Assassin's Web

by Richard T. Burke

  Nick followed me in and stared down at me, an expression of consternation on his face. “Is something wrong?”

  I spat into the bowl, my arms still wrapped around the white porcelain. Slowly, I raised my eyes and met his gaze. Another heave forced me to bend over the plastic seat rim again.

  When I was certain the spasm had passed, I reached for the toilet roll holder, tore off a few sheets and wiped my mouth. Nick watched on.

  I shook my head without replying. With agonising slowness, I pushed myself upright. The damage to my calf muscle broke through the fog that had settled on my mind, causing me to gasp in pain.

  I turned to Nick, resting my weight on the good leg. “The television. Local news.” My brain seemed incapable of stringing together a coherent sentence.

  A frown creased Nick’s brow. “What are you saying? You saw something on the TV?”

  I closed my eyes and placed a hand on my forehead. My skin felt clammy. How could I even begin to explain? Discovering that somebody wanted me dead was shocking enough, but I had pushed that thought to the back of my mind. In some ways, it hadn’t seemed real. Up to that point, I had considered myself the victim. I had consoled myself by hoping to clear up everything with the police and resuming my life as normal afterwards.

  The sight of my photograph on the television screen for everybody in the country to see pushed it to a whole new level. Now they were portraying me as the perpetrator. Any hopes I may have harboured about returning to my job when this was all over had just vaporised.

  For a teacher, even the slightest hint of impropriety with a student would result in instant suspension. Having my face splashed across the media accused of paedophilia had effectively ended my career. Whether or not it was true, no parent would entrust me with their child’s education after such an accusation.

  “The local news,” I said in a dull voice. “They showed my picture saying I was wanted for child pornography.”

  Nick suddenly went still. His gaze burned into me. “You’re not a nonce, are you?”

  “A nonce?”

  “Yeah, you know, a kiddie fiddler, paedophile, whatever you want to call it.”

  I shook my head. “Of course not.”

  Nick studied me for a moment longer, then seemed to relax. “I can’t stand those bastards. If you were one of them, I’d walk out of here and leave you to it however much someone offered me to protect you. In fact, I’d hand you over myself.”

  He paused, his brows lowered in deliberation. “They’re trying to flush you out.” Seeing my confusion, he continued as if explaining to a child. “If somebody is attempting to kill you, they can’t do that if they don’t know where you are. By getting your face on the news, they’re hoping the public will help to locate you.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “Depending upon who it is that wants you dead, they may well have people in prison who can do their work for them. More likely though, if somebody reports your location, they pass it on and try to get to you first. After all, they won’t want you spilling your guts.”

  “What do we do next?” I asked, my voice quivering with tension.

  “We sit tight and make sure nobody sees you.”

  “And what happens at the end of the week?”

  Nick narrowed his eyes for a second but didn’t respond. He glanced down at the bag in his hand as if suddenly aware of its presence. “I’m starving. Let’s get stuck into this.”

  My appetite had deserted me, but I followed him back into the bedroom. The television flickered on the far wall. The news programme had finished, and the pictures showed a daily current affairs show.

  Nick plonked himself on the edge of the bed and rummaged in the takeaway bag before withdrawing a package wrapped in greaseproof paper. He handed it over, stuck his hand inside again and retrieved a carton of French fries. Despite my lack of hunger, my stomach growled at the pervasive odour of warm food.

  Nick took a large bite from his own beef burger. I forced myself to follow suit, sinking my teeth into the soggy bun as the grease stained my fingers.

  I ate in silence, my brain rattling through my predicament, trying to find a solution that didn’t exist.

  At that stage, I had no idea my situation was about to become even worse.

  Chapter 26

  Time passed slowly. The remains of my half-eaten burger lay in its wrapping at the bottom of the waste bin where I had tossed it after forcing myself to eat. A knot lodged in my stomach although I couldn’t tell whether it originated from the food or nervous tension. The heavy smell of cooking fat still permeated the room, rising in waves from the discarded packaging.

  With nothing else to do, Nick and I watched a documentary on global warming. Despite my attempts to follow the programme, I found my attention wandering as I mulled over the events of the day.

  When the ten o’clock news started, Nick turned up the volume. There was no mention of either the murders or the police hunt for me on the national programme. When it came to the regional news, the information was largely the same as earlier, but this time the story included a short video segment. A reporter stood on the road where I lived.

  “Yes, Jenny, I’m standing outside the home of secondary school teacher, Alex Parrott. Police are eager to question him about data of an unspecified nature discovered on the hard disk of his computer. We understand the material includes images of naked children. Parents at the college where Mr Parrott teaches are said to be deeply concerned. Questions have been raised about how he passed background checks.

  “Mr Parrott hasn’t been seen since earlier today and is believed to have gone into hiding. The police are urging members of the public to come forward if they have any information as to his whereabouts. Although not considered dangerous, a spokesman advising that Mr Parrott should not be approached directly.”

  The camera returned to a middle-aged woman sitting behind a desk in the studio. “Thanks, Jack. You can read more about this story on the BBC website. In other news—”

  Nick clicked the remote control, muting the sound but leaving the picture turned on. He twisted sideways on his bed and stared at me for a second before speaking. “From what you’ve told me, it seems likely the two men your neighbour saw outside your house broke in and planted the evidence on your computer.”

  “Why would they do that?” I asked, returning his stare. “I mean, other than ruining my career, what were they hoping to achieve?”

  “My guess is, they were trying to discredit you. They must believe you know something they don’t want the police to hear. By setting you up, they made it far less likely that anybody would listen to your story.”

  I sank back on the pillow. “But why take the risk of breaking in? If they were going to put the photographs on my computer, why not do it when they came with the search warrant?”

  “You mentioned there were three policemen,” Nick said. “I imagine they didn’t know in advance if they would have the opportunity to be left alone with the machine. The other possibility is they were worried about having enough time to load all the data. How long did your neighbour say they were there for?”

  “I think she told me ten or fifteen minutes,” I replied.

  “That’s probably it, then. The third policeman might have become suspicious if they spent a quarter of an hour with your computer—always assuming he’s not involved too.”

  The conversation halted, both of us pondering the implications. As the thoughts wormed through my head, a sudden question sprang to mind. “Can’t they work out when a photograph was added to a hard drive?”

  Nick shrugged. “I’m no expert, but you could well be right. It’s possible to change the date of a file. Maybe that’s why they took so long.”

  “But surely—”

  Nick cut me off. “Look, I don’t know enough about it. Rather than worrying about the computer, the first priority is to keep you alive. It would help if I knew what—or more to the point who—we were up against.”

/>   “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “I need to have a think. Normally the boot is on the other foot, and I’m the one doing the tracking down.”

  “How would you go about finding me?”

  “That depends. Most of the time, the target isn’t aware that somebody is targeting them, so it’s a lot easier. If I had access to CCTV cameras, I’d start there. My guess is they’re hoping a member of the public will call in with your location. For that reason, it’s essential nobody sees you.”

  “What about the cleaning staff?” I asked. “Won’t they want to get into the room to clean the place?”

  “We can put the don’t disturb sign on the door, but I can’t guarantee they’ll pay any attention to it. Ideally, we could do with somewhere with no chance of being disturbed. Do you have any bright ideas?”

  “Could we break into an empty house or something?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “We also need a location that isn’t going to raise suspicions. If the neighbours were to see somebody inside a property that’s supposed to be unoccupied, the police would be round faster than a ferret up a trouser leg.”

  “Okay, so what about a holiday rental?”

  Nick rubbed his fingers across the stubble on his cheek. “Possibly, but that sounds like it might be expensive.”

  “I’ve saved some money for ... Shit, I forgot; my card got declined.” I reddened at the stupidity of my suggestion. “And you already told me it’s easy to track.”

  Nick swung his legs off the bed. “We’ll be alright for tonight. Let me think it over. I’m going out to change the number plates.”

  “Why are you doing that?” I asked.

  My protector stared at me as if the answer was obvious. “If by some chance, they picked us up on a traffic camera, they won’t be able to track our movements if I swap over the plates.”

  “Where do you get the numbers from? Do you just choose them randomly?”

  Nick shook his head. “No. The police would pick up on that straight away. I go to the second-hand car sales websites and look for ones with the same make and colour as mine. That’s the main reason I drive a red Ford Focus; it’s one of the most common models you can buy.

  “Most of the pages either list the registration or have photos that include the plates. Then I contact my mate who puts together a copy. The fact that most of the vehicles are sitting on a garage forecourt makes it even less likely that anybody would ever spot two identical looking cars with the same number plate driving around at the same time. I’ve made them magnetic so I can change them over quickly.”

  Much as I wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face, this was the man whose expertise would keep me alive, so I chose to remain silent.

  “I’ll only be a minute or two,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him.

  I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. A few seconds later, I picked up the muffled sound of a car boot opening. Sliding across the bed, I rose and slowly tugged back the edge of the blinds. Nick knelt at the front of the red Focus, apparently unaware of my surveillance.

  As I watched, he used a screwdriver to lever off the existing plate and replaced it with one from a bundle at his feet. With a quick glance around, he moved to the rear of the vehicle. There, he crouched down and disappeared from my line of sight. Seconds later, he reappeared, leant inside the open boot, then straightened up and slammed it down. A chirrup accompanied the flash of the indicators as he pressed the lock button on the key.

  Still oblivious to my scrutiny, Nick turned towards the main entrance. He hesitated for a moment as his hand reached to his back pocket. As he moved out of range of my vantage point, I picked out the bright glow of a mobile phone screen held to his ear.

  Chapter 27

  Twenty-five years ago:

  Wednesday, 8th February, 1995

  At the sound of the approaching siren, Cathy pushed herself upright and opened the under stairs cupboard. “Here,” she said, holding out my black woollen coat. “Put this on.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders into her own and stepped outside once again.

  My mother stood in the road, waving frantically as the blue flashing lights approached. A white police car steered onto the drive. The abrupt cessation of the siren made the subsequent silence seem all the deeper.

  Two policemen emerged from the vehicle. One of them removed a notebook from his black jacket and began to ask my mother questions. Cathy and I hung back a few yards. My gaze focused on a white mark on the second man’s trousers. He followed the direction of my stare and rubbed self-consciously at the stain. The adults spoke in low voices. After a few minutes, my mother turned and beckoned me forwards.

  The policeman taking notes patted me on the head and addressed me with a cheery voice. “Hello, young chap.” The streetlight gave his bald patch an orange hue.

  “Tell them what you saw, Alex,” my mother said.

  “Um … A noise woke me up. I looked outside, and this man was standing just there.” I gestured toward the spot from which the kidnapper had stared up at me. “Elena—she’s my sister—was lying on the ground. She wasn’t moving.”

  The policeman studied the frontage of the house. “Which one is your room?”

  I turned and pointed upwards. Mine was the only window with open curtains.

  “Can you describe him?”

  The moment I had been dreading had arrived. Once again, I desperately tried to bring to mind the abductor’s face. No matter how hard I concentrated on recalling his features, the only aspect I could picture was his dark attire.

  “I … I … I’m not sure.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” my mother yelled, “tell him what you saw.”

  That set me off crying again. I stared helplessly at the two policemen.

  “Come on, son,” the one with the stain said. “You can’t have been more than ten or twenty yards away. Surely you can remember something about him.”

  I shook my head, mutely.

  “What was he wearing?”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Black.”

  “Are you saying he was dressed in black or his skin was black?”

  “He wore black clothes.”

  The note taker wrote a few words in his book and smiled at me. “That’s a start. What else? Was he young or old? Tall or short?”

  I wiped my nose on my sleeve. My mother opened her mouth to speak, then caught the eye of my interrogator and remained silent.

  “He was a grown up and about the same height as you.”

  “Your mother said you watched him drive off. Can you describe the car?”

  Another shake of my head. “I didn’t really see it. I think it might have been a dark colour.”

  The policeman tapped his pen against his teeth. He turned to my mother. “We haven’t got much to go on. I’ll get the sketch artist to work with him in the morning. Could you bring him down to the station at around nine o’clock?”

  She stared at him. “Is that it? Is that all you’re going to do?”

  The man looked to the side, unable to hold her gaze. “We’ll put out an alert for a dark-coloured car. The forensic officers will be here shortly. They’ll want to go over your daughter’s room, scan for prints and so on. I need to ask you some more questions. It’s a bit cold out here. Can we continue inside?”

  My mother nodded and turned away. She marched into the porch without looking behind to check whether anyone was following. Upon reaching the door to the lounge, she stood to the side and ushered the policemen towards the sofa.

  As Cathy and I made to follow, she blocked the way. “You two should go back to bed.” We both protested, but she was adamant. Eventually, after several exchanges, she screamed, “Just go upstairs as I’ve told you.” Tears glinted in her eyes, and she lifted a shaky hand to brush them away. Neither my sister nor I had seen our mother behave in this manner before. Normally, she was the picture of calmness. If anybody in our family had a temper, it was my father.

  My l
ip quivered as I tried desperately not to cry again. Cathy put an arm around me. “Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”

  More often than not, we quarrelled at the slightest excuse, but at that moment in time, I’d never felt closer to my sister. I allowed her to guide me along the hallway. At the foot of the stairs, she had to release me; the staircase was too narrow to ascend side by side.

  We trudged up to my room in single file. At the top, both of us stopped to stare at the open door of Elena’s bedroom.

  “Do you think they’ll find her?” I whispered.

  Cathy didn’t reply immediately. Then she said, “Yes,” but the hesitation belied her true thoughts.

  “Why did that man take her? What’s he going to do to her?”

  My sister shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure the police will get her back.”

  As it turned out, she was wrong.

  Day Three:

  Wednesday, 29th July, 2020

  Chapter 28

  I didn’t sleep much that night. The peril of my situation, the unfamiliar room and the presence of another person lying in the adjacent bed all contrived to disturb my rest. Several times, I jerked upright in the darkness, my heart pounding like a piledriver until my addled brain eventually caught up and made sense of my surroundings. The sounds of the plumbing clanking into life ensured I remained awake as soon as the first light edged around the curtains.

  Nick slept in the adjacent bed, seemingly unaffected by either the change in environment or the noises of the hotel waking up. When I questioned him about it the following morning, he explained that his time in the army had taught him to take advantage of moments of inaction whenever the opportunity arose.

  I hadn’t mentioned the mobile phone because I was unsure how he would react to what might be construed as a case of me spying on him. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have questions about the person he had contacted and the subject of the call. I tried to reassure myself there was a rational explanation, but I couldn’t help worrying something was going on he was keeping from me.