by Neal Martin
"He disguised it with a voice changer."
"Jesus Christ, Harry. What does he want?"
Edger paused before answering. "He wants me to do something very bad, Gemma."
"What? What does that mean?"
"You don't need to know—"
"Don't pull that fucking shit with me, Harry," she raged. "You tell me what he wants you to do."
Edger sighed and shook his head, but said nothing.
"This is my daughter we're talking about here. Tell me what he wants, Harry. Now!"
"He wants me to kill somebody."
There was a shocked silence on her end, then she said, "Who?"
"It doesn't matter who, Gemma. The less you know about this the better."
"Fuck you, Harry! Who? Who does he want you to kill?"
Fuck.
"The Lord Mayor of Belfast."
Another shocked silence. "What?"
"Don't ask me why. I don't know. He never gave a reason."
"And if you don't?"
He said nothing.
"Oh God, Harry…" She started crying again.
"Listen, Gemma," he said. "I'm going to handle this, alright? Whatever happens, I'm getting Kaitlin back."
"You're going to do what this psycho wants?"
Edger told her the truth. "Not if I can help it."
"But you have to do something, or he'll…" She couldn't finish.
"Like I said, Gemma. I'll do what I have to do, whatever the cost to me. I'll get Kaitlin back to you."
"This is all your fault," she snapped. "You better do whatever it takes, Harry. I don't care who you have to kill, you just get my daughter back to me, you hear me?"
Edger sat in silence, wondering if she really meant what she said. Gemma was by no means a violent person. She hated violence, in fact. Murder wasn't part of her vocabulary. Not under ordinary circumstances anyway, but these were not ordinary circumstances. He spent enough time in war torn regions all over the world to know what desperation did to people. Gemma was now a desperate mother who would do anything to get her daughter back.
"I will fix this, Gemma," he said, wondering as soon as he said the words how he could make promises like that, but he had to believe he could follow through on his claim, otherwise he might as well right his daughter off as dead already, and there was no way he was going to do that. He would die first himself before he did that. "But I need you to handle the cops. Two detectives came to see me. They'll be coming to see you next. I need you tell them what I told them. That this morning was just a misunderstanding and that Kaitlin is fine. Tell them she's staying with your parents in Fermanagh. They won't believe you, but it will buy me time. I can't do this if the cops are involved. The cunt who took Kaitlin said no cops. We have to respect that, for Kaitlin's sake. You understand what I'm saying?"
"I understand," she said. "I'll handle the cops, don't worry."
"Good."
"But I'm telling you, Harry," she said, her voice full of angry conviction. "You better get Kaitlin back alive and unhurt, or I will kill you myself. I mean that."
It was strange to hear her talk like that, so full of aggression and murderous conviction. It was ugly for him to hear and he hated how the darkness of the situation had blackened and twisted the pure soul he was once so in love with, was still in love with, if he was being honest with himself. The darkness he had lived in for years, he had brought home with him, and it had corrupted the only light in his life.
"I'll get our daughter back," he said. "Whatever it takes."
Edger hung up the phone and repeated to himself the last words he said: "Whatever it takes."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
John Rankin stood in his office staring out the window at the drizzling rain that was slowly soaking the city, though the rain didn't stop the Saturday afternoon shopping crowd, nor the black clad teenagers that made it their business to gather in their droves around the front of the city hall across the way, too busy trying to be cool to have a care in the world.
Rankin sighed and shook his head before sitting back down at his desk. His mind was on Harry Edger and the awful situation the man was now in. Rankin had two daughters, the youngest daughter being thirteen, only a year older than Edger's daughter, Kaitlin. Rankin couldn't imagine what it would be like if his youngest daughter was kidnapped by some psycho out for revenge. In his long career as a military cop, Rankin had come across many men capable of kidnapping a child, and worse, of killing one. Such men were good at hiding what they really were but if you knew what to look for, you could see right through them. It would only take one such psycho getting out of jail and deciding to teach the man who put them there in the first place a lesson. Rankin shuttered at the thought.
It was why he was careful about his personal security, why his home on the Malone Road was like a fortress, and why he had trained his wife Victoria in all sorts of security measures, including defensive driving, anti-kidnapping protocols and how to use the .38 Smith and Wesson Bodyguard that was kept in a safe in their bedroom back home. No doubt some would see his behaviour as bordering on paranoia, but Rankin had seen and heard of enough families over the years being targeted by criminals for various reasons. Northern Ireland even had its own brand of kidnapping, called "Tiger Kidnappings". These were usually carried out by paramilitaries who would target business owners, holding the family hostage while the victim was forced to open their business and bypass all security measures so the gangs could rob the business in question. It was how the Republican paramilitaries pulled off the biggest bank robbery in British history when they cleaned out the Belfast Northern Bank.
Rankin didn't want anything like that happening to his family, hence the personal security measures. It was also why he carried a concealed Glock 17 most days. Thanks to his contacts gained through years of service in the British military, Rankin had been able to get a concealed carry permit, as well as one for Edger and the guys he used for close protection details. Gun laws in Northern Ireland are surprisingly less stringent than in Britain, for which Rankin was thankful. On at least one occasion, he had call to use his gun when a VIP he was protecting was attacked by a gang of ex-paramilitaries intent on kidnapping the principal. Rankin shot two of them dead, while the other three gang members got away. In that particular case, he was very grateful for the gun laws here.
When his mobile phone rang, Rankin answered it. It was Edger. "What's happening?" he asked Edger.
"We need to talk," Edger said. "Can you meet me somewhere, away from the office? I don't want to run into the cops again."
"You've spoken to them already?"
"They called at my apartment, asking questions."
"What you tell them?"
"That the whole thing was a big misunderstanding."
Rankin frowned. "Why, Harry? They can help you."
"Not in this case. I'll tell you why when I see you."
Rankin told Edger to meet him in the cafe around the corner from the office building in five minutes.
Edger wasn't in the small cafe when Rankin got there, so he ordered two coffees and went and sat down at a free table near the back that was nestled into a secluded corner. The cafe was half full, mostly with couples who were out shopping, their shopping bags gathered around their feet on the floor. Rankin thanked the young waitress when she brought the coffees and he dumped three packets of sugar into his cup. Having given up the booze and cigarettes years ago, sugar had become his one weakness. It was something he could never give up, despite trying a few times, albeit half heartedly. The way he looked at it, you had to have some pleasures in life.
Even if certain pleasures had to remain a secret.
Rankin was half through his coffee before Edger finally walked into the cafe, dressed as he was the last time Rankin saw him, in dark jeans, boots and a black jacket that was zipped up this time, which meant Edger was carrying his gun underneath. His dark eyes were focused and serious as he came towards Rankin. Behind the deep focus in Edger's eyes
, Rankin could see the taut desperation beginning to form. "I got you a coffee," Rankin said, although Edger looked wired enough without adding caffeine into the mix.
Edger shook his head, waved his hand. "Thanks, but I'm fine."
"You don't look fine, Harry. What's been happening?"
Edger leaned his thick arms on the small table after moving his unwanted coffee cup to one side. He glanced briefly over his shoulder like a man who thought he might be being watched or listened to, then he turned back to focus his intense gaze on Rankin. Rankin tried to stay relaxed so they wouldn't attract too many stares from the other people in the cafe, but it was difficult when Edger was so clearly unsettled. "Kaitlin's kidnapper called me again," Edger said, his voice hushed as he leaned in towards Rankin, who sat with one arm leaning on the table, his other hand cradling his coffee cup.
"And?" Rankin asked in a similar hushed tone. "What did he say?"
Edger shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "The fucker wants me to kill someone."
Rankin couldn't conceal the shock from his face and he looked past Edger for a second to see if anyone had overheard. "What the fuck, Harry? Is he for real?"
Edger's jaw clenched. "Course he's fucking for real. He sent me a photograph of the target."
"Who is it?" Rankin was nearly on the edge of his seat as he waited to hear who this person was.
Edger leaned in close and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "The Lord Mayor of Belfast."
Rankin stared at Edger in disbelief. He didn't know what to say to that. He shook his head and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Jesus Christ, Harry."
Edger leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
"Do you know this person?" Rankin asked after a moment of silence.
Edger shook his head. "No. He didn't tell me, and his voice was still disguised. Only thing he said was that this whole thing had everything to do with me and I would find out soon enough what it was all about."
"That's it?"
"No. I have twenty-four hours to do what he asked or he said he would start cutting pieces of off Kaitlin." Edger clenched his teeth as he struggled to contain himself.
"Jesus, Harry. I'm sorry. This is…I don't know what to say. You should involve the cops in this. They can help you."
Edger was adamant. "No. He said no cops, or Kaitlin would suffer the consequences."
"So what, you're just going to do what he asked you to?"
Edger shrugged and looked at his watch. "I have twenty-two hours left." He shook his head. "I have to make a decision, John."
"Harry, you can't just—" Rankin lowered his voice. "—kill the fucking Lord Mayor."
"Well what the fuck do you suggest I do?" Edger snapped. "What would you do if it was one of your kids, John, hmm?"
Rankin sighed and said nothing as Edger stared fiercely at him. It was an impossible situation. What could you say to a man in Edger's position? Don't try to save your own daughter? As a father, Rankin would never presume to say such a thing. As an ex-cop, he was bound to advise against it, but he knew he would wasting his breath. Edger wasn't stupid. He knew the gravity of the situation, the possible consequences of his actions, consequences that he was no doubt willing to accept if it meant saving his daughter.
"Alright," Rankin said eventually. "We can't talk about this here. Let's go to the office."
"What if the cops come round?" Edger asked. "They might want to talk to you for some reason."
"Look, you told the cops Kaitlin was fine. They have no real evidence to say otherwise, not yet anyway, so I doubt they'll even pursue this, to be honest."
"The detective who interviewed me seemed like he didn't want to let it go. He knew something was up. I told Gemma to say there was nothing wrong if they called to see her."
"Well then," Rankin said, standing up. "They should stay away. Let's go."
"Okay," Rankin said when they got to the office. He was sitting on the edge of his desk while Edger paced impatiently around in front of him. "I need you to think, Harry. Do you know anyone who would do this to you? Anyone you crossed in the past that might want revenge on you now?"
Edger continued to pace up and down, deep in thought. "Fuck, John," he said eventually. "You know the job. You're up against people all the time who view you as the enemy. In Sarajevo, Iraq, Haiti, Africa, South America…I've fought against a lot of different groups. As a contractor, I've protected a lot of people against criminals and insurgents. But in the Legion, I was just a soldier, a Caporal. I wouldn't have stood out to any of these people."
"What about the contract work you did in Iraq? Where else? Haiti, South America…you get on anybody's wrong side in those places?"
"I had a few fall outs with certain people," Edger said. "Nothing that would warrant coming here and kidnapping my daughter over though."
"You're sure? There has to be somebody, Harry."
Edger shook his head in annoyance. "I was professional at all times, John. A few bar fights here and there, but that's it. As a soldier, I was fucking impeccable."
"What about your brother?"
Edger stopped and stared at Rankin like he was insane. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Rankin folded his arms across his chest. "You said yourself, Harry, your brother's body was never found."
Edger's face reddened as he stepped close to Rankin, who continued to remain calm as the bigger man loomed over him. "I can't believe you're even fucking saying that," Edger said, his brown eyes fierce. "Declan was taken twenty-six years ago. He's dead. And even if he wasn't, what possible reason would he have to come along after all this time and kidnap my daughter, then ask me to kill the fucking Lord Mayor of Belfast?"
Rankin held his palms out towards Edger. "Alright, Harry. I'm just trying to cover every angle here. You're forgetting I used to be a cop."
Edger's nostrils flared as he kept staring angrily at Rankin for another few seconds, then he shook his head and walked to the window where he rolled himself a cigarette, not bothering to open the window when he lit it, instead just staring through the glass as the smoke billowed into the room.
Rankin pushed himself off the desk and walked around the office for a moment, then he said, "What about the people who took your brother?"
Edger shook his head, calmer now. "No one knows who they are. And if they wanted me they would took me along with Declan years ago. Why would they turn up again now?"
Sighing heavily, Rankin went and sat in his chair by the desk. "Well, I'm out of ideas, Harry. Sorry."
"Shit," Edger said suddenly, opening the window and disposing of the cigarette butt in his hand.
"What is it?" Rankin asked.
Edger reached inside his coat pocket and took out a mobile phone. "The kidnapper left me this. It's how he contacted me the second time. I'm to phone him on this when I've done what he asked me to do."
Rankin sat up straight. "Fuck, Harry, why didn't you say. We could can try and get his rough location off that. But you would need to call him and keep him on the line for as long as possible."
"And say what? If he thinks I'm trying to track him, he'll hurt Kaitlin."
"Yes, but we could also get a general location. Maybe find him before you have do anything rash."
"It's a long shot. I'm not sure if it's worth the risk."
"Up to you, Harry. You don't have many options here."
"Fucks sake," Edger snarled, staring at the phone. "What do I say to him?"
"Tell him you want to speak to Kaitlin, then you'll do as he asks."
Edger thought for a second. "Set it up."
Rankin nodded and opened the laptop on his desk, then he opened the program that would allow him to triangulate the location of the kidnapper's phone. Normally, Donna would do this sort of thing. Donna Lennon was the firm's resident techie. She dealt with all the cyber related cases that came in, as well doing the occasional bit of hacking when required. As she wasn't currently available, Rankin woul
d have to muddle through himself. It took him ten minutes to set everything up, during which time Edger stood smoking and constantly checking his watch. "Alright," Rankin said when everything was ready to go. "Call him."
Edger gave Rankin a look that said he wasn't comfortable with what he was about to do, but he nonetheless dialled the number that was programmed into the phone, then he put it on speaker so Rankin could hear.
After six rings, the kidnapper answered, his voice still disguised. "What is it, Harry?" the kidnapper said. "Are you calling to tell me the Lord Mayor is dead? I hope so, otherwise I won't be happy."
Rankin's stomach turned when he heard the kidnapper mention killing the Lord Mayor. Hearing it from Harry was one thing. Hearing it confirmed by the kidnapper only made it more real somehow.
"Not yet," Edger said. "I want to speak to Kaitlin again before I do anything."
A silence descended on the other end of the line, and Rankin worked as fast as he could to triangulate the location of the kidnapper's phone.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," the kidnapper said, and both Rankin and Edger looked at each other, for they knew what was coming next wouldn't be good. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you're doing. You're trying to triangulate my location. Is your ex-copper friend with you?"
Shit.
Edger raised his head towards the ceiling for a second, then looked at the phone in his hand again. "I just need to know my daughter is okay. She's probably scared to death. I need to tell her that things will be okay."
"Things will not be okay, Harry," the kidnapper said. "Not if you keep making stupid moves like this one. You now have twelve hours from now to do as I say. Don't call me again until the Mayor is dead and you have proof of death."
There was a click and the line went dead.
"Well?" Edger asked Rankin.
Rankin could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't get it."
Edger inhaled an angry breath through his nostrils and then turned around and punched the wall. "Fuck!" He leaned his head against the wall for a moment, then stood as if gathering himself. Rankin knew better than to ask if he was alright. Edger was far from alright as he walked to the door. "Where you going, Harry?"