Searching For Hope

by Michael Joseph

  In that moment, staring down at Jake's hunched figure, Sam realised he had.

  Chapter 23

  Sam rapped on Diego's door.

  'It's Sam!' he shouted, hearing tentative movement within the flat. 'I've got something for you!'

  Sam waited patiently for the bolt to slide back. He had taken great care driving to Diego's flat, only approaching the building after a lengthy journey to shake off any tail, followed by a painstaking wait outside to ensure nobody was lurking about.

  The door opened a few inches, halting abruptly on the chain. Diego gazed out and noticed the object at Sam's feet. His eyes widened. He hastily released the chain and flung the door open.

  'You have my bag!' he exclaimed, managing to look delighted and mystified at the same time. Sam passed the holdall to him and entered the flat. The graffiti on the wall had disappeared. In fact, the whole room had been redecorated with a fresh coat of paint.

  Sam turned back to Diego, watching the younger man as he nervously opened up the holdall.

  'It's all here!' declared Diego joyously, rummaging through his possessions. He pulled out some photographs, an envelope, various trinkets. The smile on his face went some way to lessening the guilt plaguing Sam.

  Diego rushed at him and flung his arms around his neck.

  'Hey, Diego!' laughed Sam, patting the delighted man on the back. 'People will talk, you know.'

  Diego stepped back and gazed down at the assortment of objects in his hand.

  'Thank you, Sam,' he beamed. 'Thank you so much for getting my things back.'

  Sam shrugged.

  'It was my fault you lost them in the first place.'

  'How did you find-'

  Sam shook his head.

  'Best not ask. Let's just be grateful it's all still there.'

  Diego thought about pushing it, then decided to heed Sam's advice, realising it was of little consequence. He had his prized possessions back.

  Sam thought it best not to mention it was Jake who had stolen the holdall for one good reason. He thought Diego might go looking for him. The theft of his personal belongings had hit Diego hard, and the last thing Sam needed was a hot-headed young man gunning for revenge.

  Jake had willingly given the bag back to Sam, explaining he had grabbed it on the spur of the moment with the intention of selling on anything useful in it. However, boxer shorts and old family photographs weren't quite what he had hoped for. Everything in the bag was worthless to him. He had stashed the holdall away and forgotten about it until Sam asked about it. Sheepishly, Jake handed it over, even offering an apology for the theft.

  It wasn't the only success Sam had with Jake. Despite his insistence he knew nothing, Jake had let slip some interesting information before the two men went their separate ways. Sam decided to put this fresh material to the test as he was leaving Diego's flat.

  'Diego, you said you didn't get a good look at the man who attacked me that day. Tell me again what you can remember about him.'

  Diego recalled what he could. The threadbare description was enough for Sam.

  It definitely wasn't Jake who had jumped him.

  ***

  A lengthy delivery wagon pulled up outside Jaspers. Parked across the road, Sam watched the driver drop down from his cab and go around to the back of the vehicle. At the same time, the doors of the club opened, and a man Sam didn't recognise appeared. A barman, judging from the apron he was wearing over his black shirt and trousers. As the driver pulled back the side curtain of the wagon and positioned a ramp against it, the barman opened up the cellar doors. Within minutes, barrels were rolling off the wagon down into the depths of the club.

  Sam continued to watch the men at work, trying to get things straight in his mind. If Kenny Swain's tendency for young girls had resurfaced, and he had snatched Hope, bringing her back to Newgate, keeping the teenager prisoner while forcing her to work for him, then that explained Danny's despair at his sister's plight. He had found her and tried to secure her freedom, only to be warned off, threatened and physically intimidated to such an extent he felt unable to go to the police.

  Who had he left to turn to?

  Roger Carpenter.

  Danny's sole remaining relation. A man who barely tolerated him. With no other alternative, Danny must have travelled back to Morehampton with a heavy heart, dearly wishing there was someone else he could ask for help. Sam wondered what advice Roger had given his nephew. Clearly, the discussion hadn't gone well. Danny had returned to Newgate with his tail between his legs, while Roger had upped sticks and moved house.

  A white transit van cruised past the stationary wagon, halted, then reversed down the alleyway running alongside Jaspers. Sam nudged the Capri forward a few yards to get a better view. The van driver got out of his vehicle carrying a large sealed box. He was met by Barry, the club's doorman. The driver handed Barry the box, climbed back into his van and drove back up the alleyway. Sam watched Barry return inside the club through the fire exit.

  Sam continued to stare down the alleyway, even after the van had driven off.

  Help. Me. Find.

  Danny's final words to him in the dingy alleyway were now confusing Sam. Danny had already found his sister. What he needed was help liberating her from Kenny Swain's clutches.

  Sam left his car and sneaked into Jaspers through the open front door while the barman and delivery driver had their backs to him. The club was dark and silent inside. Sam was thankful he had been given prior warning Barry was in the vicinity. He had expected a cleaner or barman to be present during the afternoon, not a doorman. Sam went around the back of the bar, keeping his eyes peeled. He came out halfway down a narrow corridor. At one end was a stairway, the other two closed doors. Sam could hear a voice from behind one of them. He edged towards the door, recognising Barry's voice on the other side.

  'Yes, boss. It's just been delivered. Okay, see you later.'

  Sam heard a phone being replaced in its cradle and a chair scraping. Barry was walking towards the door. Sam grabbed the handle of the other door, relieved to feel it twist in his palm. He dived into a dark storeroom and shut the door just as Barry came out into the corridor. Sam scanned the room. There was nothing to hide behind. Everything was neatly stored on shelves out the way. Sam saw the door handle turn. Barry was coming in.

  Sam stood behind the door, his back pressed against the wall. The door opened slowly, coming to a gentle rest against his nose. Sam held his breath, still as a statue, hoping Barry didn't switch the light on. Instead, the doorman carried the box over to a shelf, dropped it down and exited the room. He hadn't noticed Sam behind the door.

  Sam didn't dare move for some time, not until he heard Barry outside, shouting goodbye to the men still working out there. Sam stared up at the ceiling in relief. He decided to investigate the box Barry had stashed away. Reaching up, he pulled it off the shelf and carefully unpeeled the tape wrapped around it. He pulled back the flaps and stared at the contents in surprise.

  Numerous plastic bags containing white powder.

  Drugs.

  Sam quickly sealed the box back up and returned it to the shelf. Something else caught his eye. A sizeable bag wedged between the top shelf and the ceiling. Sam reached up and grabbed it. It felt extremely light. Dust blew in his face as he brought it down. Sam activated the torch on his phone and waved it over the bag.

  It was blue.

  A large blue bag. That's how Diego had described Danny's bag. Sam found faded writing on the outside. Initials in yellow marker pen.

  D.F.

  Sam's hands trembled with anticipation as he zipped open the bag. At first he thought it was totally empty. About to flick off his torch, he noticed a folded piece of card tucked in the corner. He reached in, pinched the card between his fingers and took it out. Keeping the light on it, he unfolded the card.

  It was a photograph of two men.

  Slightly faded. Taken some years ago.

  A pair of men, both roughly Sam's ag
e. They were leaning back against the wall of a pub, smiling at the camera, half-empty pint glasses in their hands.

  Sam thought he recognised the pub.

  He definitely knew the men.

  Roger Carpenter and Kenny Swain.

  Chapter 24

  Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching the sleeping figure. The thick curtains blocked out the moonlight, leaving the bedroom in total darkness. However, Sam had been there some time. His eyes had adjusted to the pitch black.

  The man in the bed began to stir, his sub-conscious perhaps sensing somebody else was in the room. Suddenly, his eyes shot open. He stared in terror at the balaclava-clad figure looking back at him.

  Roger Carpenter opened his mouth to scream.

  Sam leaned across and placed a hand gently over Roger's mouth.

  'I wouldn't if I was you.'

  He waited a few moments, watching Roger's eyes dance with fright. When he thought it was safe to do so, Sam withdrew his hand.

  'Scream and you're dead,' he whispered.

  Roger nodded meekly, pulling his bedclothes up to his neck.

  'What do you want?' he gasped, staring at Sam as though he had seen a ghost. Which he had in a way.

  'Why did Danny Findlay come back here?'

  Roger shook his head slowly, feigning ignorance. However, Sam had caught the fear in his eyes. Roger knew what he was talking about.

  'Your nephew came back to see you a few months ago. He'd found his sister, hadn't he?'

  Roger gulped and nodded reluctantly.

  'What did he tell you?'

  Roger gripped the edge of his blanket tightly.

  'Not-not a lot,' he stuttered. 'He came by mainly to see how I was.'

  Sam sighed and let his hand hover over Roger's face again. Sam could feel the petrified man's hot breath on his palm.

  'Wrong answer. Try again.'

  Roger blinked furiously.

  'He said she was in a place called Newgate. I told him to go to the police.'

  Sam shook his head and pulled out the worn photograph from his pocket.

  'No you didn't,' he said firmly. 'That's the last thing you would have told him to do.'

  Sam held the photo up. Roger squinted at it, trying to recognise the picture in the dark.

  'Danny found this picture of you and Kenny Swain. The two of you look very cosy together, don't you think?'

  Roger closed his eyes again, for longer this time. His breathing had become shallow.

  'Old friends?' asked Sam.

  Roger gave him the slightest nod, eyes still firmly shut, his breathing more erratic. Sam thought he saw pain on the man's face.

  'Kenny couldn't help himself,' wheezed Roger, opening his eyes. They were cloudy and uncertain. 'Danny didn't understand...'

  Sam stared down at Roger in disbelief.

  'I'm not surprised he didn't understand, you pervert! Your friend abducted his sister...your niece...and you didn't bat an eyelid because you were happy to be rid of her! Did Kenny buy you this house to keep you quiet? A sweetener when Danny found out and started kicking up a fuss?'

  Roger nodded again, in clear pain now. He was gulping for air, his face contorted in agony.

  'I tried to-'

  Suddenly, Roger clutched his chest, making strange gurgling noises. His eyes rolled around frantically. His mouth opened wide.

  Sam looked on in dismay. The man was having a heart attack.

  'Roger!' he spat out. 'Don't you dare bloody die now!'

  Roger was reaching out to him with a weak, outstretched hand. His mouth had twisted in a horrible, gnarled expression. His breathing was harsh and fitful.

  Sam sighed and left the room. He went downstairs, picked up the house phone with a gloved hand and dialled the emergency services.

  Moments later, he left the house, leaving the front door open.

  ***

  Sam struggled to sleep through the early hours, not out of any sense of guilt for Roger's predicament. Quite the opposite. Sam wanted him alive to see the conclusion of this tragic tale. After all, Roger had contributed to the downfall of his family, keeping quiet about Hope's disappearance, which in turn had led to the deaths of his wife and nephew.

  At seven in the morning, he got up and dressed in warm clothes, deciding it was time for a walk. However, he didn't leave by the front door. Instead, he squeezed out through his bathroom window and slid down the drainpipe, dropping down onto the extension at the back of Moira's shop. Brushing himself down, he let himself out the back yard and went for a stroll. He walked the quiet streets in a wide, circular route, scanning the parked cars in the dull half-light.

  Twenty minutes later, he turned a corner and started up a narrow street full of red-brick terraced houses. In the distance, he could see the row of shops below his flat, his Capri parked outside. Sam slowed, ever more vigilant, pulling his hat down further to just above his eyes.

  Then he saw it.

  The Jaguar, parked up ahead, in a position that offered a perfect view of his flat, partially hidden by other parked vehicles in between, near enough to allow a clear sight of Sam every time he left his flat. Sam began retreating, aware now how Jimmy Edwards had stalked him so easily. All he had to do was sit here and watch from a safe distance.

  Sam returned to his flat the same way he had come. After scrambling back into his bathroom, he undressed and ran a hot shower. As he soaked himself under the steaming water, he decided it was time to up the ante. He had all the evidence he needed. Now it was time to bring it all together.

  ***

  'Richie, sorry to ring you so early. Can you give me those names again? Yeah, the ones in cahoots with Kenny Swain...'

  Sam listened, grunted in approval and thanked his old friend. Then he ended the call and began punching in another number. A voice outside caused him to halt.

  'Drive carefully, Alice.'

  Sam looked out the window. Moira was accompanying Alice to her car. The scene jolted Sam's memory. Alice had mentioned she was going away for a few days to visit relatives. Sam darted out of his flat. The phone call could wait a little longer.

  He reached Alice's car as she was loading an overnight bag into the boot. Alice and Moira looked at him curiously.

  'Alice,' he said breathlessly. 'I nearly missed you.'

  Sam watched on as the two women hugged affectionately. Moira left them to it, patting Sam reassuringly on the arm as she went back into the florists.

  Sam and Alice endured a few moments of awkward silence.

  'I wanted to say goodbye before you left,' said Sam, trying not to let his eyes waver into the distance. They would be watching him right now, awaiting his next move.

  Alice folded her arms and gave Sam a weak smile.

  'I'm only going for a few days, Sam. Anyway, I dare say you'll be too busy to notice.'

  Sam cringed. He couldn't blame Alice for being tetchy. He had been so consumed by Danny Findlay's death lately.

  'I wanted to let you know I'll be away myself when you get back. I've accepted a case overseas.'

  Alice got into her car and dropped her handbag on the passenger seat.

  'I'm very pleased for you,' she said, pulling the driver's door towards her. 'I'll see you soon then.'

  She held the door open a moment, studying Sam, watching his reaction. Sam didn't know what to say. Something had changed between them.

  Alice sighed and started up the engine.

  'See you, Sam.'

  He watched her drive off, unsure how her hardened attitude towards him made him feel. All he knew was some time away would be good for him. A chance to clear his head.

  'Hey!'

  Sam turned to see Detective Inspector Robins walking towards him. Normally, he would have groaned. However, the detective's appearance had saved him a phone call.

  Robins took Sam lightly by the arm and guided him over to his flat door.

  'Roger Carpenter's in hospital,' he hissed angrily. 'He had a heart attack during the night. Now, you
wouldn't know anything about that, would you?'

  Sam steeled himself for one of his biggest lies.

  'No. Why should I?'

  Robins gave him a resolute look.

  'Someone rang an ambulance from his house. They'd disappeared by the time the paramedics got there.'

  Sam thrust his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

  'Maybe he rang them himself.'

  Robins shook his head in disbelief.

  'He was practically dead by the time the ambulance arrived! He wouldn't have been able to lift a finger, let alone make a phone call!'

  Sam recalled the figure suffering only hours ago. Still no sympathy.

  'How is he?' he asked.

  Robins was watching him closely. Very closely.

  'It appears he's going to be alright.'

  'Good,' said Sam abruptly. Too quickly for Robins' liking. The detective instantly rounded on him.

  'I think you know a lot more than you're letting on,' he spat accusingly, pointing his finger at Sam.

  Sam surprised Robins by nodding in agreement. He wasn't going to admit to being in Roger's house last night, but he did have other things he wanted to confide.

  'I do, but this isn't the place to talk.'

  Robins raised his eyes.

  'Okay, why don't we go up to your flat?'

  Sam risked a glance in the distance. Any discussion had to be done away from prying eyes.

  'No. Not here.'

  ***

  Later that night, Sam left his flat, glancing up and down the street. He got into his car and drove off, gazing nervously on every side. A wary display was exactly what they would be expecting. He noticed the Jaguar pull out and follow in his wake. Night-time was good for Sam. Headlights were always a give-away.

  He made sure he drove normally, not attempting to speed off or lose his tail. The Jaguar stayed back a respectful distance as Sam headed for Shard End again.

  Towards Jaspers.

  Into the lion's den.

  He parked across the road from the club and sauntered over to the entrance. Thankfully, two beefy men he hadn't seen before were guarding the door. They allowed him in without a second glance. Sam smiled grimly as he walked into the bustling main room.