by Jaime Raven
Then Brennan signalled to the officer operating the projector and Knight’s picture appeared on the large screen to his left.
‘This is the man we’re looking for,’ he said. ‘The man who made it clear that he wanted to punish Detective Mason because she headed up the team that arrested him. He believed he was stitched up and that the evidence that convicted him was planted. But that was bullshit then and it’s bullshit now. For one thing, his DNA was on the gun that they found in his bedroom. He’s just a bloody sociopath with a grudge and we have to find him.’
Brennan relayed the salient points of the conversation he’d had with Knight’s mother and brother.
‘They’re convinced that Tony Kemp had Bobby killed for harassing his daughter, Lauren. But there’s no evidence to support the claim and Kemp denies any involvement. I’ll be visiting him myself after this meeting so I’ll see what he has to say.’
Brennan gave the thumbs up to the projector operator who replaced Knight’s picture with the kidnapper’s selfie.
‘This was sent to Detective Mason’s phone a couple of hours ago,’ he said. ‘The weirdo in the balaclava is either Knight or an accomplice, but there’s no way we can be sure.’
He then read out the message that had come with it, but most of those in the room were already familiar with the words.
Next it was the turn of individual detectives to report back on the tasks they’d been assigned.
The first provided an update on the phone found under the mattress. Bobby Knight’s prints were all over it apparently and there were no others.
DC Phil Doncaster had carried out brief background checks on Knight’s mother and brother.
‘I’ll start with Emily Knight, guv,’ he said. ‘You gave me the impression that she’s a sweet little lady. Well that may be the case these days, but it seems that she wasn’t always so.’
‘How’d you mean?’
‘She has form for one thing. In her twenties she was a brass and got done for soliciting fifteen times. Then she turned to shoplifting and was collared twice. Paid a fine and did community service. She stayed out of trouble after she got married and had the two boys. But her husband didn’t. Albert Knight was a small-time villain. He did a three-year stretch for burglary and then received a suspended sentence for assault. He had a heart attack eight years ago and after that suffered severe depression, which ended with him committing suicide three years ago.’
‘So it’s plain to see why their eldest son turned to a life of crime,’ Brennan said. ‘He was following in mum and dad’s footsteps.’
‘It’s a familiar story in that part of London, guv.’
‘So what about the youngest son, Noah?’
‘Well it seems like he’s played it straight, unlike his brother,’ Doncaster said. ‘He doesn’t have a criminal record and his name doesn’t appear anywhere on the system. But I’ve managed to establish that he’s divorced and lives by himself. He’s a freelance business consultant specialising in setting up websites. The uniforms have checked his flat and there was no evidence to indicate that his brother was living there or had been in the recent past.’
‘So for now we need to focus on finding Knight,’ Brennan said. ‘That means tracking down and speaking to all his known associates and visiting his old haunts. Surely someone must know where he’s holed up.’
‘But what if his mum’s right and he’s dead?’ DC Foster said. ‘I know it seems unlikely, but it’s not impossible. Maybe Molly is in the hands of an accomplice.’
Brennan inclined his head. ‘I agree it can’t be ruled out. Knight may well be in a shallow grave somewhere courtesy of Tony Kemp. And that’s why we need to talk to everyone he’s been in contact with since he got out. I’m betting that if he did involve another person in his kidnap plan then it’ll be someone he’s worked with before. And someone who is just as sick in the head as he is.’
Brennan ended the session and checked his watch. Eleven a.m. DC Foster had set up a meeting with Tony Kemp for noon. It gave him time to ring Sarah. He felt it was only fair to keep her in the loop.
42
Sarah
I was grateful to Brennan for bringing me up to date with the investigation. But when I came off the phone I wanted to scream.
It wasn’t so much what he’d said as the way he’d said it. His muted tone failed to inspire me with confidence.
‘He’s on his way to question Tony Kemp,’ I said to Adam. ‘But I don’t get the impression he thinks he’ll get much out of him.’
‘I guarantee he won’t,’ Adam said. ‘The guy has been running rings around all of us for years. The NCA has a file on him five feet thick. If he did arrange for Bobby Knight to be got rid of he’ll have made damn sure he kept his distance from it.’
Neither of us wanted Knight to be dead. If he was then it meant that someone else had Molly, someone whose identity was a mystery to us, and we were no closer to finding her.
Brennan was convinced that Knight was alive, but he hadn’t been able to convince me. My mind refused to let go of the worst-case scenarios.
‘I need to do my bit,’ Adam said suddenly, his eyes hard and determined. ‘I can’t just wait around for something to happen.’
He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘To the office first,’ he said. ‘I’ll dig out what we have on Knight and then go visit a couple of his old mates. Maybe I’ll get something useful out of them.’
‘But Brennan’s got things in hand. The team are out there now talking to his known associates.’
‘And they’ll get the runaround, just like they did when they talked to Victor Rosetti. I’ll be taking a different approach.’
He looked at me, his unshaven face taut with stress, and it worried me that he might take things too far and even obstruct the investigation.
‘I’m not sure that’s sensible, Adam,’ I said. ‘You’ll get yourself into trouble.’
‘I really don’t care, Sarah. I caused all this so it doesn’t matter what happens to me. It’s what’s happening to our daughter than I’m concerned about.’
Sergeant Palmer rushed into the living room at that point, having overheard the conversation. She started to speak, but Adam raised a hand to stop her.
‘Whatever you’re going to say don’t bother,’ he said. ‘I’m getting involved in this no matter what.’
He then turned back to me, leaned close and whispered, ‘The only way I can assuage the guilt I feel is to get out there, Sarah. I need to take my mind off what I did before it tears me apart.’
He then rushed out of the flat.
Sergeant Palmer immediately seized her phone and I assumed she was going to alert Brennan. But before she made the call she asked me if I was all right.
‘I’m going upstairs to have a shower,’ I said. It wasn’t an answer to her question but it was all I could manage to say.
As I started towards the door I saw Molly’s face filling the TV screen. It was a photo taken several months ago when she still had her beautiful fair hair. The news reader was saying that fifty hours had passed since she was abducted.
I felt the emotions flood through me and had to fight back the tears. I couldn’t believe it had been only fifty hours. To me it felt more like fifty days. And what if I had to wait another fifty hours, or days, or years even? My stomach lurched at the thought.
In the shower, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it was like where Molly was being held. I’d seen photos of the sofa, the cot, the bath. But it was hardly a complete picture. Was she in a house or a flat? Was the place clean or filled with muck and germs? Was she able to go outside into a garden or onto a balcony? Was her new home close by or on the other side of the country?
Questions, questions, questions … They were eating away at me like piranhas trapped inside my skull.
Before stepping out of the shower, I came to a decision, and it
went some way towards easing the tension in my bones. I was going to follow Adam’s example and seize at least some control of the situation instead of merely reacting tearfully to events. I was no longer prepared to leave Molly’s fate in the hands of other people. As much as I trusted Brennan and the rest of the team, I felt I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I had a lot to offer, after all – experience, commitment and a willingness to do whatever was necessary to get my little girl back.
I dried myself and got dressed in front of the mirror. My eyes were red from tiredness and my skin looked like it had been bleached. I applied a little foundation and mascara, which didn’t seem to make much difference, but I felt slightly better for it. I picked up my shoulder bag and packed it with the usual stuff – mobile, purse, tissues.
Downstairs, I walked into the kitchen where Sergeant Palmer was pouring hot water into a coffee mug.
‘I’m going to the station,’ I said. ‘I want to make myself useful. You can take me or I can go myself. What’s it to be?’
43
DCI Brennan
Brennan took two calls before leaving the incident room. The first was via his mobile and came from Sarah’s FLO, Sergeant Palmer. She wanted to alert him to the fact that Molly’s father had gone off on his own again.
‘I heard him telling Detective Mason that he intends on talking to some of Bobby Knight’s old mates,’ she said. ‘I thought you ought to know, sir.’
He thanked her and told her to leave it with him. But he had no intention of doing anything about it. If Adam Boyd was going to act like a loose cannon then so be it. They wouldn’t be where they were now if he hadn’t put the squeeze on Victor Rosetti. If in the process the guy got himself into bother then that was his problem. But if he got another result then it would be welcome.
The second call was received in the incident room and was sent through to his office. This one came as more of a surprise. It was from Bobby Knight’s brother, Noah Carter.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, Detective Chief Inspector,’ he said. ‘But I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you told my mother and me this morning.’
‘That’s good to know, Mr Carter. Does it mean there’s more you can tell us about your brother?’
‘That’s not why I’m calling. I’ve told you everything I can about what Bobby has been up to since he came home.’
‘Then what?’
‘It’s to do with that little girl,’ Carter said, cutting him off. ‘If you’re right and my brother did abduct her then maybe they were together when Tony Kemp killed him, which means Kemp is the one who has her now.’
Brennan thought about it for a moment and said, ‘That’s very interesting, Mr Carter, but as far as we know, Kemp doesn’t have a personal score to settle with Molly’s mother. So why wouldn’t he have just let her go?’
‘You’ll need to ask him that. I don’t know how his mind works. But just suppose Bobby told him before he died why he’d snatched the girl. Perhaps Kemp saw a way of making a profit by holding onto her.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well sooner or later there’s bound to be a reward offered. Or maybe he’ll eventually make a ransom demand.’
It was an intriguing theory and one that Brennan hadn’t considered.
‘I’ll be speaking to Tony Kemp shortly so I’ll be sure to put it to him,’ he said.
‘I don’t suppose the bastard will admit to it,’ Carter said. ‘But I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that is what happened.’
‘Well you can leave it to us to make the necessary inquiries, Mr Carter. Meanwhile, how is your mum holding up?’
‘She’s still here at my flat and as you can imagine she’s pretty upset and confused.’
‘Well hopefully she’ll be able to return home soon. Someone will contact you when my officers have finished at her house.’
Carter had nothing more to add so Brennan ended the call. But the brief conversation left him wondering if what the man had said was at all possible. It would certainly be an unexpected development and one that would throw up a whole raft of new questions.
Over the years Brennan had met a few despicable souls who he knew would be capable of seizing such a wicked opportunity for financial gain. And Tony Kemp was one of them.
Kemp owned several properties in and around South London. He and his wife divided most of their time between a swanky apartment overlooking the Thames in Bermondsey and a large converted oast house near Sevenoaks in Kent. Both had been purchased with the proceeds of his many illicit activities, including extortion, prostitution, drugs, people trafficking and illegal gambling. But as with the likes of Victor Rosetti the money was always channelled through legit companies, in Kemp’s case a chain of small cafés and a firm that imported toys from China.
DC Foster had arranged for them to meet him and his daughter Lauren at the Bermondsey apartment. She had explained what it was about over the phone and Kemp had said that it wouldn’t be a problem since they were both there all day.
Foster’s reward for setting it up so quickly was to go along with Brennan. She was driving the pool car and Brennan sensed that she was a little nervous. He wasn’t entirely surprised. At twenty-nine she was the youngest member of his team and had never met Kemp, but had heard a lot about him, none of it good.
‘Compared to the other London crime barons, Kemp comes across as a Neanderthal. But that doesn’t mean he should be underestimated.’ Brennan told her. ‘He wouldn’t have reigned supreme for so many years if he wasn’t so clever and so cunning.’
‘Do you think he had Bobby Knight killed, guv?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I really don’t know. But I do know he’s always been very protective of his daughter, so I wouldn’t put it past him if she was being harassed.’
‘And what about the suggestion that he might be the one who has Molly Mason?’
‘It’s a scary thought,’ Brennan said. ‘And for her sake I hope it’s not true.’
The apartment block had a large, sumptuous reception area. A liveried concierge sat behind the desk and a security guard stood to one side.
Brennan and Foster were expected but still had to show their warrant cards. They were then directed to a lift and told to take it to the top floor, the penthouse.
‘I didn’t expect Kemp to be living in a place like this,’ Foster said as they were going up. ‘It seems far too upmarket for a South London gangster.’
Brennan laughed. ‘Then it might surprise you to learn that at least two of his neighbours are also villains. One’s involved with the Russian Mafia and the other is an Albanian pimp. I know because a while ago I carried out surveillance on the block.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘And there was me thinking that crime doesn’t pay.’
When the lift door opened they were met by a shaven-headed man who had a frame that his suit was barely able to contain. It looked to Brennan as though he was about to start a shift as a bouncer outside a nightclub.
‘My name is Ross,’ he said, with a vague semblance of a smile. ‘Mr Kemp is waiting for you in the lounge.’
They followed him across the carpeted corridor to the only door on the top floor. It was open and he led them along a short hallway and into a room with stunning views of London. The windows were all floor to ceiling and there was a large balcony. It had stopped raining outside and the sun was casting its warm glow over the city.
Tony Kemp was sitting cross-legged on one of two black leather sofas that faced each other across a marble coffee table. He was wearing baggy chinos and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal beefy forearms. His hands were clasped together over an expansive stomach that strained the shirt buttons to breaking point.
‘Long time no see, Mr Brennan,’ he said, his voice rough and pure South London. ‘And I take it this is the polite young lady I spoke to on the phone.’
Foster nodded. ‘Detective Constable Foster,’ she said and then cleared her throat.
Kemp grinned, lips parting to reveal custard-coloured teeth.
‘Well sit down. Is there anything my man Ross can get you? Coffee, tea or maybe something stronger?’
‘We’re fine,’ Brennan said, speaking for both of them as they sat down on the other sofa. ‘I’d like to thank you for seeing us at short notice.’
He shrugged. ‘Well I couldn’t pass up the chance to get the inside track on all this business involving the missing little girl and that worthless cunt Bobby Knight. It’s pure fucking drama and I’m hooked along with the rest of the nation.’
The old gangster hadn’t changed much, Brennan realised. He was still nasty and uncouth, a hard, uncompromising villain with no soft edges. He had a drinker’s bloated face and cruel eyes, the kind that enjoy seeing others suffer.
Brennan flicked his gaze around the lavishly furnished apartment. ‘I thought your daughter was going to be here with you,’ he said.
Kemp uncrossed his legs and spread his arms out along the back of the sofa.
‘She’s having a shit,’ he said. ‘I took her out for dinner last night, just like I always do when she stays here with me. But a combination of dodgy fish and too much wine has given her the squirts. She’ll be along in a minute.’
Anyone else would have said she was getting dressed or was on the phone. But not Kemp, who was known to be a foul-mouthed tosser.
‘Is your wife here as well?’ Brennan asked.
‘No. She’s at our place near Sevenoaks. She prefers the countryside to the city. She hates noise and fumes and seeing the streets full of dossers.’
Brennan produced his notebook and took a moment to reflect on his first impression – that Kemp was more relaxed than perhaps he should have been. Was it because he had nothing to hide or because he knew that he’d taken the necessary steps to ensure he wasn’t going to be caught out?
‘So come on, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Kemp said. ‘Let’s get this show on the road. What is it you want to ask me?’