Keeping Bad Company

by Ann Granger

  It occurred to me that she’d succeeded, through the intensity of this single obsession of hers, in excluding everything but herself from the situation. She’d even hijacked me into addressing her personal problems. It meant there was something I’d been in danger of forgetting, and which she was overlooking completely. I wasn’t there just because of her. There was someone else and I was his advocate. If he didn’t speak through me, he had no voice.

  ‘What about Albie?’ I asked.

  My question appeared to puzzle her. Her face went blank and then her eyebrows rose. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘He’s the down-and-out who saw you snatched. Only he’s dead now, which is convenient. The one and only witness.’

  She looked at me as if I were mad. ‘There wasn’t anyone to see. The street was empty.’

  I told her Albie had been in the church porch.

  She thought about it, shrugged and dismissed it. ‘I didn’t see anyone. I don’t know anything about him. Does it matter? I mean, if he’s dead now?’

  I lost my temper. ‘Matter? Of course it matters! If he’s dead, it’s because of you, because of what he saw!’

  Her features tightened again. She was a pretty girl but when she looked like that, she appeared shrewish. She was wearing jeans, a pullover and a jeans jacket, basically the same gear she’d been wearing the night Albie saw her grabbed off the street. Missing was the Alice band.

  The accusation in my voice made her restless. She blurted out, ‘Look, I’m sorry if he’s dead, and if what you say is true. But I don’t know that it is true, and I don’t know a damn thing about any old drunk!’

  ‘You didn’t send Merv and Baz out to take care of him, by any chance?’ I asked. I was so angry with her by now, I was ready to accuse her of anything.

  ‘Of course I bloody didn’t!’ she shouted. She leaned forward in the chair in emotion but fell back again into place immediately.

  ‘Right!’ I snapped. ‘Out of that chair, now!’

  She stayed put, pushing herself right back into the well of the chair and grabbing the arms defensively. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I say so!’ I dived at her and grabbed her.

  We were about evenly matched in build but she’d never had to take care of herself physically as I had. She was no street-fighter. I got her out of the chair and down on the floor, and planted a boot on her neck.

  ‘Let me go!’ she gurgled, threshing about. She seized my leg but pressure on her throat soon changed her mind.

  ‘All I want to see,’ I said, ‘is what’s hidden in this chair that you’re so keen I don’t find.’

  Well, would you know? It was a mobile phone, pushed down between the cushioned seat and the arm. I picked it up and waved it at her.

  ‘Control line to your heavies?’

  She spluttered and swore at me from the floor. I pulled out the aerial and punched in 999.

  Lauren twisted beneath my foot and threw me off balance. I staggered and fell backwards into the armchair. She launched herself at me and I kicked out. She stumbled and landed on her backside on the floor. Her eyes blazed through the tumbled mess of her long fair hair. If she could have done it, she’d have torn me limb from limb. I jumped out of the chair and got clear of her.

  I was through to the operator. I asked for the police, but as soon as I was connected Lauren took advantage of my momentary distraction and threw herself at me, screeching, ‘No!’

  We were by the tin table and her wild lunge tipped it over. The paper plate fell on the floor and with it, the fork. I snatched it up a split second before she did and darted back with it held out ready to jab her.

  ‘This is about the Szabo kidnapping!’ I panted into the phone. ‘I’m Fran Varady and I’ve found Lauren Szabo. We’re in an empty office block.’

  Hell’s teeth, I didn’t know where the block was! I scurried to the window at the end of the room, still holding the fork as a weapon, and keeping my eye on Lauren, who stood, panting and waiting her chance. I took the briefest possible glance out of the window.

  What I saw gave me a shock. A road, railings, bushes and – the canal. My God, I thought, I ran past this place the night Baz chased me on his bike. Perhaps Lauren had even been standing here at this window, in a darkened room, watching me run for my life. Any lingering feeling I might have had that she and I were basically on the same side was scotched by the thought.

  ‘It’s a disused warehouse opposite the Grand Union Canal. Converted into offices inside but Victorian-looking outside. It’s about two or three blocks from – ’

  Lauren flew at me screaming like a banshee. She struck the fork from my hand and grabbed at the phone. I was forced to release the mobile. It shot up in the air, crashed through the window pane and disappeared down into the street below.

  We glared at each other.

  ‘You stupid bitch!’ Lauren hissed. Her face was twisted in anger and all her prettiness vanished. ‘You’ve spoiled everything!’

  ‘You should’ve left Albie alone!’ I riposted. ‘I don’t give a tinker’s cuss about Szabo, or you, come to that. But someone has to care about Albie and it seems it has to be me.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about your blasted Albie!’ she yelled. ‘You keep yammering on about him but I don’t give a damn, whoever he is! All I know is I’m getting out of here! Hand over that key!’ She held out her hand. ‘If you don’t,’ she added nastily, ‘you’re holding me against my will.’

  She had brass neck, give her that. But she had convinced me she really didn’t know about Albie. Perhaps the two men had taken care of that little business all by themselves. I scrabbled in my bra for the key and handed it to her in silence.

  She grabbed it with smirk of triumph and made for the door. But as she turned the key in the lock, I asked, ‘Where are you going, Lauren? You don’t have anywhere to go. The police have kept all this quiet until now because you were presumed an innocent victim of kidnap. Now they’ll go public, pull out all the stops looking for you. Your face will be flashed on the nation’s television screens. How long do you think you can last out there?’ I indicated the window. ‘Someone will recognise you and turn you in within twenty-four hours. I dare say there’ll be a reward.’

  She froze, then turned back to face me and I had to give her credit for nimbleness of mind. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘You’re right. So I’ll stay here and when the police get here, it’ll be my word against yours. All I need to say is, you found the key on the outside of the door. I was locked in here.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of yourself,’ I snapped. ‘Not only will I tell them the key was on the inside and you were free to walk out, but Merv and Baz, when they pick them up – which they will do – will say the same.’

  ‘They can say what they like.’ She smiled at me serenely. ‘So can you. Tell them about the key, it doesn’t matter. You forget, I know about victims conspiring with their tormentors in their own oppression. Vinnie showed me how it was done, with Mummy. Anyway, it’s a classic hostage situation. Stockholm syndrome. The prisoner ends up doing voluntarily whatever the captor wants, even to outright helping, in a weird partnership. As for me, I’ll claim I was too scared to try to escape, and later, too brain-washed to try anything independent.’

  Crazy as it seemed, I wasn’t sure she couldn’t make that work for her. She was clever, manipulative, and I was certain she’d prove no mean actress. No one would take Merv’s word, or Baz’s. Parry might take mine, but in a witness box, a clever lawyer would destroy my credibility with the jury in minutes. It was all so neat and credible, except for one thing – something we’d both overlooked.

  Merv and Baz. That’s what couldn’t be made to make sense. They didn’t have an original thought between them. Look how easily they’d been swayed by Lauren’s arguments and had handed over all the advantages so meekly to her, putting themselves under her control. Could that pair really have worked out the original kidnap plan? Just to abandon it? Why had they been expecting so little money from
the deal? Was it because they were not in charge of the haggling? Not prime movers, in fact, but mere hired heavies?

  It was so obvious, I almost smiled. They had been paid cash to seize and hold Lauren. They had not been intended to share in any ransom. Not until Lauren came up with her own deal. Yes, that made a lot more sense.

  ‘Lauren,’ I said, ‘it’s not going to be that easy.’

  ‘Oh, why?’ she sneered.

  I explained briefly how I reasoned it. ‘You thought you were running things because the only people you saw were Merv and Baz, and you had that pair of lowlifes eating out of your hand. But if you think it through, there has to be someone else behind all this.’

  She began to look uncertain. I pressed home my argument.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Lauren! The only thing you can be sure about with Merv and Baz is that they’re foot soldiers. They take orders from people they perceive as having brains. They even took orders from you. The one thing that motivates them is the thought of money. When they snatched you, they were following the orders of someone who planned it. That person was paying them what looked like a lot to them at the time. It was a flat rate for their services, not a cut of the ransom money. You said yourself, they had no idea how high a ransom could be asked.

  ‘But when you offered them a three-way split in a new deal, they decided to double-cross whoever was employing them. Whoever masterminded the kidnap still thinks they have you tied up here with a bag over your head. Because the organiser daren’t risk coming here himself to check. It’s far too dangerous. He has to accept Merv or Baz’s reports. Merv says you’re a prisoner here and Mr Unknown can only accept it.’

  Lauren’s confidence was evaporating visibly as I spoke. ‘But who could it be?’ she asked.

  ‘How about Copperfield?’ I suggested. ‘He owes money to the banks.’

  She shook her head vehemently. ‘Forget it. No way is Jeremy behind this. He’s terrified of blotting his copybook again. He had some trouble a couple of years ago when he got involved in some dodgy deals. He got off with a suspended sentence but it scared the wits out of him. He wants to continue in the art and antiques business. He can’t afford any more damage to his reputation. He wouldn’t touch anything crooked. He breaks out in a sweat whenever he sees a police uniform. Anyway,’ she concluded firmly, ‘not only hasn’t he got the nerve to organise anything like this, he hasn’t got the brains. It has to be someone else.’

  Before I could answer, the sound of approaching motor vehicles became audible. We both hurried to peer out of the window.

  ‘The police have found us already!’ Lauren exclaimed disbelievingly.

  I wish she’d been right. But it wasn’t the police. It was a private car, one I didn’t recognise, and following it an old van.

  Both vehicles stopped. The van doors opened and Merv and Baz jumped down into the street. They went to the driver’s side of the car. At their approach, the window was wound down. Then two men stooped and put their heads close to it. An animated conversation began.

  ‘What are they all talking about?’ Lauren whispered, and for the first time she seemed scared.

  ‘Your pals are getting their final orders,’ I said. Merv and Baz were still huddled over the car window. ‘Getting the details right.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Now she’d lost all her self-assurance. She looked at me helplessly.

  ‘Triple-cross,’ I explained. ‘Now they’re double-crossing you, Lauren. You had them seeing pound signs with your offer, but it’s all getting too complicated and they can’t handle it themselves. Suddenly a flat payment and no strings looks awfully attractive to them. Let someone else sweat over extorting a ransom, arranging the drop and all the rest of it. It’s way out of their league. Maybe it’s just occurred to them that, even if they did get their hands on a really large sum of money, they’d have no way of laundering it. Word would get round in hours and reach the police.’

  She blinked at me. ‘How?’ she argued, but without her former spirit.

  This was not the time for me to give her a detailed rundown on the criminal world. I said irritably, ‘It’s called informing, Lauren, in case you haven’t heard of it. Merv and Baz know that if they show up with more than the average windfall in used notes, someone will grass. So they’ve gone to their original employer with a highly edited version of recent events. They’re ditching you and your grand scheme, and taking orders from their former boss.’

  Lauren was staring down in morbid fascination at the car below and the huddled figures. She put a finger to her mouth and chewed nervously at the nail.

  ‘Down there?’ she mumbled. ‘He’s really down there in that car?’

  ‘You bet he is!’ I told her heartlessly. ‘He’s been under the impression he’s been giving them orders all along, of course! But now he’s smelled a rat, or in this case, two rats. He’s not sure how far he can trust them any longer. He’s down there, in that car, come to see for himself what’s going on here and to make sure Merv and Baz do the job they’ve been sent to do.’

  ‘What’s that?’ she faltered.

  There was no point in hiding the truth from her. ‘This whole thing’s got in such a mess, I don’t think any of them can let either of us leave here alive,’ I said. ‘They’ve come here on a damage-limitation exercise. Remember, they all think I’m locked in a room on the floor below. The big chief thinks you’re locked up here. None of them has any way of knowing I’ve called the police.

  ‘The man in the car is badly rattled by being told he’s now got two prisoners, but he still believes he can shake the money out of Szabo. He doesn’t realise that his two henchmen have tried to cut a deal with you and – ’ I allowed myself a nasty smile – ‘provided you and he never meet face to face, there’s no reason he’ll find out. So Merv and Baz will make sure you never do meet him.

  ‘From Mr Unknown’s point of view, you and I are just too much of a nuisance. All three of them, for different reasons, want us permanently out of the way. On that they’re well agreed.’

  Merv and Baz straightened up and began to walk towards the building where we were. Lauren gripped my arm.

  ‘But who is he?’ she whispered desperately. ‘He can’t just order them to kill us!’

  ‘Why not? They killed Albie.’

  Below us, without warning, the car door opened. There was a flash of long blonde hair as the driver leaned out and called to Merv and Baz. They went back to the car and there was another brief exchange. The two men eventually nodded and started off again towards the building. The driver got out of the car and stood by the door, watching them go.

  ‘There you are,’ I said. ‘Not a he but a she after all.’

  Beside me, Lauren gasped, ‘That’s Jane Stratton, Jeremy’s receptionist.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Recognising Jane Stratton effectively disposed of Lauren’s temporary nervousness. In a flash she was back to her old dictatorial self.

  ‘Bitch!’ she yelled at the window panes. ‘Wait till I get my hands on you!’

  ‘You’re not going to get the chance,’ I reminded her crisply. ‘Because the way things are going, Merv and Baz’ll reach us first if we don’t get out of here! Baz, for one, will be looking forward to it! Come on!’

  I made for the door, but she stayed by the window. Would you believe it? She was still intent on yelling abuse at the blissfully unaware Ice Queen below. I ran back to her, glancing out to see how things were going below. Stratton stood elegantly by her motor, waiting for her two thugs to return and report they’d dealt with us.

  ‘She can’t hear you, you idiot!’ I snarled and grabbed Lauren’s wrist. I could’ve left her there, but I’d come this far in finding her, and losing her now made little sense. I hauled her away from the scene, with me through the door and down the corridor.

  She was still spluttering with rage as she ran, obsessed, even at a moment like this, with the wrongs done her.

  ‘Would you believe it? I should�
�ve known-I should’ve guessed! She fancied her chances with Jeremy before I came on the scene, you know. She thought she’d be Mrs Copperfield, heaven help us! Not that she had the hots for him – but she always thought she could run that business better than he could . . .’

  We’d reached the end of the corridor and the stairwell. From the floor below came a hoarse yell and a burst of profanity as Merv and Baz discovered I wasn’t where they’d left me. Baz sounded particularly enraged, cheated of whatever fun he’d promised himself. I needed no further encouragement to make myself scarce. We couldn’t go down so we had to go up. Stairs indicated another floor and we took them.