by S J Grey
“Open up, sir,” shouted the second officer through the door.
The police came back? Mark hastened to let them in.
“What is your name, sir?” The policeman barked the question at him.
“Mark Penney. Can I help you?”
A loud thumping noise from the front of the house sounded like a battering ram on the door.
“That’s your team?” Mark didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll let them in before they break the door down.”
At the front were five—no, six—police cars, lights flashing, and a dozen more uniformed officers swarming about. Also, DS Miller.
Because time really was of the essence, Mark handed over Sandra’s phone to the detective. “I found this in the kitchen. It has the numbers for Caleb Rush and Emma Blackthorne. You must have missed it when you took them in.”
Miller’s forehead crinkled into a puzzled frown. “Excuse me? We’re here to arrest them. Aren’t they here?”
Warning bells jangled in Mark’s brain. Geoff and Sandra were both absent, their cars still here, the phone hidden in the teabags. Had they left in a hurry, using another mode of transport? Did someone tip them off? And who?
Emma’s text. I can’t get hold of Dad. Something was very wrong with this picture.
“I only just arrived,” said Mark. “I don’t think they’re here, but I haven’t looked for them. They might be in the store room.”
Miller nodded, already in the process of sealing the phone inside an evidence bag. “Do they have any other transport here?”
Did they? “Geoff talked about a motorbike. A classic Triumph, I think, but I got the impression he doesn’t ride it much.”
“Good for a quick getaway,” said Miller. He began issuing orders into his radio. His team were to search the property.
Mark had to choose his words carefully. “I know they shouldn’t have assisted Rush, but the important thing here is to secure him, not Emma’s parents, right?”
Miller gazed at him. “Critical matters, relating to national security. That’s how it was described to me. And yes, Mr. Penney, as soon as I get back to the station, we’ll deal with this phone.”
Mark thought again of the unanswered 999 calls. The tragedies unfolding on the other side of the world. “Detective,” he snapped, channelling Gordie, “critical means just that. It doesn’t mean waiting until you get back to the station. I don’t have jurisdiction here, but I can remind you who I work for. Would you prefer me to pass the numbers on to SIA, for GPS triangulation, and then you have to explain why you didn’t do that immediately?”
To his credit, the detective didn’t look pissed off at Mark’s words. “My orders were to secure the burner phones and pass them to SIA. There was no mention of anything else.” He stepped closer, his gaze sharp. “What the fuck is going on here, and why haven’t I been told about it?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. I need to make a call first.” Mark dialled Jonathan. “I have their numbers, and I’ll text them to you now.” He copied and pasted the details into a text, sent it, and shoved the phone in his pocket.
“Let’s sit in my car,” said Miller. “And you can tell me what’s going on.”
He led Mark to an unmarked car, but just before Mark climbed into the back with the detective, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. An incoming call. It could be Jonathan.
“A moment,” he said to Miller, holding up a finger, then he stepped to the side and tugged out his phone. Not Jonathan. It was one of the two numbers he’d just added to his contacts. Emma.
Why would she call him? Well duh. Her parents’ phones were both confiscated. Did Caleb want to surrender?
The giant clusterfuck was suddenly redeemable. If Mark could get to him first, he might yet save the day. Get Caleb Rush, pass on the kill switch, and then make the deal. Everything was finally falling into place.
“Hi,” he said, keeping his voice brisk and business-like. “This is Mark.”
There was an indrawn breath. “It’s me,” said Emma. “I need to speak to you urgently.”
“I’m with DS Miller at the moment. Can I call you back?”
“Please don’t say anything to him.”
He turned back to the detective. “I need to take this.”
Miller nodded, and regrouped with his officers a few steps away.
“I have to be careful what I say.” Mark spoke softly into the phone. “What’s happened? Where are you?”
“It’s Mum and Dad. They’ve been kidnapped. I took a call from Dad’s phone, but it was a stranger. He said they have my parents, and if Caleb doesn’t hand himself over, they’ll kill them.”
Mark froze at Emma’s words. —the fuck?
She carried on, her voice shaky, rattling through the information at high speed. “They said, if we contact the police, they’ll kill them.” A sob broke through her words. “Caleb said yes, instantly, but what if they’re lying? You’re the only person left I can turn to.”
“Don’t go anywhere. Don’t do anything. I will absolutely help you, and you can trust me. I need to go somewhere where I’m not surrounded by coppers. Give me two minutes, and I’ll call you back. Okay?” He was thinking through the options, discarding and assessing them as he spoke.
An eerie calm settled upon him. Emma trusted him again. He could do this.
“Okay.” She sounded on the verge of falling apart, and his heart broke for her.
“I love you, Em. Be right back.” He disconnected.
The first thing he had to do was ditch the police. He strode over to DS Miller. “I have to go. I’ll update you later.”
Mark didn’t wait for the officer to object; he just turned on his heel and headed for his car. Thank fuck, he had his wheels back. It was only when he’d peeled out of the driveway and onto the road that he called Emma back, hands-free. He needed to know where to go, before he struck out in a random direction, so he pulled over to the side of the road as she answered.
“Em,” he said, “the first thing you have to know is that the police are currently triangulating your position from the GPS on your phones. If we’re not getting them involved, you need to let me know where you are, and I’ll come and get you. Both of you.”
Part III - Emma
Chapter Thirty-Three
Caleb placed his hand over the phone, where it lay on the table between them. “Are you sure about this?” The subtext here was, you think he’s been lying to you all along, so why would you trust him now?
Emma was asking herself the same question. “We can’t go to the police,” she said. “We can’t do this by ourselves. We need some backup, and he’s all I’ve got left.”
Caleb lifted his hand and pulled the phone closer. “This is Caleb Rush. The kidnappers are going to call back in around an hour, with directions for where they want me to go. I’ve got transport, a motorbike, but I don’t want Emma tangled up in this. Will you come fetch her? We’re not far away from Palmy North.”
“No.” Emma reached for the phone, but Caleb swept it away and held it at arm’s length.
“I have to do this.” He spoke loud enough that the phone would pick up his voice. “I can’t take the chance that they’ll be hurt. I won’t put them at risk. Or Emma.”
She tugged on his arm. She was angry, and that was better than being scared. “I’m not a child, Caleb. Don’t treat me like one.”
He ignored her and continued speaking into the phone. “How did the cops get Emma’s phone number? Or are you making that up?”
“I went to her parents’ place,” said Mark, “and the police were there. They found Sandra’s burner, and I heard them talking about tracing your location through the GPS in your phones. You need to switch them off and take the batteries out after this call. Then fire it up again right before the kidnapper is due to call.”
His story was plausible.
“Will you come pick up Emma?” Caleb asked.
“I’m betting the kidnappers are the same people wh
o killed your sister. Do you trust them to hand over Geoff and Sandra? I don’t.”
“Do you have a better suggestion? Coz we’re running out of time.”
“Yes.” Mark stayed calm. It was reassuring. “Like I said before, I know people. Truth is, I know people in SIA, the NZ Security Intelligence Agency. They can help. They can keep this a million miles away from the police.”
“How do I know this isn’t just another line of A-Grade bullshit?”
Emma knew who SIA was. She’d never knowingly dealt with them, but as far as she was concerned, they were just another government department.
“You don’t,” answered Mark. “But Emma trusts me enough to call me now, and I can promise you I’ll look after her. I’ll tell you the bargaining chip you’re going to use with them.” He paused. “Is Emma listening to this?”
“Yes,” she said.
“This stays between us. Caleb, I know you delivered a piece of code to an organisation called Ian Grady Investments, the year before you went to prison. I know you refused to hand over the kill switch. That’s what you’re going to offer SIA, and I guarantee they’re going to snatch your hand off. You can leverage on that, to get them involved in finding Geoff and Sandra.”
“Who the fuck do you work for?” Caleb asked.
“That’s not important. As far as you’re concerned, I’m the one person who might be able to fix this.”
Did Emma believe him? She wanted to, but this might be another set of glossy lies. She had no clue.
“And what do you get out of this?” Caleb asked.
“I get to keep Emma and her parents safe.”
“Nice try, but you’re wrong about one fundamental detail. I delivered the kill switch. I always do.”
There was silence down the line. Did he hang up? “You’re sure about that?” Mark spoke slowly. “I was told otherwise.”
“You were told wrong.”
“We need to have a face-to-face conversation, but right now you need to get those phones switched off. If Emma trusts me, you can take your lead from her. I’m your one chance at getting out of this. Tell me where to meet you.”
Emma saw something in her peripheral vision. She looked over her shoulder and saw a pair of police cars cruising through the park, lights flashing.
She tugged on Caleb’s arm. “The police are here,” she said. “We need to go.”
“Okay,” said Caleb to Mark. “How soon can you get to Palmerston North?”
“Thirty… maybe thirty-five minutes.”
“I’ll call you back in half an hour.” Caleb disconnected, and then removed the battery, and dropped it with the phone into his pocket. Emma was doing the same with the other phone.
The police might be here for some other reason than searching for Caleb, but it wasn’t worth taking a chance on.
Caleb grabbed Emma’s hand and tugged her with him, as they darted through the cover of the trees to where their tent was pitched. “Leave the tent and the gear. We don’t have time to pack up.”
He already wore the old-man wig. She hoped it would be enough to disguise him, if they were stopped. They donned jackets and helmets, and then climbed onto Geoff’s Triumph. This campground had a spider’s web of connecting roads and paths, and they were able to cruise slowly around the perimeter to a back gate, where they connected with a group of tourists on their way out. Caleb hung near the back, ready to leave in a hurry if they needed to.
The events of the past hour played on auto-repeat inside Emma’s head. They’d emerged late from the tent, bleary-eyed and sleepy, after Caleb’s nightmares woke them in the middle of the night. She felt dead on her feet and in serious need of caffeine, so they walked to the nearest coffee cart for a jolt of go-juice.
Emma was fretting because she hadn’t spoken to her parents yet this morning. Dad’s phone was switched off, and Mum wasn’t answering.
“We should make some breakfast,” said Caleb. “We have beans and eggs, or eggs and beans. Which d’you prefer?”
“Beans, def. And maybe eggs?” Emma forced a smile, but he looked as weary as she felt. “I’d forgotten how much fun camping could be. I haven’t slept outdoors for years.”
“Me neither.”
How thoughtless was she? “I’m sorry. It feels so normal to hang out with you again. It’s like the last few years never happened. And it’s insensitive of me to be making light of this, when you think about how bad the situation is.”
Caleb stopped walking. They were still some distance from the cart. Close enough to hear the whirr of the grinder and to smell the fragrant aroma of the coffee. “Come here,” he said and tugged on Emma’s elbow, to lead her to a nearby picnic set.
He waited until they both sat before he spoke. “Stop apologising. You can’t change what happened any more than I can. And maybe I want to see smiles and hear laughter. Fuck knows I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be relaxed, even for a few minutes.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” He paused. “I’m outside, breathing fresh air, and trying to plan my future. It might all turn to shit, but if I don’t try to make it work, what’s the point? Losing Joss is like… I dunno. Losing an arm or a leg. More than that. And I just can’t think about it right now. This, here, is giving me something else to focus on. So please stop apologising, ‘kay?”
When he put it like that, it brought tears to her eyes. She gave him a hug, holding on tight. She was about to suggest they carry on with the getting-coffee plan, but then Emma took the call that changed everything.
A clipped, posh, British voice, using Dad’s burner phone to tell Emma that they had her parents. If she contacted the police, her parents would be killed, slowly and painfully. Mum, and then Dad, speaking to say they were fine. And the Brit telling Emma the only way to see them alive again would be to deliver Caleb to them. They would call again in an hour with instructions.
Emma stared at her phone in disbelief.
They had to wait an hour. A whole freaking hour. Why?
“I’m calling Mark,” she said, her hands shaking so hard she couldn’t hold the phone. She placed it on the table and dialled a number from memory, before Caleb could stop her.
And now, they were going to drive to meet him, with all her fragile hopes pinned upon him—her lying, deceitful ex-boyfriend. For some reason that made no sense, she wanted to trust him.
Chapter Thirty-Four
They arrived in Palmerston North, and Caleb drove around the square, seeking a good place to park. He settled for a shaded space under some trees, opposite one of Palmy’s many cafes.
Emma checked the time. They had an easy run here, and it’d still be twenty minutes before they would expect a call.
“Rather than using the cell, call your boy from a payphone.” Caleb pointed towards a nearby phone booth. “I’ll grab us fresh coffee.”
She gave him the side-eye. “Not sure he’s my boy anymore, but I’ll make the call.” She had enough coins to use the phone, and Mark answered on the first ring. “It’s me,” she said. “Where are you?”
“Just coming into Palmy. Where do I find you?”
“Follow signs to the Square. We’re in a parking bay outside the library.”
“I’ll be ten minutes. See you soon.”
The affection in his voice made her heart ache. She disconnected and went to find Caleb.
He’d just collected their drinks, when Emma joined him at the cart. “He’s not far away,” she said. “I told him where to find us.” She took a sip of the brew—strong and sweet, just the way she liked it. “This is good. Thank you.”
Caleb nodded. “No worries.”
“We never talked about the trial. They twisted what I told them. You do know that, don’t you? Your defence lawyer wanted me to provide a character reference for you, but the prosecution ripped me to shreds.” The memory of standing in the witness box was enough to turn her stomach, even now. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault they sent you to prison.”
“What?” He grimaced. “No. You didn’t. My shitty lawyer did that, and I was too naive to push for someone better. I stupidly thought they wouldn’t convict me. No evidence. But… yeah. Didn’t quite happen like that.” He put an arm around her shoulder and held her close. “Please don’t blame yourself, Emma. I never did. I promise you that.”
“Thank you.”
“Joss didn’t blame you, either. I know she got a bit anti-social after I was sent down, but that wasn’t on you, Emma. Not one bit of it.” He finished his coffee and released her, to go throw away the paper cup.
Emma was still drinking her coffee, when a familiar Ford Falcon nosed into a nearby space. Mark.
He left the car unlocked and limped towards them, his gaze locked onto Emma.
Instinct and habit nudged her to embrace him, but common sense won this battle. She wrapped her hands around her drink. “Thank you for coming,” she said.
He nodded. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Yeah, and she could only hope she hadn’t made things a thousand times worse. “Let’s talk about this.”
Mark frowned when he looked at Caleb, but then his expression cleared. “Good disguise,” he said.
“Yeah. It was Sandra’s idea.”
When Mark approached him, one hand held out in greeting, Caleb followed suit. He clasped Mark’s hand.
In a move so swift it had to be practiced, Mark lifted his other hand from his pocket, slammed it over Caleb’s wrist, and snapped a pair of handcuffs into place, then locked the other cuff around his own.
“—the fuck?” Caleb tugged, but the restraint was fastened. “You bastard. You’re a cop.”
“Mark?” Emma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Your boyfriend told you another pack of lies. Your parents are going to pay the price for this.” Caleb rattled the cuff. “Do you realise what you’ve done? Hand me over to the police, and the kidnappers will kill Sandra and Geoff.”