“Now, promise me, Jane?”
Jane found herself nodding her head and saying, “I promise, I won’t end up like that.”
“How dare you—” Mrs Poole started to say before Jago got stuck in.
“Lady, who do you think you are? I mean, people have died here. Some have sustained life-changing injuries. Does this outpouring of rudeness come naturally to you or do you have to practice often? Perhaps you went on a course for it? I mean, you’ve nearly got it, but it’s not quite refined enough for me. I like feisty redheads, but only when they’ve got the wherewithal to support their open disregard for others with action. What is it with you? Has the boss stopped shagging you or something?”
Mrs Poole sat flabbergasted.
“Now, listen. I’m from the Government Security Division, not that you asked, and I’m going in to see Mr Atkins. And if anyone stands in my way I’ll add them to the list of the severely injured. Do you understand me?”
There was no response.
“Oh, you’re not so vocal now, are you? Well, I’ll take that as you won’t be stopping me. You just sit there and stew a while, you rude old bat!”
Her hands covered her face and Jago indicated to Jane that she should leave. He entered Mr Atkins’ office without knocking and found the CEO staring out of his window.
“Good afternoon, I’m Mr Gale and I’m involved in the investigation of recent events here. I suppose that you have already been asked this, but I want to know if you can think of anyone who would want to do this to the company?”
Atkins turned towards Jack and made eye contact.
“I’m sorry, do you have an appointment?”
“No, I do not have time for appointments. I’m trying to catch a killer and a thief. I take it you want the perpetrators caught, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, of course I do. Look, I have been asked all of these questions many times before and the answer remains the same. I cannot think of anyone who would commit such a horrific crime.”
“Did the other investigating officers take a list of your investors and recipients?”
“Yes, of course they did.”
“And they were given the complete list, were they?”
Mr Atkins paused before replying. “What are you insinuating?”
“You didn’t answer the question. Were they given the complete list? I mean, you and I both know that some silent investors wouldn’t want to be identified, don’t we?”
Atkins looked out of the window.
“I mean, if they had money, position, power, something to hide. They’d want to be in the background, under the radar, wouldn’t they? I’m talking about this list. Where is it?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the one who’s going to sort out this mess, but I need the information that I’ve requested to help me do that.”
“I can’t risk the reputation of our business, the confidentiality of our clients for a mere list of names!”
Jago paced around the office once and then sat on the opulent sofa. He put his feet up on the back of a statue of a bull on the glass-topped table.
Some minutes passed in silence and Atkins looked around.
“Hey, what are you doing with your feet on there? Take them off at once.”
“You’re used to getting your own way, aren’t you? Is that what being a CEO is all about? Let me tell you this. I don’t particularly like people when they kill and maim innocent people. My job is to do something about that, something permanent, if you get my meaning. It’s just work, you understand?”
Atkins was now listening.
Jago continued, “But you know what I despise most?” He waited a moment for a response but none was forthcoming. “Go on … guess.”
“I … I don’t know. What?”
“I despise those who seek to put finance, reputation and their own feelings of grandeur before justice for the innocent, the lost and the injured. Now, these types of people I would take great pleasure in dealing with. You see, that wouldn’t be business — it would be personal. Those victims are real. The dead cannot be replaced, and many with serious injuries have been left with physical and mental scars that cannot be cured. And when someone has the audacity to block my path in finding the perpetrators, it infuriates me and I cannot be held responsible for my personal feelings.”
As he finished his monologue, Jago withdrew his Sig from his shoulder holster and placed in on the table beside the bull.
Atkins rose slowly from his chair. “Are you threatening me?”
“Absolutely, yes. I want that list and I want it now. You see, the clock’s ticking before whoever is responsible for these events strikes again and I’m getting impatient. Now, the list. If you please.”
Atkins poured himself a whisky and gulped it down in one mouthful. Jago took this as a positive.
“Well done, great decision. Now, can we get on with it, and then I can be on my way?”
Atkins walked over to the steel door on the far wall, punched in some numbers on the keypad beside it, and then positioned his eye for the retina scan. Jago appeared by his side and Atkins entered the space while Jago looked on. Atkins felt for a tab on the edge of the carpet and slowly lifted it, revealing an underfloor safe. He turned, entered the combination, placed his thumb against the scanner and the safe opened. He reached inside and produced a black file.
“All the names you need are here, but I can’t give you the file.”
Jago replied, “I shall only need it for a moment.”
He took the file to the desk and opened it up. He saw that there was a list of ten pages.
“Are there any other names that I should know about? I warn you now that I wouldn’t be so nice and polite if I had to return.”
“No, no, they’re all there,” Atkins replied sheepishly. “There are no others.”
Jago proceeded to scan each page with his mobile phone and sent the document to Abi. He then handed the file back to Atkins.
“Well, Mr Atkins, thank you for your time. That concludes our work here today.”
“Wait, there are three more names missing from the list. I’d forgotten about them as they’re all due to be cashed in today.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means that the investor has chosen to withdraw their investment or that they have come to the end of the agreed investment period. My secretary, Mrs Poole, has the details. I’ll get her to bring them in.”
Atkins instructed Mrs Poole to bring in the file. It contained just four sheets of paper. Jago scanned them and sent them to Abi as he had done with the others.
“Thank you, Mr Atkins.”
He left the office and calmly walked past Mrs Poole.
Chapter 8 - Questions
Donning a balaclava, Dom entered the room. The light was deliberately dim. There were no windows and the floor sloped from the sides to a central drainage point much like a walk-in shower facility. Only this drain was much more substantial and covered by a steel mesh grid that measured about two and a half by one and a half feet. The figure suspended by his feet was still clothed and bound at the rear by the PlastiCuffs. He wore a gag of rags and duct tape. From his inverted position, the man had a good view of the drain hole, the dirty floor and the brown tiled walls. A single plastic chair stood beside the door. He could see that the chain was fixed to a cleat on the wall and, if he struggled, he could see that the chain passed through a heavy-duty anchor shackled to the ceiling. A shudder ran through him; this was a purpose-built room and he was most likely not its first occupant.
Walking around the hanging specimen, Dom looked down at his captive’s face as he twisted his head awkwardly, trying to make eye contact with Dom. Dom spun him around on the chains from which he hung, then stopped him with a jolt and removed the gag. The man gasped for breath.
Dom spoke softly.
“Now let’s start with your name.”
The man managed a spluttered response. “I know my rights. I want a
phone call and a lawyer.”
Dom didn’t respond verbally. He held the body still and attempted to reposition the gag as the man wriggled, preventing him from doing so. Dom let the body go and waited for him to stop moving before he let rip with some blows to the man’s torso. He waited for stillness again. The guy was no match for Dom who’d done this before, many times. He applied the gag, spun the specimen around and left the room.
A short way down the dark corridor, Dom entered an identical room which also contained a man hanging from the ceiling. This specimen was younger and cockier than the other seasoned brute. He hung motionless.
“Good evening, Mr Mathews. Mr Ian Mathews, twenty-seven years of age, born in Portsmouth, son of retired naval officer, Michael Mathews, fifty-six, a widower. Mother Irene died three years ago aged fifty of cancer. My, my, Mr Mathews. That’s tough. But it doesn’t explain how you got into gun running now, does it?”
The hanging man was silent and still.
“Oh, you’re the silent type, are you?”
Dom knelt down and held the man’s head firmly. He looked into his eyes, looking for signs of consciousness.
“Now, let me tell you this. Hanging upside down can be painful … and dangerous. The Romans used to use this technique as a form of torture. Not that I’m torturing you. I’m merely giving you the incentive to cooperate. You do understand the difference, don’t you?”
There was no response.
“Okay, have it your way. You see, and please understand that this is a crude explanation — I’m not a doctor or anything like that. I haven’t got the same regard for human life as a doctor would have.”
He paused for effect and then continued. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, when you stand upright, your legs can pump the blood back to your body. But your brain, it can’t do that. It doesn’t possess the right kit. That’s why if you stay upside down too long, you risk a brain haemorrhage, and with that, maybe even a stroke. That wouldn’t be good for your health, or your business, would it? I mean, who would want to buy guns and stuff from someone who can’t walk and talk properly? Oh, and the other thing is this. Your organs, kidney, liver, et cetera, they will gradually succumb to gravity and put pressure on your lungs which are accustomed to hanging the other way. The lungs are working against the weight of your liver and intestines, and the breathing muscles have a difficult time overcoming that. So, you have the added risk of suffocation. Now, that’s an awful way to go when you don’t have to.”
Dom paced around the room.
“Slowly you’ll find yourself losing focus, you’ll be on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness, and then who knows what will happen?”
Dom spun the man around violently and left, securing the door. Before he returned to Ian’s unknown companion a little way down the corridor, he peeked through the small pinhole in the door. The man’s spin cycle was coming to an end and he was wriggling. Despite the silence, he’d heard Dom’s words and he was squirming. Dom smiled. His man, Ian, was behaving just as expected.
Dom entered the other chamber.
“You are Lee Vincent-Cole, thirty-six years of age, born in Norwich. You’re a small-time gangster, arms supplier, pimp and a whole stream of other lowlife titles. And you’re gobby. I don’t like gobby. Normally I’d break your jaw to shut you up. But today’s your lucky day because I need you to talk, and you may find that a tad difficult with a jaw fracture. So, it’s just as well that I have other things that I can do.”
Lee looked Dom in the eye in defiance. Or was it fear? Dom wasn’t sure; the stare could be difficult to define sometimes.
“Oh, you’re giving me the eye, are you, eh? Well, that’s fine with me. You’ve been upside down for about an hour and a half. Normally, at the two-hour mark, you start to slip into a state of unconsciousness. And then you just drift off. If you’re lucky, you may wake up, but you’ll certainly not be the same person you were when you came in here. Likely, you’ll be a cabbage with brain damage after all the blood drowns your brain, which can’t get oxygen because your lungs are under downward pressure from all of your other organs.”
Dom sat on the chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms.
“I’ve got time to watch. You know, it’s fascinating what the body can and cannot do, and everyone is slightly different. How are you, by the way? Are your eyes losing focus yet?”
Lee starts to wriggle hard.
“Now that won’t do you any good. In fact, it will bring on the onset of fatigue more rapidly. I’d stay still if I were you. Now, earlier you mentioned a telephone call, and a lawyer, didn’t you?”
Lee nodded violently in agreement.
“You see, the thing is, if you get arrested by the authorities, that’s the normal procedure. But I’m not the authorities. I have no rules to follow, except my own. I know, it’s a luxury these days. Nevertheless, that’s the situation, and I thought that we should be clear and upfront about that.”
Lee stopped wriggling and stared at Dom, and then his body rotated a little. Dom moved a chair and Lee tried to turn to see what was happening. Dom placed it near to Lee and stepped towards the wall with the cleated chain. He pressed a button on an industrial-looking control pad. Lee lowered just enough so Dom could manoeuvre him onto the chair. Once in place, he removed the gag.
Lee gasped for air and moved his legs.
“Now Lee, doesn’t that feel better? I mean you can breathe now and maybe you’re getting some blood flow back into your legs at last. And your head, does it feel clearer? Now, that’s how it can all stay if you decide to cooperate. Do you understand?”
Lee maintained an intense gaze.
“Now, If I were you, Lee, I’d be thinking of what type of bullshit I can get away with here. The thing is that you don’t know what I know about you, do you? If you were to lead me up the garden path, I’d just hang you and leave you. It is as simple as that. If you want to risk that, that’s fine with me. But my preference is to finish business and all be on our way. Comprende?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Now that’s more like it.”
Dom produced a digital recorder and set it to record.
“You don’t mind, do you? My memory isn’t what it used to be. Okay, this should be simple for you. I’m interested to know who you’ve been selling military-grade explosives to, here in the UK and Europe?”
“I can’t give you all of my clients, I’ve got a reputation to consider.”
“The thing is, Lee — I can call you Lee, can’t I? If you’re dead, you have no reputation. If you’re alive, you can salvage your reputation. I’m only interested in certain parties.”
“Which parties? Maybe I can tell you about just them?”
“No, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I need all, and I’ll only act on the ones that I need. The rest is yours to carry on with.”
Lee’s face was set, almost expressionless.
“Look, Lee, what other option do you have? Look where you are.”
“I can’t, I just can’t.”
As soon as he’d repeated himself, Dom was on him, reapplying the gag. He then pushed the button to lift the chains.
“Don’t waste my time, Lee. I’ve got work to do. You’ll only get one more chance, and then we’re done.”
Dom left the room abruptly, slamming the door behind him. He paused to spy through the pinhole. His captive was still. Very still.
Dom calmly walked down the passageway to a small room where his pack was stored and took out a flask of tea and a packet of biscuits. He sat, placed his watch on the table and started drinking his tea and eating some biscuits. Dom knew how much time he needed and had his work off to a fine art.
“Ian, Ian, Ian. I hope that you’ve had time to reconsider, because time is running out. For you at least.”
Dom placed the chair in position, as he had with Ian’s neighbour, and started to lower him again, finally resting him in the chair.
He removed the gag, watchi
ng as his chest expanded, desperately sucking in air.
“Take it easy, Ian, you’ll hyperventilate if you carry on like that. Breathe naturally while you can.”
All of Dom’s words were designed for maximum effect.
Ian moved his chained legs as much as he could.
“I don’t suppose that you could undo these for a while, could you, so that I can stretch my legs?”
“That, young Ian, depends upon you and your level of cooperation. I mean, I have a job to do, and I do it well. And you want to return home to carry on life as you knew it, don’t you?”
Ian looked at Dom and then the floor.
“I suppose you’ve had plenty of time to think while suspended in here, haven’t you? I wonder what you thought about? Your parents? How you ended up in this mess? How your life could have been different? I bet you’ve thought of it all. I know how many thoughts you can think of in a short space of time, how many times you can turn them around, play them back and forth. You can do it a million times in next to no time. Am I right?”
Ian responded without hesitation. “Yeah, you’re right, a million times. Now, what do you want from me? I’ll tell you anything, except about my business. What are you anyway? A jealous boyfriend? Competitor? You’re not a cop, not even one of those plain clothes jobs. Who are you?”
“What I want to know in exchange for your freedom is simple. I want to know who you have sold military-grade explosives to in the last year? And I mean, I want to know them all.”
“I can’t do that, it’s business. You know, privacy and all that.”
Dom knew that this youngster would be more problematic than his neighbour by his attitude before and during capture. He was overconfident, he felt that he was untouchable. Even now, chained, he had an air of arrogance that would need to be dealt with swiftly. Dom moved to hit the button to raise the chains.
Now there was urgency in Ian’s voice. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“You’re not cooperating, and I haven’t got time to play, so I am returning you to your, shall we call it … ‘the position of destiny’. This is where you experience all of those symptoms that we spoke of earlier. You get to have first- hand experience, here in this dark, ugly place. And just because you couldn’t help me, you’re no use to me anymore.”
Shades of Loyalty Page 6