Underdogs

by Jack Fiske

  “Take it slowly through the door and wait on the landing.” Jim instructed. “I’ll close the door behind us.”

  O’Hara nodded and opened the door slowly, wedging it in the open position so that Jim could step through behind him. Jim let the door swing shut and that’s when it happened.

  There was a terrific blow as something smashed down onto Jim’s right arm and the revolver clattered noisily across the floor. O’Hara reacted quickly and spun round to aim a heavy punch at Jim’s stomach. Jim’s reactions were still good though and he blocked it automatically, steering the blow aside with his left forearm and driving his right knee into O’Hara’s groin. As O’Hara doubled over, Jim turned and caught a glimpse of the man behind the door, before a second crashing blow from something very solid caught him on the side of the head and his knees buckled beneath him . Only half conscious, Jim saw the gun lying where it had fallen, no more than six feet away, but still too far. There was a sudden stabbing pain in the back of his left leg and he felt what strength he still had slowly ebbing away. His vision started to blur, someone said something only half intelligible and then he felt himself sliding down into darkness and the depths of unconsciousness.

  O’Hara, still badly winded, was on his hands and knees and struggled slowly to his feet. “What have you given him?”

  “Ketamine.” the man replied. “He’ll come round in about half an hour. What do you want to do with him?”

  “Let’s get him back to the room,” O’Hara replied.

  The two men picked Jim up between them and with one on either side, supporting him under each shoulder, they walked him back down the corridor to O’Hara’s room. Luck was with them, as they didn’t meet any other guests on the way and once in the hotel room, they dropped Jim onto his back on the nearest of the single beds.

  O’Hara’s colleague produced half a dozen heavy duty cable ties from his pocket and secured Jim’s wrists and ankles with two of them.

  “How did he know you were here?” he asked.

  “God knows,” O’Hara replied. “He’s only seen me once. I bumped into him when I was filling the car up this morning, but there’s no reason why he should have paid any attention to it. By the way, what did you hit him with?”

  In reply the second man picked up his weapon from the floor, where he’d dropped it and handed it to O’Hara – It was a cricket bat in a soft vinyl cover, with a shoulder strap and a zip up pocket at one end.

  “It’s a useful bit of kit,” he said, “A fairly innocent thing to be carrying around and inside the case, it’s got just enough padding that it won’t break a man’s skull.”

  O’Hara leant over the bed and felt the side of Jim’s head. There was a huge lump coming up just above the ear, but no blood or evidence of a fracture. Jim’s right arm was badly bruised, but it appeared that the dual padding of his jacket and the bat’s vinyl case had provided enough protection to save it being broken.

  “Looks like he’ll be fine,” O’Hara said, handing the bat back.

  “So what are we going to do with him?”

  O’Hara frowned. “We’ll need to decide before he wakes up. Have you got his gun?”

  “Yes. It’s quite an old piece. I wonder where he got it from?” He handed the Smith & Wesson to O’Hara, then produced his own semi-automatic from a belt holster in the small of his back, took out the clip and ejected the bullet from the chamber, before putting the gun down on the window sill.

  O’Hara sat on the end of the bed and nodded towards the single chair. “Have a seat. We need to decide what we’re going to tell him when he comes round.”

  Stephen and Marion arrived at the offices of Reid & Sutton Ltd in Ringwood at three-fifteen. The company had moved twice in the last few years as it expanded and it was now situated in one of the new business parks that had been created on the outskirts of Ringwood with grant assistance from local government. The modern two-storey building stood in its own landscaped grounds, but would continue to look rather stark for a few years yet, until the surrounding shrubs and trees had a chance to mature and blend in with the farmland beyond.

  Stephen pulled the Range Rover into a parking bay at the far end of the building marked with a sign reading ‘S Reid – Managing Director’ and turned the engine off. As they walked the short distance to the main entrance, Stephen scanned the car park to see who was in. He believed in allowing his employees as much flexibility as possible and it was just as likely that people would be working from home as working in the office.

  “Mark’s still here,” he commented to Marion. “I think we’ll tell him what’s going on and ask him to help.”

  As they walked through reception, Stephen stopped to talk to Linda who was manning the phones. “Linda, could you track down Mark for me and ask him if he could spare the time for a chat in my office.”

  “Certainly Mr Reid.”

  Stephen’s office was at the far end of the building on the second floor. The ground floor was taken up with a workshop area, where various pieces of electronics were being put together or stripped down and a large open plan office, where most of their employees were busy in front of monitors and keyboards. Stephen liked the open plan layout, it was a good environment for teamwork and enabled you to bounce ideas off your colleagues. Stephen often worked there himself. No one had an allocated desk, just a set of pedestal drawers with their name on top, which could be wheeled to wherever there was a free space. The second floor, by contrast was divided into meeting rooms and offices for the more senior people in the company, together with a smaller open plan area for their accounting, marketing and secretarial staff.

  Mark Brennan was already waiting in Stephen’s office when they got there. He was a tall man in his late forties, with particularly unruly hair that had a mind of its own and large round spectacles that gave him something of an owl like appearance.

  “Hello Stephen – Marion. Linda said you wanted to see me?”

  “Thanks Mark, I hope we’re not interrupting you in the middle of anything.”

  “Oh, nothing that can’t wait,” Mark replied. “Is this about the M.O.D. contract that we spoke about on the phone?”

  “Yes. Have a seat and I’ll tell you about it. Marion, perhaps you could get us all a cup of coffee.”

  Stephen and Mark sat down as Marion left to organise the coffee. Stephen’s office wasn’t that different from his study at home. One end held the usual office furniture – desk, filing cabinets and chairs, together with a leather three piece suite and a small cocktail cabinet set to one side. The latter was rarely used, but was necessary for entertaining the occasional important client. The other end of the room, by contrast, could be screened off and held a small workbench and several pieces of electronic test equipment.

  Marion put her head round the door. “Filter or instant?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you put the filter machine on,” Stephen replied. “If you make a full pot, we can get a refill later.”

  It didn’t take long for Stephen to relate the story to Mark, who was plainly shocked. He deliberately omitted any details of Jim’s past connection with the security services, or any mention of the gun that had arrived through the post. However, he did let Mark in on the fact that Jim was attempting to track down the man who had been watching the house.

  Stephen looked earnestly at his friend, trying to gauge his reaction. “So that’s where we are at the moment Mark. Will you help?”

  Mark didn’t hesitate. “Of course I will. Let me get this straight though. You want to put together something that looks like the control box that we got from the M.O.D. and build in this tracking device, before you hand it over.”

  Stephen nodded. “That’s right. Then we’re either lucky enough for Susan and Millie to be released, or we go to the police. At that point, we would at least have some information to give them and a chance of tracking the kidnappers’ movements.”

  Mark got up and looked at his watch. “God you must be worried. If it was my fam
ily, I don’t know how I’d cope. I suppose you’d prefer that no one else knows about this?”

  “Yes. I’d like you to keep it just between ourselves if that’s alright.”

  “No problem,” Mark agreed. “I’ll phone the M.O.D. to find out if the original unit will be coming back and I’ll check what parts we’ve got in stock to see if we can’t come up with something that looks like it.”

  Mark hurried downstairs and Stephen sat down at his desk and switched on the computer.

  “What do you want me to do?” Marion asked.

  Stephen looked up with a slightly guilty expression. “I’m sorry dear. There’s not a great deal that I can ask you to do, apart from supplying the coffee and keeping me company. To tell you the truth, I didn’t like the idea of you staying in the house with all this going on.”

  Marion leaned forward and squeezed his arm. “That’s alright. I would only have worried if you’d left me at home. Anyway, it’s nice to know that you care. Why don’t I pop downstairs and have a chat with Linda, then I’ll borrow a newspaper from somebody and just sit in the corner while you get on with it.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Stephen agreed. “If I’m not here when you get back, I’ll only be downstairs seeing how Mark is getting on.”

  “I’ll see you shortly then,” Marion replied and left him to it.

  Stephen was glad she didn’t mind sitting about. She knew Linda pretty well and a friendly chat might take her mind off things for a while.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mark reappeared at the door with a look of satisfaction on his face. “Right. The hardest part is done. I don’t know about the electronics, but the casing is a standard part out of the Carrera catalogue and we’ve actually got one in stock. The real box was sitting in my office for most of last week and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference just by looking at it. We only need to put in the right connectors and a few knobs and buttons and it should fool anyone that’s not familiar with it.”

  “What about the GPS tube?” Stephen asked.

  “No problem. That’ll fit in easily. It might be an idea to screen it from the rest of the electronics, but that shouldn’t be difficult. I’ve asked the guys to put the processors and connectors together for us and then bring it upstairs so that we can wire it up.”

  “That’s good. How long do you think it’ll take?”

  “Not too long. We ought to be able to make it behave like it should when you switch it on and also when you switch it off. I think we should leave it at that though. If anyone actually plugs it into the kit that it’s supposed to work with, they’ll know straight away that it isn’t genuine.”

  Stephen checked his watch. “Mark, do you need my help with it or could you manage it on your own? If you can, I want to try and get some information on a mobile phone number and I’ve got a hunch that I might be able to do it from here.”

  “Actually, it would probably be just as easy to do it on my own. Why don’t you leave it with me for an hour or two and I’ll give you a shout if I need you.”

  Mark left to work on the electronics downstairs and as soon as he had gone, Stephen started pulling up client files on his computer screen. The company had longstanding contracts with two of the major mobile telephone networks and in fact had a good reputation for communications technology in general. Stephen himself had worked closely with both companies over a number of years and although he shouldn’t do it, he knew that he could quite easily access both of their computer systems with the help of information that he already had on file.

  Having found the details he needed, he jotted down a few notes on a pad and pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket on which they had scribbled down the kidnappers’ mobile phone number.

  By the time Marion returned with a newspaper, Stephen was deep in concentration. Rather than interrupt him, she refilled his coffee cup, put it on the desk in front of him, then settled down in one of the armchairs to wait for him to finish.

  When his mobile phone rang, Stephen looked up. “You couldn’t get that for me could you?”

  Marion collected the phone from Stephen’s jacket, where it hung on the coat rack and stepped outside into the corridor so that she didn’t distract him.

  “Who was it?” he asked, when she came back.

  “Only Jim,” Marion replied. “He’s at the hotel, but there’s still no sign of that man. He says he’s going to wait there for as long as it takes and he’ll phone us again in a couple of hours.”

  “That’s good,” Stephen replied absently. Marion could tell that he had only taken in half of what she had said, so she returned to her paper.

  She had been reading for about twenty minutes when Stephen stood up and reached for a blank CD from the shelves behind him. “I’ve got it!”

  “Got what?” Marion asked.

  “I’ve got the telephone account for that mobile phone number.”

  “Does that mean we know who it belongs to?”

  “Not yet,” Stephen replied, as he loaded the CD into the computer’s disc drive. “It’s on a pre payment tariff, so there isn’t any name and address on file for the bills to be sent to. I have got the name and address of the person who originally registered it, but that was nearly two years ago.”

  “Do you think it’s the same person who phoned?” Marion asked.

  Stephen shook his head as he loaded the disc. “No. I think the phone’s probably stolen, or they wouldn’t risk using it. What I have got though is the billing information.”

  “But I thought you said that there weren’t any bills,” Marion said, looking confused.

  “No, there aren’t,” Stephen agreed, “but the phone company has an internal record of all the numbers that are phoned, how long the calls are and how much it costs. That way their computer system can calculate how much credit is left on the phone and when it needs to be topped up with another payment.”

  Stephen ejected the CD that now had the relevant information on it. “This won’t tell us where they are, but once we find out who the numbers belong to that have been phoned, it might tell us who they are.” He put the CD back into its case and handed it to Marion. “Could you keep that in your bag for me? I’d like to have a word with Jim before we do anything with it.”

  Stephen shut down his computer and tidied up the pieces of paper that were spread across his desk. “I wonder how he’s getting on?”

  Marion looked at him with an exasperated expression. “You don’t listen do you? That was Jim on the phone fifteen minutes ago. He’s still at the hotel, but there’s still no sign of that man.”

  Stephen looked suitably apologetic. “Sorry. You know what I’m like. When I’m working on something important, it tends to get all my attention.”

  “Oh don’t worry,” Marion replied, “I knew you weren’t listening when I told you. I’m quite used to it.”

  Footsteps outside the office announced the return of Mark, who came in with a box the size of a car radio tucked under his arm. “Half way there,” he announced, putting the box down on Stephen’s desk and switching it on. A number of LEDs flashed briefly before they all winked out except for one green one, which remained to indicate that the unit was on. Along the front, there were five switches and Mark turned them on one by one. As he did so, a different indicator lit up and a numerical display gave a value for each. At the back of the unit were a number of sockets for other pieces of equipment to be connected, although Stephen noticed that there were a few gaps, and a small fan, which hummed gently as it cooled the electronics inside. Mark switched the power off again and the box continued to hum for a few seconds before all the lights went out and the fan whirred to a halt. Taking a small screwdriver out of his pocket, he picked up the box, turned it round and inserted the blade of the screwdriver through the grill that protected the fan. There was a slight click as he found a toggle switch inside.

  “That’s the GPS unit switched on,” he said, leaning over to show Stephen where the switch was located inside. He
pushed the screwdriver through the fan once more and another click indicated that the GPS unit was off again.

  Stephen picked up the box and looked at it more closely. “Mark, you’re brilliant. How on earth did you put it together so quickly?”

  “We’re actually very lucky. The original is obviously a prototype. Apart from the electronics inside it, whoever put it together used standard parts. The casing, the switches and the connectors were all in stock and they just slot together. The wiring was straightforward as well, although I’ve only connected up the LEDs and the display. To be honest, it needs a bit more work yet. The display isn’t the right one and it’s not giving all the right readings. I’ve also got to put another couple of connectors in at the back. I’ve ordered the proper display from the catalogue and the suppliers have promised me they’ll put it in the post today for guaranteed next day delivery, so we should have it first thing tomorrow morning. If it’s o.k. with you, I’ll take the thing home with me tonight, get the connectors in and the display showing the right readings, then tomorrow all we need to do is change the display unit and it’ll be finished.”

  “Do you think it will fool them?” Marion asked.

  “It will unless they plug anything into it or take the case apart. Some of the connections at the back aren’t wired up at all and the inside doesn’t look anything like the real thing.”

  “Are they likely to open it up?” Marion continued.

  “They’re welcome to try,” Mark said. “Once I’ve got the right display unit and all of the sockets in at the back, I’m going to glue the casing screws in place with Araldite, so they’ll have some job getting the thing open.”

  Stephen stood up and shook Mark by the hand. “Thanks Mark, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

  “It’s no problem at all. If I can help in any other way you know you only have to ask. How did you get on with the phone number?”