by Conrad Jones
“I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” His thoughts cleared and he focused on the situation.
“I asked you, what type of problem?” Brian stepped in and slapped him hard with the back of his hand. Jack’s head snapped sideways but he barely felt it. The side of his face felt numbed by the blow, reminding him of a pain killing injection at the dentist. He tasted blood on his tongue, unpleasant but familiar. He looked at his aggressor and thought about the answer.
“I had a puncture.”
“When?”
“What?”
“I said, when did you have a puncture, Jack?”
“Why does it matter?” Jack asked with a sigh.
“It matters because my client needs to know that you’re not reneging on the deal again, Jack, he doesn’t trust you.”
“The twins are there; give me my money and go.” Jack tried to stand up, but he got a vicious kick in the ribs for his efforts. The blow winded him and he struggled to suck air back into his lungs.
“When did you have a puncture, Jack?”
“Yesterday,” Jack gasped. His breath was coming slowly and he struggled to talk.
“When, Jack?” He was slapped hard again.
“About two o’clock,” Jack snapped and shouted. “About two o’fucking clock!”
Alfie looked at his colleague, who shook his head in disagreement. “He’s lying.”
“You’re lying, Jack, and that’s not good.” A highly polished shoe smashed into his face. Jack felt his blackened teeth crack and he could taste the coppery flavour of his blood at the back of his throat.
“What makes you think that I’m lying?” Jack shouted in desperation. He spat blood onto the linoleum kitchen floor. “I had a puncture, what’s so unusual about that?”
“We took the liberty of fitting a tracker to your van during the last deal, Jack, because our client said that you’re a dishonest man.” Alfie sat down and crossed his legs, while Brian continued to rain blows down on Jack. “So, because of the tracker, we know where you went and where you didn’t go yesterday, and you didn’t stop anywhere at two o’clock.”
“That’s how you knew that I was here?” Asked Jack, feeling very offended that he’d been fitted with a tracker during a deal which involved the sale of a nine year old boy to an online paedophile ring. How dare they?
“Oh, dear. You sound offended. Terrible infringement of your human rights, Jack?”
“Take the twins and go.” Jack wiped blood from his lips with the sleeve of his shirt.
“I’m afraid that it’s not that simple, Jack.” The man pulled out a revolver. Jack thought that it looked ancient, like the ones he’d seen in cowboy films when he was a boy. Father Paul had let him watch a few cowboy films in his room, which was the only one with a television in it. Of course, he had to earn it, but sometimes the abuse was over quickly and then he could watch the films in peace. He loved cowboy films, especially Clint Eastwood movies. If ever there was a cowboy, it was Clint.
“Are you going to kill me?” Jack asked.
“No, Jack, because you’re good at your job. Unfortunately, you’re not honest. What you need is discipline, and then you can go back about your business a better man.” The man stepped over him and pointed the gun at his groin. The child taker closed his eyes and went to his dark place to wait.
Chapter Eleven
Hayley walked through the front door of her semi-detached townhouse, seeking sanctuary from the media whirlwind. She had to run the gauntlet of the growing crowd of newspaper reporters who had set up camp outside their home. It was a four-storey red brick building with white framed windows and a slate roof. These kinds of houses were becoming the building of choice for property developers across Britain because they were tall and narrow, meaning that more homes could be built on any given piece of real estate. Karl thought it was trendy to live in a townhouse, but Hayley hated the small windows and shoebox-sized bedrooms. She could barely fit a vacuum cleaner around the beds, and although it was new it felt cramped. She kicked off her shoes and hung up her coat. Her face looked pale and gaunt, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She felt completely numb one minute and the next she would cry so hard that she thought she would choke to death. Karl had tried to comfort her in her grief but she couldn’t stand him anywhere near her. He was grieving himself, but that was irrelevant: she didn’t want him to touch her and that was that.
Karl stepped in the front door and kicked off a pair of black ankle-high boots. Behind him was a pretty woman with strawberry-blond hair tied up tightly in a bun on the back of her head. Her name was Sylvia Lees, and she was a police officer. Her role was that of Family Liaison Officer, and she had to stay with the family as the point of communication between them and the investigation. Although the kidnappers abducted the twins in Cumbria, the investigation was being handled by both the Cumbrian Force and Cheshire Constabulary, which was where they lived. Sylvia was a point of reference for the family, but she also had to monitor the family’s behaviour and report anything suspicious to her Senior Investigating Officer, Alec Ramsay. Most child abductions are family-related and as such the police liked to have eyes on the inside of the investigation. Sylvia had worked on several cases like this one, and she was picking up some unusual vibes from Karl and Hayley. She hung up her leather jacket and straightened her jumper. It was open at the neck and stretched provocatively over her firm breasts. She had noticed Karl looking at her inappropriately on more than one occasion already. The undue attention was ringing alarm bells in her mind.
“Is everything alright between you and Hayley?” Sylvia asked.
“Things are a bit strained at the moment, but under the circumstances I’m not surprised.” Karl wouldn’t meet her gaze as he answered her, and he continued to look down at his socks awkwardly. He turned away from her and fiddled about with his keys. “I think I’ve left something in the car.”
Sylvia nodded and left him in the hallway. She walked into the kitchen and saw Hayley staring at her own reflection in the window. She was holding the kettle under the tap, and was completely unaware that it had filled to overflowing and that the tap was still running. The pretty police officer turned the tap off and touched her shoulder. Hayley flinched a little and her eyes filled with tears again. Sylvia placed the kettle on the draining board and hugged her gently, while she sobbed. Outside it was growing dark and she saw Karl’s reflection in the window. He was standing in the doorway watching the two women, and Sylvia thought that it was very odd for a husband to stand by while his wife grieved openly for her children. It was odd that he did not attempt to comfort her.
“Go and sit down. I’ll make us all some tea. I need to talk to you both.” Sylvia looked at Karl for a reaction but he turned and walked away without saying a word. Hayley ignored the request and opened a cupboard. She took three matching red mugs, which clinked as she placed them near to the kettle.
“I’m okay if I keep busy. I’ll make the tea, or would you prefer coffee?” Hayley said. Her voice was thick with grief.
“Coffee would be good. Is everything all right between you and Karl?”
“What?”
“You seem very distant from one another.”
“Is it that obvious?” Hayley bit her lip to stop the tears from coming again.
“You should be carrying each other, but there seems to be a barrier between you.” The officer explained things as she saw them.
“He’s been having an affair with his brother’s wife, and he left my babies alone and now they’re gone. Apart from that everything is fine.” Hayley took a jar of coffee from the cupboard and twisted the top aggressively. It spun across the granite work surface and came to rest next to an expensive set of culinary knives that they never used. She dug a teaspoon deep into the granules and chucked a spoonful into each cup in turn.
“You mean Louise?” Sylvia was shocked, but she had to follow the line of questioning now that she’d started
it. “Louise is Steve’s wife right, the woman who was with you at the campsite?”
“Yes. Do you want sugar?”
“One, please. Are you sure about the affair?”
“Yes.”
“How long has it been going on?”
“What?”
“How long has the affair been going on?”
“I’m not sure, why does it matter?”
“Because it’s important that I know what is going on in this family; everything could have a bearing on the case, Hayley. It’s very important that you’re both honest.” Sylvia reached out and touched her hand. “Most child abductions are carried out by a member of the family. Removal by a stranger is the most unusual form of kidnap Hayley.”
Hayley looked the police officer in the eyes and spilled the sugar off the spoon. She tutted and reached for a damp dishcloth to clean up the mess with. There was a dull thud in the hallway and the sound of the front door closing.
“You have to be sure, Hayley. How long has the affair been going on?”
“I’m not sure. You can’t possibly believe that Karl has kidnapped his own children, for God’s sake.” Hayley wiped the sugar up with the cloth and then tossed it back into the sink.
“Stranger things have happened Hayley, and if you want us to get your children back then we have to keep an open mind and explore every avenue that we can.”
Hayley poured boiling water into the cups and then went to the fridge for milk. “Milk?”
“Hayley, are you sure he’s been having an affair?”
“No I’m not sure. Do you want milk or not?”
“So you think that he’s been having an affair?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think that? Have you confronted him?”
“No, I just know.”
“How do you know, Hayley?”
“I just do. Women can sense these things, can’t we?”
“Woman’s intuition; I’m not sure a divorce lawyer would put any faith in it,” Sylvia said pointedly.
“What are you talking about divorce for?” Hayley stared at her with her mouth wide open. She was shocked, but she wasn’t sure why. Karl was having an affair after all, and surely, divorce would be the next step. The thought hadn’t entered her mind until now.
“If Karl was thinking about divorcing you then he would have a motive to take the twins, Hayley.” Sylvia had to spell it out.
“Why are you saying this?” Hayley started to cry again. Her mind was befuddled with Sylvia’s theory.
“When did you first suspect that he was having an affair?”
“I think she’s answered enough questions for now, Officer.” Major Stanley Timms was standing in the kitchen doorway, and from the look on his face he’d been standing there a while. His eyes were tinged with anger.
“Dad!” Hayley put the milk down and ran to her father. She threw her arms around his neck and cried like a baby. He held her tightly and stroked the back of his daughter’s head, like he used to when she was a child.
“It’s very important that we get to the bottom of this, Mr…”
“Major,” he said. “Major Timms.”
“I see, Major. It must be a terrible shock for you but we must rule out every possible option we can.”
“Not tonight, Officer. Go home and get some sleep.”
“I’m under orders, Major; to remain with the family until the Senior Investigating Officer decides otherwise.” Sylvia stood her ground.
“You’re here at the family’s request?”
“Technically, Major.”
“Then technically leave. You’re welcome back here in the morning, but I need to be with my daughter alone tonight.” The Major spoke with a clear crisp authority in his voice. Sylvia was about to speak when a monster of a man walked into the kitchen. He looked like he’d been carved from an oak tree. There was a stern look in his icy blue eyes as they held her gaze.
“Problem, Major?” Tank said.
“Hi, John.” Hayley reached out a hand and touched his. He leaned over and kissed her cheek gently.
“Hello, trouble,” Tank replied, as he squeezed her hand.
“This is Officer…” the Major said.
“Lees, Sylvia Lees. I’m the Family Liaison Officer.”
“Sylvia was just leaving,” the Major said coldly.
“I’ll get your coat.” Tank smiled, but there was no warmth in his smile.
Sylvia realised that she was flogging a dead horse and walked towards the doorway. She paused and looked at Hayley before stepping into the hallway. Hayley tried to smile at her through her tears but she couldn’t manage it, she buried her head into her father’s chest again, her body shook with sobs. Hayley needed his embrace now. The touch of her father soothed her burning. He smelled of Old Spice and pipe tobacco; he smelled safe.
“I’ll walk you to your car, Officer Lees.” Tank smiled again warmly this time and Sylvia almost went weak at the knees. He was tall and handsome, and built like a battleship. “Is this your coat?”
“Yes, thank you.” She felt like a schoolgirl and giggled nervously. She struggled into her jacket and Tank straightened it at the collar for her. “Thank you,” she blushed.
Tank moved towards the front door and opened it for her. She stepped out into the evening air and Tank followed her. There was a torrent of questions fired from the melee of reporters held at the end of the driveway by uniformed officers.
“It looks like the circus has arrived,” Tank said, looking at the clicking cameras.
“It’s par for the course on a case like this. Missing children are big news I’m afraid,” Sylvia sighed.
“What can you tell me about the investigation, Sylvia?”
“Nothing.” She stopped and turned towards him. “It’s obvious that you’re a friend of the family, but I can’t share any information with you.”
“My name is John Tankersley. I’m lead agent for a counter-terrorist unit.” He flashed her an identity badge unlike any that that she’d ever seen before.
“I’m sorry, which constabulary are you with?” She asked confused.
“I’m not in the police force, Sylvia.”
“But you said you’re with a counter-terrorist unit?”
“Yes, I’m military.”
“Oh, like Special Forces?” She walked towards her car.
“Yes, like Special Forces.”
“Well, Mr Special Forces, I still can’t tell you anything about the investigation.” She opened the car door and climbed in. She sat holding the steering wheel for a moment as if she were thinking about something. Tank brought himself level with her and crouched down.
“Look off the record, have you got any suspects?” He asked.
“Suspects are about all we have at the moment,” she said, looking into his blue eyes. She could get lost in them, she thought.
“Forensics?”
“I really can’t talk to you about the investigation, John.” She shook her head.
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything that a hundred people at your police station, and their families, don’t already know,” he laughed. His eyes sparkled when he smiled, and lines creased the corners of his eyes.
“It’s too early for any forensics yet. We should have the first reports in tomorrow,” she replied without committing herself.
“What have you got to go on?”
“Two missing children, taken from a campsite in the Lake District, and evidence of a sophisticated decoy used to distract the parents.” She reached into the glove box and took out a packet of menthol cigarettes.
“What type of decoy?”
“Someone placed a wireless speaker in the woods and used it to play the sound of a baby in distress.” She flipped open her Zippo and lit it; Tank moved back from the smoke. She inhaled deeply and then blew out before speaking again. “According to the father’s statement he went to help the distressed baby, found the speaker and when he returned the children were gone
.”
“It was well planned and well executed,” Tank said.
“That’s how it appears.” She nodded her head and drew deeply on the smoke again.
“You must have a list of suspects who are capable of pulling this off?”
“We do, but it’s a very long list,” she replied.
“Have you ruled out kidnap?”
“No one has asked for a ransom as yet,” she shrugged.
“What other avenues are you going down?”
“We haven’t ruled anything out yet, including family members.” she blew smoke towards him.
“It seems unlikely, considering the decoy.” Tank mused, fishing for more information.
“It wouldn’t be the first elaborate hoax manufactured by a family member, and none of the family adults were there at the time of the abduction, so we have to keep that door open.” She rolled her eyes towards the press. “This lot don’t help one bit. People see missing children convert into headlines, exclusive interviews with the family and pound signs.”
“Do you think they were stolen to order?”
She looked at him hard, and swallowed. The cigarette had burned to the filter and she tossed it onto the lawn before answering. Tank frowned and picked it up. He rolled it between his finger and thumb.
“It doesn’t matter what I think happened, we have to keep an open mind.” She started the engine and smiled sadly. “There is a Major Investigation Team working flat out on this case, which has thirty senior detectives headed up by our most experienced Detective Inspector, Alec Ramsay. I’m a very small cog in a very big wheel.”
“Is he any good?” Tank raised an eyebrow.
“The best around at the moment, earmarked as the next Superintendent they say.”
“Good. If you were him, what would you think is happening?”
“That’s pure speculation,” she smiled.
“Granted, but I’d appreciate your opinion.” He stepped away from the car. She closed the door and opened the window so that they could still converse.
“Okay, yes. I think that they were stolen to order,” she said slowly.