Lethal Dose; Lethal Justice; Lethal Mind

by Robert McCracken

  Tara could hardly think what it would mean for her when she finally caught up with Guy. Would Aisling be freed? More to the point, would she be freed unharmed? What was Guy likely to do after that? With her?

  She should have told Murray when he called. He could have done something. But it was too risky, she’d already decided that. If James Guy was the serial killer she believed him to be, he wouldn’t baulk at killing Aisling. She had to get her friend away from him. She’d tried calling Aisling, but her mobile went to voicemail. If Guy really had her, then he also had her mobile phone.

  Suddenly, as Tara stood forlornly in the car park, the phone in her hand beeped. She looked at the screen and saw a text. From Guy.

  Well done Tara. Good so far. Stop calling her.

  Car park on Holloway, Runcorn station.

  Frantically, she ran to the station entrance, searching for him. A train arrived; people got off and a few got on board. Weaving through the moving figures of men, women, students, kids, she convinced herself that Guy was among them. He must be. How else could he have known when to text her in the car park? She ran back outside, examining each of the parked cars, trying to catch a glimpse of the animal who had taken her friend. She hoped too for a sighting of Aisling. But at the same time she realised that he was in control, he was calling all the shots. She would have to do as he bade her.

  Frustrated and angry, she returned to her car and for a few moments just sat, trying to ease her breathing and think of what to do next. Against Guy’s instructions, she’d brought her own mobile phone and now considered calling Murray. But no. She felt beyond help and it was all down to her now. Guy had taken Aisling to get at her. If anything happened to her friend then she, Tara, was to blame. She’d brought all of this trouble to her friend’s door. She, the police woman, the detective, had caused it all. Why hadn’t she become a lawyer like so many of her colleagues at Oxford? She was to blame if Aisling was to die.

  Ignoring Murray’s incoming text, she switched off her mobile and drove away without calling him.

  Runcorn station, why there? She wondered if Guy was travelling by train, and choosing these landmarks for her to suit his intended destination. Then, she recalled the van in which he had imprisoned her two years ago. When he drugged her and assaulted her. She pictured the same for Aisling, and yet more tears slid down her cheeks. Her friend lying bound and gagged having been injected with drugs, naked, frightened. Was she already too late to save her? He may not have killed her yet, but had he raped her?

  Tara did her best to drive quickly in the evening traffic now spilling from the city, all the while wondering how Guy could make it to Runcorn any faster than she would. After what seemed an eternity, she pressed the button on the station car park barrier for a ticket, and when it lifted she swept into an almost deserted car park, most commuters having already collected their cars and driven home. Without bothering to park within a marked space, she jumped out of the car and looked all around her for signs of Guy or Aisling. She didn’t have long to wait before the mobile in her hand beeped with yet another text.

  Tryfan car park, Llyn Ogwen, 2 hrs.

  The contents of the message hardly mattered, she realised that he had to be here watching her. She looked at the other vehicles around her. There were a dozen or so, but nothing remarkable. She stamped her feet in desperation, then noticed the covered walkway over the rail tracks. She ran. A train had just left the platform and people were departing the station, some taking to the steps of the footbridge. It added to her anxiety trying to catch a glimpse of him. He had to be here. He must have seen her arrive. How else would he have known when to send the text?

  She took the steps two at a time then ran across the bridge and down the other side. There was a figure ahead of her, a man wearing a baseball cap, his hands in his pockets, walking nonchalantly into the street beyond the station. She caught up with him, and just before she drew level he spun round to see who was running towards him.

  A guy of eighteen perhaps, thin faced, bony, not at all like the man she sought. He looked her up and down and smiled quizzically. She stopped running and turned back.

  She saw nothing more on her way back to the car. If Guy had been watching from the bridge, then he’d made a swift escape. She made another search of the parked cars and ran into the adjoining street. Through her tears, she saw nothing of interest. A few cars drove by, but there was no one walking, no one watching. She returned to her car. Now she needed her own mobile, to find out exactly where she had to go next. Somewhere in Wales, obviously — beyond that, she had no idea. She realised that James Guy was waiting, preparing to choose his moment. He wanted her completely alone, without people around, and with no police. Then he would have her.

  Google Maps showed her the way to Llyn Ogwen. It would be dark by the time she got there. Something to add to her fears. She tossed her own phone onto the seat beside her and drove away.

  Chapter 61

  Murray checked his phone as he entered Tweedy’s office. Tara had not replied to his text about Carly McHugh having been released on the orders of DCI Weir. It was twenty past seven and Tweedy was still working, seated at his pristine desk, some paperwork in front of him and his Bible sitting as usual at the top left-hand corner of his desk.

  ‘Evening, sir, working late?’

  ‘Evening, Alan, nearly finished. Lorraine and I are off to the lakes in the morning, for a couple of days. I wanted to get this cleared before I go. A clear desk makes for a clear conscience. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Well, sir, I just stopped by to tell you that Carly McHugh was brought in earlier today for questioning. Unfortunately, she was released shortly afterwards on the orders of DCI Weir.’

  ‘Ah, that is awkward. I can understand your frustration, and Tara’s, but I’m quite certain DCI Weir knows what he is doing.’

  ‘But, sir, Carly McHugh is central to our enquiry into the murder of Ryan Boswell.’

  ‘DCI Weir is aware of that, Alan. I don’t believe he is being awkward for the sake of it. His investigations run deep into the gangland activities in Liverpool. We do not want to be responsible for compromising his operations. For now, we will have to tread lightly regarding those people we suspect of involvement in the Boswell killing.’

  ‘Fine, sir, understood.’

  ‘Please make Tara aware of this.’

  ‘I will do, sir, although she isn’t replying to my texts at the moment.’

  ‘It is the weekend, Alan. She is quite possibly trying her best to enjoy it.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Enjoy your break.’

  ‘Thanks, Alan, goodnight.’

  Murray left Tweedy’s office, picked up his coat from the back of his chair and strode from the room. He too had a weekend ahead to enjoy.

  Chapter 62

  Aidan Boswell was beside him in the car, so he felt a little safer. Several vehicles were dotted about the place, and he wondered if they were hiding in one of them.

  It was dark, a place without cameras but bleak and sinister at this time of night. The old fort was floodlit, beyond that lay the void of the Irish Sea. These guys had chosen the meeting place well. A wide open space, a car park with just one entrance. If anything was to kick off here, there’d be no chance of escape. And now he regretted that only two of them had come here. What if they showed up with an army? They’d be dead meat.

  Treadwater lay across the Mersey. They may just as well have been in a jungle in Africa as Perch Rock in New Brighton. He was out of his territory, out of his comfort zone, but this had to be done. McHugh and Fitter demanded it. They told him that they would be here, too. To show the Vipers how it was done.

  He watched a car drive onto the esplanade. Well over the speed limit, it suddenly swerved and braked, the rear sliding outwards as wheels spun and tyres squealed. Then another car did the same, speeding after the first, racing towards the road. Kids having a laugh. He drew a breath, and Aidan laughed but it was more in relief than in humour.

 
‘What if they don’t show?’

  ‘Then no change, man,’ Craig replied.

  ‘What if they didn’t kill Tyler?’

  ‘What’s with all the fucking questions?’

  ‘What’s McHugh going to say if they don’t show?’

  ‘Shut it, will ya?’

  Craig examined his phone, hoping for a message, something to say that the meet wasn’t on, that everything was cool, but as he scrolled aimlessly through texts a dark-coloured Audi rolled into the car park.

  Aidan rose in his seat. Craig glanced from his phone and felt the instant strike of his heart in his chest. He watched as the Audi came to a halt forty yards away. Three men emerged, leaving the driver behind the wheel. Twice the number they’d agreed. He nudged Aidan, and both of them climbed out of their car and watched as their three adversaries approached. Two were slim, lanky, looked as though they needed some nourishment. As they drew nearer, Craig saw that they had thin faces, dark bomber jackets, no doubt with guns concealed. If it weren’t for that, he reckoned that he and Aidan could take them if they had to.

  The third man, without a jacket, stood between his minders. He was not tall but stocky and completely bald, with a tattoo of a naked girl astride an anchor on the left side of his neck. He wore a tight-fitting polo shirt that only served to highlight his physique. He looked dispassionately at the men standing before him.

  Now, the Treadwater Vipers were face-to-face with the Tallinn Crew.

  Before anyone spoke there came the sound of another vehicle entering the car park. Craig saw the silver BMW 225 roaring toward them, and he drew a breath of relief. The car braked to a halt a few feet behind them, and the sturdy frame of Fitter Hobbs emerged from the passenger side followed, a moment later, by the bulk of Rab McHugh stepping down from the driver’s seat. Craig saw concern in the faces of the Estonians. The bald man with the tattoo was first to speak.

  ‘I’m Sepp, you want speak with me?’

  Craig was much taller than the man he faced; beyond that he had little confidence he and Aidan would get away alive if things went badly. Craig was about to reply when Fitter cut in.

  ‘You’re finished doing business in Liverpool, mate.’

  Sepp had so far maintained his gaze on Craig, but now looked towards Fitter. Following the death of Janek, Sepp had seized control of the Tallinn Crew.

  ‘You think we killed your guys? Is that what you think?’

  ‘Don’t give a fuck, mate, if you did. You were warned to stay out of the city. It belongs to these lads now.’ Fitter nodded towards Lewis and Boswell.

  ‘Who are you, fighting their battles? You not from Liverpool.’

  ‘Fucking choice that is, coming from a Pole.’

  ‘Not Pole, Estonian.’

  ‘All the fuckin’ same to me.’

  Rab McHugh had been silent to this point, but impatience was kicking in.

  ‘Don’t cross the river again, or try to stop my partners from doing their business. Understand?’

  Sepp, silent, stared coldly at the competition. He was not Janek. He was not brave enough to continue this war. For now, he was happy to run the scrap yard in Tranmere. But he didn’t want it to look as though he were backing down.

  He stepped forward and looked up at the face of Craig Lewis.

  ‘I ever see you again, my friend…’ Then he drew his right index finger across his neck. His companions laughed aloud, and finally Sepp joined them. Seconds later Fitter and McHugh were laughing too. Craig and Aidan, not impressed by the humour, backed away, slowly at first, until they were beside their car. Fitter and McHugh returned to their BMW. The four of them watched, as the Estonians drove away in the Audi.

  ‘Time to get the ferry home,’ said McHugh. He turned to face Craig Lewis, the new leader of the Vipers. ‘You’re on your own now, big lad. No more fuck ups, understand?’

  ‘Yes, Rab,’ Lewis replied.

  ‘It’s Mr McHugh to you.’

  ‘Yes, Mr McHugh.’

  Rab McHugh slapped Lewis playfully on the cheek.

  ‘Good lad. When the time’s right we can start up again in Sunderland. You’ll have to get one your lads to work with our Carly. This time, make sure he keeps his dick in his trousers when he comes anywhere near my daughter. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mr McHugh.’

  ‘Good lad. Anymore competition and I expect you to take care of it on your own, Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mr McHugh.’

  The two men from Belfast climbed into their car. Craig Lewis could hear them laughing.

  ‘Mr McHugh! You’re a fuckin geg, Rab,’ said Fitter.

  Lewis and Boswell watched them drive away.

  Chapter 63

  The car park at Llyn Ogwen was little more than a lay-by at the side of the road overlooking the lake. It was deserted. Darkness was closing in and there were mountains to every side. Occasionally, a vehicle passed by on the road, and each time her nerves strained, Tara thinking it had to be him. She couldn’t see any buildings or houses around her; he had chosen a lonely place.

  Both mobiles lay on the passenger seat. When she’d last checked them there was little signal on either and low battery on her own. Below her, a breeze cast ripples on the lake’s surface, and she wondered if this was somewhere he disposed of his victims.

  With the engine off, she soon grew cold. She hadn’t come prepared and was still in her work clothes: dark skirt, tights and white blouse. Mid-heel ankle boots and leather jacket. How long was she going to have to wait? Was he already here, watching her from the slopes of whatever mountain rose beside her? Her nerves forced her to concentrate on Aisling. She prayed she was safe, still alive. She couldn’t take Guy’s word that she would be traded for Aisling. Crying was doing Tara no good, but she couldn’t help it. A police officer shouldn’t be sat crying in self-pity, but she was also a woman worried sick about her friend.

  Headlights appeared in the distance as a vehicle wound its way along the mountain pass. She tried to steady her breathing. She wanted the car or van to be his, but feared what would happen when he did arrive. Then the vehicle raced by, and her body slackened. She drew a breath, then picked up his phone. Nothing. Seconds later a lorry thundered by, the silence shattered once more. A sudden thought crossed her mine; perhaps she had the wrong place. So she started the engine and rolled slowly forwards, approaching the junction with the road. Decision made, she pulled onto the road and continued along the shore of Llyn Ogwen.

  In a few hundred yards, she came upon another car park on her left, the road running between that and the lake’s shore. She slowed the car and pulled in. It was deserted.

  Back on the road, the same again a quarter of a mile further on. This car park, too, was empty. She passed some buildings, all unlit, and then a junction in the road. Following the shoreline, she very soon came to the end of the lake and within a few yards, met utter darkness. Nothing to be seen but the tarmac of the road ahead. She didn’t go much further before deciding to return to her original waiting place. Never had she felt so alone and so far from comfort.

  Sitting in the gloom, the only light coming from the display from the radio, she had locked her car doors. Sleep was trying to claim her, but she fended it off. She had to be awake when he finally showed up. Her mind travelled back through time, recalling the laughing face of Aisling, always to the fore, fussing and scheming, bubbling over with ideas — things to do and places to go. How she was going to find the fella of her dreams, the shoes she would be wearing when she met him. Tara struggled to blink the vision away. In seconds, another vision would take its place, but always it was Aisling.

  A softly-spoken DJ announced the time as midnight, and she listened to the news headlines. Nothing, of course, was said of a woman having been abducted in Liverpool, while her best friend sat uselessly in her car by a lake in the middle of nowhere.

  Chapter 64

  I had no intention of going anywhere near Llyn Ogwen. At least, not straight away. I just wanted to be
sure that Tara was doing as she was bid. Do her no harm to sit quietly for a while and I could be sure that her mates in the police weren’t keeping tabs on her.

  Meanwhile, I could concentrate on the lovely Aisling. All evening she’d been dozing peacefully in the back of the van, the roofie having done its job. Once I’d seen Tara on her way to the backside of beyond, I drove to Penrhyn harbour where I had moored Mother Freedom. She was already kitted out with everything I would need to despatch two girls to the bottom of the sea.

  I sat patiently in the van by the quayside, waiting for Aisling to revive. I wasn’t about to drag her from the van to the boat. I’d do my back in! She was a bigger girl than I was used to. Instead, I would gently lead her on board.

  There was no one about the place. Friday night, weather not the best, dry but windy and cold, there was no one to notice me taking my girl by the arm and helping her down the stone steps and onto Mother Freedom.

  About midnight I heard her stirring in the back of the van. Her legs had bumped against the side. I slid open the door and peered inside. Her eyes were open and reacted to the light, but she didn’t seem agitated or alarmed. Perfect. Groggy, I’d say. I climbed inside and immediately cut the cable ties around her ankles. Her legs parted slightly, but she wasn’t putting up any resistance and she didn’t start kicking out.

  I replaced her boots. A quick look around the harbour, then I helped her out of the van, holding tightly onto her arm in case she keeled over. She didn’t struggle as I guided her along the quayside, although she was a little unsteady on her feet. I’d kept her hands bound and the gag over her mouth. I steered her the thirty yards to the steps that led down to the boat. It was dark, the steps were wet with one or two slippery with moss, it would be quite easy for someone to lose their footing and topple into the drink. So I gripped her tightly, my arm around her waist, and when we were level with the gunwale of the boat I lifted her in my arms and stepped on board.