and broken cars that littered the yard below. Behind the desk was a tattooed heavy in a baseball cap. He looked warily at Mac when he came in and then checked behind to see if anyone was accompanying him. When he saw that there wasn’t, he offered him a seat and a cuppa, which Mac accepted but didn’t drink.

There was a brief silence before the guy said, ‘Well, Mr MacDonagh, long time, no see.’

‘How long did you end up serving?’

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. ‘You know, the standard five for possession of a firearm. I was a good boy so I only did half the sentence and then they knocked another couple of months off because the prison was overcrowded.’ He shrugged his shoulders a second time. ‘Can’t complain.’

‘Well, I’m sorry about that.’

‘Sorry? Why? I used to sell firearms and you catch people who sell firearms. That’s the deal ain’t it? I’m not complaining. People in my line of work know how it works. You were only doing your job as I was doing mine.’ Then he hastily added, ‘Although I’ve left all that behind now. The only hard metal I deal in now is in the yard below.’

Mac looked around the office. It was covered in calendars that featured topless models. Whatever his other problems, it was clear Jimmy always knew what the date was. ‘That’s a shame.’

The other man’s left eye twitched. ‘Oh yeah – why’s that then?’

‘Because I need to buy some hard wear and I want you to sell me one.’

Jimmy looked baffled for a moment before he burst out laughing. ‘Bollocks Mr MacDonagh, don’t tell me your arrest rate is so low, you need to entrap unfortunate ex-offenders like me. I might end up feeling sorry for you.’

‘I’m serious. I need a piece.’

‘No-can-do Mister M. You know how it is.’

‘Five hundred quid. And I need it today.’

Mac took the money out of his pocket and put it on the desk. Jimmy picked it up and examined it. ‘You won’t get much for that.’

‘Why don’t you give me a discount for old time’s sake?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘Maybe I will.’

‘We can trust each other here, can we?’

Jimmy smiled. ‘I can see you’re in trouble Mister M. I recognise the look of a man who’s been backed into a corner and needs something special in a hurry. I’ve seen it often enough. And if you needed it for police work, you’d book one out at the station wouldn’t you? Go for a coffee somewhere. In a couple of hours, I’ll text you a location. You can pick it up there.’

Mac went for a coffee in a working caff in a nearby street. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen the place but it seemed familiar. He took his coffee from the waitress and then left it to go cold in front of him. The only surprise about the abduction of his own son was that he hadn’t been arrested already. He was sure he would be all over the security footage in the hospital and that someone would recognise him from the shots. But then he’d admitted being at the hospital in the afternoon. Plus he’d wrapped John Mac securely in his hoodie already bulked up by its natural padding. Perhaps Phil was having trouble getting the timings right. They’d been careless not impounding his car and checking for the baby’s DNA. But then he’d already got rid of the baby carrier and he was sure little John Mac hadn’t left any trace on the seats. Perhaps he would get away with it.

Mac roamed over the other evidence, back and forth. He tried to put himself in Elena’s high-heeled shoes. What would her next move be? She was in London, he was sure of that. He wondered if she’d have back-up in town to recover the boy? Of course she would. Murky people like her could always afford to pay for local guns for hire. Firstly, she’d have find out where her son was. Then she’d have to devise a plan to get her hands on him, before finally getting him out of the country. If the baby was still in the hospital, she would have had no problem. But now the situation was more complicated. Even he didn’t know where John Mac was. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that Foster had kidnapped his son in turn. The creepy lawyer might be as twisted as a python around a tree trunk but he knew how not to get caught.

His phone pinged. Mac looked at his watch and realised that he’d been brooding for two hours. A simple message from Jimmy:
The café where you picked me up. 15 minutes.

That’s when Mac remembered why the place he was sitting in seemed so familiar. It was in this café – or one very much like it – that Mac had arrested Jimmy the gun dealer and a couple of his associates five years or so previously. Or was it somewhere else? Ten minutes later, a council worker came through the door, took a seat and looked over the menu. He ordered the all-day ‘big breakfast’ and then asked the waitress where the toilets were. On his way past, he reached into his pocket and produced a green supermarket bag, which he placed on the seat next to Mac. It was done so seamlessly that it was a few seconds before he realised what had happened. When the man returned to begin tucking into his breakfast, Mac studied him. The guy was familiar too but the new owner of an illegal firearm couldn’t place him.

Picking up the green bag, Mac went to the toilet and locked the door. He looked inside his bag to find what he’d got for his five hundred pounds. Hidden in a shoe box was a Beretta automatic and twenty rounds of ammunition. The pistol was old but had been well cared for. His only concern was that the amount of ammo might not be enough if he was going up against Elena Romanov.

On the way out, Mac finally recognised the courier who had brought him the gun. It was one of the other men he’d arrested in the café with Jimmy the scrap metal merchant. That meant two convicted criminals would be able to implicate him in the illegal purchase of a pistol if they chose to do so.

But Mac didn’t care. He didn’t even care when he returned to work and was arrested by Phil Delaney.

Ten

‘I’m surprised you came back,’ his superior officer told him. ‘I thought you’d have gone to ground by now Mac. I’ve got officers on the road looking for you, so I suppose I should be grateful you’ve decided to put in an appearance at the office.’ Phil Delaney did indeed seem relieved that Mac had saved him the trouble of continuing a hunt. In fact, Mac had a very good reason for returning to work but he wasn’t telling his boss what it was.

When he didn’t respond Phil continued. ‘Do you know what this is?’

On his desk was a length of rope. When Mac kept his silence, Delaney picked it up. ‘You should do. You used it yesterday in an attempt to gain access to my office from the floor above. We found traces of DNA on it – hair and whatnot. It’s your DNA – matched with the samples left on the system from the last time you tried to make a fool of us. Do you have any comment to make on that?’