Disobey

by Jacqui Rose

  Spencer nearly choked on his own saliva. He stared, pointing his finger one at a time at them. ‘You … you lot are going to give a statement?’

  Franny sat down on the chair next to her. ‘That’s right. All of us, even Lola here. If … If you help us.’

  ‘Always a catch with you lot.’

  Lola joined in the conversation. ‘Ain’t no catch, darlin’. You want the statements, we want Chloe back, and because of that, you’ll get what you want.’

  Spencer chewed on his pen top, managing to bite his own tongue. Irritated, he spoke, directing his conversation to Alfie. ‘I don’t do missing persons, not my department – unless they’re dead, and I take it this …’

  ‘Chloe.’

  ‘Yes, this Chloe isn’t. Problem you’ve got is I don’t trust any of you. What’s to say I help and you decide to back out of giving me the statement? I reckon I should get the sergeant here to deliver you back out onto the street where you belong, don’t you?’

  Frankie Taylor’s face flushed as he went to lunge at the detective but before he could speak, Del Williams gently pulled his friend’s arm down and spoke carefully.

  ‘Look, you’ll get your sworn statements about the Casey Edwards shooting. You can have it now.’

  Spencer raised his eyebrows. ‘Now?’

  ‘Well, part of it. You see, the feeling’s mutual. We don’t trust you either. What’s to stop you not helping us once we give you the statement?’

  Spencer fell silent. He could tell they were desperate. There was no way the likes of Alfie Jennings, Del Williams, Frankie Taylor, Franny Doyle or that creature Lola Harding would ever step foot in a police station without being cuffed. He’d waited a long time to put Vaughn Sadler away; a very long time. The man had been the scourge of his career, having always escaped the heavy weight of justice by having a watertight alibi or a slick lawyer to hand. But now, now they were willing to grass on their own, all in the name of this person, Chloe.

  He spoke to Franny. ‘And if I agree to this?’

  ‘We’ll give you the statement you want. I’ve spoken to Casey and she’ll give you one too, and then you help us. Tell us what we need to know about where our girl is being held.’

  ‘Being held! I thought you said they were missing.’

  ‘Jesus, what’s the difference?’ Frankie snapped.

  ‘There’s a lot of difference, Mr Taylor. Kidnap isn’t my department either.’

  Lola blurted out. ‘I don’t care if your department is the shoe section in flipping Harvey Nicks, we need you to find her, and fast. Del, show him.’

  Without saying anything, Del Williams opened his laptop and placed it on the desk. The screen burst into life and Spencer gazed mesmerised at the streaming of the girl tied up on the chair. He was transfixed by the grainy picture of Chloe staring back at them in a bleak concrete room, dressed only in flimsy underwear, occasionally tugging at her restraints, her eyes bulging in terror as she breathed hard around a tight gag.

  And in that moment, Detective Spencer realised just how much they needed him. And just how far they’d go to save her; including grassing on Vaughn Sadler. He hid the smile, but finally; finally he’d got him. The sweetest thing was, Vaughn wouldn’t be brought down by Spencer, oh no, he would be brought down by his so-called friends.

  ‘Et tu, Brutus.’

  Frankie snarled. ‘You what?’

  ‘It’s Shak— You know something, Taylor; forget it. I was about to explain, but I doubt you’d understand.’

  Frankie clenched his fists and it was only the image of Jodie and the thought that Chloe-Jane was still out there and her life hung in the balance that stopped him from smashing Spencer right in his face.

  ‘Okay, gentlemen and ladies.’ Spencer turned to look at Lola as he emphasised the last word. ‘The sergeant here will take you into the interview room, and take your statements officially, so there can be no cock-ups and no getting out of it. Agreed?’

  Alfie looked concerned. ‘Agreed, but as you can see by the countdown, we ain’t got much time.’

  ‘The moment I’ve got the statement in my hand, I’ll get onto internet vice and tracking.’

  Forty minutes later, Detective Spencer held the signed statements of all of them in his hand. He read each one. Each one short and brief. Apart from their names, each one said the exact same thing as Alfie’s did.

  I, Alfie Jennings, admit that on the day of the 18th April this year, was present at the club, Whispers which is situated in Old Compton Street when Casey Edwards was shot.

  This is a true and accurate statement.

  Alfie Jennings.

  Spencer looked up, placing the statements carefully on his desk as he stared at them all. He spoke to Del.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘That’s all you’ll need for now – or get. You’ve got what you want, we’re admitting we’re there. There’s no backing out now. You’ll get the rest of the statement when you’ve done what we asked. Just in time for Vaughn’s court appearance. You should be dancing on the ceiling, mate. You win.’

  Detective Spencer didn’t say anything but he certainly felt something. Del was right, he had won. At last, Vaughn Sadler was going to get his comeuppance.

  62

  ‘For fuck’s sake how long is this going to take?’ Alfie paced around the room. The time it was taking for them to trace the video link seemed to be dragging on, yet the time they had left was speeding by. And it was doing his head in.

  ‘Calm down, Alf, they’re doing their best. I know it’s tough, but try to hold it together.’

  Alfie whispered to Franny, not wanting anyone else in the room to hear what he was saying. ‘No Fran, they’re doing fuck all. I think they’re taking the piss. How do we know that they’re actually doing anything?’

  ‘Come on, Alf, they aren’t going to play games. Chloe is in trouble, they know that. They’d have to find her, even if we didn’t come here. What we’ve done is shove her to the top of the queue, and Spencer is making sure she’s top priority. That’s good isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, if we had all the time in the world, but we ain’t got time, babe; look at her.’ Alfie gestured his head towards the large screen on the wall of the internet tracking crime office which monitored and streamed the live link of Chloe-Jane. But neither of them could bear to look up at it. Neither of them could bear to see Chloe’s life being counted down in minutes and seconds.

  Alf, looking like a broken man, turned to one of the police officers sitting at his desk. ‘Do you have to keep that up there all the time? That’s my niece for Christ’s sake, and I don’t need a constant reminder of how long she’s got left, as well as a constant reminder of how long you fucking lot are taking.’

  Franny didn’t say anything. She felt the same way as Alf did, but understood that the police officers probably needed to keep an eye on Chloe, just in case …

  ‘Come away, Alf, leave them to it.’

  Franny was grateful to see Del and Frankie arriving back from the coffee machine, and she noticed how neither of them looked towards the screen either. It was too raw. Too real.

  Del enquired, ‘Any news?’

  Alfie shook his head, glaring hatred at the police officers who in his mind, were deliberately taking longer than they had to.

  ‘Sweet FA, they just seem to be typing away, doing nothing much. It’s doing my head in; Fran’s the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.’

  He leaned over the nearest police officer’s shoulder. ‘Look mate, how much fucking longer is this going to take?’

  Detective Spencer spoke from behind him. ‘Mr Jennings, I advise you to just let these men do what they have to do; they’ll work much quicker without, how shall I put it, without your constant encouragement.’

  Alfie glared at the detective. He’d never liked coppers. Never. But this one; this Detective Spencer was an oily, smarmy bastard. Alfie hissed at Spencer, feeling the comforting hand of Franny on his back.

 
; ‘Then I suggest that this lot hurry up or …’

  Spencer interrupted, giving Alfie a smug smile. ‘The deal’s off? Oh no Jennings, our deal’s certainly not off. There’s no going back. You lot said that yourself.’

  As much as Spencer pissed Alfie off, he was right about one thing. There was no going back; not now. Not now they were here forty-five minutes later, watching Chloe-Jane’s life tick away.

  ‘I think we’ve got something, Gov,’ one of the officers shouted.

  Detective Spencer, along with Del, Frankie and Alfie, ran across to where the police officer was sitting, whilst Lola clung onto Franny, scared to raise her hopes. Spencer spoke, authority in his voice. ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Sir, we’ve traced it to Limehouse in the Docklands.’ The man paused, tapping a few more keys. ‘I’ve got the address.’

  Alf pushed past Fran, grabbing the officer’s shoulder. ‘You know where she is? You know where Chloe-Jane is?’

  Spencer stepped in, pulling Alfie’s hand off the officer. ‘It seems so, Mr Jennings.’

  Pulling his arm free from Spencer’s grip, Alf snarled, ‘So if you’ve found her, what the fuck are we waiting for?’

  Spencer leaned in to Alfie. ‘You’re not waiting for anything. This is police business now, and as you see, we’re dealing with it.’

  As Spencer spoke, Frankie watched some of the other officers picking up their phones, urgently requesting the search warrant as well as the armed response team. Others were quickly collecting various bits of technical kit, along with their protective jackets.

  ‘Just tell me where in Limehouse she is! I want to go and get my niece. I ain’t leaving it up to you lot.’ Alfie squared up to Detective Spencer, who nonchalantly waved him away as he turned to follow the other officers out of the room. He stopped at the door to speak to Del before he left the room.

  ‘You lot can’t be involved in this; there are procedures to follow which don’t involve you. Now I am warning you, stay out of this.’

  Alfie and Del drove their respective Range Rovers hard as they followed in the wake of a convoy of police cars with lights and sirens blaring. Spencer may not have wanted them to have or given them the address but there was no way he was going to stop them tailing their obvious presence.

  Alfie carved through the heavy traffic towards London’s Docklands. His voice boomed out as he spoke to Franny. ‘What the hell did he think we were going to do? Sit there like friggin’ muppets whilst they messed it up?’

  ‘The one good thing is there are a lot of them. Hopefully it’ll make all the difference.’

  Alfie gave a quick sideward glance to Fran. The speed they were going, he needed to keep his eyes firmly on the traffic.

  ‘Me too, but I’m telling you, Fran, I ain’t taking my eyes off them for a moment.’

  Three minutes later, the police cars, along with the two Range Rovers, emerged from the Limehouse link tunnel. The sirens stopped, and the flashing lights ceased as they all sped with ease down the quieter industrial roads of the Isle of Dogs.

  ‘We must be getting closer, Alf.’

  Alfie didn’t answer Franny, his stomach was in knots and his heart raced faster. He gripped the steering wheel hard, glancing at Del and Frankie in the rear view mirror, who both stared intensely ahead.

  ‘You okay?’ Franny looked at Alf, and this time he answered.

  ‘I will be. When we’ve got her back.’

  The convoy swept quietly into Hertsmere Road. Some of the police cars began to peel off into different side streets. The other cars, including the Range Rovers, surrounded an old warehouse; a stark and imposing structure, complete with original winches and pulleys. Franny felt a chill, knowing that Chloe-Jane was in there; tied up, scared and alone. But worse, much worse, was knowing Mr Lee wouldn’t care about killing her in an attempt to escape the police raid. She began to question the wisdom of involving the police, but what choice had there been?

  Alfie also looked on helplessly, watching the team of officers in riot gear smash open the wooden doors. He listened to them calling out, shouting orders to each other.

  ‘Right, right, right. Head towards the back. Collins, Davies, Daniels, head to the east entrance.’

  That was it. It was too much for them all to contemplate. To sit back and do nothing. It went against the grain of who they were. All of them had seen enough. Stood back for long enough. And there was no way they were doing it for a moment longer.

  Alfie called out to the others. ‘Ready?’

  ‘You bet we are.’

  All of them except for Lola ran forward, unable to stop themselves going in. They darted past a couple of uniform police officers and joined the police-coordinated ascent of the warehouse stairs.

  Detective Spencer glanced over his shoulder, and stared back in disbelief to see Alfie, Del, Frankie and Franny creeping up the stairs with guns drawn in their hands.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t an episode of Magnum P.I. This isn’t a game. Put them away … Now!’

  Before any of them had the chance to speak, an urgent voice sounded out from further up the stairwell. ‘Gov, I think you’d better come and see this.’

  Something in the officer’s tone didn’t fill Alfie with any confidence. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then pushing past a couple of armed police, he clambered up two more flights of stairs, desperate to see what was there. Who was there.

  Arriving in the main upstairs area of the warehouse, Alfie’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he saw what was in front of him. There was Chloe-Jane. Sitting on the chair. Hands tied. Gag in mouth … But he could only see her on another computer screen. A lone laptop computer sat on the floor, displaying the now-familiar image of Chloe tied to a chair with the counter still running down.

  As the technical guys surrounded the laptop, opening their tool cases, a breathless and desperate Alf managed to gasp, ‘What the fuck is this?… What the hell is going on? Where is she?’

  For a minute no one answered, it was obvious to all of them apart from Alfie what had happened. It was Spencer who explained. ‘It appears we’ve been deliberately led on a wild goose chase. Chloe-Jane was never here.’

  Alfie sank to his knees and stared in horror at the vision of Chloe on the laptop.

  ‘I don’t understand … I …’ Alfie said it as much to himself as to the police officer starting to work on the laptop.

  The officer answered sympathetically. ‘What they’ve done is make a short film of her. What you see is the same two minutes rolling round and round with the timing counter embedded on top. It’s not even a hi-tech job, anyone could do this.’

  Coming up behind Alf, Franny sat down on the floor next to him. She didn’t speak, nor did Alf as he reached to the side of him, taking her hand in his.

  Del’s voice came from the back of the room. He spoke to the officer. ‘Please, just turn it off, turn that fucking film off.’

  Detective Spencer nodded to the officer, who then clicked off the image of Chloe. The officer spoke to Spencer. ‘Sir, the link was definitely from here. From this laptop. There’s nothing else to go with this now.’

  Spencer nodded to the armed team and support groups to stand down and move out.

  ‘I think it’s time we took this back to the station.’

  Alfie jumped up. ‘What do you mean, back to the station? Spencer, you promised you’d find her.’

  ‘I promised to try, and I have. And of course the team will keep on looking, but if there’s nothing else to go on, I can’t just make her appear.’

  One of the uniform constables approached Spencer, ‘Sir, if this link is a dead end, what about the other link? The signup page. That might be a separate upload.’

  The constable pointed to the signup page which had remained on the screen after the video of Chloe was shut down.

  Spencer cut him off. ‘I told you to ship out of here, and constable, do yourself a favour and leave the clever stuff to the tech offic
ers, will you?’

  ‘But sir, the tech guys have been tracing the link to the main …’

  Spencer cut him off again, angered at the constable’s insolence. ‘I’m not asking, I’m ordering you to keep out of this or I’ll …’

  It was Alfie who cut in this time. ‘Let him speak, Spencer. For fuck’s sake we need every lead we can get.’ Turning to face the constable, Alfie nodded to him to carry on.

  ‘Well, I’m just saying the tech guys have been tracing the main page, but it’s clear that the signup page is a different upload. Maybe – and I know it’s a long shot – but maybe it’s worth putting a trace on the IP address of that as well.’

  Everyone apart from the tech officers and the constable looked blank, not understanding the technology of it all. Spencer spoke to the officer who’d been working on the laptop.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s worth a try. It’ll take a bit of time though.’

  Alfie growled. ‘How long? Don’t you get it, mate, we ain’t got long.’

  Spencer turned to Alfie. ‘Mr Jennings, we don’t know if she’s even alive.’

  Alfie grabbed hold of Spencer shaking him hard, as Del, Frankie and Franny tried to pull him off. He yelled at Spencer, distraught. ‘Don’t you say it! Don’t you dare write her off before we’ve even tried. Everyone, everyone, including me, has written Chloe-Jane off all her life and we ain’t doing it now; not when she needs us the most. You hear me?… You hear me, Spencer?’

  Spencer’s face was red with rage, matching Alfie’s. ‘Get him off me … Now! Before he gets himself arrested!’

  Del managed to pull Alfie off, gripped him hard. ‘Calm the fuck down, Alf. I get it, mate. I get it, but we ain’t giving up on her. None of us are.’ He pulled Alfie into a huge embrace, holding him tightly, not caring who saw his tears or Alfie’s.

  An hour and a half later, they were still in the warehouse. Franny and Del watched as the tech officers battled away with links and hyperlinks, IP addresses and hidden embedded codes.