by Toni Parks
“Go ahead, how can I be of assistance?”
“Glasgow Airport. I need to know what the movements are, of private jets. Preferably from two hours henceforth,” said Eduardo, trying car doors as he spoke. Emma, seeing his action, joined in to try her luck as well.
“I don’t have that information immediately available, but I can get back to you within that timescale. Are you at the airport now?”
“No, we’ll be making our way there imminently.”
“OK, I’ll contact you on this number then.”
“Yes, and when you do I want you to have negotiated flights out for three people and ideally to mainland Europe, anywhere’s fine as long as it’s discreet.” Unfortunately, twenty cars in and still no lazy driver with an unlocked door.
“Leave that with me.”
Closing the call, and finding all the vehicles, so far, locked securely; Eduardo changed to plan B. He walked through the middle of two columns of cars, looking left and right as he studied which would be the easiest to steal. His preferred car and the one he broke into were totally different, but he only needed it for the fifty odd miles journey west to Glasgow Airport. So he broke the rear window of a conservative, bland saloon car that had a 58 plate, with no sign of an alarm light blinking around the dashboard area but a very visible car park ticket. Within minutes the steering lock had been disengaged and the engine started. With fuel to burn the three carjackers exited the car park, paid the relevant fee and headed west on the M8, on the look out for junction 28.
The journey only took one of the two hours Eduardo had allotted, and conveniently SpiyWebcalled back at the beginning of the second one. “Message for C/IT/942. There is a private flight to Europe leaving at 17.35 today. There are only four passengers scheduled at the moment, so another three will make no difference. It will cost you £10,000, if you are interested?”
“Two questions first. One, what about customs and two, how do I pay?”
“No customs. Part of the cost covers that problem. As for payment, I just need your word and the cost will be added to the Camorra’s monthly fee. It will be up to you how you square it from there.”
“OK. You have my word. What now?”
“Follow the signs for the Business and Private Jets’ Hub. Ask for Billy GC. He’ll make things happen.”
“What about lying low until the flight?”
“Billy GC will sort that too.”
“OK. Thanks for your prompt assistance.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Sir.” With that the line went dead and they headed for the Hub. Once in the vicinity, Eduardo looked for a secluded spot to hide the car. The girls felt more reassured now that a plan was in place, but Jessica still had the jitters, recalling how close they were to flying out of Edinburgh and how that ended.
At the Hub, Eduardo went in search of Billy. He stopped and asked the first uniformed worker he came across, “Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find Billy. Billy GC.” He expected suspicion in return but the worker pointed to a luggage buggy pulling a trailer.
“That’s Billy there, Buddy.” Eduardo thanked him and ran after the luggage hauler before it vanished into a hanger.
Catching up he shouted above the din, “Billy GC?”
“Yeh, that’s me. But just call me Billy. The GC stands for ‘ground crew’. There’s two other Billy’s work in different areas of the airport. Hate for you to get the wrong one. Are you Eduardo?”
“That’s right. You been briefed about my companions and me? About us taking a flight out of here?”
“Certainly have and we’re all sorted,” he replied confidently, “although, you’re not here, if you know what I mean,” touching his forefinger to the side of his nose. He accompanied Eduardo towards The Hub entrance and en route the two girls were signalled to join them. They were all then shown into an empty, private hospitality suite stocked with refreshments: snacks and alcohol. Here, they were invited to relax but remain, until the flight.
At 17.10 Billy returned and escorted them to a subsidiary taxiing airstrip where a Citation Sovereign sat. Its inviting, external steps beckoned and Emma was speechless. “Are … we … actually … getting … on board a private jet?” she managed to stammer out. “I can’t believe it,” as she turned around to look at all the non-existent, well wishers, seeing her off.
Jessica was equally shocked, but more so as it became apparent that she was finally putting the trauma behind her. Then all four ascended; two handbags, a man bag and not a toothbrush between them. Billy turned right and acknowledged the man to whom he needed to speak. He came forward and minimal introductions were made all round. Nothing further was required, particularly when Mr Parrish, the aircraft owner, surmised that his cut from the three hitchhikers would finance the fuel and maintenance costs of the whole journey. They were shown to their seats and given rudimentary safety instructions. After that the owner of the jet went back to his guests, who were already becoming raucous. The steward walked up and offered the additional guests some refreshments, compliments of Mr Parrish. And before Billy departed Eduardo caught him by the arm and quietly asked, “Where are we going, by the way? Or is that a secret?”
“No, no secret. You lucky people are going to Budapest.”
“Budapest, Hungary!” exclaimed Eduardo, “bloody hell.”
“The very same. That’s where the next F1 Grand Prix is happening. So that’s where you’re going.”
“Well, I suppose, that makes sense. It’s like, how do you say in English, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’”
“It’s exactly like that, buddy.” And with that he left them, gave a thumb’s up to the pilot and skipped down the steps, knowing that he’d just added a hefty chunk to his pension.
“Now just tell me again Blister, how did you let her slip through your hands?” asked a puce faced DCI Soutar. “It’s just that the Superintendent has ordered a debriefing and I don’t want to get my facts wrong.”
DC Blister recollected his thoughts and strained them back out through his voice box in hopefully a constantly toned fashion. His worry that his sound frequency was fluctuating did not help the delivery at all. He relayed forensics’ part in the proceedings, placing considerable emphasis on the Aberdeen disaster having stretched all resources to their limits. He then continued, “Once I heard about the drugs’ traces found in the holdall, I requested a local team be sent around to re-arrest the former suspect at her home in St Boswells. Thirty minutes later, they informed me that there was no one on the premises. I then rang through to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital to ensure she had not been re-admitted. That took longer than I anticipated as the doctor in charge was not initially available, and Data Protection wouldn’t allow me …,’ he petered out on seeing the DCI’s expression.
“You didn’t have a warrant, so they used the Data Protection Act for the security of all the patients.”
“Yes Sir, but give him his due, when he cottoned on to the
seriousness of the matter, he confirmed she had been signed
out two days ago and not been back since.”
“And then?”
“And then, we put an All-ports warning to airports, ports
and railway stations whilst checking on all boarding lists for
the next few days. That’s when we got a hit with Edinburgh
Airport and so sent in the Transport Police as they were
already on site.”
“And then we lost her. Was she travelling alone?” “No Sir. We recognized her sister’s name too, Miss Emma
Flynn. She’s obviously now missing as well,” he said weakly. “So the questions have now got to be: where have they
gone and who’s helping them? I mean they can’t just be doing
it on their own, can they?”
“Well, I don’t know about that, Sir. There was some
editorial a few weeks ago about how they had travelled around
Europe getting into all sorts of scrapes.”
<
br /> “And where did they end up, then?”
“Well, they were quite the celebrities in Italy, Sir. I’ll have
to check, but I think it was Naples.”
“Well perhaps that’s our next stop!”
“Yes Sir. I’ll get on to it right away, Sir.” And with that
DC Blister felt that all was not lost, whereas the DCI’s
definition as ‘a bugger’s muddle of the first order’, was
probably closer to the truth. A definition, which he had now to
sell to the Superintendent, without confidence.
Emma was in heaven. She sank into the luxurious leather seats, closed her eyes and sighed. “Eduardo, this certainly makes up for that crappy car you nicked; have you any idea how to drive a plane?”
“Fly,” corrected Jessica.
“OK, fly, but he knew what I meant.”
“I certainly did and no I don’t. The Camorra have never,
until recently, had wealth enough to step into one of these let alone own one. But perhaps I will learn?” “It’s just fabulous, sitting here with a drink in one hand and my lovely newly released sister in the other,” she said, reaching out to Jessica’s hand for reassurance.
“Yes, and it looks like you will have more enjoyment than we thought as this flight is going a lot further east than we really need.”
Emma curled up and replied, “Is that a bad thing? How long have I got?”
“Good question,” commented Eduardo. He waved to attract the steward’s attention, and asked. The steward interrupted Mr Parrish and came back with the answer.
“The expected journey time is just under three hours, allowing for wind direction. It’s roughly 1550 miles, cruising at over 500 miles per hour. Relax and take advantage of the armrests and footrests for added comfort. Mr Parrish also asked me to inform you of the WiFi facility and in-flight entertainment. And the ladies can change and freshen up in the wash room at the rear of the jet,” he said, before embarrassingly remembering that they had not brought any luggage on board, not even a washbag.
“That’s great. Thank you, erh..?” replied Emma considerately but leaving a question in her voice.
“Victor, ma’am.”
“Well thank you Victor, you are most kind.”
“Not at all, that’s what I’m here for.” With that he was off as the pilot announced the imminent take off. The twin Pratt and Whitney turbo engines roared as the jet ate up the 1100 metres of runway before take off was completed. It rose up quickly into the cloudy Scottish sky and headed southeast towards a more welcoming, somewhat bluer and sunnier horizon.
The flight could have been a dream, and for Emma part of it was, but the courtesy shown to the unexpected passengers was not. Canapés and champagne was the order of the day and all three enjoyed these mini bites more than they had anticipated. Both Eduardo and Emma only had a token glass of the bubbly but for different reasons and Jessica celebrated in style by plumping for a second one. But, despite the distance, their trip was over all too soon, the £10,000 spent, and their new found friends already becoming old lost friends. The trio exited the private terminal as easily as they had entered the one in Glasgow. Eduardo had taken advantage of the available on board WiFi and knew that a rental vehicle would be waiting for them on landing. But it was once more the lap of luxury being exchanged for reality, well marginally anyway, as they climbed into the Audi A6 Avant TDI. A two litre engined saloon with a big job to do and as long as it performed, there would be no complaints.
Both SpiyWeb and Pernille had mapped a route taking them first west and then south towards Naples. So, preparing themselves for the long journey ahead, the three excited travellers shopped for provisions and took advantage to freshen up. Within thirty minutes they were heading in the direction of the E71, taking them southwest and heading towards Slovenia.
CHAPTER THIRTY Within another thirty minutes, DC Blister was called into the Superintendent’s office. And as he was making that 100 metres meandering walk, he imagined his career prospects plummeting and his hard work going to waste. “Yes, come in DC Blister, take a seat.” Blister sat next to his DCI as both expectantly awaited the headmaster’s judgment.
“DCI Soutar has brought me up to speed with the latest developments in the Borders serial killer debacle. So let me say at the outset, I do not hold you personally responsible for any of the recent failings. Even though this was never your case you have persistently shown flare and diligence in tracking down the killer on no less than two occasions. Unfortunately, that cannot be said for the rest of the force, nor the judicial services, either. As I understand it you even expressed your concerns to the Procurator Fiscal but was rebuffed.” Here he paused and gave the DCI a withering look, then brightened, and continued, “We therefore have a question for you, well two actually. One, how soon can you pack and fly over to Naples? There will be a flight early in the morning and we want you on it. Can you put your private life in order at such short notice? And two, who would you suggest you take with you?”
Blister thought for a moment before answering, “Well, I know who I’d want to take but he’s not a member of the force anymore.”
“Go on.”
“Former DI Barnham. He knew both girls during the murder period itself and has obviously met them since. And I honestly believe that his recall is getting stronger by the day. And with his experience…”
“You don’t need to sell him to us. It’s the same conclusion we arrived at, too. And as far as him not being in the force anymore, well I say, once a policeman, always a policeman. Can you check out his movements, see what commitments he’s got, that sort of thing. If it’s a no go, then I may send DS Tarbert along, but I don’t really want to steal your thunder. You seem to be becoming a one-man detection unit.”
Blister sprang up from the former naughty chair and left the office in search of Barnham’s phone number. He found him at home and slightly out of breath. “Haven’t caught you at a bad time, have I, Sir, erh Terry?”
“No, not at all. What makes you say that?”
“Oh, it’s just you sound out of breath, like.”
“Yes, exercising. Produces more oxygen, which is good
for the brain, helps the mind, you know,” he lied, thinking it might be true with him coming up with that on the spur of the moment. “How can I help?” he questioned, not being able to tell Blister what he was really doing and also concerned that Blister was back on the case with Jessica.
“Well, it’s a bit of a long shot, but you know the two girls we met a few weeks ago at the airport, they were coming in on a flight from Italy?” Barnham’s heart sank and he waited for a bombshell to hit.
“Two girls. Remind me? Were they sisters?”
“Yes, those girls. You met one afterwards?”
“No, not that I remember?”
“You do, when we did the first interview with her, Jessica
Lambert, is that name ringing any bells?”
“Ah, now you mention it, yes it is. Jessica Lambert. What
about her?”
“Well, it’s a bit embarrassing really. She’s given us the
slip again, when we could really do with speaking to her. But
I’ve worked out that she might be running back to Naples, you know where she came back from. There was a small village where her and her sister were feted for some reason of another. I’ve got a copy of the newspaper off the Internet. So I’ll look it up again, print it off. It will at least give us some sort of reference point in finding out exactly where they had been, and might go again. Anyway, DCI Soutar is happy for
me to take you.”
“Take me? Where?”
“With me to Italy, Naples, that small village. You have got
a passport, haven’t you? Ideally, I’ve got to set off first thing
tomorrow. Catch them unawares. Will you have time to throw
a few things in a suitcase? I’ll ring back with the flight times
> et cetera, if you’re up for it.”
“Oh, I’m up for it alright,” replied Barnham, zipping up
his luggage bag and popping his passport and boarding card
on the top. A harassed Blister rang back within the hour. “6.30 tomorrow, Air France flight from Edinburgh. Over
three hours wait Charles de Gaulle. Best I could do, though.”
Barnham knew that already as he’d been through the same
himself and decided on the Amsterdam/Rome option. He
confirmed he would be there in good time and that he was
looking forward to being in the field again. DC Blister rang
off and Barnham called up Emma’s mobile. No answer, so he
left the minimum message, hoping that everything was OK
and advising her that there had been a change of plan with his
itinerary.
Two hours later Emma rang back in a panic. “Terry,
what’s up? Why have you got to change your plans?” “And hello to you too, love. I just wanted to forewarn you
that when I arrive I won’t be alone,” he paused, waiting for a
reaction.
“Go on.”
“Well, it’s a long story but the police have rumbled Jessica
for some reason and they think she’s fleeing to Naples.” “Bloody hell, they’re not so thick after all, then.” “So where are you, have you arrived in Secondig ..,
whatever they call it?”
“No, not quite and that’s a long story too. Just a second,
… ‘and excuse you too!’ Sorry about that, we’ve just entered
Slovenia if that makes you any the wiser? We hitched a ride
on a jet; fabulous it was too, not going to travel on anything
else after that. Ended up in Hungary, Budapest Ferihegy
Airport, if I remember rightly. The owner of the jet is going to
the Grand Prix. Looks like I backed the wrong horse, hey?” “Emma, who’s that you’re talking to?” asked Jessica,
walking in on her as she was leaning against one of the
washbasins in the ladies’ toilets at the service station, fending
off other potential users.
“Oh, it’s nobody, just a friend.”