The words sounded desperate even to me.
McAllister didn’t reply. Child kept digging. It was like I’d ceased to interest them.
‘You aren’t going to cover it,’ I insisted. ‘Two people missing. Both connected to you. There’s a file in my office a mile thick that points to you. When my partner picks up that information he’s going to be taking a trip to your farm. You’re screwing up, McAllister.’
‘Keep talking, Flynn,’ McAllister said. ‘Ray’s going to be a while.’
‘Suit yourself,’ I said. ‘But when your file is handed over you’ll be crawling with cops. They’ll tear your little game to bits.’
McAllister hissed smoke behind me. ‘So maybe we’ll pay a visit to your office and borrow the file,’ he said.
‘You’ll be too late. My partner will be there tonight.’
‘That would scare me,’ McAllister said, ‘if I thought your partner was working the night shift. But I think your sidekick’s at home with his feet up or his leg over. I think you’re full of shit, Flynn.’
‘You have my phone,’ I said. ‘Check the messages.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘You’ll see.’
Five yards away Ray Child quit his spade work to take a breather. The undergrowth was tough. He’d barely cleared a six-by-three area and taken the soil a couple of inches down. I wasn’t complaining. He could take all night.
‘Pull the trigger, Paul,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to get any peace until Mr Snoopy is out of it. Why isn’t he doing the spade-work?’
Wouldn’t work. I dig slow.
But I knew that McAllister couldn’t care less whether they dropped me in an hour or right now. Suggestions like Child’s I could do without.
McAllister was silent behind me. The dancing of his flashlight told me that he’d pulled out my mobile and was pressing buttons. Curiosity and all that. He didn’t believe there was anything to give him a problem but he couldn’t resist a peek. There was only one message in my inbox and I knew by the continued silence that McAllister had found it.
‘What’s this?’ he said.
‘A message from my partner. He’ll be heading back to the office anytime now. He’ll pick up my note then stash your file somewhere safe.’
‘Is there a problem?’ Child asked.
‘Maybe,’ said McAllister. ‘Looks like Snoopy’s as good as his word. Okay Flynn, what’s this text about?’
‘Just like it says. That’s my partner confirming that he got my message to call by at the office if I don’t contact him by ten. He’ll read my note pointing to your farm. There’s a couple of them will be round there tonight. Maybe you can just shoot them all.’
‘They can look all they like,’ McAllister said. ‘There’s nothing to find there.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You had the girl at the cottage right here. But the farm was where I was headed tonight. If I go missing everything will point to you, McAllister. You’re not going to put out that fire.’
‘So you want to see us burn, Flynn?’ Child pulled the spade out of the ground and came towards me. Just a few feet more and he’d be within McAllister’s line of fire. When he swung the shovel I’d be ready.
‘Wait,’ said McAllister.
Child stopped.
‘We’ll go back to the house,’ McAllister decided. ‘I need to put a lid on this.’
‘Let’s bury him first,’ Child said. ‘Save listening to any more hot air.’
‘No. I want you to get to their office before his partner. Take everything that matters, including Snoopy’s note. We’ll come back out here when I’ve had a good look at what they have.’
I breathed out quietly against the bark of the tree. I’d needed McAllister to buy that one. It was only a delay but it would give me time – and this time there’d be just the two of us. McAllister was a cold case but I could maybe work it.
Child looked like a kid who’d had his sweets stolen. He planted the spade and picked up his shotgun. McAllister aimed the torch back down the track.
‘Walk,’ he said.
I didn’t need a second invitation.
We walked back down to the lane and went in through the cottage garden.
Child opened the house door and switched on the lights.
The parlour was old-fashioned but without charm. Cheap furniture and frayed carpets, nothing to say it was ever lived in. Just an untraceable rental. Somewhere for McAllister to keep his abductees.
An IKEA coffee table held an ash tray overflowing with cigarette butts, and a doorway to the back kitchen gave a view of unwashed cups and takeaway cartons. Someone had been staying here and someone else had been watching them. My guess was that Rebecca Townsend had spent the last ten days in the house. Maybe Tina Brown too.
‘Give me your jacket,’ McAllister said.
I turned and gave him a puzzled look. McAllister’s eyes stayed uninterested but his gun twitched and Child started to move towards me. I didn’t fancy another tap in the face so I took off the jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. McAllister waggled the Mossberg some more.
‘Pockets.’
‘The office keys are in my jacket,’ I said. ‘Or are you looking for fivers?’
The gun dipped to point at my feet. I turned out my pockets. There was nothing there. Ray Child rooted through my jacket. Came out with a Swiss knife, a dry-cleaning ticket I’d lost and a bunch of keys.
‘These open up the office?’ McAllister asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Don’t leave the lights on.’
His eyebrows raised.
‘You’re a very funny man, Mr Flynn,’ he said. ‘You should be on the telly. Probably pays more than snooping, and I hear it’s better for your health.’
‘I had a bad career advisor,’ I said.
McAllister gestured to an armchair in the corner of the room.
‘Make yourself comfy, Flynn,’ he said. He handed the Merc’s keys to Child.
‘Put your foot down,’ he said. ‘In and out before Mr Snoopy’s friend pokes his nose in at the office. If the guy does arrive while you’re there, close him down.’
Child turned his ugly smile on me. ‘Maybe we can put your whole firm out of business tonight, Flynn,’ he said. ‘If he turns up at the wrong time your private dick partner will wish he’d never read your text. Stayed safe in front of his telly.’
Shaughnessy never watched TV but Child didn’t know it.
Neither had he read any text, but I didn’t mention that either.
CHAPTER thirty-nine
When Child had gone McAllister relaxed on the sofa with the gun across his lap where he could swing it up if need arose. I calculated how long Child would be gone. An hour into central London. Twenty minutes at the office. An hour back. We had two hours plus to kill.
‘Let’s see if my assumptions are right,’ I said. ‘You’ve just extorted half a mill’ from the Slaters.’
McAllister lit a cigarette but wasn’t talking. Most villains can’t shut up. It’s the criminal ego, the urge to air their special philosophy on life, as if talking their delusions through makes them true. Villains never see their own uselessness. They paper over the question of worth with a code of respect. If they are respected it must mean they’re worthwhile. They never figure that it just means that everyone’s scared of them.
McAllister wasn’t the delusional type. He was the worse breed, the one driven by meanness rather than ego. McAllister just enjoyed doing bad things. It was the taking that was important. McAllister wouldn’t have earned his bread legitimately if it could have pulled in ten times the dosh. Villains like McAllister didn’t want your respect. They wanted the raw thing - fear.
To McAllister I was a fly in the ointment and he needed me out. The reason he wasn’t talking to me was that he didn’t give a damn.
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p; ‘I’m guessing three quarters of a million,’ I persisted. ‘That’s a good take-home for a few days work.’
McAllister watched smoke clouds eddying under the ceiling but I knew he was listening.
‘We’ve got three families in our files,’ I said. ‘We’ve got Alpha Security and the blackmail thing, the ties to Tina Brown. And the trail is backed up in our online servers no matter what Child comes back with. He isn’t going to wipe the slate clean in half an hour, Paul.’
McAllister sucked hard on the cigarette. Finally opened up.
‘Who do you think I am, Flynn?’ he said. He was still watching the ceiling. ‘Some kind of amateur? Do you think your two-bit outfit frightens me?’ He didn’t look frightened. ‘Let me explain something,’ he said.
So even McAllister couldn’t resist a little yackity. It was probably the boredom.
‘I don’t give a damn what’s in your computers,’ he said. ‘I actually assume there’s nothing there. Everything you’ve got will be squirrelled away in the paper file the hobgoblin’s gone to fetch. There won’t be enough left at your agency for the filth to even send me a birthday card.’
Hobgoblin! I wondered how Ray would like that one. Maybe I could work it into the conversation when Child got back, stir up a fight whilst I dived through the window.
‘So what’s the big deal?’ I said. ‘How come you and your goblin are waving your sticks at everyone?’
‘You were rocking the boat, Flynn,’ McAllister said. ‘Becoming a dangerous bastard. Our business depends on discretion. Peace and quiet. When Ray gets back we’ll take that walk into the woods and then I’ll get my peace and quiet again.’
I thought about that.
‘Let’s see if I have it figured out,’ I said. ‘You stake out wealthy families. Not so rich that they have minders or the money to come after you, but rich enough to get their hands on upwards of a million inside a week or two. Then you fete the man of the house at a five-star hotel with a five-star hooker thrown in. That’s the bit that stumped me at first. Was it just a phoney business deal to feel the guys out before you went for the kids? That didn’t make sense. You already knew that the families were sitting ducks. I was intrigued that you booked the hotel suite for three nights when your guest was only staying one. The extra nights had to be to set things up. Cameras and things. So we’re looking at a honeytrap blackmail. But this thing’s supposed to be about taking the kids.’
I watched McAllister. He blew a long stream of smoke and watched it rise to the ceiling.
‘Finally I got it,’ I said. ‘The thing with the hooker actually is blackmail. You set up a phoney business meeting that’s not intended to come to anything, but you throw in a night on the town for your guest anyway, with your girl as an irresistible extra. If the guy falls into the trap then you’ve got your blackmail ammo. Only the blackmail’s not for money. Sex-blackmail isn’t going to bring in half a mill’. Kidnapping the kids brings in the money. The blackmail kicks in afterwards.’
McAllister was still watching the ceiling. I couldn’t tell whether he was pleased that someone had worked out his caper or didn’t give a damn. Guessed the latter. I went on anyway. I always talk when I’m nervous.
‘The whole thing’s about repeat business,’ I said. ‘The ideal kidnap and ransom scheme is one you can repeat - one that the cops never hear about. The thing never gets out because you’ve got the father by the balls. The family pays the ransom and the kid is sent home with the usual threats that you’ll come looking for them if they blow the whistle. The threats are enough to make them think twice but not enough to keep them quiet for long. So that’s where you enlist the help of the man of the house. You show him the movies of his weekend away and persuade him that it’s his job to make sure his wife and kid clam up permanently. He’s your Trojan horse, working for you inside the family. His wife is screaming for the cops but the husband stands his ground, persuades her that the cops won’t be able to protect them. Persuades her that it’s better to cut their losses. What he doesn’t tell his wife is what he’s really afraid of - those movies. The ones of him in bed with the villains’ hooker. What’s his wife going to say when she hears it was his bit of fun that gave the crooks the opportunity to target their children in the first place?’
I nodded a reluctant acknowledgement to McAllister’s scheme. ‘You’ve got the ideal caper,’ I said. ‘You’ve got the family while you’re holding their child, then when you release the kid you get the husband to lock their front door. He makes sure that the thing never gets out.’
‘For a two-bit private eye,’ McAllister said, ‘you’re pretty smart, Flynn. The sooner we take that walk into the woods the better.’
‘So how many have you done?’ I said. ‘How many repeats? Five? Ten? Or were you just getting started? I know the McCabe family is lined up. Were they next?’
‘Not the McCabes,’ McAllister said. ‘They were our little failure. Tina had the guy drooling over his dinner jacket but the retentive bastard sent her packing at the last minute. You win some, you lose some,’ he said. ‘No dirty movies so no snatch. But we’ve got others lined up.’
‘Was Tina Brown part of your scheme? Did she babysit the kids? Or was she only the bait? I’m still trying to figure why you buried her up there in the woods.’
McAllister looked at me. Raised the Mossberg and pointed it my way, kind of playfully.
‘Ask her yourself,’ he said. ‘You’ll soon be friends.’
‘I’m saying she wasn’t in on it,’ I said. ‘All she knew was that she was hired to supply a little corporate hospitality. You killed Tina because she found out.’
McAllister lit up another cigarette and lapsed into silence again. No longer interested.
‘You had Tina’s phone,’ I deduced, ‘and you picked up Sammy’s message about Eagle Eye searching for her. I guess that spooked you. Enough to entice me to your farm.’
McAllister pursed his girlish lips and opened up again with a weary sigh. ‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘sending you that text today was a long shot. That was the goblin’s brainwave. I told him that not even you would be stupid enough to walk into a trap like that. I stand duly corrected.’
Not that it seemed to matter to him.
‘How long did you think you could keep your scheme quiet?’ I said. ‘Once or twice I could buy. But when you keep going back, no matter how tight your operation is, there’s going to be a crack sooner or later. Maybe a family that isn’t intimidated. A wife who won’t be kept quiet by her husband. A husband who’s been caught before, doesn’t see your dirty pictures as such a big threat.’
‘You’re wrong,’ McAllister said. ‘We do our homework. Our husbands are all kosher. Clean peckers, the lot of them – at least as far as anyone knows, which is what counts. These are gentlemen of standing in the community. They all have very good reasons to avoid bad publicity. And our Tina could tempt a saint. She was truly wonderful at her art.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘I’ve got pictures that would shock you.’
‘Alpha Security organised that side of it,’ I said. ‘A full-service operation.’
McAllister talked to the ceiling again. ‘Roker thinks we’re just scamming the husbands for fifty thou’. The real game’s just between me and Ray.’
He still hadn’t told me why they’d buried Tina Brown.
‘There’s no foolproof caper,’ I said. ‘Sooner or later your racket is going to come unravelled.’
‘Not the way we work,’ McAllister said. ‘We take very great care. The thing isn’t going to come out. Ever.’
‘Maybe it won’t be the families,’ I suggested. ‘Maybe the thing will be brought down from the outside. You’re looking at proof of that right now.’
‘I’m looking at bad luck. Unlikely to recur. And now that the Slater girl is back and telling her mates that nothing happened do you think anyone will keep stirring?�
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‘Eagle Eye will keep stirring,’ I promised, ‘until you and the hobgoblin are hatching your schemes behind bars.’
‘I tremble,’ McAllister said. ‘Truly I do.’
‘Why keep going back?’ I asked. ‘You must have made a stash already. Whatever you say about the thing being tight you know it must crack sooner or later. Are you just greedy, Paul?’
McAllister thought that one through. He pursed his lips and gazed into space and for a while I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he looked at me and gave me his conclusion: ‘The fact is,’ he said, ‘I enjoy it. I like to see those families pee their pants. I like to see Daddy’s face when we show him the pictures, when he realises that he’s responsible for his kid being targeted.’ He gestured around the room. ‘I like it when the kids are here. Spoiled brats seeing the world in a new light. The Hanlon girl was a treat. She got it into her head that we were sex fiends, out to rape and murder her. She wet her pants on the bed upstairs. It wasn’t difficult to get her to put on a convincing tone when she called her parents. It was wonderful stuff.’
I thought it through. Gave him my conclusion.
‘McAllister,’ I said, ‘you’re a piece of shit.’
He nodded in agreement. Didn’t care.
I nattered on but McAllister just smoked and ignored me. Time dragged. It was getting cold in the parlour. Luckily I was used to crashing at Eagle Eye. Two and a half hours had gone by and I was beginning to wonder whether Child had perhaps got involved in an accident or had had a stroke, or maybe got religion and wasn’t coming back. Wishful thinking. At twenty to eleven I heard the Merc pull up outside.
When Child came in he had the Slater card file. He hadn’t needed to search. Picked it straight off my rolltop. It couldn’t have taken him more than five seconds to spot it, five minutes to check that the file was the only thing he needed. I made a note to be less tidy in future. Whatever future there was.
Child went through to the kitchen to crack a beer then came and sat on the sofa arm whilst McAllister flicked through the paperwork – the telephone numbers, addresses and hotel bills. Not so much, really. Nothing that looked irreparable to him.
Behind Closed Doors Page 25