by Nikki Attree
Jack walks slowly, menacingly, towards Elizabeth and stops a few yards from her. Elizabeth has seen enough hostage movies to know the drill. She places the Harrods bag on the ground, backs off, and waits for Jack to check the money. He counts it, looks at her, shrugs his shoulders and sighs. He hands her a piece of paper, and shakes her hand.
The effect is less than menacing, and provokes an angry shout from the van: “is the f-ing dosh all there mate?”
"Yes" Jack says, with another shrug. The menace is escaping from him like air from a punctured balloon. This is not what he wanted to do with his life.
There’s another irate yell from Harry: "well get a feckin move on! Lets get outta ‘ere!"
"I need to release the dogs ..."
"Fer feck’s sake, don't let 'er 'ave them mutts. They’re our security. The cops are gonna come after us now. You agreed we was gonna dump ‘em in the river when we ‘ad the dosh!"
Jack doesn't answer. He sinks to his knees, suddenly exhausted. He hugs both of the dogs and whispers to them that he’ll miss them very much. He unclips their leads, and tells them to go, pushing them towards Elizabeth. Then he turns and runs towards the van. The dogs run after him. He stops, shrugs, and shouts to Elizabeth to call the dogs. When Doodle hears her mistress' voice she stops, unsure what to do. She stands there whimpering and looking back at Gizmo for guidance.
Jack is now in the van and Gizmo is jumping up at the window. Jack winds down the window, waves Gizmo away, and shouts at him: "go, go, get out of here while you can mate!" Harry floors the accelerator and the van careers towards the car park exit, tyres squealing as they make their getaway.
* * *
Annie has been watching the scene in the car park through binoculars. Tommy is straining at the leash like a pumped-up Rottweiler, desperate to get involved in the action, but she restrains him and tells him to be patient.
A feeling of dread envelopes her like a dark cloud. It’s impossible to identify the man wearing the balaclava in the dim orange glow of the street lights, but there’s a horrible familiarity about him.
Robert and his detective colleague have also been watching the action unfold. They’re not particularly impressed by the dognappers’ criminal credentials, but given his sister’s involvement he doesn’t want to take any chances, so he calls for uniformed back-up just in case things turn nasty: “D.I. Capello to Mobile Pursuit One. Are you in position to block the car park exit? Over ...”
There’s a crackly reply from the walkie-talkie: “Rodger that. In position. Exit blocked. Over ...”
* * *
5:12 am, Tenerife. Nikki is slumped in a seat in the airport terminal, waiting to see if she can get on the next flight to the UK. She’s sobbing quietly, trying not to disturb other passengers who have been stranded there all night.
The past few days have been hell for her. Not knowing what was happening to her pooch has reduced her to a nervous wreck. She’s furious with Elizabeth, furious with herself for ever trusting the bitch, and the fury keeps her motivated. She plans to turn up unannounced and confront the producer in her office later that day. The thought of what she’ll say keeps her spirits up, but the dark thoughts keep returning: “I wonder where he is right now? What he’s doing? Is he even still alive?”
* * *
5:15 am, Wembley. A very much alive Gizmo slumps to the ground in the car park, watching the van as it speeds towards the exit. For a moment he considers giving chase, then he does the doggie equivalent of a shrug, turns, and walks stoically back to Doodle as she’s being led away by Elizabeth.
"I might as well come with you” he woofs to her. “It looks like the nice human has left us here. It’s a shame, ‘specially after the hug he gave us, but that's humans for you: can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”
Elizabeth bundles both the dogs into the back of her car, where they are surprised to find a man with a camera, smelling of coffee and adrenaline. The journalist continues filming with some difficulty, as the dogs give him a good licking. “Can you drive a bit closer to the exit?” he says to Elizabeth. “I want to get what’s happening there.”
* * *
The dognappers’ getaway lasts as far as the car park exit. As the van hurtles towards it they find their escape blocked by a police car, lights flashing. Harry hits the brakes and they screech to a halt.
“Look what you’ve bleedin well gone and done now, mate” Harry shouts furiously. “It’s the fekin pigs! If we still ‘ad the mutts at least we’d ‘ave ‘ostages.”
Jack sighs. He, at least, knows when the game’s up, and in a way it’s a huge relief. For a while now he’s been fighting a feeling that deep down he wants to be caught, never admitting it to himself, let alone his Pittbull of a partner. Now he realises that this phase of his life is finally over, and it’s like a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
"I seriously doubt that it would make any difference, mate” he says calmly to Harry.
"What the ‘ell do you mean, mate?” Harry screams, beginning to lose the plot now.
"I knew there’d be a fifty-fifty chance that Elizabeth would call the cops" Jack replies, resignedly.
Two policeman get out of their car, armed with tasers, and walk towards the van. “Get out of the vehicle with your hands in the air” one of them shouts.
The dognappers leap from the van. Jack puts his hands in the air. Harry starts to run (something he doesn’t do often, or very well), but then he sees the plastic bag in Jack’s hands. The Lad just stands there, motionless. He takes off the balaclava.
* * *
Annie gasps. It’s no real surprise to see Jack standing there, like a statue, but still it knocks the breath from her lungs. For a long moment she forgets to breathe. Feeling dizzy with dread she puts down the binoculars, starts the engine, and drives towards the exit. Tommy perks up - it looks like he’s going to see some action after all.
Harry turns back to Jack and yells at him: "for feck’s sake, this ain’t no time to admire the bleedin scenery. If you don't wanna scram, please yerself, but give me the dosh!"
"No" Jack says quietly, “it’s over mate, can’t you see that?”
Harry snarls, and charges at Jack like a raging Pitbull, knocking him to the ground. “You’re a feckin loser Jack!” He spits in The Lad’s face and tries to grab the Harrods bag.
Jack scrambles back to his feet and looks Harry in the eyes. “No mate, you’re the loser. But you’ll never understand. This is no way to live.”
Harry punches Jack and the two of them go into a wrestling clinch. Tommy leaps from Annie’s car, and with a bloodcurdling yell, dives into the fight. He and Jack grab Harry and sit on him. Again Harry spits in The Lad’s face. “Get the fuck off me!" he screams. "‘Whose side are you on anyway?”
The dognappers are now surrounded by quite a crowd: the two uniformed policemen, Robert and his detective colleague, Annie, and Elizabeth. Tommy stands there proudly guarding them with his baseball bat at the ready. He turns towards Annie, pleased to have been of assistance and thinking to himself that this detective game is a bit of alright. She only has eyes for Jack though, staring at him blankly, feeling her world fall apart.
Robert is laughing. “Who are these muppets?” he asks his colleague. “Call themselves villains. I’ve seen tougher nuts in a Christmas stocking, and I’ve cracked them!”
His fellow detective agrees that they’ve certainly made their morning a lot easier than it could have been. Robert orders the constables to arrest the muppets and take them to the station. Then he calls his wife and tells her that he’ll be home in time for breakfast after all.
Harry is still screaming at Jack as they are handcuffed and led away: "I'm gonna make yer life ‘ell inside, mate!"
Jack says nothing. As he’s marched towards the police car, he stops briefly in front of Annie. Their eyes meet for an instant, then she looks away. "I’m so sorry" he says, sounding like a guilty teenager. “I want you to know that.”
Annie shrugs. There’s nothing she can say, but she does give him one last look, tears welling up now. They continue to gaze at each other as he’s bundled into the police car.
Elizabeth has been watching from her car, but now she walks over to Annie. "What did he say to you?” she asks the pet detective. “It sounded like he said ‘sorry’?”
Annie fights back the tears. “I‘ll tell you later” she says to Elizabeth. “I think it's time you got Doodle back to your daughter, and let Gizmo’s owner know that he’s safe.”
* * *
7am. The desk opens in Tenerife airport and Nikki is at the front of the queue to buy a ticket. The next UK flight leaves in twenty minutes and there are last minute seats available, so she doesn’t have long to wait.
She’s just about to get her credit card out and pay for the ticket when she has a moment of hesitation. Not a change of heart, but a moment of doubt over the practicality of just turning up at Elizabeth’s office. What if she isn’t there? Perhaps she’s away on business, and it’ll be a wasted journey. She decides to check, picks up her phone, and dials the producer’s mobile.
Elizabeth has arrived back home and is having breakfast with her daughter. Miranda has spent the half hour since her mother’s return hugging both dogs, and Elizabeth is relieved to be back in her good books again. Doodle is proudly showing Gizmo around the house. She’s not exactly overjoyed to be back, but at least she seems to be allowed to roam upstairs now, so that’s an improvement.
Elizabeth answers the phone. Nikki tries to keep her voice cold and detached, but she’s shaking. “I’m just calling to tell you that I’ll be coming to see you today. I’m at the airport right now, and I’m getting the next flight.”
“Oh hi Nikki. I was just about to call you. Don’t worry, you don’t have to get on the plane. I’ve got everything under control now.”
Nikki is struggling to keep the anger from boiling over. “Oh really? You expect me to believe that? Just tell me that you’ll be in your office later today and we’ll have this out face to face ...”
She’s in full flow now, but Elizabeth interrupts: “look, can I just stop you there. I’ve got fantastic news. We just got Gizmo and Doodle back safe and sound. So, as I say, you don’t have to worry any more.”
Nikki takes a deep breath. She desperately wants this to be true, but she’s not convinced. “Yeah right. Why should I believe you? How come you’re only telling me this now, when I’m just about to come over and look for him myself?”
“Because it only just happened an hour ago! Look, if you don’t believe me, turn on the news channel. They’ve been covering the story all morning.”
Nikki glances at the bank of TV monitors in the departure lounge. One of them is tuned to a British news channel and they’re showing shots of what seems to be an early morning police raid in a car park. Two men in balaclavas jump out of a van and start fighting each other, before being arrested. Then the story cuts to Elizabeth speaking to the camera, and there he is: Gizmo, sitting stoically next to her with Doodle, waiting patiently for her to finish the interview so they can get in her car, perhaps get a snack, and have a snooze.
Nikki feels the relief course through her veins. Tears of joy flood down her face. For a moment she can’t speak, then she hears Elizabeth’s tinny voice from her mobile: “See, I told you. Now do you believe me?”
Nikki has completely forgotten that she has the producer on hold, but there’s nothing more to say, so she terminates the call. The girl on the airport desk is still waiting patiently for her to pay for the ticket, but Nikki just puts her credit card back in her purse, and without another word, turns and walks out of the terminal.
* * *
The live coverage from the car park was surprisingly well received on Breakfast TV. The rest of the day turns out to be rather light on news, so the edited highlights continue to be shown regularly. No wonder - the story has some perennially popular elements:
•Cops and robbers - a tried and tested genre.
•A good fight. As we know, the public enjoy a bit of argy-bargy as long it doesn’t get too out of hand and end up with too many severed body parts. In this case, Harry is clearly the villain. His bad behaviour and dubious character are all too obvious. Jack comes over well by fighting him.
•A romantic interlude. Jack and Annie’s tearjerking moment is seen by millions of viewers, and the public (especially those of the female persuasion) have plenty of sympathy for a good looking lad like him, who has time for a romantic interlude whilst being arrested.
•Cute dogs. Always guaranteed to sell any product, service, or story.
•A happy ending (except, perhaps, for Harry).
Apart from Jack9, the other big winner from the news coverage is Elizabeth. She is lauded as a bit of a hero for outwitting the dastardly criminals, and for getting the cute dogs back unharmed. She basks in the coverage, milking it for every pint of full-fat publicity, and reminding the audience about the film at every opportunity.
The positive publicity goes down well at work. Her boss is delighted, and even apologises for doubting her. He says, in jest, that if he didn’t know better he might have thought that she’d arranged the whole dognapping thing as a publicity stunt.
15 A TURN UP FOR THE BOOK
The dognappers are taken to Stoke Newington police station10. They spend the night in separate cells, but they don’t get much sleep. Harry spends most of the night ranting and raving at Jack until early the next morning he’s dragged, kicking and swearing, to the interrogation room.
The room is identical to those in countless police dramas: drab and bare, with a couple of uncomfortable chairs, a metal table, and a large window with mirrored one-way glass. A uniformed officer stands silently in the corner, guarding Harry.
Robert enters with his detective colleague, sits down, and switches on the tape recorder.
“8.00 am Wednesday the second of September, two thousand and fifteen” he announces. “Interview with Harry Smith, charged with the theft and kidnapping of two dogs, with intent to extort a ransom. Present: D.I. Capello and D.C. Forrest”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘dog napping’ sir?” says D.C. Forrest.
Robert ignores this. He’s not in a great mood this morning. It’s too bloody early, and he’s impatient to get the case over with so he can have breakfast and get on with catching some proper crooks, armed robbers, terrorists. He’s only there as a favor to Annie really.
“Right, can we get on please. Now then mister Smith, or should I call you ‘Flash 'Arry‘? I believe you’re quite familiar with all this?” Harry grunts.
“I mean, you’ve been here before and you know the score. So I hope you’re not going to waste our time by denying the charges?”
“I dunno what you’re bleedin well talkin about, mate” Harry replies, sullenly. “We found them dogs wanderin round the ‘igh street, so we took ‘em in and looked after ‘em. Now you lot are givin me grief again.”
The detectives look at each, desperately trying not to laugh. Struggling to keep a straight face, Robert presses on: “right, I see. And that’s why you sent the notes demanding money for the dogs’ release?”
“I dunno nuffin about that.”
“Well we do. As it happens, it would appear that the person who delivered the notes was a Pauline Smith - your mother. Something of a coincidence then?” Harry shrugs. “We will, of course, be talking to her later.”
Harry is beginning to realise that he’ll need a better story. “Yeah, well the ‘ole thing was Jack’s idea. I ‘ad nuffin to do with it. The Lad waz just keeping ‘em at me ‘ouse.”
“Aha, I see, so now you’re no longer claiming that you’re just a Good Samaritan who rescued some stray dogs who’d been abandoned on the street?”
Harry snorts in derision. “Them stinkin mutts? I bleedin ‘ated ‘em!
D.C. Forrest intervenes, rapidly changing tack: “can you account for your whereabouts on Friday the seventh of August?
”
Harry grunts, scratches his chin, and looks rattled. “Umm, dunno. Probably down the boozer, if it was a Friday ... tryin to pull that barmaid, Rosie - you know, in the ‘Bucket’ on the ‘igh street?”
“So, she’ll verify this then? And you’re quite sure that you weren’t visiting the Wags boarding kennels?”
“Never ‘eard of the place. Like I told yer, I can’t fekin stand the stinkin mutts!”
“So, can you explain why, when we spoke to Rosie as part of our enquiries, she mentioned seeing you wearing one of their tee shirts? And a baseball cap with the Wags logo? She remembers being quite surprised to see you in a tee shirt with a cute puppy on it. I don’t think that she’s a big fan of yours, by the way. So you might want to rethink the romantic involvement there.”
Harry is looking wildly around the room, cursing and spluttering about what he’ll do to Rosie the next time he sees her. This time Robert intervenes, goading Harry to tell them exactly what he really thinks about the dogs: “if I’d ‘ad my way, we’d ‘ave chopped ‘em up into little pieces, sent a few bits to that fekin posh bitch, and chucked the rest in the river.”
“I see. Thank you for your cooperation mister Smith.” Robert says, getting to his feet. “Interview terminated at eight twenty-one am.”
* * *
Sitting in the next room, watching everything through the one-way window, Annie frowns. She didn’t like Harry the first time she met him in the ‘Bucket of Blood’. The violence in the car park just confirmed her suspicions, but now listening to him unravel, she positively loathes him. She wonders, once again, how on earth Jack could have been involved with such a monster.