by Tim Ellis
He introduced himself and Duffy to the renowned professor before sitting down on the sofa opposite her.
‘Thanks for coming, Professor,’ he said.
‘I am always interested in unusual cases, and this certainly qualifies as such.’
He’d expected her to be an old woman with grey hair, sagging skin and discoloured teeth. Instead, she was in her mid-thirties; had shoulder-length blonde hair; a generous smile with perfect white teeth; and tight skin stretched over an impressive figure. Besides all of those attributes, which were high up on his list of desirable female qualities, the one thing that pricked his curiosity was the fact that she was wearing two watches on her right wrist.
She saw him looking and smiled. ‘You’re probably thinking why is the crazy psychiatrist wearing two watches?’
‘It had crossed my mind.’
‘One doesn’t work, so I wear a second one to tell the time.’
‘I knew there’d be a logical explanation.’ Most people would have taken the broken watch off and either disposed of it, or sent it for repair, so it was only half an explanation.
Regina came in with the tea.
‘I’ve spoken to Mrs Humblin about the pictures already and we’ve agreed that I should hypnotise her. We will go to her bedroom now, I will hypnotise her and we will find what we find.’
‘Will you be all right looking after the children?’ Regina said to Quigg and Duffy.
Quigg nodded. ‘We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Duffy? We have children of our own.’
‘Of course,’ Duffy said. ‘Is it all right if I ask Briar questions about her imaginary friend?’
‘You can try, but she won’t tell me anything.’
‘Thanks. Afterwards, I also want to try asking the ghost to leave, if that’s all right with you?’
‘Do you think it’s that simple?’
‘It’s a starting point, before we employ other methods.’
Regina shrugged. ‘It can’t do any harm, can it?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’
The professor and Regina left.
Duffy got down on the floor and began offering colouring advice to Briar before she started interrogating the child about her imaginary friend.
Quigg’s phone vibrated. He went out into the hallway before he answered it.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Lisa Giles.’
‘Are you a reporter?’
‘No, I’m Ruth’s solicitor.’
‘Oh yes! I’ve heard her mention you in glowing terms.’
‘I should imagine that she’s not thinking along those lines now.’
‘What do you mean?’
He listened in horror as she told him about the police arriving at the house, searching the place, finding a bag of bomb-making equipment, taking away all the computers and arresting Ruth for terrorism offices.
‘That’s ridiculous. Where have they taken her?’
‘To Notting Hill Police Station.’
‘I’m on my way.’
‘Just a minute. I have another call, which I need to take. They disabled my car so that I couldn’t follow them, but I asked a colleague to go to Notting Hill and make sure she was all right.’
‘Okay.’
He waited a handful of minutes. It crossed his mind that for every action there was a reaction. Corrupt police officers weren’t going to lie down and do nothing while Ruth investigated them, but arresting her on a trumped-up terrorism charge – that was serious business.
‘Hello?’
‘Yes, Lisa?’
‘I’m about fifteen minutes away from Notting Hill, but my colleague has just called to say that he’s there, but Ruth isn’t.’
‘Not there! Where is she then? Are they still on route?’
‘He spoke to the duty inspector. She said that they hadn’t arrested any terrorist suspects, had no operations underway and weren’t expecting anyone.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The officer in charge told me they were taking her to Notting Hill, but they’ve obviously taken her somewhere else.’
‘Where?’
‘You’re in a better position than me to find out, Quigg.’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘Wherever she is, she’ll need legal representation. Will you call me if you find out anything?’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh! One other thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘I have the collar number of the police officer who seemed to be in charge.’
‘That should give us a lead.’
‘It’s 65097.’
‘Thanks for your help, Lisa.’
‘I didn’t do much.’
‘You did enough.’
He ended the call and phoned the Chief.
‘Why are you calling me, Quigg? Do think I’m sitting here with my feet up on the desk, drinking whisky and contemplating the good old days waiting for the minute hand on the clock to reach five o’clock and . . .?’
He interrupted the Chief and told him what had happened at the house and that Ruth was now missing.
‘Arrested for terrorism offences?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘That’s preposterous! And they said they were taking her to Notting Hill, but she’s not there?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m struggling to wrap my brain around this, Quigg. If it’s another one of your . . .’
‘Absolutely not, Sir. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but the time wasn’t right.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘You know she’s an investigative reporter?’
‘Which is how you two met, but she’s a stay-at-home mum now, isn’t she?’
‘That’s what I thought, but I recently discovered that she decided to get back into the game.’
‘And what’s she investigating now?’
‘Us.’
‘Us?’
‘Well, not me and you directly, Sir. Well, I don’t think she’s investigating you, but definitely not me . . . At least, I don’t think she’s investigating me.’
‘You’re rambling, Quigg.’
‘Sorry, Sir. She’s investigating police corruption.’
‘Bloody hell! So, what you’re imagining is that a bunch of corrupt police officers came to the house, took Ruth away to some secret location and are now doing unspeakable things to her?’
‘Yes, Sir. I have the collar number of the officer who was in charge of the operation – 65097.’
‘That might help us find out what it’s all about.’
‘There’s something else as well.’
‘Go on?’
‘It’s my understanding that a third party has abducted a number of corrupt police officers with the intention of extracting confessions out of them and . . .’
‘Jesus Christ, Quigg!’
‘I know, Sir. I’m not fully conversant with all the details, but I’m told it started with a whistle-blower at the IOPC.’
‘John Lupton?’
‘I think so.’
‘Who committed suicide last night?”
‘If you believe that, Chief.’
‘Are you saying they killed him?’
‘As I said, I don’t know all the details.’
‘This is way above my pay grade, Quigg. Let me speak to some people. I’ll call you back.’
‘Thanks . . .’
The line went dead.
What should he do now? Should he go home? Should he travel to Notting Hill Police Station? Should he stay here? He called Lucy, but was diverted to voicemail.
‘It’s Quigg, Lucy. Call me when you get this. Ruth has been arrested . . . Well, to be honest, it’s looking more like an abduction than an arrest, because we don’t know where they’ve taken her. Not only that, I’d really like to know where my Mercedes is?’
He decided to go back to the station. DS Hawking was there, and she was going to give him an update on her search for his son Joe and
the Apostles. The Chief was also at the station and he seemed to be the only one who might be able to get any answers about what had happened to Ruth.
‘Duffy, I have to go.’
‘Oh?’
‘Ruth’s been arrested, or abducted. At this time, I don’t know which.’
‘Is it about the police corruption?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Well, I’ll make your apologies to Regina and the professor, do what I have to do here and I’ll see you at the house later.’
He kissed her, eager to get going. ‘Yes, I’ll see you later, Duffy.’
As he walked to the station he phoned Lucy, but was diverted to voicemail again.
‘Where are you, Lucy? And where’s my Mercedes? I’m on foot and shortly I’ll have to rub shoulders with the great unwashed on the underground . . . Anyway, that’s not why I called. Ruth has been arrested for terrorist offences, or abducted because of the police officers you abducted. We don’t know which at the moment. They said they were taking her to Notting Hill Police Station, but they didn’t, and now I don’t know where she is. Is there anything you and Jack can do to find her and bring her home?’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘We should go,’ Lucy said.
Her father nodded and pushed himself up. ‘I suppose we should.’
As they trudged along the bank heading in the direction of the warehouse, they could see black plumes of smoke spiralling into the evening sky from the old Taylor distillery and hear the wailing sound of fire engines as they tried to manoeuvre through the clogged-up London traffic to reach the fire.
‘Why did I hear more than one explosion?’ she asked.
‘It was booby-trapped with SEMTEX. The charges were primed as soon I opened the vat to escape, and the exploding van set off a chain reaction.’
‘You must have been a fucking boy scout in a previous life.’
‘Probably.’
‘I found something out when I was doing my research.’
‘Oh?’
‘The eight people above Thackeray meet on the second Thursday of every month for a Board Meeting in the Chives dining room on the 38th floor of the Gherkin building.’
‘That’s this Thursday, which is the day after tomorrow.’
‘Your brain operates like a supercomputer.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I was being sarcastic.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m thinking that we should set up a live-stream of this Board Meeting – what do you think?’
‘You’re the boss.’
‘Damned right. I’ll run it past Ruth and her cameraman first. We’ll go in there . . .’
‘We?’
‘Are you not playing anymore?’
‘Putting cameras and things in dining rooms is a waste of my talents.’
‘I suppose.’
‘If you want any more people abducting or killing, then I’m your man. Otherwise, I’ll give that one a miss.’
‘No problem, I can sort it out.’
She checked her phone. It was full of messages – mainly from Quigg, and mainly about his Mercedes. She put the most recent message on loudspeaker:
“Anyway, that’s not why I called. Ruth has been arrested for terrorist offences, or abducted because of the police officers you abducted. We don’t know which at the moment. They said they were taking her to Notting Hill Police Station, but they didn’t, and now I don’t know where she is. Is there anything you and Jack can do to find her and bring her home?”
‘Mmmm!’ Jack said. ‘I was afraid of that.’
‘You didn’t say.’
‘I’m saying now. If I’d said something before, would it have made a difference? Would it have stopped Ruth and the other two doing what they’ve been doing? Would it . . .?’
‘You can stop now. So, if I’m hiding cameras in dining rooms, what are you going to do to find Ruth and bring her home?’
‘They arrested her at the house?’
‘That’s my guess.’
‘Maybe we can track where they went via CCTV?’
‘Or satellite?’
‘Can you do that?’
‘There’s two possibilities. First, Ruth might have her phone with her. If she has, we should be able to locate her. Second, all police vehicles have GPS trackers. If we can identify the vehicle, we should be able to locate that, because I have a User ID and password into the police database.’
‘You identify where she is, and I’ll get her back.’
‘Okay.’
Jack hot-wired an Audi TT from outside a pub called The Hung Drawn & Quartered on The Causeway.
‘It was nice of them to leave it there for us,’ Lucy said.
‘Contrary to popular belief, there are still a lot of generous people in the world.’
It took them thirty minutes to reach The Hoboken Machinery warehouse.
Lucy opened the roller shutter and Jack drove the Audi in and parked it up.
While Jack disposed of the bodies in the Thames by weighing them down with rope and spare bricks, Lucy searched the CCTV cameras around Godolphin Road and eventually found the lead vehicle that was used when Ruth was arrested – if that’s what was happening. The registration number was DU17 GFP and the roof ID number was 732. She went into the police database at New Scotland Yard as Sergeant Robert Carlton and found the GPS tracking software: GPSLive. It didn’t take her long to locate the vehicle. She wrote down the address.
Next, she found the GPS signal in Ruth’s mobile phone, but it was still at the house.
Her father came in.
She passed him the piece of paper with the address written on it. ‘That’s where the vehicle is now.’
44 Perrins Lane
Hampstead
NW3 1QT
‘Okay. I’ll take the Audi. If Ruth’s there, I’ll bring her back to the house.’
‘What about Thackeray?’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s still out there.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know where he is.’
She had an idea, walked to where she’d previously crushed the Gorgon sisters’ GPS chips with her foot and picked the bits up. ‘Have you got a magnifying glass about your person?’
‘No.’
She looked around, but nothing jumped out at her.
‘What about one of the back lights of the Audi?’ Jack suggested. He leaned in the car, pulled the catch on the boot, stuck his head in the boot and broke off a corner from one of the clear reversing lights. He passed it to her. ‘Try that.’
She did – it worked. ‘I’d never have thought of that.’
‘Sometimes being old has its advantages.’
‘I don’t believe that for one second.’ Using the glass, she began piecing the GPS chips together like a miniature jigsaw puzzle. All she needed was one complete one, which eventually materialised. On the back of the complete chip was the information she needed:
ORIGIN
GPS 3
0032 DDB,FBB
KH339
Hong Kong
‘You think Thackeray and Delilah Garrett has the same chip implant as the sisters?’
‘It’s a possibility. It’s not as if they’re in general circulation and there are hundreds of manufacturers. If they do, they do. If they don’t, then I’ll have to think of something else.’
She interrogated the ORIGIN server. ORIGIN were located in Germany and manufactured microchips for dogs. It didn’t say anything about microchips for humans.
‘Can you read German?’
‘Yes. I’m fluent in twelve languages, and have a smattering of knowledge in twenty seven others.’
‘German will do, smartarse.’
Between them, they found that the GPS chips belonging to the Gorgon sisters – KH339, AD656, EF438 – together with a dozen other microchips, were all delivered to a UK company called GreyMatter Technologies.
‘Didn’t I see that name somewhere?’ Jack said.
/> ‘You certainly fucking did.’ She took out her phone and showed him the eight names at the top of the organisational chart, that she’d created on the side of the Transit van, and pointed to Muradija Ahmed, CEO of GreyMatter Technologies.
She hacked into the GreyMatter server. As expected, it wasn’t easy, but she was on a roll. All of the GPS chips arrived and were dispatched to a Doctor Islam Al-Habsi at the Notting Hill Medical Clinic, where she soon found a list of Doctor Al-Habsi’s patients included Victor Thackeray, Delilah Garrett and the other seven Board members.
‘That’s how they found out where Thackeray was,’ Jack said.
‘Yes, well. Now we’ll use their own technology against them.’
Thackeray had chip number GV203. She returned to GreyMatter Technologies, found the GPS tracking software for all implanted microchips and located Thackeray’s chip. ‘Isn’t that a coincidence?’ she said, glancing at her father. ‘There seems to be a meeting of microchips at Perrins Lane in Hampstead.’
Jack nodded. ‘That makes things easier. Do you want me to bring Thackeray back here alive?’
‘Yes, I think so. If you kill him, the Board will scatter like rats, disappear into the shadows and we’ll never link them to what’s been going on. Not only that, Thackeray might still be useful.’
‘Okay.’
‘And don’t forget to remove his chip this time?’
His lip curled up. ‘I won’t.’
She lifted the roller shutter up.
Jack reversed the Audi out of the warehouse.
Lucy did the same with Quigg’s Mercedes. She’d really wanted to take the black and green Kawasaki Z650 home with her, but she’d deprived Quigg of his car for long enough. She’d come back another day for the bike.
She grabbed her rucksack, closed the roller shutter on her way out, climbed into the Mercedes and headed back to Godolphin Road.
Ruth would soon be back home, she thought.
***
He caught a Jubilee Line train from Southwark to Westminster, but he was distracted. This was Lucy’s doing. The police had taken Ruth as tit for tat for Lucy and her father abducting eight of their people. You take eight of ours, and we’ll take one of yours. If he was being honest, they’d got off lightly.