Rock, Paper, Scissors

by B Baskerville

  - Chapter 30 -

  Cooper, Tennessee and Keaton huddled around an ancient computer monitor in CID. Keaton had made a FaceTime call to Tennessee and placed her phone in the corner of the hallway so it was partially hidden behind a bin. As long as they kept one eye on Tennessee’s screen, they’d have at least a forty-second head start if anyone was going to disturb them.

  “What am I looking for?” asked Keaton as she opened an internal search engine.

  “Unmarked cars, registered here at HQ, North Shields or Whitley Bay.”

  “Okay. Got them.”

  “Narrow the search to vans, then sort by colour,” Cooper instructed.

  “Done.”

  “How many are black?”

  “Four.”

  “How many are N-reg?”

  “Two. Right, give me a second. I’ll see where they were on the night Macey went missing. Here we go. One was getting into position for a dawn raid in Benton. Checked out eight p.m. and returned the next day at seven thirty a.m. Peterson and Myers had the other one in Seaton Sluice. They were staking out a carwash on modern slavery allegations. Looks like all the Is are dotted and the Ts are crossed. Checked out at twelve noon. Back by six p.m.”

  Cooper folded her arms. “Good. That’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “Can you imagine the press?” Keaton asked.

  “That wouldn’t bear thinking about.”

  Tennessee picked up his phone. “Nixon’s coming.”

  Within seconds the computer was switched off, Tennessee was pretending to do paperwork, Keaton was watching the news on the antique television and Cooper was examining the map of Northumbria that was still pinned to the wall.

  “What now?” whispered Tennessee.

  “For now, we do our jobs,” said Cooper. “Later, we meet back up and take a little drive.”

  * * *

  Snuggled between Tynemouth and Whitley Bay, Cullercoats was a perfect crescent of golden sand, contained at each side by matching piers. The beach was favoured by the local kayaking community who, during good conditions, would kayak beyond the piers and head three kilometres south to King Edwards Bay for a hearty kipper breakfast at Riley’s Fish Shack, before paddling back to their starting point.

  Tennessee let out a long, low whistle as he watched two kayakers drag a tandem back up the sands, their bare feet sinking deeper into the sand the further from the shoreline they walked. “A sea view? Very nice.”

  Behind him, Cooper and Keaton took in a double-fronted, terraced home with three storeys of bay windows. It was indeed very nice, idyllic even. “Come on,” she said checking her watch. “Let’s take a look around the back.”

  Keaton cast furtive glances over her shoulder as they walked to the end of the terrace and took an alleyway to the rear of the expensive properties.

  “Any sign?” asked Cooper.

  “No. We’re clear,” she answered. “Doesn’t mean no one’s at home. Let’s keep our heads down and our mouths shut.”

  Cooper stopped walking when she reached a double garage extension to the home they’d been watching and her eyes immediately flicked to the windows. The windows were lined with newspaper, ensuring the owner privacy. Privacy was for hermits, people who didn’t want to advertise their wealth, and people who were up to no good. She switched on a torch and raised herself onto her tiptoes, trying to angle a vantage point where some Sellotape had lost its adhesion and the paper had fallen away. “I can’t see,” Cooper grumbled.

  “Allow me.” Being much taller, Tennessee didn’t have to stand on his tiptoes. He angled the torch around for a few seconds, took a step back and wiped a hand over his brow. “Fucking hell.”

  “What is it?” asked Cooper.

  “A black van. Tinted windows.”

  Cooper’s mouth hung open as her worst fears were confirmed. She rested her back against the garage door, needing the support to stop her legs from wobbling. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Me neither, boss.” Keaton shook her head, disbelief written all over her face.

  The three detectives stood in silence, trying to process the information when a beeping sound preceded the garage door starting to roll upwards. They jumped, turning to face the garage and watching as the owner of the van rifled in a lockbox for a set of keys. He swung the keyring on his index finger before pressing the fob to unlock the van. It was then that he clocked his colleagues and Cooper’s eyes met those of Sam Sutherland.

  - Chapter 31 -

  For a second that seemed to last forever, everyone remained motionless. Sutherland’s gaze moved from Cooper to Tennessee, to Keaton. All of their faces were frozen, hard and serious. Sutherland dropped the keys and charged at Cooper, knocking her into Tennessee. He ran south along the back alley and Keaton gave chase.

  Cooper was quickly back on her feet and she and Tennessee followed Keaton. Their legs pumped as fast as they could and although she and Tennessee were both quick off the mark, neither of them were any match for the star athlete of the department. Sutherland didn’t stand a chance. Five seconds later and he was prostrate on the black tarmac of Grand Parade with Keaton sat astride him, wrestling his arms behind his back.

  Cooper caught up and read Sutherland his rights. Tears formed in her eyes as she told the man she considered a father figure that he was arrested for the kidnap of Inga Jānis and Macey Gallagher. Angrily rubbing the wetness around her eyes on the back of her hand, she instructed Tennessee to secure him in the car and call for back up to transport him to the cells to await questioning.

  “You’re the driver.” It wasn’t a question and she noted how Sutherland couldn’t meet her eyes. “The house? The new BMW? Sue didn’t get you that Rolex for your anniversary, did she? What was your price, Sam? What were those girls worth?”

  “I think I’d like a lawyer.”

  “Damn right you’d like a lawyer. You’re going to need one. You’re the reason I was pulled off this case, aren’t you?”

  He lowered his head, his jaw resting on his heaving chest.

  “Answer me!” Cooper was beyond furious at his betrayal. She’d trusted him, confided in him.

  Sutherland just shook his head and repeated his request. “Lawyer.”

  “Who are you working for? What did you do with Macey?” No answer. “Goddammit, Sam! Get him out of my sight. Keaton, call for forensics. We need the SOCOs to check the van for Macey’s DNA and any other evidence they can find. We’ll start searching the property. See what we can uncover.”

  Keaton pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. “On it, boss.” She gave Sutherland a scathing look, shook her head and turned away.

  Tennessee led Sutherland towards where they had parked and shoved him, heavy-handedly, into the back seat of Cooper’s Mazda. Meanwhile, Cooper squatted to the floor and did everything she could to stop herself from screaming. Not Sam. Not Sam Sutherland whom she’d known for over ten years and had been there with her on every step of her journey to DCI.

  * * *

  A unit of uniforms arrived to help with the search. Cooper and Keaton started upstairs and began the painstaking process of rifling through every drawer and cupboard, under every bed and behind every dresser. Opening a drawer and discovering a second Rolex caused Cooper to fume with disgust. She slammed her hand on the wooden top and an attached mirror shook in its frame.

  “Let’s wrap up this room, boss. There’s nothing to lead us to Macey. Just flash trinkets we can use as evidence of payment. I know he’s a rung up the ladder on me, but there’s no way I could afford all this crap on my salary and I image the same would go for him.”

  Cooper gave the room one last look over. Expensive sheets on the bed, designer clothes in the wardrobes, even Sue’s makeup bag was stocked with the top brands. Had she been in on it? Did she question her husband’s income, or just innocently revel in all the lavish gifts? “Let’s move onto Caroline’s room.”

  “You don’t think he’d hide anything in there do you?”

>   Cooper shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first one. Remember that dealer in Blyth? He stored all that coke in baggies and stitched them into his daughter’s teddy bears?”

  Keaton held the door to Caroline’s room open for Cooper to go in ahead of her. “Oh, shit, yeah, I remember that one.”

  Caroline’s room was typical of a girl in her early teens. Magazines, school textbooks and young adult novels littered the floor by her bed. Clean, pressed school uniforms of pink and navy hung in her closet and makeup brushes endorsed by the hottest influencers filled a stand on her dressing table. Tina had been invited to a sleepover. Cooper could imagine the girls painting their nails as they listened to music and talked boys. That wouldn’t happen now. Cooper didn’t think her daughter would be welcome in the Sutherland home now Cooper had arrested its patriarch.

  “You notice how much security this place has?” Keaton asked, pointing to sensors on the bedroom window.

  “I saw the cameras downstairs and the keypad by the door.”

  “There were sound sensors in the kitchen too. I guess Sam has a lot of pricey shit to protect.”

  “That he does.” Cooper searched through the room but concluded that Keaton had been right. There wasn’t anything tying Sutherland to the abductions in the bedrooms. She bobbed her head sideways. “Come on. What’s next?”

  Keaton opened the next door that led from the hallway. “It’s an office.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Cooper entered the room and went straight to the desk. She tried the top drawer and found it to be locked. She found the same thing with the two drawers below it. In the corner of the room, an old black safe with a brass handle served as a plant stand for a dying yucca. Scanning about, Cooper looked for a key. When she didn’t spot one, she sent Keaton to go to the garage and see if the box of keys could give them any joy.

  Keaton saluted, “Gotcha,” and left the room.

  The desktop was cluttered with the usual household paperwork: bills, mortgage statements and insurance renewals waiting to be filed away. Cooper arranged them into a neat pile for the forensic accountants to take a look through later.

  “Here we are.” Keaton dropped the metal box on the desk and it gave a loud clattering noise as its contents jumbled against each other. “Forensics have arrived. They’re taking samples from the van. Atkinson asked if you have two minutes for a chat.”

  Cooper paused, caught off guard. “Erm. No. He’ll have to wait.” She wasn’t being childish; she wanted to find as much evidence as she could. She needed to be into the drawers and more importantly, the safe, but that required a combination. Besides, she was still too irate and hurt about Sutherland, to have any reasonable conversation with Atkinson.

  One by one, Keaton and Cooper tried the keys against the various locks.

  “Most of these look like house keys and car keys, boss.” Keaton held up an old fob for a Vauxhall. “And these ones are labelled Joyce and Gary, these ones say number fourteen. I’m guessing they’re the neighbours.”

  “Urgh.” Cooper ground her teeth in frustration. “Think like Sam. Where would he keep the key?”

  “It wasn’t in his pockets. Tennessee searched him before taking him away. But he’s old school. If there’s anything worth hiding in the drawers, then the key’ll be in the safe.”

  She was probably right. Sitting cross-legged in front of the safe, Cooper drummed her fingers on her thighs and then spun the dial searching for the numbers of Sam Sutherland’s birthday. When it didn’t work she turned her face up to Keaton, who was searching a bookcase. “Call Sue, his wife. She’s probably been informed by now. Ask for the combination. If she doesn’t know it, find out the date of their anniversary and her and Caroline’s birthdays.”

  Keaton pulled out her phone.

  “And call a locksmith,” Cooper added, “in case the dates don’t work.”

  Next to the safe, a small wastepaper basket was full of crumpled junk mail and sheets of lined paper. Cooper turned it upside down, emptying its contents over the floor. Given that she’d already had Oliver Martin sent to the dump, and Tennessee elbow deep in a bus stop’s rubbish bin, she could hardly complain about searching through scrunched up flyers for the local Chinese takeaway. It wasn’t exactly attracting flies. She smoothed out each piece of paper in turn; they were mainly adverts for tradesmen and restaurants. One torn out page from a notepad was covered in sums. Cooper was surprised anyone did sums by hand these days, not when everyone old enough to have a phone had a calculator in their pocket, but Sutherland was a traditionalist. It might well be quicker for him to do long division with pen and paper.

  Keaton hung up and joined Cooper on the floor. “Try thirteen, four, ninety-three. That’s the day Sam and Sue got married.”

  Cooper spun the dial, anticipating a satisfying click as the safe unlocked but none came. “Damn it. Sue’s birthday?”

  “Three, twelve, sixty-five.”

  “Nope. What about Caroline’s birthday?”

  “Sixteenth of August, 2006.”

  “Let’s give it a try.” She turned the dial. “Sixteen, eight, six. Shit, no that didn’t work either. Let’s keep thinking. In the meantime, can you read this?” Cooper handed her a piece of paper from the bin. “His handwriting’s worse than my doctor’s.”

  Keaton squinted and held the paper at arm’s length. “It’s an address. Unit sixty-three, Jarrow IE.”

  The synapses in Cooper’s brain sparked into life, illuminated with urgency and also excitement. She was getting somewhere. “Jack,” she shouted into her phone. “Is he speaking?… Huh? …But a lawyer’s on the way? Okay. Listen. Get a unit over to Bede Industrial Estate in Jarrow. Unit sixty-three. No, sixty-three. We found an address in Sam’s office. He was referred to as the driver and the last place Macey’s phone pinged was the road next to Bede Industrial Estate. That might be where he delivered her to. Great. Keep in touch.”

  “What did Tennessee say?” Keaton unfolded her legs and stretched them out in front of her.

  “That Sam’s not saying much but he’s protesting his innocence. Saying it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t have a choice and so on.”

  Keaton shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough, I guess.” She rotated her ankles from side to side and her boots chimed against the side of the safe.

  Sam Sutherland wasn’t a complicated man. Cooper didn’t mean that as an insult. He was down to earth, basic, and liked to keep things simple. “Sam wouldn’t pick a random number for this bad boy. It would have to be something he could easily remember. We’ve tried birthdays, his anniversary…”

  Keaton’s arm extended and her index finger pointed to the top shelf of the bookcase. “It might be staring us in the bloody face. Look. The first three books. Catch 22, Seven Years in Tibet, Orwell’s 1984.” She leant forward and turned the dial to twenty-two, back to seven, then to eighty-four.”

  Click.

  “You beauty.” Cooper slapped Keaton on the back but stopped short of hugging her. “Right. What we got here?”

  Three rolls of fifty-pound notes rolled off a manila folder and stopped at Cooper’s feet. She bagged them as evidence. If Sutherland’s accomplices had handled the money, Atkinson would be able to get prints from them. The folder contained sheets of un-ruled paper with handwritten notes. All of them appeared to be abbreviations and codes that neither Cooper nor Keaton could make heads nor tails of.

  “There’s a mobile here. Looks like it’s from the dark ages.” Keaton handed Cooper a Nokia 3210.

  “Christ. I had one of these when I was in school.” She pressed the power button and found it still had two bars of battery. She wasn’t surprised. She seemed to remember playing Snake all day, every day and the little brick could go a week without a charge. Opening the phone’s call history, she tilted the screen towards Keaton. “Only one number… Only one number in the contacts too.”

  “Keeper,” Keaton read. “So, so far we have a driver, a lure and a keeper.”

  Cooper got to
her feet and walked to the window.

  “What is it?” Keaton asked.

  “Do we take the phone to tech, have them trace the keeper’s number, try to triangulate the most recent location? Or…”

  “Or we call the number? Might tip them off. But, saying that, they might know already. Sam was about to head somewhere with that van. If he hasn’t shown, they might suspect something’s off.”

  Cooper made a decision. She’d hand the phone over to tech after she’d called the number. Under her latex gloves, her hands were sweating and beginning to shake. She sat back down in front of the safe, took a deep, calming breath and pressed the call button.

  “Sam! About bloody time.” The keeper’s voice was angry, gravelly, and his accent was distinctly northern. “Where the hell have you been? I had to hire a fucking van. The girls are loaded up and departure’s at six fifty-four.”

  Cooper said nothing but locked eyes with Keaton. Girls. Plural. Loaded where? She looked at her watch; it was six thirty-three. Twenty-one minutes.

  “I’m guessing you couldn’t find a replacement for the Swedish bird? They’re gonna be pissed we didn’t fulfil the order. They wanted four. I told you, Sam, don’t mess about with these guys. Their threats aren’t empty. They’ll do it… Sam?” His tone changed from angry to worried. “Sam?… Sam?”

  The line went dead and Cooper and Keaton jumped back to their feet and raced through the house to get back to the street.

  “Has to be the docks,” Keaton said.

  “Call the airports just in case. Newcastle, Tees, see if there are any smaller airfields too.” She called Nixon. “Sir. It’s Cooper… I know, unbelievable, sir, but we don’t have much time. I think Sam was the driver in some sort of people-trafficking ring. Transporting young women to a unit in Jarrow and then taking them to the docks to go who knows where. Macey Gallagher wasn’t the only girl taken. I think the DB at Marsden was part of the same operation and she may have been Swedish. Macey and two others are about to be shipped off. I need canine units at both the north and south banks. I want the ports closed. All available units from North and South Shields to make their way over and I need the coast guard. Departure’s at six fifty-four. We can not let that boat leave the Tyne.”