by Roger Hurn
‘Meena is alive. They are going to tweet me her picture as proof.’
While everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief I stepped forward and hit the redial button. I wasn’t surprised when I got the caller number withheld message but it was worth a try because you’d be amazed at how thick some of these toe-rags are. But, sadly, this lot seemed to be on the ball.
Suddenly, Rakesh’s phone chirruped and he tapped on the screen. We crowded round him and saw a photo of a young woman holding up a copy of The Sun with that day’s date on it. I breathed a sigh of relief. DK clapped me on the shoulder.
‘Well done my friend, you said this is exactly what they would do and they have. You really do know your onions. I am confident now that we shall get Meena back safe and well.’
I didn’t like the sly dig about onions but DK was right, I had predicted how it would play out up to this point and that made me feel better about the situation. But that only goes to show you just how stupid I can be.
Chapter Five
The kidnappers were asking for a million quid for Meena’s safe return. Naturally everyone looked to DK to stump up the dosh.
‘Only you have access to that kind of money at such short notice, nephew.’
Aunt Shukla was firm on the point and, to be fair, DK agreed without making a fuss. ‘Of course, Auntie-ji. The money is a mere bagatelle but, even so, it will still take me a day or two to lay my hands on the cash.’ Then he nodded at me. ‘But this is no bad thing as it will also buy Ryan a little more time to investigate.’
This seemed to infuriate Danvir. ‘No, call your dog off, Deepak, and just pay the ransom as quickly as you can. I want my niece returned unharmed as soon as possible.’ He sounded both panicked and petulant.
DK fixed him with a long cold stare. ‘Obviously Meena’s well-being is my primary concern, Danvir,’ he said in a tone that was like a stiletto dipped in honey. ‘But perhaps we could raise the ransom more swiftly if you would be prepared to contribute say half of the cash?’
Danvir couldn’t hold DK’s gaze. He looked at the carpet and mumbled something about cash flow liquidity problems but DK cut him off in mid mutter. ‘I thought not. So kindly keep your nose out of my business. Ryan is on the case until I say otherwise – is that understood?’
Danvir nodded and shuffled his feet like a naughty boy being given a bollocking by his headmaster. I took this as my cue to steam back in.
‘OK, Rakesh, what did the caller sound like? Was it a man or a woman? Did they sound panicky or calm and professional? Did they have any kind of accent?’
Rakesh gave me a sneery kind of smirk as if a joke about yapping dogs had just occurred to him, but his voice was civil enough.
‘It was a guy. He sounded totally unfazed, but he had some kind of regional accent, you know, like Wayne Rooney. So what’s that? Manchester or something?’
‘Rooney’s from Liverpool,’ I said. ‘So it seems like one of your kidnappers is a scouser.’
‘And this helps us how?’ Danvir was back to sticking the needle in again.
I turned to him. ‘Any information is better than none. It’s like finding pieces from a jigsaw puzzle. When you get enough of them you can put them together to make the whole picture.’
Danvir snorted derisively and shook his head in disbelief. ‘Your friend is a clown not a detective, Deepak. While he is casting about looking for pieces of jigsaw puzzles, Meena is in deadly danger.’ Danvir was wringing his hands together and was working himself up into a complete muck sweat. ‘Everyone knows you have many ears on the streets, surely one of them must have heard something?’
DK just stared at him, but Danvir wasn’t backing down meekly this time.
‘I demand you send your men out offering these lowlife informers a reward for information. Then we will soon find out who is holding my niece. It is vital that I get her back immediately.’
DK told him exactly what he could do with his demands and the two of them had a heated exchange. I zoned the row out. I’d noticed Danvir had used the word “I” and not “we” when he said it was vital to get Meena back immediately. It seemed he had his own reason for wanting her back and I doubted it had anything to do with the wedding.
The row ended when Aunt Shukla put her foot down big time and gave DK and Danvir the kind of dressing down that old timers in the DPG said Margaret Thatcher regularly dished out to cabinet ministers who upset her. According to DPG legend, Thatcher was one scary lady but, from what I saw that day, I’m betting Aunt Shukla was right up there with her.
Anyway, I spent the next hour attempting to interview the domestic staff, but this proved to be pretty much a waste of time since none of them seemed to speak more than a few words of English and I hadn’t a clue what they were saying to me. So, needless to say, I was pretty relieved when DK’s driver came and got me. Apparently, DK was staying on at the house, as he had calls to make in order to raise the ransom and he’d given the driver orders to take me back to London. I wasn’t best pleased. I wanted to run some ideas past DK – the main one being how much I was expecting him to pay me, but the big skin-head driver was insistent that I go with him and not bother DK. As he was the kind of guy who looked like he’d happily skewer your new-born with a pitch fork, I didn’t argue. I tried to call DK on his mobile from the car, but all I got was his voicemail. But when he dropped me off, the driver surprised me by handing over a thick wodge of cash. It was from DK for my “expenses”. I was mighty glad to get it because, as it turned out, I was going to need it.
Chapter Six
The next morning found me lurking in my car outside the gated community where Aunt Shukla and the clan lived. I had a hunch and I was hoping it would pay off. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long before the electronic gates opened and Vikram walked out. His head was down and he didn’t notice me. I was pretty sure he was going to meet whoever had called his mobile the day before and I was also pretty sure this person would have a bearing on the kidnapping. However, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had this bright idea because, just as I slipped out of the car, I saw an Asian guy shimmy out from behind a hedge and fall into step about 50 yards behind Vikram. I walked the same distance behind him. Vikram headed straight to the train station and caught the 8.35 to Waterloo. Me and the Asian guy followed suit.
To cut to the chase, when we got to London, Vikram headed straight for the Monmouth coffee shop in The Borough. I didn’t blame him. They sell great coffee, but I didn’t think he was there purely for an early morning espresso.
The Asian bloke was hovering outside the Monmouth’s window when I stepped up behind him, pushed a tube of Polo mints into his back and growled in his ear, ‘Keep walking pal, or I’ll drop you where you stand.’ I was bluffing outrageously, but if there’s one thing I learned in the DPG it’s that if you do or say something with absolute confidence, the chances are you’ll get away with it. Luckily for me the magic worked and the bloke did exactly as I told him. As we walked on past the window I caught sight of Vikram sitting in a booth with a middle-aged white guy. I figured him for the scouser Rakesh had spoken to.
When we turned the corner past the coffee shop, I slipped the tube of Polos back into my pocket and spun the guy round to face me. I had my hand in my jacket pocket and the cloth was bulging like I still had a gun pointing at him. He looked shit scared. ‘OK, buddy,’ I snarled. ‘Who are you working for and why are you tailing Vikram?’
‘Don’t shoot me please. I’m Mr Goodah’s PA. He told me to follow Mr Vikram Kapoor to see who he was meeting. Then I was to follow whoever it was and phone Mr Goodah and tell him the exact location of the second person’s destination. Please sir, you must believe me, I don’t know why he wanted me to do this thing. I just do what he tells me to do.’
Now the bloke could have been giving an award-winning performance as a nervous guy way out of his depth, but the spreading stain on the crotch of his trousers told me he wasn’t. I took pity on him and showed him the Polos. He bu
rst into tears and I felt like a total bastard, but I couldn’t waste any more time on him. I ducked back round the corner and walked into the coffee shop. I slid into the seat next to the middle-aged guy, jamming him up against the wall panelling. He looked pasty and out of condition so I knew I could take him out no problem if he tried to give trouble. I nodded to Vikram. ‘Sorry to ruin your day, Vik, but the jig’s up. You’ve been rumbled mate.’
Vikram stared at me like I was a crazy person. ‘What the bloody hell are you talking about? You’re supposed to be finding Meena’s kidnappers not harassing me.’
I grinned. ‘Nice try, pal, but I think I’ve just found one of them.’ I gave the guy next to me a hefty shove and he cracked his head on the wall.
‘Ow, you fucking bastard,’ he howled in an impeccable upper class accent. It was then that I began to wonder if I was making a big mistake.
‘This isn’t a kidnapper, you prat,’ snapped Vikram. ‘It’s Dr Gerald Hunter. He’s my tutor at UCL. I’m meeting him ’cos he rang me yesterday to let me know I’m failing my fucking course. It was just pure bad luck that it coincided with this whole blasted kidnapping business.’ He looked bone weary. ‘But then they say that troubles come in batches, don’t they?’
I had a horrible feeling in my gut that this was not going to work out in the way I’d hoped, but when I have an idea I cling onto it like a bulldog with a bone. ‘So how come you’re meeting in a coffee shop and not at UCL?’
‘Because we are coming to a private arrangement to make sure that my fail grades miraculously become A-grades.’
‘Shut up, Vikram!’ Dr Hunter looked as freaked as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
I glared at him. ‘And you’re doing this because?’
‘Tell him, Gerald. He’s my gangster cousin’s pet poodle and, trust me, you’d rather talk to him than cousin DK.’
Hunter looked like he would rather spit in my eye than answer, but he said, ‘Because Vikram is paying me a lot of money to make sure he passes. Apparently his mother is not a lady who would take his failure with equanimity.’
I frowned. ‘And saving young Vikram here from the wrath of Mummy is worth putting your career on the line for is it?’
He gave me a bleak little smile. ‘Actually, I don’t have any choice in the matter, but why should you care?’
I looked over at Vikram. ‘Look Vikram, you’d better level with me ’cos the sooner you do the sooner I can stop wasting my time and get back to what I’m being paid to do – which is finding your bride-to-be.’
Vikram stirred his coffee and looked even moodier than usual. Then he sighed and shrugged. ‘Dr Hunter has gambling debts and I have shit grades. I have more than enough money to cover those debts and Dr Hunter has the wherewithal to fix my grades. That was what Dr Hunter was phoning me to propose. So you see, unlike Meena and me, the Doctor and I are a match made in heaven. Now why don’t you sod off and let me and Dr Hunter finish what we came here to do.’
I shrugged. ‘Seems like a plan.’ I stood up to go but Vikram held up his hand.
‘Wait, you’re not going to tell my mother about this are you?’
I thought about it for a nanosecond. His crack about me being DK’s poodle rankled, but then life’s too short to hold a grudge. I shook my head. ‘Nope. I’m not being paid to worry about your grades. And you guys are consenting adults so far be it from me to spoil your little win-win situation. And now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ve got a proper job to do.’ I gave them both a winning smile. Annoyingly, I managed to crack my knee on the wooden seat as I turned to go, but I didn’t let it show. It would have ruined my exit.
Chapter Seven
I guess I couldn’t blame Danvir for trying to steal a march on me, but putting a pathetic little rat like his PA on the case was a pretty stupid move. If Vikram had been the mastermind behind the kidnapping, or even in direct contact with the kidnappers, then sending this guy blundering in could’ve spooked them all, big style. I looked up and down the street, but the bloke was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t exactly surprised. I’d wanted him to deliver a “back off arsehole” message from me to Mr Twat-faced Goodah, but it could wait.
In fact, I was making progress. I could confidently cross Vikram off my list of suspects and I now knew that Danvir was also in the clear for the snatch, but I still wondered why he was so desperate to find Meena. OK, you could say he was just being a concerned uncle, but I didn’t buy that. I don’t think he had me down as an incompetent buffoon and the fact that DK rated me must have showed him that I was the right man for the job, so why was he not prepared to sit back and let me handle the case? He seemed way too much of a cold fish to be bothered about Meena’s safety, but maybe he needed the marriage to go ahead asap so he could claim DK’s protection if, as DK had hinted, the guy had overstretched himself and some lowlifes were coming to call in his debts. That made sense to me because DK took family seriously and if he and Danvir were related by marriage then he wouldn’t throw him to the wolves. That would have resulted in him losing face and DK hadn’t got to where he was by letting people take the piss. But, if the marriage never happened, then DK would be under no obligation to pull Danvir’s chestnuts out of the fire. So, now I was betting the kidnapping was all to do with Danvir’s troubles.
However, that was as maybe. In the meantime, as I’ve already mentioned, I had to get myself down to Heathrow and call in a favour from an old DPG “mate” who’d landed himself a well cushy job as “Head of Security” for Britain’s car parking people. He ran a reasonably tight operation down at the airport car parks and I was hoping he’d let me have a dekko at the CCTV for the time the kidnapping took place.
An hour or so later I found myself in Derek Smallwood’s office. Derek was a buff, red-faced hearty guy who always seemed to be in with the people who mattered. I thought he was a smarmy bastard myself, but I’d always made a point of staying in his good books when we worked together at the DPG. I was hoping that was going to stand me in good stead now.
‘We didn’t notice anything at the time, but then we don’t spend all day gawping at rows of parked cars. My guys are supposed to, but they’d go boss-eyed and batty if they did. Anyway, we also patrol the bays on a regular basis and nobody reported anything amiss.’ He shrugged. ‘But seeing as you’ve asked nicely and you’re going to make a nice donation to our widows and orphans fund. I’ll check it out for you.’
I smiled and winked at him. ‘No problem, mate. My employer is footing the bill so let’s do it, eh?’
He pulled up the CCTV footage onto the screen and, after a few seconds a figure came scurrying along with a hood pulled low over his head. He ducked down behind an SUV.
‘Looks like chummy to me,’ said Derek, who never let a chance to state the bleeding obvious go by if he could help it.
Then two young Asian women came into the shot. It was Aisha and Meena. They were arm in arm and chatting happily. Suddenly, the hoodie leapt out and grabbed Meena. Aisha tried to pull her back, but the guy gave her a shove and Aisha stumbled backwards. Then a car drew up alongside the hoodie who opened the door and bundled Meena inside before jumping into the front passenger seat. The car shot off and the whole thing was over in less than 30 seconds. A distressed Aisha pulled her mobile out of her bag and made a call. Then she beat her hands on the SUV in what looked like a show of anger and frustration before climbing in and driving off. It was all pretty much how she had described it – except for one thing. Derek hit playback and then froze the picture on a particular frame.
‘The bad guys have slipped up a bit there,’ he said tapping the screen with his pen.
I leaned forward and took a closer look. Derek was right. The numberplate did have a coating of mud on it just like Aisha said, but whoever had slapped mud on it hadn’t done a very good job, as it was still just about readable. Somebody obviously hadn’t wanted to get their hands, or more likely, their clothes dirty. It struck me as amateurish and I said so. Der
ek sneered.
‘It’s probably a couple of coked-up kids who’ve been paid a few bob to do the snatch. I expect they’ve nicked the car, so what do they care?’
I nodded but said, ‘Can you get someone to run a PNC check on the plate for me, Del?’
Derek breathed in sharply. ‘That’s a big ask, mate. Do you know how many coppers and support staff have been done for misusing the Police National Computer in the last year or so?’
I said I didn’t.
He sat back and stared at me. ‘And you don’t want to know either, but it’s loads and it makes it very hard for blokes like me to get someone with access to the PNC to do them that kind of favour. Know what I’m saying?’
I did. The widows and orphans fund got another donation and Derek made a call. It turned out the car belonged to a Wembley-based car hire outfit calling itself Top Cars Rental. I gave them a bell and said that a friend of mine had hired that particular car from them and rated it and so I wanted to know if it was available now. The woman on the phone told me it was, so I knew it hadn’t been stolen but hired by the kidnappers. ‘That’s great,’ I gushed. ‘My friend said you guys are the best car hire outfit around.’
I was hoping that she’s say something like “oh that’s very kind of Mr Smith” or whatever and actually let slip a name, but she didn’t. All she wanted was my business. I cut the call. I knew if I wanted to find out more I’d have to go over there and ask questions in person.
Derek cleared his throat. I knew he was doing it to attract my attention. I raised an eyebrow at him.
‘What’s this all about, Ryan? Only it looks a bit serious to me and I don’t want it to come back and bite me on the backside.’