Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6)

by Robin Roughley

  Bannister slid past them. 'I'll put the kettle on,' he said.

  59

  'Are you sure this'll work?' Boris asked nervously.

  Norvil flicked a salted peanut into his mouth and chewed noisily. 'It'll have to fucking work,' he said before taking a swig from a can of Fanta.

  'But how do you know we can trust him, I mean, he's a fucking copper for God's sake?'

  The yard was in darkness, the bulldozer silenced for the day; even Bella was snoring in her kennel. Inside the office, the Calor gas heater was on full blast the air oily with gas fumes.

  'Yeah, but he's a copper with a coke habit, besides, he owes us over three grand and it's payback time.'

  'Yeah but...'

  'For fucks sake, Boz, give it a rest. Our guy has told me they have two plods watching us, that's two plods in one car do you understand what I'm saying?'

  Boris looked at him blankly.

  Norvil shook his head and tossed another nut into his mouth. 'It means they can't keep tabs on both of us. I also know that it will be me they follow when I drive out through the gates, me they follow as I give them the fucking run-around, leaving you with ample opportunity to get over to the lockup and empty the goods.'

  Boris still didn't look convinced. 'But how do you know they'll follow you and not me?'

  'Because I am the one with the brains you are the one with the monkey wrench.'

  Boris frowned. 'Piss off.'

  Norvil grinned at his brother. 'Besides, I've arranged it with our bent friend, so there'll be no problem.'

  'And what do you want me to do with the gear?'

  'Take it over to Johnny Carmichael’s yard.'

  'In Liverpool?' Boris made it sound as if it were the other side of the world.

  'Yes, you dumb prick, he's got a forty foot container in the yard you park the van inside and then get your arse back over here.'

  'But how will I get back without the van?'

  'Show some leg at the side of the road and hitch a lift.'

  Boris frowned unsure if his brother was being serious. 'I...'

  'Johnny's got a car ready and waiting for you, dickhead, and you take your time, no breaking the speed limit and getting pulled, is that clear enough for you?'

  Boris nodded. 'Yeah, yeah, Norv, I got it.'

  Norvil held his brother's gaze for a few seconds before pushing to his feet. 'Right I'm off, you don't fucking move until I give you a call.'

  'No problem.'

  Norvil grabbed a battered old leather jacket from the back of his chair and wrestled his arms into the sleeves. At the door, he stopped and turned. 'Don't fuck this up, Boz, or we're both in deep shit.'

  'You can trust me, Norv.'

  'If only, Boz, if only,' he said as he went through the door.

  60

  When Sharon started to twitch Albie frowned. One minute she'd been sprawled on the sofa, her lips sticky with semen, the next minute her arms and legs began to jitter and her eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible.

  Sliding off the sofa Albie stood up fastening the buttons on his jeans with nervous fingers.

  Sharon groaned, her head lashed left and right and then her body got in on the act, huge spasms that arched her back as if she were caught in the middle of a mind-shattering orgasm.

  Albie licked his lips. 'You all right, Shaz?'

  Sharon's mouth yawned open, her tongue darted forward and then her teeth snapped together severing half an inch of pink flesh.

  'Fuck!' Albie leapt backwards his eyes locked on the piece of tongue as it rolled down her chin.

  Sharon jerked again and fell off the sofa, her left leg shot out, the shin slamming into the wooden leg of the coffee table splitting the skin. Albie scuttled away from the thrashing form on the floor, he could see the dark blood slick on her chin. Her teeth continued to snap like a rabid animal.

  'Fuck me,' Albie hissed in awe.

  Sharon's head came up off the hard wood floor and then slammed back down again with a sickening thump that made Albie Ross cringe.

  When she started to wail Albie felt like covering his ears, she sounded like a little kid who suddenly finds themselves locked in a nightmare without an escape route. Her voice was shrill and building, Albie moved nervously forward.

  'Shush, Sharon, it's OK, girl,' he whispered in a trembling voice.

  Sharon never even heard him, her body continued to jitter across the floor, then her head whiplashed left cracking against the fireplace, blood sprayed upwards landing on the electric bar fire with a vicious hiss. The room was suddenly full with the stink of the blood boiling as it hit the fire. Her feet drummed on the floor, her eyes rolled up and down, white blue, white blue.

  When the fingers of her left hand grabbed the wire grill that covered the fire, Albie winced as she screamed in mind-bending agony.

  Any second now there would be a knock on the door as the nosey bastard next door came to see what all the racket was about.

  In desperation, Albie grabbed a cushion from the sofa and moved forward, he had to shut her up, had no choice.

  As he leant down, Sharon gave one final heave, and then she lay still, Albie felt like throwing up when he saw her fingers still gripping the hot bars, the digits seeping as stinking smoke bloomed from the burning flesh.

  Reaching forward, he plucked at her sleeve pulling her hand away from the fire.

  When he looked at her face, he felt the bile slither its way up his gullet. Both eyes were open, the left one shot blood red, the right had twisted inwards.

  'Christ,' he gasped as he sunk to his knees. 'Shaz, are you OK, sweetheart?'

  Sharon Cliff didn't answer. When he caught sight of the tip of her tongue lying on the floor, he bolted across the room heading for the toilet bowl, he didn't stand a chance.

  61

  'So, what happens now?'

  The three of them were in the lounge, Bannister stood in front of the radiator warming his backside, coffee cup in hand.

  'We're already doing it, Medea; all the details have been uploaded to the system...'

  'But what does that actually mean?' she asked, her fingers twisted together in anguish.

  Lasser placed his hand over hers. 'It means everyone is aware of what's happened and they'll be on the lookout...'

  'But...'

  'It means if anyone tries to draw money from her account then we'll know where and when.'

  Medea nodded slowly before pushing her hair from her eyes. 'You think he's holding her against her will?'

  Bannister eased down into the springy IKEA chair, 'Nothings definite yet, Medea.'

  'But that's what you think isn't it?' she asked looking back and forth between them.

  'It's a possibility but...'

  'Oh God he's going to kill her isn't he?' Her hands fluttered in the air, her face creased with horror.

  Lasser reached out and turned her face towards him. 'Listen, Medea, we have no reason to believe that Emma is any kind of danger.'

  'But how can you say that, how can you be sure?'

  'Think about it, if Forbes did come all the way up here with the intention of harming her in any way then why bother taking her away from the house, he could have done it here and then driven away.'

  'I...'

  'After all she was alone in the house, he could have forced her back inside, but he didn't.'

  Medea licked her lips and swallowed. 'So you think she's OK?'

  'It all points to the fact that she left here on her own two feet and that has to be a positive.'

  She gave a half-hearted smile before turning to Bannister. 'And what about you, Alan, what do you think?'

  Bannister held her gaze. 'I think Lasser's got it right, though obviously, we want to find her as soon as possible...'

  'Because you think he must be unstable in some way?'

  Bannister took a sip from the coffee cup. 'It's an option that we have to consider, Medea.'

  She slumped back on the sofa as if all her worst im
aginings had just been brought to life, her oldest, closest friend was out there somewhere and she couldn't reach her, couldn't help her. The realisation forced the tears from her eyes and she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

  'Is there anything I can do?' she asked.

  'Not at the moment,' Bannister answered. 'Just make sure you keep your phone on, you never know she might try and get in touch.'

  'And if she does?'

  Lasser leaned forward. 'Don't talk, just listen...'

  'But...'

  'You have to think clever, Med, if she does get in touch then chances are she'll just want you to be there to gather information for her.'

  'You mean she won't have the time to talk, don't you?'

  Lasser nodded slowly. 'If she didn't feel threatened then she would have already contacted you, as you said she's not the kind of woman to simply do a runner without saying anything.'

  Medea chewed at her fingernail. 'So, don't waste time asking how she is or where he's keeping her?'

  'She'll tell you all that herself, so make sure you give her the time she needs.'

  'No dumb questions?'

  'Just let her know you're taking it all in and if I'm not here then as soon as you come off the phone you write it all down before you contact me.'

  'Write it all down,' she repeated as if she were a schoolchild learning something of importance by rote.

  Lasser took both her hands in his. 'Another thing in our favour, Med, is that this Forbes character seems to be a bit of a loser.'

  She looked at him nonplussed. 'And how is that in our favour?'

  'We've done some background on him and it was Emma who was making all the money, he works at a recruitment agency and as far as we can see he makes bugger all...'

  'I still don't understand, how can that be a good thing?'

  'I think what Lasser's trying to say, with his usual clumsiness, is that Forbes isn't the one with the power, he knows it's Emma Drake who has the real earning potential...'

  'So, he won't want to harm her, he'll want to talk her round persuade her to go back with him?'

  'That's about the size of it, Medea.'

  For a few moments she felt awash with relief, it all made sense; he wouldn't dare risk hurting her because without her, he was nothing. Medea blew out through pursed lips and gave Lasser's hand a squeeze to prove that she understood the situation.

  'Right then, I'd best get going or Suzanne will think I've done a runner,' Bannister said as he pushed himself up from the chair.

  Medea stood up and gave him a hug. 'Thanks for coming, Alan, it means a lot to me.'

  'Not a problem,' he replied with a smile. 'And remember these sorts of things normally work out OK.'

  'I'll try and keep that in mind.'

  They stood at the front door watching as Bannister climbed into the car; Lasser hooped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  'Don't worry, we'll find her,' he whispered into her hair.

  Somewhere in the growing darkness, a dog began to howl.

  62

  Boris kept flicking his eyes towards the speedometer, making sure he kept to the speed limit as he made his way out of the town centre. After ten minutes, the traffic began to ease and he risked a little more gas. As promised, Norv had called and told him the plan was working perfectly, he was being followed by an unmarked cop car, that according to Norv, stood out like a turd in a swimming pool. He'd already taken them through the drive-in McDonalds and was now heading toward the town centre where he would have a wander around the few shops that were open for late night shoppers.

  Boris had grinned in the darkness. 'Pick me up one of those shirts I like while you're at it.'

  Norv had laughed at the quip and Boris had felt a surge of pride.

  'Right, Boz, you just concentrate on sorting the gear and don't forget - ring me when you get back home.'

  'Will do, Norv,' he'd replied before cutting the call.

  Heading over the motorway bridge Boz indicated right before pulling onto the country lane, as the streetlights vanished he flicked on the main beam, taking his time as the road snaked left and right.

  After another ten minutes, he pulled up to the grass verge and killed the engine and lights before climbing from the cab.

  He could smell the stench of liquid cow shit coming off the fields, somewhere high above a curlew called out to its mate. Pulling out his cigarettes, Boris lit one and peered back along the narrow lane. Norv had told him to take five minutes to make sure no one was following him, an unnecessary precaution he'd said, but one which he expected Boris to adhere to.

  So he waited, puffing contentedly on the cigarette, in the far distance he could see the lights bathing the town centre in a sickly yellow glow. Checking his watch, Boris flicked the spent smoke into the long grass taking one last look left and right before climbing back into the warmth.

  Checking his mirrors, he set off again, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as if to some internal drum and base. He almost missed the narrow turning on the left, having to slam on the brakes to avoid shooting past, the tyres squealed as he swerved into the opening, then he was bumping down the rutted track. At the end, he parked up in front of a set of iron gates, grabbing the bunch of keys from the dash he hurried to the front of the van and fumbled the key into the lock. Pushing the gates open Boris drove through before climbing back out and closing them, hooking the padlock through the hasp, he drove over to the small lockup and parked in the shadow of the building. Despite Norv's assurances, Boris could feel the shirt sticking to his back - clammy with sweat.

  He took one last look out into the darkened fields before walking over to the sliding door, as soon as he spotted the padlock on the floor he felt his stomach lurch.

  'No, no, no,' he hissed as he hurried forward.

  Grabbing the handle, he heaved the door open and squeezed through the gap, his right hand desperately fumbling for the switch on the wall. As the strip light flickered to life, he held his breath before sinking slowly to his knees. The gear had been kept on a single pallet in the corner; shrink-wrapped to avoid the moisture that hung heavy in the damp air. The plastic packaging had been removed. The pallet empty.

  'Fuck me,' Boris whispered. Norvil would hit the fucking roof, he would go on the rampage and Boris knew that he would be the one in the firing line.

  He looked around the small space in desperation, somehow hoping that his watering eyes were deceiving him, but like old Mother Hubbard's gaff, the cupboard was bare.

  63

  Emma could feel the wedge of the phone in the back pocket of her jeans, outside, the reservoirs had been lost to the darkness. Occasionally she would see a star flickering in the sky as the wind parted the clouds, apart from that, she felt as if she were marooned in purgatory, final destination as yet unknown. Andrew had spent the time talking in rapid bursts about their life together, how they were made for one another. Emma had listened with mounting unease; it was as if he were convincing himself of some idyllic life that had never existed between them.

  Soul mates, he called them, destined to ride to the top.

  Emma had never heard so much shit in her life.

  'Maybe you're right, perhaps I need to change as well, but you don't make things easy, Emma,' he pointed at her and smiled. 'You have to admit you can be pretty high maintenance.' He placed his hands on the wheel at ten to two. 'So, I was thinking, maybe we could sell the apartment make a nice little profit and move on. You'll have no problem finding another job, a woman with your talents can walk in anywhere and they'll bend over backwards to have you. But I think I need a new challenge, I mean, the agency is so fucking boring,' he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then he closed them as if suddenly feeling exhausted.

  'Yeah,' he whispered. 'A new beginning - it's just what we need to keep the spark alive.'

  In the darkness, Emma shivered.

  64

  Medea lay in the dark watching as the bedside clock clicked
another minute into oblivion, her mind couldn't settle. She felt guilt-ridden lying in a warm bed with the man she loved, whilst Emma was... Her brain jolted and rebelled against the images that threatened to swamp her.

  'Are you OK, Med?' Lasser's voice drifted out of the darkness.

  'I'm sorry, I'm keeping you awake.'

  She felt his arm slip around her waist and then he pulled her towards him. 'I'd rather be awake with you than asleep on my own.'

  She saw his teeth flash in the dark.

  'Cheesy sod,' she said before brushing her lips across his.

  'Try not to worry,' he said as he slid a strand of hair from her eyes.

  'I don't know how you do this day in day out. I mean, how do you keep your sanity?'

  'Come on, Med, it's not the same thing, Emma's your closest friend so you're bound to feel it more than most.'

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she could see the raven tattoo on his shoulder the tip of the black wing swirling on his chest. 'I just want to know she's safe,' she whispered.

  'I understand and I'm sure she knows we have people out there looking for her.'

  Medea fell silent as she turned things over in her mind. 'But what happens if she argues back with him, what if he loses the plot, I know Emma and she can have a short fuse?'

  'She might have a short fuse but she's clever with it, you said so yourself.'

  'I know but...'

  'Med, if you don't let it go then it'll drive you mad.'

  He felt her breath warm on his face. 'I know you're right.'

  'Listen, rather than just sit around the house why don't you go back and see James Drake in the morning?'

  'But he's ill...'

  'And also worried sick about his daughter.'

  He heard her shiver out a sigh. 'You're right, Emma would want me to keep in touch with him.'

  'That's sorted then.'

  'And you'll let me know as soon as you hear anything.'

  'Straight away.'

  'Even if it's bad news?' she whispered.

  He rolled onto his back and Medea placed her head on his chest, she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin against her cheek.

  Five minutes later, she was asleep.