The Mother

by Jaime Raven

  Brennan then said he wanted someone to round up CCTV footage in the town.

  ‘There’s probably not much from three weeks ago,’ he said. ‘But we might get lucky. And at the same time let’s flood the place with photos of Knight and Molly.’

  Outside the pub he told Foster to hang around and help coordinate things when the troops started to arrive.

  ‘I want to get back for the press conference,’ he said. ‘We need to get this out there as quickly as we can.’

  He looked at his watch. It was one o’clock. Plenty of time to get things started. Above them shredded clouds streamed across the sky and there were many more hours of daylight left.

  The pub was situated just outside the small town centre which was about a hundred yards off to the left. Brennan drove through it in the pool car on his way back to central London. He spotted the railway station, the post office, a Costa Coffee, a Chinese takeaway.

  And then he passed a police patrol car – the first of many that would soon be pouring into the town.

  46

  Sarah

  I didn’t want to leave the incident room while things were happening. The information from the pub landlord had triggered a burst of activity. Officers were shouting into phones, tapping frantically at computer keyboards and rushing around with sheets of paper in their hands.

  About a dozen detectives had already rushed out of the door to go to Hayes. They would join the local cops who were already trying to find out if Bobby Knight had taken up residence in the area.

  It was an exciting development and it gave me hope that we were closer to finding Molly. Whether that hope was justified remained to be seen.

  I flitted in and out of Brennan’s office, feeling like a spare part and not caring.

  I rang Aunt Tessa’s house to speak to my parents and give them the news. But she said they had already gone home. I explained to her what was happening and a few minutes later I went through it all again when I spoke to my mother.

  ‘I’ve been to Hayes,’ she said. ‘I used to have a friend who lived nearby in Keston. Why would he take Molly there?’

  ‘We can’t be sure he has, Mum,’ I said. ‘But it’s a strong possibility.’

  ‘I heard Knight’s mother being interviewed on the radio this morning. She’s told the police that her son is dead.’

  ‘I know that, Mum, but she doesn’t know for certain. She would rather believe that than accept that he’s abducted a child.’

  My dad came on the line then and asked if I would come and see them today.

  ‘Your mother’s really not coping well, Sarah. She still feels responsible for letting that man into our house, and she can’t stop crying. It’d help if you were here.’

  ‘I’ll try to come by later,’ I said. ‘But I can’t promise, Dad. There’s a lot going on.’

  ‘But she’s your mum, Sarah, and I’m worried about her. She needs you.’

  My thoughts danced and a weight of guilt settled in my chest. I wanted to be there for my mum but right now she wasn’t my number-one priority. Molly was.

  ‘Look, Dad, just do what you can to comfort her. And try to make her understand that I don’t blame her for what’s happened. There was nothing she could have done to stop it. Why not call her GP and get them to prescribe something?’

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I said a quick goodbye and hung up, hoping that he wouldn’t be upset.

  Next I called Adam to see if he was across what was going on. I hadn’t heard from him since he’d left the flat and I had no idea where he was or what he was up to. But his answerphone kicked in so I left a message: Ring me when you can. Bobby Knight has been sighted. I wondered if he was still going through the NCA files or perhaps he was following up a lead of his own. I told myself not to worry and to trust that he was all right. But it wasn’t easy.

  I then sat back in Brennan’s chair and closed my eyes. I could feel another headache beginning to drill through my frontal lobe. But was it any wonder? My nerves were frayed and the blood was tearing through my body at a rate of knots. It felt like I was on autopilot while being battered by events.

  Sergeant Palmer and DI Driscoll came and sat with me to watch the three o’clock press conference live on Sky News. This time it was just DCI Brennan and a press officer fronting it.

  He kicked off by repeating the appeal for information on Bobby Knight.

  ‘There’s already been a tremendous response from the public,’ he said. ‘Knight has been seen in Hayes, a town on the London-Kent border. We understand that he may have moved into that area some weeks before Molly Mason was abducted.’

  They then showed the clip of security footage from the pub, while Brennan explained what it was and what was happening.

  ‘The man in the sweater has been positively identified as Bobby Knight,’ he said. ‘He visited that same pub, The Queen’s Head, on several occasions and indicated to the landlord that he was staying nearby. So I want to appeal to anyone in that area who thinks they may have seen him to contact us.’

  He then opened up the floor to questions and the first came from a BBC reporter who asked, ‘Bobby Knight’s mother has been interviewed by phone on BBC radio. She’s adamant that her son has been murdered on the orders of an underworld figure who is well known to the police. Could she be right?’

  Brennan caught his bottom lip between his teeth and considered the question carefully before he answered.

  ‘I’ve spoken personally to Mrs Knight and as you can imagine she’s very upset,’ he said. ‘Her son hasn’t been in contact with her for two weeks. But there is not a single piece of evidence to suggest that he’s come to any harm. However, I can assure you that we are giving serious consideration to her remarks.’

  The reporter persisted. ‘But if he is dead then aren’t you wasting time looking for him? Wouldn’t it be better to keep an open mind and pursue other suspects?’

  ‘That is exactly what we are doing,’ Brennan said, irritation creeping into his voice. ‘At this stage we’re ruling nothing out. But all the evidence so far points to Bobby Knight being the person who abducted Molly Mason. Our objective is to reunite her as soon as possible with her mother.’

  The press conference continued for another ten minutes and Brennan managed to come across as a man who had things under control.

  When it was finished Sky News switched their attention to Hayes and I was surprised to see that they already had a reporter on the ground there.

  She was a smart lady named Trish Scott and I’d seen her on the screen many times before. She was doing a piece to camera in front of The Queen’s Head pub and saying that police teams had already begun to arrive in the town.

  ‘A Scotland Yard source has told me that their efforts will be confined to speaking to residents, shopkeepers and local business people. At this stage there are no plans to carry out an extensive search of the heaths and woodlands around the town.’

  As I watched and listened, thoughts of Molly swamped my mind. I wondered what she was doing while all this was going on. Was she awake or asleep? Was she eating or drinking or playing? Or was she suffering at the hands of that monster?

  My imagination was suddenly out of control again and being colonised by disturbing images. I saw Molly being slapped around the face and on the bottom. I saw her screaming as her face reddened and the tears gushed out of her eyes. I saw her lying naked on top of a double bed while a man wearing nothing but a balaclava knelt beside her and ran his hands over her tiny body.

  I didn’t realise I’d started crying again until Sergeant Palmer placed an arm around me and began stroking my hair.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t help it,’ I sobbed.

  I felt I had already cried a million tears but it was like trying to turn off a tap that was broken.

  ‘I think I had better go home,’ I said. ‘I need to sort myself out.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘If you don’t mind
I’d rather not have company. I’ll be fine on my own.’

  She wasn’t happy but knew she had no choice in the matter. I didn’t have to have a family liaison officer with me if I didn’t want it.

  She offered to drive me back to the flat but I told her there was no need because my own car was still parked here at the station.

  I thought about going to see my parents but decided not to. I really did want to be by myself.

  DI Driscoll promised to ring me if there were any developments and Sergeant Palmer told me to call her if I wanted her to come over.

  But what they said barely registered because as soon as I turned my back on them I started scolding myself for losing it. Now more than ever I needed to be strong and resilient. Not weak and emotional. And instead of just telling myself to seize at least some semblance of control over the situation, I had to actually step up to the plate and do it.

  47

  Adam

  Adam’s mobile had run out of juice and he didn’t notice it until he left Barney’s snooker club and got back in his car.

  He plugged the phone into the charger he kept in the glove compartment and switched it on.

  He had two missed calls. The first was from Helen and he was sorry he hadn’t taken it because he knew it was time he stopped pretending they had a future together. What was happening had made him realise that it wasn’t what he wanted. So the sooner he confronted it, the sooner he could stop thinking about it. Besides, Helen needed to know where she stood and why he felt it necessary to end the relationship. He was going to call her straight back until he saw that the other missed call was from Sarah and she’d left a message saying that Bobby Knight had been sighted.

  So he rang Sarah, but there was no answer. Her message prompted him to check the BBC online news feed. And sure enough it was all there, including a clip of DCI Brennan at the press conference.

  Adam considered Knight appearing in Hayes to be a solid lead, especially in view of what Barney Nichols had just told him. For that reason he was determined to carry on doing his own thing. He knew it was a long shot, but it was better than doing fuck all.

  After leaving Sarah’s flat earlier he had gone to the office to download Knight’s NCA file onto his computer. He had printed off several pages, all the time managing to avoid being seen by his boss and having to explain what he was up to. Then he’d spent an hour in a pub going through the printout. He’d picked out the names of some of Knight’s old haunts and known associates. He was aware that the information was out of date because Knight had spent the past four years behind bars. But he didn’t let that faze him.

  He left the pub with the names of four individuals – all sleazebags that Brennan’s team would probably call on eventually – plus the addresses of places where Knight used to hang out.

  Barney’s snooker club in Camberwell had been his first port of call and it had got him off to a promising start.

  Barney was well known to the Met, and his club was frequented by a lot of South London spivs and villains.

  The air in the place had been stale and heavy and he’d been sized up by punters with a world-weary suspicion in their eyes. They could spot a copper from a mile away.

  Barney himself was a squat, bullish man with a square, craggy face. Adam had known him for years and more than once had drawn on his knowledge of the manor and the reprobates who did business in it. He wasn’t a grass exactly, but with a few drinks inside him he could be gloriously indiscreet.

  Knight was a keen snooker player and had been a regular at the club before going to prison. Fortunately for Adam, Barney had been knocking back the beers and brandies all afternoon so his tongue had been loosened up. He saw no reason not to tell Adam that Knight had popped into the club just the once and that was four days after his release.

  ‘If the bastard has taken your kid like they’re saying on the news then I hope you get to him first,’ Barney had said.

  ‘Have you any idea where he is?’ Adam had asked him.

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘So why did he come here?’

  ‘Well it wasn’t to play a few frames of snooker. He wanted to pump me for information.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the bloke they call The Keyholder.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘He’s been on the scene for a while apparently, but I only heard him mentioned for the first time about six months ago.’

  ‘Why do they call him The Keyholder?’

  Barney had grinned. ‘He looks after the properties of those of our brethren who are forced to leave these shores for any length of time.’

  ‘You mean fugitives?’

  ‘I do. I’m sure that at least a couple of the characters who appear on the NCA’s most-wanted list are among his clients.’

  ‘So what does he do for them?’

  ‘Well ain’t it obvious? Most of the guys who go on the run have hidden assets in this country, usually houses and flats that they bought as investments. So while they’re sunning themselves on the Costa Del Crime or down in South America, The Keyholder provides a unique service. He can arrange for their properties to be sold or he can rent the places out on their behalf. Word is, he even allows them to be used for clandestine gatherings. All the money goes to the owners, minus his commission. The arrangement works well for those who’ve managed to avoid having their assets seized.’

  ‘So Bobby Knight came here to see if you knew how to find this bloke. Is that it?’

  ‘Correct. He said he had heard about him in prison but wasn’t given a name.’

  ‘And did he say why he wanted to contact him?’

  ‘He said he was looking for a short-term let that was well below the radar. Preferably somewhere out of the way.’

  ‘And were you able to help him?’

  ‘Sure, why not? After he slipped me a ton I gave him the guy’s name.’

  ‘So who is he, Barney? Give me the name and I’ll be in your debt.’

  ‘I’m happy to do that on this occasion, Detective, because I don’t hold with people snatching little kids. But I’m not sure it’ll be of any use to you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well the bloke was attacked a couple of nights ago. He was left for dead apparently but ended up in hospital with multiple knife wounds.’

  The possibility of a link between The Keyholder and Hayes spun around inside Adam’s head.

  As he drove across town, he tried to connect the dots. Had The Keyholder fixed Knight up with a temporary property there? Was that why he’d been seen in the town? And was there a connection between any of that and the knife attack that had put The Keyholder in hospital?

  Eddie Lomax. That was the name Barney had given him. The man they called The Keyholder, who was now recovering in St Thomas’ Hospital.

  The name rang a bell and Adam realised why after he made a couple of calls – the first to an on-duty colleague at the NCA and the second to the detective at West End Central who was investigating the stabbing.

  Lomax was a lawyer who, for some time, had been linked to organised crime in London. He had represented a number of high-profile villains, including two who had fled to Spain after warrants were issued for their arrest. Both men were on the NCA’s most-wanted list. The charges they faced included attempted murder and conspiracy to import and supply heroin.

  Adam was familiar with both men. Indeed, he had been actively involved with the investigation into one of them, a Scot named Steve Monk. He was a principal member of a Europe-wide crime network involved in high-level international drug trafficking. Following the execution of a warrant at his home address in North London, officers discovered over £200,000 cash, a cash-counting machine and a kilo of cannabis resin.

  His house and car were seized under the Proceeds of Crime Act, but it was strongly suspected that he had hidden assets that would probably never be recovered. So to someone like Monk, Eddie Lomax was a godsend.

  Adam was surprised that he hadn’t
already heard about the service Lomax was providing. And if he hadn’t then it was unlikely that anyone else in the agency had been tipped off about it.

  According to DI Jason Hughes at West End Central, Lomax was attacked two nights ago after leaving a casino in Soho. He suffered two stab wounds to the stomach and one to the chest, and it was a miracle he was still alive.

  ‘He’s in a bad way, so he hasn’t been able to provide a statement,’ Hughes said. ‘But the hospital reckons he should be up to speaking to us tomorrow. The thinking is he was the victim of some kind of revenge attack. We don’t think it was robbery because they left his wallet in his pocket.’

  ‘I know that Lomax is one of the go-to lawyers for villains in the capital,’ Adam said. ‘But it’s rumoured that as well as trying to keep them out of prison he also looks after their assets if they have to flee abroad. Were you aware of that?’

  ‘No, but it sounds interesting.’

  ‘They call him The Keyholder apparently.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘From a snout, but I can’t talk about it now. I’ll let you know if I hear any more.’

  By rights Adam should have called Brennan and told him what he’d found out. But he knew that would lead to a delay and get bogged down in the legal process. So he decided to press on to St Thomas’ Hospital on the banks of the Thames opposite the Houses of Parliament.

  When he got there he flashed his warrant card to get a prime parking spot and then showed it again at reception.

  Lomax was in a room of his own having been moved out of intensive care. In the old days the Met would have stationed an officer outside, but with cutbacks biting into manpower and resources they only did that if they felt it was absolutely necessary.

  Adam was waved through and even got to speak to the doctor in charge, who said, ‘We’ve been told to alert Detective Hughes the moment the patient is in a position to speak.’