‘You’re twisted, you know that?’
‘No, Perry, I’m just a simple cop. And right now I’d like to know what you’ve been up to. Let’s start with Esme. When did you last see her?’
The question drew a frown from Madison. For a moment, Faraday thought he was about to walk out. He was wrong.
‘Five days ago.’
‘Really? Is this self-denial or have you had a tiff?’
‘She’s not around.’
‘Then where is she?’
‘Spain. Place called Baiona.’
‘And what’s she doing there?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Well fucking try. She works for her dad. It’s something commercial. I haven’t a clue what.’
‘She doesn’t tell you?’
‘No.’ He shook his head, studied his bitten nails. ‘We’ve got better things to talk about, believe it or not.’
‘Like getting it on properly? Divorce? New life? All that?’
‘Like getting out of this khazi, for a start. And like rejoining the rest of the human race.’
‘With her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Abroad? Spain?’
‘Whatever it takes.’
‘So what has she told you? About this place Baiona?’
‘Nothing, except it’s beautiful. She loves it.’
‘And she says you will too. Am I right?’
Faraday knew he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of an answer. For the first time it began to occur to him that Madison might be telling the truth. There really was no covert subplot. He’d met the woman, talked her into bed, and good sex or chronic loneliness had done the rest. After years in the marital desert, the oasis of his dreams.
‘Would it be easier for you to talk to my intel skipper?’ Faraday gestured at his pad. ‘Only I don’t want this to get personal.’
Madison looked up. For once, he’d spotted the irony.
‘Fuck off, Faraday,’ he said softly.
Chapter twenty
TUESDAY, 27 MAY 2008. 13.21
Jimmy Suttle’s interview with Mackenzie was nearly over. They were talking in the front room. Stuart Norcliffe drove a black Porsche Carrera. He parked it outside the big square bay window and let himself into the house. Suttle heard him greeting Marie in the hall. Then the door burst open.
Norcliffe was a big man, shorn scalp, jeans and an open-necked pink shirt under a white linen jacket. He’d driven down from London. He wanted to know just what the hell was going on.
Mackenzie told him. When he’d finished, he introduced Suttle.
‘This guy’s on the case, Stu. He wants to know what we’ve all been up to lately. Isn’t that right, son?’
‘Yeah. Maybe a bit later, Mr Norcliffe? As soon as we’re through?’
‘Whatever will help. Just give me a shout.’
He looked uncertainly at Mackenzie for a moment then left the room. Suttle heard Marie asking whether he’d eaten or not. The kids were upstairs. They’d love to see him.
Suttle turned back to Mackenzie. His notebook was virtually empty. As Faraday had warned, his interviewee was playing the innocent.
‘So nothing that you can think of? Nothing personal? Nothing connected with your business?’
‘Nothing. Nada. That’s Spanish, by the way.’
‘And your daughter?’
‘Back this afternoon.’
‘From Spain, you say?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Business or pleasure?’
‘Neither. Needs must, son. She’s had a coupla problems at home, needed a little break, needed to be by herself, have a bit of a think about things. Stu’s pretty much the same except he still needs to work, poor bastard. You probably know about all this over-the-side bollocks, don’t you? From that nice Mr Faraday?’
‘I do. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, mush. Happens all the time, more and more.’
‘I meant the kids.’
‘Yeah? Well there’s that, of course, big time. You know what my dad would have done if my mum had been knobbed by some other bloke? He’d have done them both, slowly, one after the other. We’re too polite these days. Ever thought about that?’
The interview was at an end, Suttle knew. Mackenzie got to his feet and said he’d send Stu in.
‘Must be like an audition for you, eh, son? Putting us through our paces, see if we measure up? Go easy on Stu, though. Bloke’s in a bit of a state.’
Mackenzie left the room. Seconds later Helen Christian came in. She’d been upstairs with the kids but beat a discreet retreat when their dad appeared. The kids, she said, were a real credit.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘I am. I never had Mackenzie down as a family man. Turns out they worship him … and her of course - Marie.’
‘He’s upset, isn’t he? You can sense it.’
‘Yeah, definitely. That’s exactly what Marie says too. Normally he plays stuff pretty close to his chest. Since last night he’s been all over the place. She’s worried for him, she’s worried for them all.’
‘I’m sure she is. You want to sit in when I talk to Norcliffe?’
‘Please.’
Stu appeared minutes later carrying a tray laden with snacks. Marie thought they might be hungry. Suttle helped himself to a chicken salad sandwich. Stu didn’t want anything.
‘This must be tough for you, Mr Norcliffe. I hope it goes without saying that we’re really sorry. It won’t last forever. We normally sort these things out within days.’
Stu nodded but he looked far from convinced. He wanted to know what would happen next. Surely there’d be a ransom demand of some kind?
‘That’s possible, Mr Norcliffe.’ Suttle wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘That’s one of the things we have to discuss.’
Briefly he explained that with Mackenzie’s consent they’d be monitoring calls to the house.
‘Yours too. With your permission.’
‘Of course. How do you do that?’
‘We get them diverted here. We have techies to sort all that out. As far as mobiles are concerned, we’ll be relying on you.’
Suttle explained about Helen’s role. She’d be on the premises most of the time. Once the kidnappers made contact it was obviously important to be listening in.
‘And getting some kind of number from them?’
‘Of course. In these situations they normally use call boxes but we can locate those too. Whatever it takes, Mr Norcliffe. Patience, I’m afraid, is what we’re all going to need.’
Stu was studying his hands. Then he shook his head.
‘Nightmare. Total nightmare. This is stuff that happens to other people, stuff you see in the movies.’ He looked up, his eyes brimming. ‘Have either of you got kids?’
Suttle shook his head. Christian said she had three.
‘How old?’
‘Adolescents.’
‘Then you’d know. Guy’s six. He’s a tough little bugger but he’s vulnerable too. Some things really freak him. Not at night, funnily enough, but other things. I took him on the London Eye recently, just by himself for a treat. It was part of his birthday present and sometimes you know that you don’t get enough time on your own. I asked him whether he wanted to bring some mates along but he said no. Just him and me. I’m sorry …’ His head went down again. Christian and Suttle exchanged glances, then Christian went to sit beside him on the sofa, her arm around his heaving shoulders.
Finally he looked up, accepting the proffered tissue. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. Doing the job I do you never lose control, never. This whole thing is just so …’ he shook his head again ‘… weird. To think of taking a boy that age. What kind of person does that?’
‘You were telling us about the Eye,’ Suttle reminded him. ‘Something freaked Guy out.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, it did. Down on the embankment there you get these guys who paint themselves in si
lver and dress up in costume and stuff and just stand there like statues. Guy was fascinated. Absolutely fascinated. Then the man winked at him. That threw him completely. He physically jumped. I swear it. Now, whenever he passes a statue, you know, a real statue, he crosses the road to get away from the thing. Maybe it’s to do with trust. He really thought the man was a statue. But kids are like that, aren’t they? They trust completely. Until we let them down.’
‘We?’
‘Adults. Mums and dads. I understand you know about Guy’s mother and me.’
‘Yeah. That can’t be easy either.’
‘It’s not, believe me. And it isn’t for the kids.’
There was a long silence. Suttle decided against another sandwich. Instead, he asked Stu whether he’d noticed anyone hanging around the house recently, maybe a strange car driving slowly past, unexplained phone calls with no one at the other end.
‘No.’ Stu was staring at the opposite wall. ‘But then I’m away during the week.’
‘What about the alarm?’
‘The what?’ He didn’t seem to have heard.
‘The house alarm, Mr Norcliffe. It doesn’t seem to have worked. Has there been a problem?’
‘Yes, there has. On Saturday, funnily enough.’
‘What happened?’
‘I was coming back from London. The kids were down here with Marie and Baz. I had to drop some stuff off at the house before picking them up. I tried using the remote to disable the security system, as usual, but it didn’t seem to work. Then I did it again, and again after that, and the fifth or sixth time it let me in. It’s never done that before. Christ knows why.’
‘Did you report it?’
‘Yeah. A guy came out that same night, once I was back with the kids. He couldn’t find anything wrong, of course, so he just told me to keep an eye on it.’
‘And since?’
‘It was fine on Sunday and I assumed it was just a one-off glitch, but then when you really need the thing -’ he shrugged hopelessly ‘- it lets you down.’
He wanted clarification on exactly what would happen if he took a call on his mobile from the kidnappers.
‘If it happens here, alert Helen. She’ll be alongside you. If it happens somewhere else, then fix a time when these guys can phone you back. And try and make sure you’re here with one of us. Are you OK with that?’
‘Of course. Anything you say. I’m totally in your hands. Help yourself.’ He frowned. ‘How would they know my number?’
‘Mrs Mackenzie tells me Guy knows it by heart.’
‘That’s right. Of course he does. It was a party piece of his. Typical.’ He blinked, reached for the tissues. ‘So you think they’ll be in touch? Whoever they are?’
‘That’s our assumption. It’s not a guarantee but that’s normally what happens.’
‘So what do I say?’
‘You say nothing. Just that you want your son back. Try and get them to put him on the line if he’s there. If that’s impossible ask for proof that he’s still alive.’
‘Alive?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Norcliffe, I didn’t mean to spring that on you. It’s a remote possibility but it’s something we have to bear in mind. What you’re going into is a negotiation. I know it’s difficult but it might be wise to bear that in mind.’
‘Negotiation? That’s what I do every day of my working life.’
‘Sure. But not for your son, I imagine.’
‘No.’ He looked at Suttle for a long moment. ‘He’s worth everything to me, that boy. Whatever they ask for, I’m happy to pay.’
‘It might not come to that, Mr Norcliffe. Let’s hope it doesn’t.’
‘What do you mean? I don’t understand.’
‘It means that we use certain techniques, sneaky-beaky stuff, pretty high-tech most of it. Actually paying the ransom is pretty rare, at least in this country.’
‘But would he be at risk? Guy? Because if there’s the slightest question of that, then … like I say … I’ll just pay up. I want him back. And I don’t care what it costs.’
Suttle nodded and then made a note. Christian tried to reassure him. He seemed to have little faith in high-tech gizmos.
‘I’m in hedge funds. I’m surrounded by ace-bright back-room boys, kids straight out of uni who write the most amazing software programs for tracking stocks and shares, for predicting what’s going to go up and come down, and you know something? I just know that in the end they’ll get too clever. Most of the time I trust my instincts. And most of the time I’m proved right. So as far as Guy’s concerned -’ he spread his hands wide ‘- why don’t we just keep it simple?’
‘Of course.’ Suttle made another note. ‘I’ll talk to my bosses, see what they say. These may be early days, Mr Norcliffe.’
‘Christ, I hope not.’
‘So do we. But it might be best to be patient, like I say.’
They talked for a while about people who’d have some shrewd idea about Norcliffe’s net worth. The list of names was endless. Every client, for a start, though in Stu’s view these were hardly the kind of people who’d be remotely interested in kidnapping.
Suttle said he wanted a list.
‘You’re serious? A client list?’
‘Yes.’
‘With contact details?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘OK.’ It was Norcliffe’s turn to write himself a note. ‘I’ll have my secretary email something through. Anything else?’
Suttle mentioned friends, casual or otherwise, individuals Stu played squash with, drank with, even met on holiday. People can be strange, Suttle said. You think you know them yet something happens and you realise you don’t.
Norcliffe nodded. His eyes were shiny again.
‘Too right,’ he said. ‘Have you met my wife?’
Winter belled Esme from the train. She said she was sitting on a trolley beside a luggage carousel at Gatwick Airport, waiting for her bags to appear. Her dad had been too busy to drive across and pick her up. She hoped he’d have a sense of humour about the cab fare.
‘You should have phoned Speedy, Ez.’
‘I forgot. And I don’t need the lecture, thanks. Where’s Stu?’
‘At your dad’s place, as far as I know.’
‘Great, that’s all I need. How about the kids?’
‘They’re there too.’
‘They’re OK?’
‘Of course they’re not. What do you expect? Losing your big brother’s bad enough. Having both parents on the blink’s probably worse.’
‘So that’s my fault is it? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yeah. Talk to you later, love.’
Winter snapped his mobile shut, glad he’d got it off his chest. The sight of the kids at Bazza’s place had seriously upset him. She hasn’t got a clue, he told himself. Not the first fucking idea.
The address Mackenzie had given him for Garfield turned out to be a leafy Richmond crescent within walking distance of the Thames. Winter changed trains at Waterloo, pausing to buy himself a burger, and walked the half-mile from Richmond station. The area reminded him of Craneswater - lots of trees, no litter, every house badged with expensive security alarm systems - and Garfield’s property, like Bazza’s, also featured a high brick wall and electronic gates. An address like this, thought Winter, would put a smile on anyone’s face.
There was an entryphone beside the gates. Winter waited while a motorbike roared by then announced himself. When nothing happened he did it again. Finally, a woman’s voice.
‘Mr who?’
‘The name’s Winter. We met in Spain. At the weekend.’
‘At the airport?’
‘Yes. I’ve come to apologise. Were you the lady in the hire car?’
There was a long silence. It was hot in the sunshine and Winter wondered whether to shed his coat. Then he heard footsteps. Moments later, the gates swung open. There were two of them. They were both minders, both black. One stepped out on
to the pavement, checking in both directions.
‘You got a car, man?’
‘I walked.’
‘Walked? Shit …’
He accompanied Winter into the drive. His colleague gestured for Winter to raise his arms the way they do in the security line at airports. Winter complied, eyeing the nearby vehicles while he got the full body check. One of them was a new-looking Mercedes saloon, black, top-of-the-range. The other was a van, rusting around the sills, white. Close to, the minder stank richly of aftershave.
‘What’s this?’ He opened Winter’s jacket and extracted his wallet then resumed the search. Finally he stepped back, satisfied.
‘You’re going to give me that back?’ Winter nodded at the wallet.
‘When it’s over, man. Not before.’
‘Over?’
‘You and Mrs G. Good luck, baby.’ He swapped glances with his buddy and began to laugh.
The house was even bigger than Winter had expected. He could hear the tock-tock of a sprinkler watering the lawn at the rear of the property and he caught a glimpse of sunbeds on a terrace. Blinds shielded windows on the sunny side of the house and there was a warning about guard dogs on a plaque beside the front door.
The door was open. Winter stepped inside. For a moment, in the gloom, he could see nothing. Then came a woman’s voice from a room on the right.
‘In here, Mr Winter. I must say I admire your nerve.’
She looked younger and thinner than Winter remembered from the airport. A fall of blonde hair softened the boniness of her shoulders and her legs were bare beneath the loose cotton shift. The scent of coconut in the room told Winter that she must have been out on the terrace, creaming herself up.
‘Nice weather.’
‘Lovely. And totally unexpected.’ She cocked her head, looking him up and down. ‘What can I do for you?’
Winter said again that he was sorry about the incident in the car park. The locals, he said, had no manners and his own boss had been horrified to hear about what had happened. The fault, he said, was entirely his.
‘I agree.’
‘You’ll pass that on to your lawyer friend?’
‘That won’t be necessary. I understand he’s preparing a writ.’
‘Against?’
‘You.’ She sweetened the news with a smile. ‘Assault and aggravated robbery. I’m no lawyer, Mr Winter, but I imagine that pretty much covers it.’
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