The Necessary Deaths

by David C. Dawson

  Miles laughed.

  “Perfect timing, dear chap. I’m in the office now and just about to open the envelope.”

  “Well, don’t. Dominic’s been kidnapped. He’s in a car with some creeps heading for your office. They’re after the envelope, and it sounds like they’re planning to break in and get it.”

  Miles paused with his hand reaching for the letter opener on his desk.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “We’re listening to the conversation in their car via Dominic’s cell phone. I set it up with an eavesdrop short code before he left this evening.”

  “Young man, we have yet to meet, but I must say your reputation is sprinting before you. Do you know where they are currently?”

  “I’m with Jonathan following them along the A40. We’re heading east into central London, and we’ve just passed Northolt airfield. I reckon they could be with you in thirty minutes. Maybe less.”

  Miles picked up a large ball of rubber bands from his desk and began turning it over and over in his hand.

  “Who’s in the car with poor Dominic?”

  “There’s a man called Randolph James….”

  “The MP who lives upstairs to Dominic? Have they kidnapped him as well?”

  “No, Mr. Torrington. He’s one of the creeps.”

  Miles stopped rolling the ball of rubber bands abruptly and laid it down. “Good God, I can’t believe it.”

  “That’s what they seem to be banking on, sir. There’s a woman called Janet Downpatrick with him….”

  “I’ve heard of her. Merchant banker with a mouth. A chum of mine acted for her when she sacked a woman employee who was pregnant. Seems that she’s opposed to equality for women in the workplace. Even though she herself climbed atop the greasy pole. Halfway through the hearing, she started mouthing off to the press about how women should put family before their careers. Didn’t help her case much. My chum who was defending her was very put out. Is it just the two of them with Dominic?”

  “They’ve got a driver called Viktor. Foreign accent. Maybe Russian or Ukrainian. He seems to be some kind of security expert from what they’ve been saying. Presumably he’s going to bust your safe open.”

  Harrison walked in with the tray of coffee and set it down on the desk.

  “Heard of some Russian fellah called Viktor in the world of security, Harrison?”

  “I hope you don’t mean Viktor Krasov. Bit of a butcher by all accounts. What’s he done?”

  “If it is him, he’s heading this way with a couple of his friends who’ve kidnapped Mr. Delingpole. It seems they’re after this.” Miles held up the envelope. “We’ll have to place it out of their reach before they arrive.” He picked up the ball of rubber bands and began to roll it vigorously once more. “Then again, they’ve got Dominic in tow. If the envelope’s gone when they get here, we have no idea what sort of unspeakable things they might do to him. He’s their hostage.”

  Harrison began pouring the coffee. “But if they find it, they might decide they have no more use for Mr. Delingpole.”

  “You think they’d do him in? It’s a possibility. Steve, how accurately are you able to track Dominic with your gadgets?”

  “It depends on signal strengths and all sorts of other factors. Could be within a few feet if there are lots of Wi-Fi sources around. It’s better if we keep them within sight.”

  Harrison set down the coffeepot and handed Miles a cup. “Might I suggest, sir, that we make a copy of the data card and then put the envelope back in the safe? We already have copies of everything else. Let them believe that they’ve got away with it, and then we simply leave the police to pull the car over. I’ve got a contact in the Metropolitan Police who can set that up for us.”

  “Capital idea! Steve, give us the license plate of the car Dominic’s in. We’ve got it all organized at this end. Just make sure they don’t spot you following them. Their driver chappie isn’t pleasant by all accounts.”

  Chapter 26

  JOHN AND Jay ran into the main entrance of the hospital and collapsed onto a row of plastic seats near the doors, grinning at each other as they caught their breath. An elderly couple sitting opposite stared at them disapprovingly. A low buzz of chatter in the reception area emanated from the twenty or so people milling around. Some were aimlessly browsing the newsstand and sandwich shop; others sat chatting quietly in corners, blankly watching the medical staff hurrying by.

  John looked down to see splashes of scarlet oozing from his hand and dripping onto the floor. There was a deep cut around the base of his thumb. He guessed he had caught it on the van door. As he pulled out a grubby handkerchief from his pocket, his cell phone fell onto the floor. Picking it up, he stared at the screen.

  “Damn, the battery’s died. I’m going to have to charge it and get back in touch with Steve so he knows I’m okay.”

  “Hang on a minute, mate. Don’t you think you should get that bleeding checked out first? We’re in the right place.”

  John shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  “It’s nothing. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute.” He briefly examined the bloodied hand and began winding his handkerchief around it. “Shit, was I pleased to see you, Jay! So were you inside the house when they started smashing their way in?”

  “No, mate. I was down the road when I saw them start on the door. I ducked out the way, not knowing what the fuck was going on. Then those bastards came running out and drove off in the van. I ran after them and kept up all the way to the main road. That’s when I saw you come out of the Eagle pub. They started tailing you from there.” Jay stood up. “Where’s Gemma? Should we go back and check for her?”

  “No, I don’t reckon she’s at the house yet. Still on her way back from London. She took that stuff up to meet the lawyer guy. Did you get the license plate of the van, by the way?”

  Jay looked smug.

  “Sure did. And I reckon I could describe the two guys. Should we call the police?”

  John finished winding the grubby handkerchief around his hand and stood up.

  “I don’t know who we can trust anymore. For all we know, they could have been the police. I think our best hope is Mr. Delingpole. He seems to be on our side. Let’s go up and see Simon. Then we’ll try and get hold of Gemma and see how she got on.”

  THE ATMOSPHERE in the Mercedes was hot and oppressive. Dominic shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He watched the familiar sights of the Marylebone Road, one of London’s main arteries, go past. The Landmark Hotel, Baker Street, the Planetarium, Madame Tussaud’s waxworks—the car left them all behind as it headed on toward Euston Road before turning off toward Holborn and Lincoln’s Inn, the ancient heart of England’s legal profession.

  Dominic tried once again to loosen the seat belt buckle at his side, but it was impossible to free. He was strapped into the seat by a webbing harness that crossed both his shoulders and fitted tightly around his waist. There was no way he could slip out of it. He looked across at the face of Janet Downpatrick, lit by the yellow street lamps. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties. Her auburn hair was still scraped severely away from her face, but a cashmere scarf around her neck softened her features and made her appear less threatening. Until she spoke.

  “Viktor, I think it’s time we resolved the outstanding issue of the Gregory boy. He’s the reason we’re chasing around London at this time of night. Freedman was useless. Two attempts and he bungled it both times.”

  “With respect, ma’am,” the man called Viktor said slowly and deliberately, as though choosing his words with care. “Freedman was acting under Mr. James’s instructions to use ketamine. I did advise that he would be unreliable. He was simply a junior researcher, recruited to the cause and eager to please. Not a competent killer at all.”

  Randolph James looked across at Viktor. “Krasov, there was no need for him to be killed. He was a bloody good researcher.”

  Janet Downpatrick leaned forward and placed a ha
nd on the MP’s shoulder. “Don’t be so sentimental, Randolph. You’ll find another one. He was just another necessary death for the cause.”

  A necessary death. The phrase spun around in Dominic’s head as he rapidly pieced together the new information.

  So Peter Freedman’s death outside the Brighton Sauna Bar had not been an accident. The driver of the black Range Rover that hit Freedman was working for Viktor. Dominic remembered the police had said the driver’s name was Faldon. He thought again about Miles Torrington’s theory that the ambulance crew who turned up that night had been fake. Miles was right. If these people had those kinds of resources, Dominic could only hope that Steve was able to hear all of this chilling conversation and get to the police before anything else happened to Simon.

  Krasov turned the car down Woburn Place and headed toward Russell Square. Dominic calculated that they were about five minutes from Lincoln’s Inn. Janet Downpatrick sat back in her seat and looked at the driver in the rearview mirror.

  “Viktor, your man seemed to do a good job with Freedman. Can we use him for the Gregory boy?”

  “Ma’am. Faldon is already briefed and ready to go. There’s always a police officer on duty outside the boy’s door, since they stepped up security. The next shift change is at eleven tonight. Faldon has a police uniform, even a radio, which he can monitor to be sure the hospital security doesn’t get wise to him. We just need your go-ahead. Then the officer due to go on shift can be dealt with and our man will take his place at eleven. He’s going to have many opportunities during the night. Apparently now that the boy’s recovered consciousness, the mother isn’t there all night.”

  Janet Downpatrick looked across at Dominic and her mouth twisted into a smile as she replied. “Tell him to go ahead. And make sure it’s third time lucky.”

  JONATHAN FIDGETED as Steve dialed John’s number again and waited while the voice mail message recited its mantra.

  “John, it’s Steve here. Call me as soon as you get this message. Simon’s going to be in serious danger from eleven tonight. Get back to me as soon as you can.” He shoved the phone back in his jacket pocket and turned to Jonathan. “I’m not getting any trace from his cell, so the battery must be dead. Last thing I had was a text nearly an hour ago. I hope he’s okay.”

  Jonathan leaned forward to the driver he’d nicknamed Pat the Pecs and laid his hand on the man’s muscular upper arm. “I think we’re going to need a bit of skillful maneuvering from you in a short while. Do you think you’re up for it?”

  Pat nodded. “Rally driving’s my thing. I do a bit of chauffeuring to pay for it. Do you want me to cut them off at some point?”

  “No, no. We definitely don’t want to draw attention to ourselves for the moment. Mr. Delingpole’s in the back of that car, and we don’t want them doing anything nasty to him.” Jonathan felt the driver’s bicep appreciatively. “My, my, Pat the Pecs. You clearly work out. Presumably you can defend yourself if things get a bit nasty?”

  Pat was obviously flattered by the attention and did not flinch as Jonathan massaged his upper arm.

  “Yeah, but I’d rather not if you don’t mind. This kind of stuff wasn’t part of the deal with Mr. Delingpole, and I don’t want any marks on me.” He tilted his head to one side to stretch his well-developed neck muscle. “I do a bit of modeling, you see. Is there going to be a bit more cash? I was only supposed to drive you to Chequers and back tonight. Safe pursuit costs a bit extra.”

  “Dear boy,” said Jonathan as he placed his hands on the young man’s shoulders and continued the massage, “I’m sure we can sort something out. In the meantime, please don’t lose them. Dominic’s really rather dear to me.”

  Pat the Pecs leaned back into Jonathan’s hands appreciatively.

  Steve was on his cell once more. “Evening again, Mr. Torrington. They’re close now. I reckon about another five minutes and they’ll be with you. We’re right behind. Is everything ready?”

  Miles’s excited voice filled the car as Steve switched to speakerphone. “This is absolutely fascinating! We found the data card. Harrison managed to open the envelope wide enough without tearing it. Not bad for a man with boxer’s hands. Sure enough, the thing was taped inside at the very bottom of the envelope. Just as young Simon informed us. Very clever hiding place. Harrison’s copied the data from it, and managed to tape it back inside. You wouldn’t know it had been tampered with. Damn clever chap, Harrison. The envelope’s now back in the safe.”

  Steve was looking at a map of Lincoln’s Inn on his laptop. “It’s a bloody big place, Mr. Torrington. Must be something like five acres. They’re not going to just breeze up to the front gate and ask to be let in. The question is, where are they going to jump the wall?”

  Miles’s voice crackled through the speakerphone. “If you come to the main security lodge on Lincoln’s Inn, we can monitor the cameras in there and see what they’re getting up to. Jackson on the front desk is a good friend of mine. We always invite him and his family down to the country for Christmas. Absolutely solid chap.” Miles’s voice began to rise again. “You know, this stuff is absolute gold dust! Your friend Simon has got enough dirt on the—”

  From a side turning, a white van shot in front of the Lexus limousine, and Pat the Pecs slammed on the brakes. Steve’s laptop and cell phone shot into the front of the car, and Jonathan’s nose smashed into the driver’s headrest. Pat yelled furiously and leaned on his horn as the white van’s brake lights came on and the limousine ground to a halt at a set of traffic lights. “I’m going to lose them. I can’t see the car any longer!” cried Pat.

  Steve undid his seat belt, reached forward, and rescued his laptop and cell phone from the front of the car. He set the computer on his knees and refreshed the screen. “Don’t panic, I’m still tracking them here. They just turned off left into a small street after this junction.”

  Jonathan leaned back in his seat with his head held up, his nose pinched between forefinger and thumb. A small trickle of blood was running down the side of his mouth.

  “Have you still got Miles on the phone?” he asked. “Because I don’t think we can wait any longer. He should get his police contacts to pull that car over right now. It’s the best chance we’ve got of rescuing Dominic.”

  Steve frowned as he flicked through several screens on his laptop. “I think you’re right. I did have them and now suddenly the tracer signal has disappeared. They turned into Parker Mews and then seem to have vanished. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the laptop. Maybe something’s happened to Dominic’s phone. Either way, I’ve got no idea where they are anymore.”

  Chapter 27

  THE INTENSIVE care unit for the Royal Sussex County Hospital was on the seventh floor of a modern tower block. It was just after half past ten when the elevator doors opened and John and Jay stepped into the reception area. The air was filled with the sound of low-voiced conversations from the half-dozen medical staff they could see. From the distance came the dull insistent beeping of multiple alarms.

  Jay stopped suddenly. “This is freaking me out, mate. I’m not good with hospitals and shit. Why don’t I wait here while you go and sort stuff out with lover boy?”

  John stared at his housemate with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. “I thought you were a butch Australian surf boy? All right, stay here if you want. I’ll go and see Simon. He’s in room 4, down at the end, if you want to come find me.”

  He started to walk off, but Jay grabbed his arm. “Hang on a minute, mate. You better get that sorted before you go see Simon.” The bright red stain on the handkerchief wrapped around John’s hand was growing noticeably larger. “Shit, mate, it’s getting worse. I’m going to get one of these guys to look at it for you. Just don’t ask me to watch.”

  Jay ignored John’s protests and propelled him over to the reception desk where a disheveled young man with curly blond hair sat at a computer screen.

  “Hey, we’re here to visit Simon Gregory,” Jay sa
id, “but my mate’s cut himself real bad on his hand. Any chance you could look at it?”

  The junior doctor kept working at the keyboard. “This is ICU. The ER’s two floors down.”

  John turned to Jay. “It’s all right. I need to see Simon first. I can sort it afterwards.”

  Jay leaned close into the face of the young man at the desk.

  “Mate, could you just take a look at it so you can tell my idiot friend he’s gotta get it sorted pronto?”

  The typing stopped and the blond ringlets tipped back to reveal a face dominated by piercing blue eyes and a trim close-shaved beard. The young man scanned Jay’s broad chest and narrow waist before his eyes flicked to John. He gazed at John for several seconds. Then he stood up.

  “Come with me.”

  Jay hung back at the reception area. “I’ll wait here if you don’t mind. Hey, mate. Give me your phone and your charger, I’ll get it sorted.”

  The young doctor stopped and turned. “So the eye candy is squeamish? That’s a shame. You’ll find the coffee machine just around the corner. Bring us something hot. I take it white, without.” He grinned as Jay blushed. “I’m sweet enough already.”

  John smothered a giggle, and the piercing blue eyes turned toward him.

  “I’ve seen you before somewhere. Was it Legends or the Bulldog? Come on, let’s take a look at that injury.”

  As they moved past the elevator, the doors opened, and a uniformed police officer walked into the reception area.

  IT WAS cramped and stuffy in the lodge gatehouse at Lincoln’s Inn. Steve and Jonathan had left Pat to cruise around the area looking for the black Mercedes while they met up with Miles and Harrison. Miles was upbeat. But Jonathan found his optimism false and infuriating. Worse, he wished he had not been so flippant with Dominic, who had always treated their relationship more seriously. It had taken these extreme events for Jonathan to realize how much he loved Dominic.