Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6) (5 page)

'Up to you, you can either stay in bed all day like a wimp or we can get dressed and hit the shops?'

'I don't really fancy trawling around the market, Med.'

'Yes well, we might not have a Harvey Nicks, but the new Grand Arcade has a few names you might recognise.'

'Ha, ha
.'

'So, what do you say?'

Emma pulled the duvet up to her chin. 'Let me finish this and grab a shower and then I'm all yours.'

Medea smiled as she headed for the door. 'You've got half an hour.'

As soon as she'd gone Emma grabbed her bag from the floor and pulled out her phone, when she saw all the missed calls and voicemails she chewed her bottom lip anxiously before deleting the lot and dropping the phone back into her bag.

11

Lasser parked up alongside a rusting bulldozer, Bannister looked out at a mountain of twisted scrap metal.

'It reminds me of your living room before Medea came along.' Bannister said with a deadpan expression.

Ignoring him, Lasser climbed from the car. The office consisted of two portable cabins stacked one on top of the other, a metal staircase connecting one to the other.

Bannister stretched his arms skyward and yawned, when the huge German shepherd bulleted out from between a stack of engine blocks the DCI sprang back in shock. The animal snapped its jaws, massive teeth flashing, the chain around its neck rattled like Marley's ghost.

Lasser grinned. 'Don't annoy the dog, boss, it's not nice.'

Bannister glared down at the animal before walking around the back of the car. 'Did you park here deliberately, Sergeant?'

'Come on, what do you take me for?'

'A
bastard,
that's what I take you for,' Bannister snapped.

They were half way to the office when the door opened and a man in a pair of black overalls poked his head outside. His hair was a mop of black, his cheeks smudged with engine oil.

'Bella, shut the fuck up!'

The huge animal skulked back to its kennel, tail tucked under, head low to the ground.

'Hello, Boris, how are you, mate?' Lasser said with a smile.

'What the fuck do you want, Lasser?'

Lasser looked at his boss. 'See, I told you he was a friendly guy.'

Bannister frowned as he strode forward.

Boris Mellor looked Bannister up and down.
'And who are you
?'

'DCI Bannister,' he replied brandishing his warrant card.

'Am I meant to be impressed, sunshine, because I tell you now I ain’t?'

'Where's your brother?'

'
Out
.'

Bannister climbed the three steps to the door, Boris didn't budge an inch.

'I suppose you'll have to do then.'

'Yeah well, I was just on my way out as well.'

'This won't take long, now, are you inviting us in or not?'

Boris frowned and stepped to one side, Lasser grinned as he walked past.

The cabin was basic; the walls scuffed and coated with dust, grease and tobacco stains. A large desk had been pushed up to one wall, a huge mustard coloured swivel chair stood in front of it. Lasser eyed the calendar on the wall; it showed a bevy of half-naked women draped over a brand new JCB. 

'So, what's this all about?' Mellor asked as he plonked himself down in the chair.

'Drugs, Mr Mellor.'

'No thanks I never touch the stuff.'

'But you don't mind sharing it do you, Boris?'

Mellor frowned and picked a pencil up from the desk, placing the blunt end into his left ear, he wriggled it around for a few seconds before pulling it free and studying the waxy end. 'I don't have a clue what you're talking about.'

'You and your brother used to be friendly with Callum Green and we know you're still dealing...'

'
So, arrest me or fuck off
.'

Lasser looked out of the window; he could see half a dozen men lounging by the side of a lock-up, a couple were smoking cigarettes, all six coated with grime and oil. 'Tell me, Boris, how many men do you have working here?'

Boris swivelled his chair around. 'Why, what's it to you?'

Lasser shrugged. 'Just humour me.'

'Depends how busy we are, sometimes there can be ten, fifteen maybe, but when it's quiet we just have five permanent members of staff.'

'Get you, Boris,
''members of staff
,'' you almost sound legit.'

Boris Mellor frowned.

'Are they local men?' Lasser asked.

'Look, what's this all about; you come here snooping around with your big noses and...?'

'Don't dodge the question, Boris, are the men local?'

'Polish,'
Mellor snapped before tossing the pencil back onto the desk.

'What's wrong with employing local lads?'

Boris snorted in derision. 'You're having a laugh, the lads around here are all lazy bastards, you can't get 'em out of fucking bed, and when they do turn up, all they want to do is take the piss...'

'So, these lads are good workers then?'

'They're alright.'

Bannister lifted the calendar from the wall and flicked through the pages. 'What you really mean is they'll work for next to nothing and put up with any shit you throw at them?'

Boris smiled thinly. 'Them's the rules.'

'What about the woman you attacked in the Masons?'

'You got that wrong, it was her old man that went for me, she just happened to get in the way.'

Bannister dropped the calendar onto the desk. 'So, where's Norvil then?'

'I told you, he's out.'

'Yes, but out where
?'

Boris shrugged. 'What am I his keeper?'

'Well, is he out working or getting a spray tan...?'

'Not a clue.'

'How's business?' Lasser asked.

Boris stretched out his long legs; a clump of mud fell from the sole of his tan coloured rigger boots. 'Quiet.'

'So, if you didn't take over from Callum Green then who did?'

'I've told you I haven't a clue about any drugs.'

'Perhaps Norvil might be able to help us?'

'I doubt it.'

Lasser turned back to the window, the group of men had vanished. 'These Polish workers, do they speak English?'

'Not really.'

'So, how do you communicate with them?'

'They soon learn what needs doing.'

Bannister checked his watch. 'Right, Boris, we've taken up enough of your valuable time and thanks for your help.'

Boris clambered to his feet. 'You can see yourselves out.'

'But I thought you had somewhere you needed to be.'

'It'll keep.'

Bannister frowned. 'Yes well, I dare say you'll be seeing us again soon.'

'Not if I see you first.' Boris smiled.

12

Andy Forbes looked out of the apartment window, in the distance he could see the London Eye looking like a giant Catherine wheel, the Thames moving grey and slow in the early afternoon sunshine. Turning from the view, he jabbed at the phone and slapped it to the side of his head.

'It has not been possible
...'

Forbes snarled and threw the phone onto the sofa. He'd been trying to get in touch with Emma for over twenty four hours, he'd left dozens of voicemails ranging from, 'Give me a ring, babe, then we can talk things through,' to 'ring me, you bitch!' She'd ignored them all.

Forbes looked around the room, his eyes seeing everything and taking in nothing.

The plasma television was on, images of yet another part of the war-torn world flickered on the screen.

'
Bastard
!' he snapped before falling back onto the sofa.

The apartment had cost just short of seven hundred and fifty thousand, not a bad price considering the view and the location. Trouble was, with Emma gone he would never be able to meet the repayments. Chewing a fingernail, he spat the sliver onto the hardwood floor.

At thirty years of age, he had been looking for someone like Emma Drake for years, someone with the brains and enough talent to reach the top, someone he could grab onto, a free ride to fame and fortune.

They'd met in a wine bar and Forbes had turned on the charm, though for some strange reason it hadn't worked on the woman. He could remember the flush of anger as she gave him the brush off. Under normal circumstances, he would have shrugged it off, but there had been something different about this one, something he couldn't describe.

So, he had gone back the next day and there she was, sitting with a group of friends at a table in the corner. Andrew had made a point of catching her eye and then casually looking away, as if she were of no concern to him.

The next couple of weeks had followed a similar pattern; he would feign indifference as she looked towards him. In the end, she had been the one to approach him.

'
Bitch
,' Forbes grumbled at the memory.

After six months, Andy Forbes had known he'd hit the jackpot. Emma Drake was going places; she had the kind of brain that seemed to work faster than normal people's. He worked for a recruitment agency, commission based which meant for every good week he had, there were two or three where he earned next to nothing. Emma, on the other hand, was making a small fortune, then she’d gained promotion and suddenly the sky was the limit.

Andy had done less and less at work, the long lunches had elongated until they blended into all day sessions in the wine bar. Emma had carried on raking it in, they'd moved into this apartment nine months earlier and then things had begun to change.

When the credit card bills had dropped through the door, Emma had gone ballistic. He'd joined a top notch gym to keep fit and spent a fortune on new clothes and eating out.

He'd tried to explain that it was all done for a reason, in his line of work you had to be prepared to take potential clients out to lunch, and it was expected that you footed the bill.

It was the same with the clothes, you had to look successful you had to look sharp to land the big contracts. Even as he uttered the words he knew it was all bollocks, he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken out a client for a burger let alone a meal at the Ivy.

Emma had looked at him with loathing shining from her eyes, as if truly seeing him for the first time. Forbes had tried to win her over, but she'd pulled away from his embrace.

Then Emma had let fly, her words designed to cut deep, designed to hurt. A lot of what she said he hadn't been able to understand, the angrier she became the more northern her voice had become.

'
Dickhead
!' she'd spat and then Andrew Forbes had lashed out, the back of his hand cracking against her cheek. Emma had reeled away in shock and suddenly the anger had reared in Forbes mind. Life wasn't fair, all these years he'd tried to hit the big time and yet here he was having to rely on a woman to do it for him. His own inadequacies had swamped him and instead of trying to apologise for his actions he’d lashed out again, catching her a glancing blow on top of her head. Her hair had lashed to the left and she had peered up at him with fear in her eyes. The sight of it had left him feeling immense.

'Don't you ever speak to me like that again!'
he’d jabbed out a finger and Emma had scuttled away across the polished floor.

'Andy, I...'

Forbes had loomed towards her and she'd curled herself into a tight ball. He'd stood over her loving this new feeling of power.
'You might think you're special but don't forget who's in charge here. If I want to buy a new suit or take a client out to lunch then I don't need your fucking permission.'

'I…'

'Do you understand what I'm saying
?' he’d screamed down at her and Emma had nodded, the look of terror shining bright in her light blue eyes.

Forbes sighed and ran a hand across his head.

After that, things had settled back into normality, at least that's what he'd thought, though he was now beginning to realise that the bitch had been using the time to plan and scheme her way out of the relationship.

Last night he'd wanted to drown his sorrows, so he'd headed into the city determined to get royally pissed, maybe even hire an escort for the evening. The cash machine had spat out his credit card; Forbes had looked at the screen in shocked bewilderment. Swiping the card on his sleeve he'd tried again, this time the machine had swallowed the plastic.

The words
'Please contact your bank.'
had flashed up at him.

First thing this morning he'd done exactly that, only to be told that the account had been closed.

Sitting forward on the sofa he scrubbed at his tired eyes and tried to think of what to do next.