‘Chloe, what’s the matter? What’s happened? Gloria seemed really worried about you. I was just on my way out when she ran into me.’ The concern on his face made her feel instantly better.
‘I’ve just seen a client. Mr Peters? Do you know him?’
Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. One of Ray’s is he?’
‘Yes, and he threatened me. Said he’d kill me and my dad if I didn’t do what he said.’
‘And what did he want you to do?’
Chloe was taken aback that he thought this was more important than the threat made on her life.
‘Well, nothing yet, but he said he would do over the next few weeks. Property deals, new companies, things like that. Some trust work I think too.’
‘Hardly sounds like master criminals at work,’ he said with a gentle snort.
‘Ben, it’s not funny, he threatened to kill me.’
Ben stood up and pulled his arm away from her. He walked across the room and leaned on the back of a chair.
‘Are you sure? You know what Ray’s clients are like. They think they’re something they’re not. Like that Mr Crawford you saw. Why don’t you wait and see if anything actually comes of all this? What else can you do? There’s no point running off to the police now, it’s just your word against his. And imagine what Drake would say?’
Chloe didn’t like what she was hearing but her mind was muddled and she liked Ben and trusted him to help her. He must be giving her good advice. And he’s right, nothing had actually happened yet. Maybe she had misunderstood a very sick joke. She needed time to think.
‘I’m going home, Ben. I don’t feel very well and I need to think things over. Can you let people upstairs know? I’ll be back in tomorrow if anyone is looking for me.’
‘Yes, of course. Will you be okay getting home? Do you want me to run you?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway. I need to clear my head.’
‘Okay, as long as you’re sure. I really think you might be blowing this out of all proportion you know? Ray’s an idiot, and some of his clients like to bend the rules a bit, but I don’t think it’s anything more sinister than that.’
She didn’t reply. Confusion was making it difficult to decipher the reality from the imagery. Ben placed his hand on her shoulder as he left the room and she shivered. Was it the cold, or something else?
52
Jez knelt down behind the bar and unlocked the sturdy metal cabinet. The thick steel door scraped open to reveal a small selection of hand guns. The thought of using these against the Kirklands caused him to pause for longer than he might have done. There was little choice. Drabble was right of course; they’d be stupid to go into this meeting unarmed. The Timer had failed to deliver the package, and the Kirklands would be here any minute to collect it. Drabble had shot down any suggestion of calling them and telling them there had been a problem, and he was probably right on that count too; it would be better to look them in the eye and tell them the truth.
But he still felt very uneasy about the whole situation. They’d vouched for the Timer and for good reason; he’d never let them down before. Jez couldn’t help but think he must have run into trouble on the job somewhere. Either that or he didn’t like what he’d found in the truck. And if that was the case they really were in trouble.
He removed two guns from the safe and stood up, admiring the weight of the two pieces. They only had a small stock but what they did have was quality. Drabble never carried himself of course, leaving the dirty work for others to complete as usual.
‘Mickey,’ he shouted, and threw one of the guns over to where Mickey was standing. The younger man caught it in one hand.
‘Fucking hell, Jez. Take a bit of care will you?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Here.’ He threw a clip over and Mickey loaded it in as if it were second nature to him. He brandished the revolver out in front of him, as if pointing it an assailant.
‘I’d like to see them fucking Kirklands try something today. I’ll waste the fucking lot of them.’
‘All right, all right, Mickey. Remember, these are just for back up, in case things get a bit feisty.’ Jez loaded his own gun and pushed it into the back of his jeans.
Mickey tucked his gun in the waistband of his tracksuit out of sight. Never having met the Kirklands, he didn’t really know what to expect, but if their reputation was anything to go on, things could indeed get very tasty.
The door to the club swung open and a huge man strolled in, looking around casually as if he was sizing the place up for something. Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes off the scar which ran the entire length of the man’s face, down across his left eye and back round towards his ear. Bloodthirsty thoughts entered his head as he tried to imagine what had caused it. Four other men came in behind him and took up positions around the snooker hall. One started to knock a few balls about on the nearest snooker table.
‘Good afternoon gentlemen. Is Mr Drabble in?’ said the leader. Like the other men, he was dressed in a dark suit and wearing dark glasses.
Stereotypical, but very effective, thought Jez.
‘And who the fuck are you lot?’ Mickey blurted out before he caught Jez’s glare.
‘What my friend here means is, welcome to the club Mr Kirkland. And yes, Mr Drabble is here, I’ll give him a shout.’ Jez gave Mickey another look to make sure he knew to behave and retreated behind the bar. He knocked on the office door and opened it a few inches.
‘Stevie Kirkland’s here, boss.’
Drabble had never been scared of anything in his life and he didn’t plan to start now. Having dealt with the Kirklands for many years now, he was confident of smooth-talking his way out of this one. He walked assuredly across to the largest Kirkland and offered his hand. The huge paw that gripped it felt like a vice.
‘Nice to see you Stevie. How’s your old man? I haven’t seen him for a few months. Keeping well is he?’
‘He’s doing all right thank you Mr Drabble. Leaves most of the work to me now. Me and my cousins you know? Have you met them? He nodded towards the four men standing guard around the place, as if Drabble might have missed them.
‘Ah yes, keep it in the family. That’s a very good idea. But then your father always was a shrewd man. Shall we talk in the office?’ He turned as if to lead the way into the back room.
‘No thanks, I’d rather do it out here. In the open, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Yes, well, whatever. Now listen Stevie, I’m not sure exactly what’s happened, but we don’t have the package yet. The guy who went to fetch it is as reliable as they come, so there’s no need for panic. He’ll be here in the next couple of days I’m sure. He’s probably just lying low for a bit, but we’ll find him.’
Stevie stood there in silence, the slightest smirk developing across his face. He took in the surroundings of the club, pausing to look at Mickey and Jez, making both men feel instantly uneasy. Eventually returning his gaze to Drabble, he spoke very matter-of-factly, which only served to make his words more menacing.
‘You know you’d be dead by now if you weren’t a friend of my father’s don’t you?’
Mickey moved his hand around the back of his trousers and felt for the gun.
‘Don’t bother son,’ said Stevie, as his four cousins all pulled out sawn-off shotguns from their suits and pointed them at Drabble. ‘You’ve got one week, Mr Drabble. Then we’ll be back for the package. Please make sure you have it by then.’
Drabble knew to show no sign of fear. ‘Come on Stevie son, why the threats? Why don’t I give your old man a call and sort this out?’
‘Like I said, he leaves it to me now. He’s retired, so leave him out of this. One week, and that’s generous.’
As they made their way out of the hall, Jez was sure he heard Drabble breathe a sigh of relief.
It was over, at least for now.
53
The intense rage inside him festered and gnawed at him like a
disease. He’d been betrayed by those he trusted, and trust was the basis on which he operated. Loyalty was everything in this game and if you didn’t have that, you were no one. The anger reared up within him once again, and the only thing that would curtail that feeling was revenge.
By now Drabble would have worked out that he wasn’t coming. He guessed that the plan was to move this child on to somewhere else, or more likely to someone else. And presumably in return for a large pay packet. He still found it hard to believe that Drabble had got himself mixed up in this mess; he’d never shown any interest in children before, not in any way. The rewards must have been huge to tempt him into it and if there was one thing that Drabble did care about, it was money.
The Timer reached down and picked up his hunting knife. With a serrated edge and a polished mahogany handle, it was an impressive looking weapon. Measuring around ten inches in length, the mirror-like blade was sharpened to ensure nothing would prevent it from finding its target. He clipped its sheath on his belt and slid the knife into its home. Drabble needed to pay for what he’d done, and Jez too. They had deliberately misled him and that is not something he would forgive easily.
But there was still a nagging doubt that he couldn’t shift. Had there been some kind of misunderstanding? Had the wrong package been sent? Perhaps Drabble and Jez didn’t know anything about the child either. Maybe they were being duped too. He needed to find the truth and the only way to do that was to speak to Drabble, face to face. Talk it out, see what he had to say, and then take whatever revenge was necessary.
At least the child was safe. He thought about those beautiful eyes again and wondered if they were back with the people who were missing them the most.
The distant bang of a door being closed too hard and excited chattering told him that his wife and children had arrived home. He removed the knife and placed it in a drawer, then hurried inside the house.
‘Daddy!’ cried his girls as he swept them both up into his arms. ‘Can we have ice cream for tea? Mummy said we had to ask you.’
‘Of course you can my little angels. You can have anything you like.’
And he held them closer and for longer than he had for a long time.
54
Chloe stood up as the train trundled into Bradmill station. She waited as it slowed to a stop and then pressed the button to open the doors. They slid apart and she stepped down onto the platform. It was mid-afternoon and there was still a sharp chill in the air. The fields around the village remained lightly covered in snow from the day before, and although the sun was bright, it was already low in the sky and the warmth from its rays was negligible.
The shock from what had happened earlier in the day still accompanied her. The chat with Ben had helped reassure her, and she was glad that she’d shared it with him, but real doubts remained in her mind about not reporting the events to the police.
The familiar surroundings of the village helped to settle her nerves as she walked down the hill towards home. Faces she knew said hello and enquired about her wellbeing and about her father. She smiled back and acknowledged their concern and good wishes. It certainly made her feel better, and she felt herself relax as she approached home.
On passing the village shop, she remembered that they needed milk at home and one or two other bits and pieces. She headed over towards the bright orange sign fixed above the doorway which read Village Store. She also needed some cash and stopped to draw some from the machine outside. She fumbled in her purse for her card and inserted it into the slot. The usual messages appeared and then it asked for her number. She keyed it in and waited as the card was processed. A moment later it presented her with a series of options. She pressed the button for cash with a receipt and then keyed in the amount. Fifty pounds should see her through the next few days. Again she waited while the machine churned and rattled and then her cash appeared before her. She wondered if she had been paid by her new firm yet and requested a balance.
What she saw next made her heart race again as it had been earlier in the day. She pressed the cancel button and removed her card. She looked around her to check no one was watching, and then pushed her card back into the machine, keyed her number in and waited.
There it was again. She pressed the button for another service and then tapped on the request for a printout of recent transactions. She looked around anxiously once more. An elderly woman was now standing behind her waiting to draw her pension.
‘Hello Chloe love. How’s your dad?’
‘Oh he’s fine thanks Mrs Hoggard. I won’t be a minute.’ Usually she would stop and chat but that was now the furthest thing from her mind.
‘Take your time love, I’m in no rush.’
The machine stirred again and printed a mini-statement of the last ten transactions through her account. Without looking, she folded it up and stuffed it into her purse. Then she took her card, smiled at Mrs Hoggard and hurried off towards home.
‘Hi dad,’ she shouted as she opened the front door and stepped inside.
‘Hello love. You’re early.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t feel that well to be honest so I came home. I’ll go in early tomorrow to catch up.’
Her father appeared in the frame of the kitchen doorway. He looked concerned.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ She could see that he was worried. ‘Honestly dad, I think I’m just over-tired. My head’s banging. I think I’ll go and lay down for an hour or two.’
‘Good idea. I’ll give you a shout later when dinner’s ready. I thought we’d have a curry tonight.’
‘Great, that’ll cheer me up.’
‘And there’re some new painkillers in the bathroom if you need them.’
‘Thanks dad.’
She ran upstairs and closed her bedroom door. She knew her father wouldn’t disturb her now until dinner. She reached into her bag and pulled out her purse. Unclasping it, she took out the cashpoint statement and unfolded it as quickly as her trembling hands would allow her to.
And there it was, staring her in the face. It was just a tiny row of print on a small scrap of paper, but she knew what it was, and she knew what it meant. Mr Peters’ words came flooding back into her head.
You will be well paid for your work.
Someone had paid ten thousand pounds into her account.
55
Chelsie had always been a light sleeper and the fact that something had woken her in the night didn’t worry her unduly. Only last week she’d been disturbed by a wheelie bin being blown over outside. It wasn’t windy tonight but she knew it could have been anything. She wasn’t even entirely sure it had been a noise that woke her, although she did think she’d heard the culmination of a sound as she woke. A glance at the clock told her it was just after three in the morning. Pitch black outside of course, but for the orange glow from a streetlight which crept in around the edge of her bedroom curtains. She turned over and retreated under the warmth of the covers. Images of George ran through her mind and refused to allow her back to asleep. She smiled to herself as tears welled behind her closed eyelids.
Another noise and this time it sounded like it was coming from inside the house. A bang, or a rattle perhaps? A door being forced?
Don’t be silly, you’re safe here. But the doubts remained. Surely Mark wouldn’t be that stupid?
She instinctively reached for her mobile and then cursed as she realised it was downstairs. She lay still for a few moments. Silence, but she had to investigate, although the thought of stepping out into the cold bedroom and finding her way downstairs did nothing to tempt her into action. Surely he wouldn’t come round here at night? Would he?
She’d read somewhere that noise is usually enough to scare off a night time intruder, so she flicked her bedside radio on, turned up the volume and stomped across her bedroom floor. She took her dressing gown off the hook and wrapped it tightly around herself. Then she opened the door and peered out at the landing.
Everyth
ing certainly looked like it had when she’d come to bed. She flicked the light on and, craning her neck over the white painted bannister, she could see that the front door remained closed and there was no sign of a break-in. She started to walk downstairs past family photographs which decorated the wall. George and her mother watched her take each step as she went, and she made sure that her feet made plenty of noise, the sound of the radio following in her wake.
‘Hello? Is there anyone there? I’ve already called the police so you should go now whilst you can.’
She felt self-conscious as she spoke. The voices on the radio behind her and the light from the landing reassured her that she was safe. As she stepped off the bottom of the stairs she switched on the hallway light. The door to the lounge was closed, as was the kitchen door.
She filled the lounge with light and began to feel safer still. Everything looked fine, and it was clear there had been no burglary; surely this is the first place they would have come? She didn’t have much to steal, but what she did have was in this room. But her television was still here, as was her mobile phone, lying on the black leather settee where she’d left it the night before.
Finally, she opened the kitchen door. Its location at the back of the house meant it was dark, and there was no street light filtering in here to help her. She wondered if this was the first time she had ever had every light in the house on at the same time, and pressed the switch next to her.
‘Hello Chelsie,’ slurred a voice.
It was Mark, her ex.
56
Chelsie didn’t scream. Maybe it was the familiarity of seeing him back in her kitchen, a place he’d been many times before. Perhaps part of her had expected this to happen. She stood by the kitchen door and looked across at him, her face expressionless.
‘George isn’t here.’ It was the first thing that came to mind. His safety had always been her main concern and it was almost as if she was reassuring herself that he was out of harm’s way.
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 12