by Gary Kittle
Fiona kept her eyes firmly on her husband. ‘But what about the rendezvous?’
‘This is the rendezvous.’
‘You’re leaving them together. Why?’
‘Just to gain a little more time.’ Richard nodded towards the man in the chair. ‘See?’
There was a mobile phone taped to one of the vest’s shoulder straps. Fiona looked over at the girl, who wore the burqa she’d left in her room, and saw that she had one attached to her vest, too. ‘Are they real?’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll never detonate,’ Richard replied. ‘But it might take them a while to figure that out.’
‘Now is it the red wire or the blue?’ Jamie sniggered.
‘I want to be at the airport whilst we still hold the initiative,’ Richard told her.
‘The airport?’ said Gareth through his ski mask. ‘Going anywhere nice?’
‘Well, I can hardly say, now can I?’ Richard nodded towards the two hostages.
‘No one said anything about airports,’ Gareth added.
‘It won’t make a difference to you.’ Richard sounded tired. ‘Where any of us go afterwards is no one’s business but our own. In fact, I’d have thought it was pretty obvious we can never see each other again.’
‘When you say ‘afterwards’,’ Gareth growled, ‘you mean after the money is divided out equally. So how do we know you’re not doing a runner with the lot?’
‘If anyone can tell me a way of us sticking around long enough for the ransom to clear without us getting collared, please let me know,’ said Richard. ‘Otherwise, we go our separate ways and wait for Leighton to send you each details of the account your money has ended up in. And before you ask: he won’t know that until after it’s done, either. That’s how watertight it is.’
‘I still don’t like it.’
‘Yeah, it sounds pretty watertight for you,’ agreed Gareth.
‘Ah, but don’t forget, you can shop me if I screw you around,’ Richard told him. ‘You know what I look like, my date of birth, where I lived, everything. Interpol will have nabbed me before I get a chance to buy a new identity on the continent.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t sorted that out already,’ said Gareth.
The truth was, he had; but he was not going to admit that here.
‘You’ve been watching too many crime dramas. The people who provide that kind of service insist on getting the money up front first.’
‘What about this Leighton? What if he screws the lot of us?’ Jamie sounded as uptight as Gareth.
‘Exactly!’ Richard slapped both men on the shoulder, like a wise uncle. ‘We’re all taking a calculated risk here. Pulling out will just guarantee we stay broke. Right?’
Jamie and Gareth glanced at one another’s hidden faces and shrugged.
‘Good. Now you two wait downstairs with the car while I finish up here.’
Gareth and Jamie sloped out without further dissent. Richard looked over at his wife, who was slowly shaking her head beneath her burqa. ‘What is it? Don’t tell me you don’t trust me, either?’
‘Our hostages: what’s to stop them telling the cavalry that the bombs are fake the minute they abseil through the window?’
Richard sauntered over towards Dan, leaning down into his face. ‘Because everything I just told those idiots was a lie. These vests are primed and ready to blow.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, come on. You don’t think I’ve come this far to leave anything to chance? I want them defusing these devices for as long as possible. And the only way to ensure that happens is to prime them.’ Richard ruffled Dan’s hair, directing his next comment exclusively to his male hostage. ‘And while we’re at it, you can tell your colleagues both devices are booby-trapped.’
Richard took his index finger and mimicked the act of punching in a number on the detonator phone’s keypad, before giving Dan a wink through the hole over his right eye.
Fiona gave her husband a loud tut. ‘I never imagined you could be this ruthless,’ she said.
‘You never imagined I could still love you this much. That’s what you mean.’
‘I know there’s something you’re not telling me.’
Richard stormed over towards Fiona. ‘Then you’ll have to trust me, won’t you?’
‘Like I have before?’
‘Oh, not that nonsense again, please.’ Richard looked back over at Devina. ‘What? You still think me and her? Maybe I should have had one of these affairs you keep accusing me of. Did you never think you might have been driving me into someone else’s arms?’
‘Is that a confession?’
‘I’m taking you away,’ Richard said loudly. ‘I’m taking you away and we’re going to get you put right again. And all Devina here is doing is paying for it!’
Fiona shook her head. ‘I wish I could believe that.’
‘You don’t need to believe me. Just go home and pack. One suitcase each.’
Fiona started crying.
‘One case each. OK?’ But Fiona’s only response was more tears.
‘Don’t get clever and decide I’m bluffing,’ Richard said to Dan. ‘Sit tight and you’ll get promoted for this, I’m sure. Got it?’ Dan nodded slowly. ‘Good’
Richard headed for the door.
‘Come on, love.’ Fiona turned and followed, still snivelling. ‘We’ve got a plane to catch.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dan stared over at the slight figure tied to the chair. She was within touching distance. Was she trembling slightly, or was that just what he expected of her? The kidnappers would have had to wait several weeks to make sure she really was symptom free. To survive being locked up and even tied up, this had to be a very resourceful individual.
The explosives - if that was indeed what they were - seemed to weigh more now that he and the girl were alone. At least he had a name for his fellow hostage. Devina sounded middle-eastern; or did he think that because he already knew what she looked like? Her veiled head was quite still. He wanted to see her face again, see that beautiful golden complexion, the wide emerald eyes that glistened as if they were on the edge of tears. Dan had never been in love before, so he didn’t really know whether love was what he was feeling. Whatever it was it felt warm and strong, fortifying his strained nerves.
Dan cocked his head to the side and listened hard. He heard a car door slam close by; followed by another and a third in quick succession. A few seconds later he thought he heard an engine turning over, then silence. They were on their way, for sure. Suddenly the events of the past twenty-four hours caught up with him, and despite wearing enough explosives to take out the entire floor he could quite easily have nodded off to sleep. Instead he looked back over at Devina, at the shrouded head now turned in his direction.
‘Hi. I’m Dan,’ he began, clearing his throat. ‘Do you come here often?’ his mind added.
She sat with her covered head crooked towards him, like an inquisitive puppy, and he realised how composed she’d been in the brief time they’d been in this room. There was something more to this girl’s character than just resourcefulness.
Dan shook his arms free, showed the girl his hands and the severed rope. If she was meant to be impressed it didn’t show. With his hands free he would be able to release them both easily; but what if the explosives were for real, and booby-trapped? The odds were fifty-fifty, but it wasn’t just his life he would be gambling with. Not that Devina’s story was likely to have a happy ending. There would be samples, testing, experiments. With so much at stake for the country, and with Devina an illegal alien, they could do pretty much whatever they deemed necessary. If he survived, could he talk Jenkins into using his influence to protect Devina at little? Come to that, could he guarantee that Jenkins would protect him?
‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted out, and when the head tilted downward slightly, he tore his gaze from her and stared instead at his liberated fingers. ‘I didn’t really think this through. There wasn’t en
ough time for that.’
For the first time he felt angry at Jenkins for playing him, and at himself for allowing himself to be so naive. Never been in love? He hadn’t left home until last spring. He looked back at Devina, but her head had sagged into her chest. Had she passed out?
‘I wish I could tell you everything is going to be all right,’ he said, more to himself. ‘But I’d be lying. Somewhere in your bloodstream is a cure to the disease that’s eating away at this country. Your only hope is that they find it sooner rather than later.’
Which of the kidnappers had untied him, and why? Dan wondered. Question upon question danced through his tired mind. Whoever it was had their own motives for doing so. No one was doing him any favours here, anymore than Jenkins had by ‘hand picking’ him. He’d been extremely resourceful to get himself this far, but without achieving a thing. If he came up with some new clever plan, would that merely serve to dig them both a deeper hole?
‘So just get up and walk away,’ a cunning voice whispered in his brain. ‘They’re not interested in you, just her. So let them have her and disappear.’
And it was true. He could report back to Jenkins later in the day, when everything was over, and act as if he’d been searching in vain. The gang would either be killed or long gone. ‘No one will care once they have the girl!’ But the girl had a name and Dan’s heart was not made of stone. The situation seemed hopeless whatever he decided.
‘They’ll kill us both,’ a youthful but resolute voice broke into his thoughts.
Dan stared at her, his mouth hanging open, but before he could reply she added: ‘Unless you do exactly what I tell you.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Stay here! What do you mean, stay here?’ Fiona screeched.
Richard tried to keep his tone of voice even. ‘Just for an hour.’
‘And where will you be exactly?’
They were in the clean and modern family kitchen at home.
‘Making sure the transfer goes through, letting them know where the hostages are.’
‘But why can’t you do that from here?’
It was such a stupid question Richard did not bother answering. He stared at her wriggling gloved fingers, her restless feet, the raised crests of her shoulders beneath the burqa. If he didn’t know her better he’d have said she was on something. ‘It’s just a precaution, a bit of extra insurance.’
‘You and your bloody insurance! I thought that was what the suicide vests were for?’
‘It is,’ Richard hushed her. ‘But Jamie took a gun off the man who followed you, did you know that? He was sent to get us, Fiona, and he got damned close. Now I don’t have time to beat out of him how he did it, but my guess is he’s been reporting back to his superiors. I’ve smashed his phone, but what if it they were following the signal the whole time? They could be outside right now!’
‘So why haven’t they made their move?’
‘OK. Look, maybe I am being overcautious. What difference does it make? I’ll be back in an hour and we can be at the airport in two.’
‘Southend or Stansted. Which?’
Richard hesitated. ‘Both’
‘What?’
‘Let me explain, damn it!’ Richard shouted back.
‘If they know we’re in this region, won’t the airports be where they tighten security first?’
Richard turned his back, drawing in his breath for what he was about to say; and more importantly how she would react to it. ‘Not if we go separately.’
Fiona backed away from him, shaking her head so roughly that he could hear the tendons in her neck clicking. ‘No way!’
‘Listen, listen!’ Richard begged. ‘You’ll have Ben with you. I’m hardly going to run off without my son, am I?’
Fiona paced the room, arms dancing above her head. ‘I know you, Richard. It’s a trick!’
‘How? You’ll pick him straight up from school and head for Southend. I’ll be at Stansted, and we’ll meet up again in Zurich. It’s foolproof.’
‘They won’t let me on the plane. Haven’t you remembered the travel ban?’
‘Of course. But they allow British women to enter Switzerland if it’s for Foedus treatment. Look.’
Before Fiona could object again, Richard rushed to a drawer and brought out a large brown envelope. Fiona just stared at him, still trembling.
‘Your treatment starts Monday.’ He held out the envelope to her.
Fiona slipped the papers out of the envelope and slowly read the contents.
‘Now do you trust me?’
Her head sank for a second before she collapsed at his feet and began kissing them, a low moan escaping her.
‘One hour. Then we can be on our way knowing the money’s already in transit.’
Fiona stared at the papers from the Swiss clinic, and slowly brought her weeping under control. ‘Thank you,’ was all she could whimper.
Richard turned immediately for the door. ‘Just be ready, Fiona. OK?’ he called back.
But Fiona was already planning ahead, her resolve solidified by the trap she had set for Richard into an unbreakable scheme of revenge. If there was one thing she had learned from her husband it was the value of planning ahead.
The kitchen door banged shut behind him.
She’d already checked online.
‘The airlines don’t fly to Switzerland from Southend anymore,’ she sneered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘What’s he doing in there?’ Jamie complained from the back seat, a few minutes earlier.
Gareth was staring at the front door of the Simmons’ house. He glanced down at the steering column and fought off the urge to give the car horn a good blast. Richard had told them to wait discretely, however; but if he wasn’t outside in the next few minutes, he’d send Jamie out to ring his doorbell.
‘I mean, he can hardly kiss her goodbye, hey?’
He wouldn’t miss Jamie. They’d never been mates at the best of times. Five years didn’t seem that much of an age gap until Jamie decided to open his mouth. There was just something about him that rubbed Gareth up the wrong way, something that he could never quite put his finger on.
‘Can’t you honk the horn or something?’
‘You mean, something that draws attention to us?’
Jamie huffed and started to bite his nails. Then he changed his mind and decided to try whistling through his teeth. Thankfully that was moment the front door opened and out strode a frowning Richard. He jumped in the passenger seat next to Gareth, slamming the door behind him hard, eyes staring straight ahead.
‘Where to?’ Gareth asked, already turning the ignition key.
‘Just drive. When we’re done we’ll leave the laptop on display and abandon the vehicle with the keys in the ignition.’
‘Unlocked?’ Jamie exclaimed.
‘Obviously.’ Gareth closed his eyes, exasperated.
He saw Jamie’s face go blank in the rear view mirror, and felt a spasm of anger rise up his throat. He glared at him in the mirror and started the engine.
‘Because he wants the vehicle and the computer stolen.’
‘Our mobiles, too,’ Richard added. ‘Minus the SIMs.’
‘Ah, right!’ Jamie crooned. He took out his own mobile phone and started playing a particularly noisy game. ‘Now I’m with you.’
‘Not for much longer,’ Gareth muttered as he put the four by four into gear and pulled away.
‘Right at the end here, then left onto the main road.’ Richard looked back at the house as it dwindled away behind them. ‘Do you know Knight’s, the old diesel engine factory?’ he asked Gareth.
‘The one they’re demolishing? Behind the football ground? Sure.’
‘Head there. It’s isolated but we’ll still get a good signal.’
Gareth raised his eyebrows.
He opened the glove compartment to reveal half a dozen unopened SIM card packages. ‘Don’t worry.’
Gareth turned right on cue,
and glared at Jamie again in the rear view mirror.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Jamie said, looking up eventually. ‘I’ll kill the sound.’
The sounds of pinging and popping disappeared immediately, but Jamie’s fingers and thumbs continued to dance across the silenced screen, his brow furrowed with concentration.
Gareth continued to glare at his oblivious passenger as they waited at a red light. He’d been on that same game for hours now. ‘How can that twat claim an equal share to mine?’ Gareth thought. ‘I think it’s time for Player One to leave this game,’ he smiled to himself, pulling away hard on the amber light.
‘Kill the sound for good.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trevor Jenkins put his pen down and opened the drawer in his desk that had just emitted a loud ‘ping’. He took out the mobile phone and read the message on its screen.
‘On your way,’ he murmured. ‘Good.’
‘Yes, but where to?’ he muttered. A few seconds later came an address. ‘Knight’s Diesel Engines? How very Cold War,’ he smiled.
Another few seconds and a third message arrived: ‘Ah, they’ve left the girl behind,’ he frowned.
It didn’t really matter either way, of course. With the resources at his disposal it was inevitable they would secure the girl. After the guys in the lab had gone through the motions to establish that she really was free from Foedus, their real business could begin in earnest.
‘I’ll retire next year,’ he told the mobile phone, not daring to risk sending a text back the other way. The fourth message was the important one: the address where the gang had imprisoned the girl, with a warning about what to find there.
If his man on the inside had given him that information beforehand they could have stormed the building hours ago; and Dan would still be wandering round Colchester chasing shadows. ‘So why tell me now?’ he wondered. ‘Why only now?’ Dan didn’t know of the mole’s existence, of course, though doubtless they’d met in captivity.
‘Don’t let me dance,’ said the final text. At first Jenkins assumed it was predictive text playing tricks. But, no; the sender meant ‘dancing in the wind’, like someone hanged.