Placing his phone back in his pocket he gestured to the guy stood by the door to follow him and without anybody glancing up they both proceeded down the dark corridor. The guy who casually followed Bostock had short dark hair and a goatee beard. He was known as Jim and was Ron’s right hand man and had already shown his handy work in the court building earlier today in front of Wyre and had no problem following Ron’s orders. They both reached a door with a light switch next to it and turned the light on but dimmed it so it hardly benefited them. The door was unlocked using a key card and Bostock pushed it open and stood surveying the darkness for movement. It was dark even for him so he turned to Jim who was manning the light switch and without saying a word to each other it slowly became lighter in the room. When he was happy, Bostock turned to Jim and indicated to him to enter and close the door behind him. Slowly Bostock walked over to the cowering figure to his right and dropped to a crouching position. The figure shook in fear and buried their head between their knees with their hands on the back of their head to protect it.
“Do you want anything?” asked Bostock calmly. There was no answer only a sniff like the cowering figure had been crying, perhaps from previous punishments.
“You see if you want anything that means you have to give us something in return. Do you understand?”
Still the figure never responded forcing Bostock to stand and circle them like they were his prey. With no warning Bostock swung his leg and kicked the figure full on in the side of the head forcing a loud cry from the injured victim.
“Please no you must stop!” said the barefooted man dressed in only a pair of dirty looking trousers and a dirty vest stained with blood and sweat.
Through the bruising and the blood stained long matted hair an Arab type man was just visible. His beard had huge bald patches with dried blood where the hair used to be. It had been clearly torn from the roots and his eyes were swollen almost to the point where he was finding it hard to see his attackers. To the untrained eye his hands seemed untouched but on closer inspection it was obvious his finger nails had been ripped clean off and some of his fingers were broken. He looked like a guy who up until now had survived one of Bostock’s standard torturing sessions.
“Please I cannot take any more!” sobbed the guy as he rolled over and curled up into a protective ball.
Bostock stood and flicked his head to Jim to indicate they had finished here for the time being. They dimmed the lights from the switch in the corridor, shut and then locked the door and made their way to the next room. The same routine saw them enter a similar room and again a cowering sound could be heard. Jim seemed to be more alert in this room almost like he was expecting some sort of trouble. His weapon was drawn as Bostock also entered cautiously behind him. There in the corner of the large office type room was a ghost like figure, shaking and sat in what looked like vomit. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was so white it was almost see through and the smell of stale bodily functions had even Bostock trying to take in a fresh gulp of air and wincing at the stench. Jim approached with his browning pistol pointing straight at the ghostly figure’s head. He seemed to know they were there but did little to respond as Jim gently pushed him to the floor and knelt on his chest and arms. Bostock reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what looked like a syringe in a protective sleeve. Out of his other pocket he pulled out a rubber tourniquet and placed it tightly around the arm of the subdued recipient. With his finger Bostock searched for a vein but to no avail so pulled on the rubber even tighter forcing the victim to suddenly stir out of his stupor. Jim pushed the gun against his head to remind him where he was but it didn’t stop the guy start to struggle and fight back. Quickly finding the vein Bostock pushed the syringe into it and they both watched as the struggle became a return to the ecstasy a fix of heroin gives someone who so desperately craves it.
“You’ll be an addict at this rate Julian” said Bostock in his educated, almost posh accent.” It will be all over soon then someone will find you in a bedsit or a shithole of a flat somewhere covered in your own faeces and piss and they’ll say, remember when he used to be some hotshot banker but look at him now. He’s a smack head junky. Your friend gave up on us Julian. He’s gone although not before chewing his own hand off in desperation”
Again they both looked at one another and left for the next room with Bostock shaking his head in disappointment that the people he was torturing were not putting up more of a fight. They walked towards the next door in the corridor and entered, this time turning the light up brighter. There, still against the wall close to the plug socket was Oliver. He too was cowering as Bostock approached and knelt down in front of him.
“How are you Oliver?”
He never answered, just looked up at the two of them with a tear stained face.
“Now listen to me Oliver. I have to give you something so you’re going to have to be very still. It will sting a little bit but you’re a brave boy aren’t you”
Oliver watched as Bostock took another syringe out of his pocket and removed the sleeve.
“I need your arm please!”
Oliver’s face filled with fear and instinctively pulled his arms close to his stomach to protect them. Jim knelt down next to him and carefully pulled Oliver’s arm out to expose the skin and even though Oliver struggled he was no match for two grown men. He started to cry as Bostock placed the needle into his arm as quick as he could and injected the contents.
“Just relax now Oliver and go to sleep”
They watched as he slowly slumped back onto the floor and closed his eyes. Again they left the victim in darkness and made their way back along the corridor.
*
Wyre sat opposite detective Richards and watched anxiously as he picked up his mobile phone and searched for the number he required. Pressing the dial button he glanced at Wyre expressionless and stared at the windowless wall. Wyre could only just hear the ring tone on the other end but sat listening intently on the edge of his seat hoping to hear the voice on the other end but Richards was sat too far away from him.
“Hi! Is that George Goldstone?”
“Yes it is who’s calling please?”
“Hi George its Alex here, Alex Richards”
“Alex Richards, my god it’s been a long time and what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Hi George I hope I’m not disturbing you. Listen I need a favour”
“Why do people only get back in touch when they need a favour?”
“Yes I know I’m sorry but this is an exceptional case. Are you still in contact with Farrar Macain?”
“I haven’t spoken to him for a while but I still have his contact details…..why?”
“Something has happened that I think is a big mistake and I need to speak to someone before the situation gets out of hand”
“Yes go on!”
“I know Farrar Macain is an associate of Ron Bostock and I need……..”
“Wait a minute, what has Ron Bostock got to do with this?”
“I think he might be involved in the abduction of an innocent child George and if he is I need to talk to him in private”
There was a pause on the phone as Richards continued staring at the wall.
“Now, now Alex I don’t need to explain to you that Ron Bostock writes his own rules and plays his own games and you of all people should know that he is the last person you want to start playing with. Didn’t you leave all that behind?”
“I totally understand George and yes you’re right I don’t want to play with him but when I met him today at the library he seemed to want someone to talk to so I thought I would take this opportunity” said Richards facetiously. “I know he had something to do with the abduction George and my priority right now is to get the boy back”
“Priorities Alex, you do surprise me talking about priorities. Maybe your memory is shorter than I remember but I think I’m right in saying you lost your way a few years ago when it came to priorities, you joined th
e dark side remember”
“Oh I wouldn’t call upholding the law the dark side George. Being on the side of the good guy is something you could get used to I think”
“Again Alex you surprise me. I remember the days when you didn’t know what was good or bad. It was such a waste when you decided to leave. I think that’s why you’re still alive today. Ron Liked you a lot and I think it was because you reminded him of his self. You were the son he never had”
“I want the boy back George!”
Richards ended the call and put his phone down on the desk. Wyre was unsure of what to say and the stress could be seen written all over his face as Richards checked his watch.
“We need to get some sleep Wyre but first we have to ring your wife and warn her then meet her as soon as possible”
Wyre rang the house number and again reached the answering machine but never left a message under the strict orders from Alex. They both grabbed their jackets and made their way through the now dark car park to the detective’s car.
*
George Goldstone placed the phone down on the large wooden desk in his office and spun around in his leather chair, the smell of cigar smoke and freshly poured whisky filled the room. He too could have passed as a member of the House of Lords with his tanned, cleanly shaven, 60 year old skin and his balding and greying hair. His suit alone looked more expensive than most people’s entire wardrobes but it was no surprise. He was the right hand man of the foreign secretary, William Hague and regularly had the ear of the prime minister himself. Apart from a handful of people it didn’t get much higher than him.
“He has made contact just as you said he would” George Goldstone, said turning around in his chair to face the window where the person he was talking to was stood taking in the view.
“Good old Alex, ever the predictable one. You were right what you said though George about him leaving for the dark side. He was good at what he did………that is why we have to be careful. I will arrange a meeting”
“Who will you send?”
“Oh don’t worry George I have someone who will deal with this problem”
“Good just make sure they know nothing about why they are meeting him other than to kill him. It will be a shame to eliminate someone as good as Alex but this is not worth leaving him alive”
Ron Bostock nodded as he knocked back the whisky and held up the empty glass with a wicked and devious smile on his face meaning he was hatching a plan that had George Goldstone shaking his head.
“Fuck me Ron can’t you just kill the fucker and not play your bloody games”
Bostock just smiled back and held up his glass
“Cheers George!”
Chapter 8
“This is it Alex, the house on the left”
Richards pulled up a few houses down from Wyre’s and turned to him in the passenger seat.
“Ok Wyre, make sure you stay behind me unless I tell you otherwise is that clear?”
“Are you expecting anyone to be in there?” replied Wyre looking slightly concerned.
“I hope not but from now on we can’t trust no one and I mean no one”
They slowly walked towards the house with Wyre watching Richards pull a weapon out from his black leather jacket and check it was loaded. This was something Wyre was only used to seeing whilst working on the war torn streets in various countries around the world, not as he entered his own house. It was a typical quaint English cottage with the four white framed sash windows and a blue door in the middle. The street was one of those in a village where nearly every house was different, some old, some new and was deep in the country meaning at half past ten in the evening it was deadly silent as they both approached the front door. No lights were on inside which had Wyre hoping his wife would be in bed, but for her to not answer the phone gave him a bad feeling. Richards gently pushed the door and it opened. This had Wyre feeling sick to the stomach and shaking his head in dejection. Richards then pulled a torch out of his other pocket and pointed it and the pistol into the darkness together. He looked at Wyre and held his finger to his lips indicating silence. They were in the living room and it was immediately obvious there had been a struggle. The large low coffee table had been tipped over and there was broken glass over the tiled floor that crunched and broke under the detective’s feet. Wyre’s adrenalin surged through his body forcing his heart to work overtime to pump the blood. His emotions were being torn apart because not only did he have to now deal with his son Oliver being abducted but now it was most likely his wife Susan was missing or worse. It then dawned on him what Richards had told him earlier about this guy Bostock being, what sounded like untouchable which meant there was a possibility Susan could be lay dying inside the house. He tried to focus on Richards and help him wherever he could to try and take his mind off the gravity of the situation his life was now in. As Richards disappeared into the large kitchen Wyre spotted the broken picture of his family on the floor. Kneeling down he picked it up to remove the smashed glass and studied it intently. Richards left him to it and proceeded through the whole house. When he returned Wyre was still sat there in the dark perched on the sofa looking at the picture that was now removed from the frame. Richards studied him intently to try and gage what emotional state he was in because the detective would need him in the right frame of mind. Richards switched the light on and sat down next to Wyre placing his gun back into its holster and turning the torch off.
Wyre turned and looked at Richards with a stern look on his face.
“I need you to tell me what the fucking hell is going on here and who these people are……and who you are?”
“Before I tell you what I think we are involved in here Wyre I need to find out your state of mind is. I’m going to need you to see this through to the end and what I see at the moment is an unusually calm man that still seems in control. Let us take into consideration the fact that your terminally ill 5 year old boy has been taken and now your wife is also missing. You wouldn’t shame yourself if you broke down into a train wreck and grabbed me by the throat. Will you maintain this level of self- control?”
“I don’t know detective maybe it’s the job I do and the level of control I have to have to stay alive. I struggle with the logic of losing your head in situations where the benefits of doing so are going back to the beginning and achieving nothing. Now I think I’m owed an answer Alex. I trust you because at the moment I have no choice. I don’t really know you and there is something about you I don’t like but you are the only link I have to my son because you know the guy who you assume to be involved. I’m not a fool so I’m guessing you are a thorough person who takes very little messing. You seem to do your work in a very professional manner so something doesn’t sit right with me. You have showed no intention of getting your superiors and fellow officers involved in this”
“I have uniformed officers searching as we speak”
“I’m guessing this is standard procedure so my query, or should I say my gut feeling is you don’t want too many people to get involved in this. The reason for this is still unclear to me but one thought crossed my mind. Perhaps you know that there would be no advantage in turning this into a full scale investigation because you know it would be a waste of time. You know these people would have total control of everyone and the powers that be would do nothing through fear of upsetting the establishment perhaps. So my question is who are these people who are so powerful that when a man’s son and wife get abducted the chief detective heading the case would rather go it alone? Is it for his benefit or my families benefit because from where I’m sitting my family is still missing and I a I don’t see any logical reason for not walking back into the police station and demanding the full forces involvement in this?”
Richards clasped his hands together and took a deep breathe. Perhaps it was now time to reveal some truths.
“Well firstly Wyre I think you’re in the wrong job. You would give most people I work with a run for their money.
You have to understand Wyre and I will reiterate what I said before. These people have no regard for anything or anyone. We have got to be careful we don’t get into a dangerous game with them”
“So they’re above the law”
Richards never answered but just slowly turned his gaze towards Wyre.
“I just need to know so I can start to grasp the situation” said Wyre sternly.
“Ok...........these guys Wyre are a different league. They answer to maybe only a handful of people, one of them being the prime minister’s advisors and sometimes him. They are known as SW1 and their main role is to protect the way the government thinks, what the government decides is right and defend the way it governs us. A normal guy like your- self probably votes for your favourite party or even for the MP you think will do some good in the elections. Many like you moan when a new party takes over at Downing Street and decides to change a few things that affect our way of life. They mess things up and sometimes they get things right……………but the guy you see parading around in the suit with a blue or red tie on, smiling and answering questions as only politicians can do by not actually answering the questions are not the ones with their fingers on the button so to speak. You have probably heard or even said yourself that they are only puppets, somebody else is pulling the strings. David Cameron stands up and tells us which way the country will go and what policies are going to be implemented. He might as well read it off a piece of paper Wyre. If only the ordinary folk of this country knew how true their words were. I must point out to you that I have no idea who does pull the strings but what I do know is guys like Ron Bostock get given a free hand to do whatever it takes to protect our way of life or should I say how the suits want us to run our lives”
BEYOND THE SPRING Page 8