The Controller

by Linda Coles

  Almost immediately and from someplace up ahead in the bushes, a little white ball of woolly looking dog sprang out, yapping its little head off, and headed straight for Lorna. Hearing the familiar sound and spotting her little dog in the distance, Lorna instantly dropped to her knees to make a fuss of her Bubbles, her own screams of delight heard in all four corners of the park. Anyone watching would have seen an ordinary woman walking from the path on her own, and another woman making a huge fuss of a little white poodle, looking like she’d just found her long-lost friend. The little dog raced about, Lorna squealing with delight, though the tears rolling down her face may have looked out of place to anyone close enough to see them.

  Vic left them to it, another job well done.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was three days later and Pam and Gemma were en route to the park for her afternoon runabout.

  “Now then Gemma, we’ll be there soon enough, you don’t need to half drag me,” she said to her little dog as they neared the front gate of the park, but Pam couldn’t help smiling. It was delightful having Gemma back again, and June had volunteered to look after Gemma during the day while Pam worked so such an upsetting thing never happened again. Pam was extremely grateful to her friend and neighbour, and was now glad to be retiring a bit sooner because of what had happened. Never again would she let Gemma out of her sight, though she didn’t think she was in any danger of being dognapped again by the same gang. Gemma turned to her looking for permission to run, and Pam slowly bent down to release her.

  “Now Gemma, listen to me before you go.” The little dog stood looking up at her, eyes bright, ears pricked and tongue hanging loose out of her mouth.

  “You must stay close by, no disappearing into the bushes or I’ll have to put you back on your leash, understand?” The little dog almost nodded her agreement and Pam gave her permission to run. Keeping her eye on her like a hawk, she slowly wandered to the nearby bench and sat at one end. As she sat, she realised it was the bench by the rubbish bin she’d done the drop in only a few days ago. The sting of tears filling her eyes was a painful memory of what she had nearly lost. Finding a handkerchief in her pocket, she dabbed them away before they could flood over, and blew her nose to shake herself back to the present. Gemma had kept to her word and was scampering about close by in the wide-open space, the deep green of the freshly mown grass a glorious contrast to her golden silky coat. She rested her head back and looked to the clear blue sky, then closed her eyes for a moment and said a little prayer of thanks. It was a woman’s voice that brought her attention back to the park.

  “Good morning, lovely isn’t it?” Pam opened her eyes again and looked at the lady in front of her, recognising her as a regular dog walker though they had never spoken. Her little white poodle was by her feet. “May I sit here?” she enquired.

  “Oh, good morning, please do, and yes it is lovely isn’t it,” Pam said, and watched the woman as she sat down, noting that her poodle was still on its leash. Gemma was still dashing about playing with a couple of fallen leaves and thoroughly enjoying herself nearby. Lorna spotted her and nodded her way.

  “I’m not daring to let Bubbles off her leash at the moment, I lost her a few days ago, I’ve only just got her back so I’m a little untrusting of my surroundings at the moment. That’s your Spaniel I presume?” she said, pointing with her head at Gemma. “She’s a beautiful dog.”

  “Yes, she is. And it’s odd that you should say you’ve only recently got yours back, because so have I. And I’m feeling a little nervous too, in fact today is the first time back in the park since she’s been home.” Pam realised the similarity straight away and turned to the woman and looked at her thoughtfully before she asked her a question. “Tell me if you don’t mind, was your dog taken or lost?”

  Lorna felt herself pale at the realisation that the woman she was sitting next to had possibly also been a victim –why else would she ask such a question?

  “Taken. And I’m now guessing yours was too?”

  “Yes. From my back garden, then a couple of days later they called and we did the exchange.”

  Lorna looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “My goodness that must have been hell. Bubbles was only missing overnight and that was long enough. Come to think of it now, I remember seeing you the night you got her back because the first time I spotted you in the park you were alone, and then as I returned, you had her with you, making a real fuss of her. I was out looking for Bubbles.” She went quiet for a moment then added, “My god! I wonder how many more there have been?”

  Pam was thinking the same thing but how could they know for sure?

  “They told me no police, but I’m wondering now if perhaps I should go back to them, I’m betting there’s more than just us two victims. Trouble is, the dognappers know where I live.”

  “Then I should go and talk to them perhaps, let them know there is a gang out there taking advantage and making money off others’ misery, it’s not right, or nice.”

  Thinking for a moment, Pam wondered about The Daisy Chain. “There may be another way to find out who else has been affected before we go to the police, give us more ammunition as it were. They certainly weren’t interested when Gemma first went missing, before I got the ransom call I mean. If we can tell them there are definitely more than two of us, they’ll have to take notice and do something, won’t they?”

  “And what is that? What are you thinking?” Lorna asked.

  “I’ll post something on The Daisy Chain. I know the woman who runs the site, used to be a pupil of mine way back, she’ll be able to help I’m sure.”

  “Great idea! Others might come out and share their experiences. That way, they can hide behind their user names for anonymity if they wish. And this gang, particularly if they’re not local, won’t know who they are, they probably don’t even know about the site.”

  Pam turned to Lorna and smiled her agreement, and bent down to tickle Bubbles behind her ears.

  “Hello Bubbles, I’m Pam, and that young lady over there is Gemma,” she said pointing. “Pleased to meet you.” Bubbles yapped just once in greeting back.

  “And I’m Lorna, nice to meet you Pam,” Lorna said, holding her hand out to shake. “Now let’s get these mongrels caught before they strike again!”

  “I agree. Let’s see what surfaces after I post the question when I get back. There have got to be others, I’m sure of it.”

  They swapped phone numbers and agreed to meet in the park again at the same time tomorrow for an update. Hopefully they would have enough ammunition to go to the police with.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pam walked briskly back home like she was on a mission, which is exactly what she was on, much to Gemma’s annoyance. Speeding back home was not what they usually did, and she much preferred the saunter where she could take her time sniffing posts and bushes before hanging out in the back garden for the rest of the day. But Pam had other thoughts today. It had been extremely upsetting when Gemma had gone and she didn’t want others to suffer the same as she had. And now she had the chance to do something about the scumbags that were responsible for her and Lorna’s distress. Though she didn’t know for sure, she thought there would probably be others out there, unaware of this gang, and she was going to give them a chance to help catch the culprits.

  It wasn’t long before they were both back inside the small kitchen. She put the kettle on for tea and found her iPad, loading The Daisy Chain page as she waited for the kettle to boil. When the familiar click sounded, she poured hot water onto a chamomile bag and let it steep, taking it to the table out on the porch where she sat on her swing seat with Gemma beside her, iPad at the ready.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, eh Gemma? Those mongrels, pardon the pun, need to be caught, and soon. Let’s see who else is out there.”

  She typed her post which read:

  From @litlady – Gemma is home safe and well, thank you for all your help looking for her and your
well wishes. But unfortunately, it doesn’t end there. Gemma was stolen from me, and held for ransom. Yes, ransom! And Gemma and I are not the only ones to have been targeted. Only today I met a lady whose poodle had been stolen, also for ransom. We were both lucky enough to get our pets back but others might not be so lucky. Please, don’t let your pets out of your sight! Don’t give this gang, and I’m assuming there is more than one of them, the opportunity. And if you have had a similar experience, or know of anyone else that has, we need to know so the police can do something about it.”

  She tagged Ruth, the owner and moderator, in the conversation so she would definitely see it, and asked her a question at the same time.

  “@McRuth, can people message you directly if they don’t want to share publicly here? I’m assuming they can. Let’s find these culprits and stop this nasty and very upsetting business.”

  She finished her piece and pressed ‘post’, then read through some of the other posts to see what else others were interested in. There were the usual harmless gossipy posts, largely about what the council had planned and people’s viewpoints, someone had reported their underwear being stolen from their washing line again, and there was one report of a dog going missing only this morning. Pam’s heart sank. The owners had posted a picture of him, with a heartfelt message pleading for information for his safe return. The little Jack Russell terrier looked a handsome boy, unimaginatively called ‘Jack’, but as Pam knew, his name was the least of his problems.

  Looking down at Gemma who was laying by her side on the swing seat, she said “Ah Gemma, there is another one here, a little dog named Jack. We’ll say a prayer for his safe return at bedtime. Let’s hope they get him back safely soon.” She took a final look at ‘Jack’, white with a distinctive tan patch, and closed her iPad down thoughtfully. She wished there was something she could do to help him, but what? There was no point contacting the owner directly just yet and telling them of her ordeal, it would only worry them further, and there was nothing to gain from it now, the dog had already been taken. The most she could do at this point was to warn others to keep alert, that is until anyone else came forward. She hoped they would.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Not a bad week’s work team, nearly £6000 here. Beats collecting shitty scrap metal and getting sod all for it, eh?” Niles was sitting counting the week’s takings like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk, a limp cigarette smouldering in the corner of his mouth, his thin wrinkled smoker’s lips keeping it pressed into place. The air in the small lounge room was thick with his chain-smoking and the grey haze clung to everything and gave everyone a permanent stale cigarette smoke odour. Pete hated it when he smoked in here, why couldn’t he piss off outside like everyone else did these days, but he knew not to say anything. Riling him up was not a good move so he kept his head down and concentrated on his game. He was playing chess online with someone in Aberdeen and he was winning.

  “Nice one.” Vic nearly always agreed with him and Pete wondered if she had a thing for him, though god knew why. Underneath her scruffy exterior she was a good-looking woman, although she needed to dress a bit more feminine, and the way she wore her greasy hair scraped tightly back didn’t do her any favours. He knew without a doubt she could do a lot better than fancying Niles. And do a lot better with herself. Pete had tried to keep himself clear of the Niles’ of this world but a couple of spells in juvie had put paid to that – the people he’d surrounded himself with involuntarily were all like Niles or younger versions of. Once you had a record not many employers wanted to touch you. Pete had found himself getting involved for the cash cut – he had to live on something. That was two years ago and they’d been going from town to town, only moving on when it got too hot to stay around. He knew time here was getting close to up, it wouldn’t be long before someone suspected something and they’d be on the move yet again.

  “Right, time for a pint, who’s coming?” Pete watched Niles’ cigarette bobbing up and down as he spoke.

  “I’m in,” said Vic, and of course she would be. “What about you Pete, fancy a lemonade?” Vic and Niles chuckled.

  Pete lifted his head up from his screen, “I’ll be there in ten, I’ve nearly got this guy, game’s nearly over now, so I’ll see you down there.”

  “Suit yourself, come on then Vic, let’s get ‘em in,” and they left Pete to it. As they left the dingy house, Pete breathed a sigh of relief and was grateful for a bit of time on his own. He got up and opened the windows to let some fresh air in then sat back down to finish his game.

  The old backstreet pub was nearly empty so Niles and Vic had no problem getting a seat. Vic went straight to the bar to order their drinks. The place smelt like a mixture of stale beer, stale bodies and stale urine from the gents’ toilets. It was a dive, but it was local. With nobody about, Niles chatted openly about the last couple of weeks’ progress and how well they were doing.

  “I’m just not sure how long we should stay here. There’s some good rich targets in these parts, better than some of the other outer London towns we’ve worked that’s for sure. May as well have more money for the same risk, eh Vic?”

  “Agreed, that last one with the sodding yappy poodle was nice and easy, though that damn dog kept me awake half the night. Could have wrung its bloody neck.” She took a long swig of her Pernod and blackcurrant and opened her packet of cheese and onion crisps, crunching loudly as she filled her mouth with several at once. Little flakes of fried potato fell from her lips down to her lap.

  “Mucky bugger Vic, you’re losing half of ‘em.” Niles took a sip of his pint and went on, “I think we’ve probably only got one more week or so round here, then we should move on again before the pigs find out. Someone is bound to think they’re cleverer than us and try and involve them, and that always gets messy. Remember the last time someone did that? Served ‘em right not to get their little precious back, dumb shits.”

  Vic remembered it well, she’d had to get rid of it. The main bar door opened and she watched a heavyset man with thick well-inked arms enter the pub and take a seat at the bar. Probably a local, she guessed, and being on his own guessed rightly that he’d chat to the barman then read his paper that was rolled up in his hand. Visitors like Niles and Vic were usually at a table.

  Niles got her attention back. “Na, I reckon another week then we’re done. Move on further into Kent maybe, some big money there, might even have pedigree dogs we can charge even more for, what do reckon?”

  “Whatever you think’s best, Niles, you’re the brains of this operation,” she said, with one eye back on the stranger at the bar.

  “Yeah, reckon that’s about it, get another few dogs from round here, then off to more lucrative climates.” Vic thought she saw the man turn slightly at Niles’ voice, he wasn’t exactly being quiet about it even now there was someone else in the pub.

  The door opened again and Pete walked in and went straight to the bar, looking over his shoulder at Vic and Niles to check the levels of their drinks. No need for a top up yet, he thought, so he didn’t bother even offering. He waited until the barman returned and ordered himself a lager, choosing to stand at the bar for a moment to take his first mouthful. As he did so, he looked to the right at the man sitting at the bar on his own, taking in his tattoos and rough exterior. Though his mother had always taught him not to judge a book by its cover, sometimes it was hard not to. He took another sip and tried not to be obvious in his appraisal as he stood there, in no hurry to join the others. He could hear Niles talking about moving towns if things got hot, and so it seemed could the man. Pete was no stranger to body language ‘tells’ and he could see the man was listening in to their conversation. As Niles laughed at some story of a ransom that had gone wrong, the big man pulled his phone out and quietly made a call. Pete stayed close by, his ears stretching to hear to what was being said but it was impossible without being found out. He let it drop but stayed where he was, interested suddenly in his bar mat and in what was g
oing to happen next. The man certainly didn’t look like the police, even an undercover one, he’d seen enough in his few years to know what one looked like, the tell-tale signs. The man put his phone down and carried on half reading his newspaper, with one ear very obviously turned to the table nearby and their continued conversation.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The bulky tattooed man finished his pint then ordered another, using the barman as a distraction to turn around properly and look at the two occupants at the small table nearby. Two young wannabes, he figured, were trying to look cool, one with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, despite the fact that smoking wasn’t allowed inside pubs, but the barman hadn’t said anything and probably wouldn’t by the ambient smell of the place. He took in the young man’s badly bleached hair, his scrawny build and jittery disposition and he wondered if someone so skinny and nervy had a drug problem – it was usually a sign with the folks he came across. In his line of work they were never the smartly dressed corporate types, but usually the bottom feeders of life, which suited him down to the ground. The more desperate they looked, the more desperate they usually were.

  He moved his attention to the woman, and it was obvious from her gaze she was awestruck by him, probably in love if you could call it that, though god only knew why. Not looking much of an oil painting that one. He couldn’t see why she was so besotted with him, what drew her in, but it did. Her eyes were stuck to him, her half smile as she listened to his stories, her chin resting in her open palm balancing on an elbow on the edge of the cheap wooden table told him she was raptured. Inwardly he scoffed and called her a silly cow, but she probably didn’t know much else, hadn’t had much more experience in her life. Still, the two of them could prove to be useful, and from what he’d just heard, they already had a bit of experience. Now he just had to wait for the right moment to approach and put his proposal to them.