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Call to Witness

Page 24

by Coleman, Spencer;


  ‘I know who you are…Michael has mentioned your name. Have you ID?’

  The man passed him a business card and various credit cards.

  Marcus looked baffled, and said: ‘I can’t get my head around how you can be with me when –’

  His blood ran cold.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ he suddenly screamed.

  The man took a step back in surprise.

  Marcus fumbled in his pocket and tossed the shop keys over the counter towards the journalist, then grabbed his mobile phone and made for the door.

  ‘My gut instinct tells me you are telling the truth…I’m out of here, lock up as you leave.’

  With that, Marcus ran like the wind from his place of work. He ran blindly for all his life was worth without stopping to catch his breath.

  He was on a mission.

  Kara. Just what had they planned for Kara?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Michael and Agnes stood apprehensively on the pier. A small motor boat approached, the pilot hidden from view by the fixed canopy at the fore. Rather more unnerving, Vladimir steadied himself at the stern by way of a metal railing. The engine throttled back.

  In the distance, the shimmering lights from a handsome one hundred and forty foot yacht reflected in the smooth lagoon. Vlad pointed with his finger. Zebra One, Michael surmised. Faint music could just be detected from the alluring vessel as it gently swayed on its anchor, its three tall masts striking majestically skyward.

  Michael scanned the harbour. It was busy. Tourists ambled along, oblivious to the fact that the police were among them, lying in wait. Michael prayed that they were. He felt utterly sick in the stomach. The call from Theo disturbed him, and Kara wasn’t answering her phone.

  Agnes tried to calm him. Beyond the lagoon, magical under a full moon, he wondered what was in store once they reached the yacht. Would Julius really be on board? This didn’t add up…

  Vladimir stepped ashore and took Agnes’s hand and supported her as she stepped down on the tiny deck. Michael followed, pushing the henchman’s hand away forcibly. He didn’t need assistance, and certainly not from a thug. Later, it would be payback time. He hadn’t forgotten what happened in the alley.

  The light wind caught in their hair as the small craft revved up and pulled away from Pier 14. Michael sat back and placed an arm around Agnes’s shoulder as they huddled together. There was no going back on this one. Courage was the order of the day, but for Michael, a sense of terror began to strangle the very power surge he had felt earlier. He looked back toward the pier, hoping to spot another boat following at a distance. There was none. Had the police cocked up? For now, he was just one man against the odds. And he didn’t like the odds one bit.

  As they approached Zebra One, he could hear jovial voices and saw many people on the deck. It was a party of sorts. Couples were dancing.

  He felt more at ease. Then his mobile bleeped.

  Curiously, it was Marcus. His distant voice was straining, and difficult to grasp against the noise of the whining engine.

  ‘Speak more slowly, Marcus…’

  ‘I said why the fuck didn’t you return my call?’

  ‘What’s the problem? You sound agitated.’

  ‘The shit has hit the fan. Where are you?’

  Michael tried to shield his phone. ‘The shit…what? Oh, Christ, what has happened, Marcus?’

  Agnes stared at him with a deep, quizzical frown. Just then the tiny boat swung to the stern of Zebra One and disappeared on the blind side. Michael could read the banner tied to the railings on the yacht, which announced gleefully:

  “THE LOVE BOAT: HAPPY WEDDING DAY!”

  Something definitely wasn’t right. He could hear Marcus screaming in his ear, as he quickly realised that they were now out of sight of anyone on their tail…assuming the police boat that should be following at a safe distance was in fact there. Oh fuck.

  He heard Marcus’s abrupt words slam home: ‘Martin Penny isn’t dead…he’s alive… and Kara has gone missing…I think she has been abducted. Where are you? Are you still listening to me?’

  Suddenly, before he could answer Marcus, the speedboat increased power and veered away from Zebra One, its frothing wake cascading against the side of the steep black hull as it receded into the background. Those on board ignored the minor commotion, hell-bent on enjoying the party, blissfully dancing to the rhythmic blast from the disco music.

  The line to Marcus suddenly disconnected. Michael now knew the brutal truth…Zebra One was a clever diversion. They were never going to step aboard… It was a decoy, intended to act as an elaborate cover to lure them into a false sense of security. But for what dreadful purpose?

  Instinctively, Michael quickly removed the SIM card from his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket just as Vladimir lunged menacingly forward, his immense bulk bearing down on them.

  Vladimir grabbed Michael by the shoulder, yanked the now defunct phone from his grip and tossed it into the churning water. Agnes tried to intervene but was slapped down by the force of the henchman’s trigger-happy backhand swipe across the face.

  Michael was horrified. They were in dire trouble, trapped in a speeding boat at full throttle with a madman and heading into nothingness, the lights from the distant yacht diminishing by the second. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  Then, to his utter disbelief, a familiar hulking figure loomed into view from the cabin brandishing a shotgun. A satanic grin creased the wild-eyed face, her piercing laughter chilling the night air.

  Agnes had never seen such a murderous expression. Michael had.

  Maggie.

  ***

  Marcus was in a sheer panic, unable to get his head straight. Think, man!

  After phoning Michael, he searched the apartment for any clue which would help to find out what happened to Kara. There was nothing. She had been snatched in a second. All he knew was that she was missing, taken by a stranger. He frantically questioned Kara’s mother but she was in no fit state to understand how serious this had become, attempting to calm a bawling baby at the same time as trying to make sense of why her daughter had been snatched. She kept repeating the name Terry.

  Marcus cleared his head. Kara had been kidnapped, but by whom? It certainly wasn’t Terry Miles.

  Luckily, the police in the undercover vehicle saw what had happened and recorded the registration number of the departing car. An APB had been put out over London, but Marcus knew it was a long-shot to be able to chase them down, or even find them in the rush hour. Kara had been taken and the police were powerless to act. She had simply vanished into thin air. Little Harvey cried hysterically. Kara’s mum paced the floor, crying too, desperately comforting the baby in her soothing embrace and failing miserably. A woman police officer made tea as Marcus tried to fathom out what he could do next. It was mayhem.

  Outside, the road was overflowing with police cars, their blue lights fracturing the blackness of the night. Uniformed officers crowded the room. Earlier, Marcus felt strong and in control…and thought he knew what he was doing. Now he was reduced to a quivering wreck. He took hold of his son and began to sob too. He felt worthless and foolish: Whatever made him believe he could somehow defeat this evil on his own?

  ***

  Kara knelt on an oily concrete floor, frightened and cold. In the semi-darkness she could make out a single mattress next to her, covered by a thin blanket. Atop a tea chest, a mug of water was just within her reach. Her movement was restricted by her left wrist handcuffed to an old creaking radiator, which was barely lukewarm. She shivered and silently prayed for her life.

  She heard footsteps and bit her lip. She was at the mercy of this madman. The door inched open. The man who called himself Terry entered the room, shining a torch in her face. Momentarily, she was blinded.

  ‘Who are you?’ Kara demanded.

  ‘My name is Theo.’

  ‘Well, fuck you, Theo!’

  He smirked: ‘That I would enjoy…


  ‘I want to see my son.’

  ‘You’ll need divine intervention for that to happen.’

  She wouldn’t back down, defiant to the last.

  ‘What do you want, wacko?’

  ‘Patience, my dear. All will be revealed to you in good time…’

  ‘I haven’t done anything to you.’

  ‘A fair point, but you need to meet with someone who does have a grievance.’

  Maggie.

  ‘Tell her to go fuck herself…’

  ‘Oh, you can do that yourself, face to face tomorrow but unfortunately for you I won’t be around to be the referee…you see, this room is soundproof and any screams will be lost to the outside world. And believe me, there will be screams, but I’ll be away, attending to other business.’

  ‘…And what business will that be?’

  He laughed.

  ‘I’ll be digging a grave. You should get some sleep…it will be a long night for you.’

  ***

  Marcus was aware of a sudden commotion at the front door. A girl burst in, shouting his name. A police woman stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Marcus asked, catching sight of the intruder for the first time.

  She was breathless. ‘My name is Gemma. I saw Kara earlier this afternoon and we were working on something together…I have information which was important to her, so I was calling by. Then I saw the police cordon at the end of the road, and they told me what had happened. I blagged my way in…’

  Marcus was bewildered. ‘What information?’

  ‘Has she been kidnapped?’ the girl asked.

  Marcus looked shell-shocked. ‘What did you say your name was..?’

  ‘Gemma, I work with Michael Strange.’

  Not another one. ‘And you’ve met Kara…?’

  She was growing impatient: ‘Yes! Has Kara been…’

  He nodded in desperation. ‘We believe so, by a man who called himself Terry Miles, but I know that was a lie.’

  One of the policemen asked: ‘What is this information you have…?’

  ‘This man is called Theo Britton.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Marcus said, confused. He was joined by a detective in plain clothes.

  ‘You need to trust me on this, Marcus,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve had a run-in with him and he’s a very nasty character.’

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel better, Gemma.’

  ‘I’ve been doing some research on the internet. You get nothing on Theo Britton or his associates. However, my family have ties with him. His real name is Theo Lakis, a Greek hoodlum who works mainly in the London and Birmingham areas. His father was at one time a big crime lord in the East End of the city.’

  ‘Your family? How the hell…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how I know…let’s just say I have contacts.’

  The detective smirked. ‘Are you for real?’

  She caught his eye. ‘You’d better believe it.’

  Marcus had nothing else to hold onto. He lowered his head, defeated.

  Gemma pitched in, ignoring the withering looks that surrounded her.

  ‘I’ve found out that Theo owns a disused lock-up warehouse at Shoreditch.’

  The detective rolled his eyes. Marcus looked up and caught her gaze.

  ‘It’s called Britton House,’ she said.

  ‘That’s it!’ the detective shouted, grabbing for his phone and rushing for the door. Suddenly she was super-hero number one.

  Marcus too rushed forward and kissed Gemma on the lips, leaving the poor girl staring into space. In a flash, he was gone too as he brushed past her and raced after the waiting police car.

  He just had to believe…

  ***

  The solitary landing light came into view, stuck on the end of an old, rickety, wooden jetty. Beyond, Michael could make out a small strip of land of some kind appearing slowly through the mist over the lagoon. A single fisherman’s hut, built of stone and planks, stood as the only landmark on the island.

  Vlad steered in. Maggie, shotgun in hand, yelled her orders to disembark as the tiny boat came alongside the jetty. As he did so, Michael glanced over his shoulder, searching for any activity on the water…any sign of help. There was none. They were prisoners of their own making.

  Vladimir led the way over the shingle, dragging Agnes as he went. Maggie prodded Michael in the back with the barrel of the weapon, gleefully aware of her overpowering control of the situation. At the hut, Vladimir unlocked the huge padlock, flung open the rusty door and pushed his captive into the blackness. Michael followed reluctantly, after enduring a sharp crack to the spine from the gun butt. The door shut firmly behind them. In the gloom, he felt sure that they were not alone.

  ‘Who’s in here?’ he asked warily, lifting Agnes to her feet.

  He was met by a whimpering, frightened response.

  ‘There are two of us – our names are Julius and Antonia. Who are you?’

  ‘Christ,’ Michael said in shock. ‘Julius, it’s Michael…Michael Strange!’

  ‘My God…’

  Michael suddenly felt a fumbled embrace in the black and damp air.

  ‘How long have you been trapped here?’ Michael asked.

  ‘A few hours, hard to tell…who are you with?’

  Ghostly human shapes began to materialise as their eyes adjusted in the darkness that surrounded them.

  Michael spoke first. ‘This is Agnes, a dear friend…she has a gallery just off St Mark’s Square.’

  ‘I know of it. Did Maggie drag you here, on the pretext of a party?’ Julius asked.

  ‘You guessed correctly, although we were duped by her accomplice, Theo, and his gorilla.’

  ‘This is one clever trap…’ Julius whispered.

  ‘…And I don’t think the planned outcome is a happy one,’ Agnes said. She summed up their predicament, offering hope and despair in the same breath, adding: ‘The police will be looking for us, and are probably searching Zebra One as we speak. However, they will be unaware at this stage that the yacht was simply a decoy.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have a clue where we have been taken,’ Michael said, finishing her line of thought. Cold reality struck home. Then he thought of what Marcus had said: Kara was missing…

  Somehow they had to find a way to escape, and fast.

  ‘The police know of this?’ Julius asked, his voice heightened in renewed optimism.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Agnes responded quickly. ‘We gave them a tip-off that something was likely to happen, but…’

  Her voice trailed off.

  Silence prevailed, as the four of them realised the awful mess they were in. They were at the mercy of Maggie.

  Antonia finally dared to speak: ‘What’s going to happen to us?’

  No one wanted to answer her.

  ***

  The police quietly closed in on the perimeter fence which surrounded the warehouse, one of a dozen run-down buildings on an industrial estate near Shoreditch. They manoeuvered stealthily and silently until the place was under total surveillance. Snipers hid on the flat roof opposite the main entrance to the building which, they believed, held captive the woman named Kara Scott. What was unknown, and caused the biggest concern, was just who else was in there with her and what firearms they possessed.

  The police operation so far was quick, slick and deadly in its intent.

  For the first time, Marcus felt a sense of hope.

  ***

  At the perimeter fence, a tramp wrapped in a filthy blanket dozed, mumbling and cursing to himself in the cold. Without warning, he was kicked awake.

  To his astonishment, he was confronted by a uniformed officer, covered head to foot in black camouflage with his face masked, brandishing a short muzzle machine-gun. The order was specific: scarper in double quick time.

  He did, without protest. But his astonishment was merely a pretence.

  If the officer had engaged in him in conversation, he would n
o doubt have been surprised by the expensive diamond lodged in the tramp’s perfect set of white teeth. But no one cared about this seemingly bedraggled man…he was but a small distraction in the great scheme of things. They were after bigger fish. He was just one of life’s losers.

  ***

  Michael frantically searched for a weapon, but he was quickly disappointed.

  ‘I have this,’ Julius volunteered, holding up a rope in the gloom.

  ‘That’ll do, Michael said. ‘We need to get them to open the door, and entice them in.’

  ‘One of us can pretend to be ill,’ Antonia suggested, raising all their spirits for a few fleeting moments.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Agnes said, ‘I can scream with the best of them. I always fancied myself as an actress…’

  ‘We’ll take them by surprise, as it is very dark and our movements are not easy to detect,’ Michael added.

  ‘It’s all we have,’ Julius said weakly.

  ***

  The signal came, deadly and silent. The storming of the warehouse by the police began as the armed teams moved in, smashing down the steel doors with force and speed, with the intent of bewildering Kara’s abductors and causing chaos as smoke bombs filled the air.

  The operation lasted less than sixty seconds. There was no resistance. They soon discovered the captive alone and hysterical, chained like a dog to a radiator in a darkened locked room at the rear of the building. There was no guard, long gone no doubt. Had there been a tip-off?

  Moments later, having been given the all clear, Marcus raced across the car park and into Kara’s trembling embrace. Wrapped in a silver security blanket, she sobbed and held him tight. Both knew that she was lucky to escape with her life. The thought of what might have happened made them hold on to each other and shudder. Gemma had saved Kara’s life, Marcus was sure of that.

 

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