The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  'Rachel,' he yelled, sprinting towards her, his tone urgent, 'Rachel, you need to come with me. Now.'

  She spun round, her expression a mask of confusion. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hand and began to run across the concourse, dragging her behind him, Boegenkamp following several steps behind.

  'Where are we going Frank?' she shrieked, but not resisting. 'I need to stay at the barrier. Brandon will be here soon.'

  'Trust me, he won't. But it will be ok. Come on.'

  God, how he prayed his hunch was right. They were heading to the Western tunnel, which if he'd read the map correctly, burrowed below several of the platforms before emerging on the waterside. And according to the map, that was the side where the taxi rank stood. They barged their way down the escalator, Frank not bothering to apologise as they pushed aside an army of indignant commuters. Reaching the bottom, it seemed that the flow in the tunnel was in the opposite direction to theirs, and every second person had their head buried in their smartphone, making no attempt to get out of their way and thus slowing their progress. But at last they reached the up escalator, taking the steps two at a time, ignoring once again the protests of those who they had bundled past, until they reached street level once more. To his left, he saw the giant illuminated sign above a pair of automated sliding doors. Taxi.

  'Come on, this way,' he shouted, dragging her in the direction of the doors. Boegenkamp had now caught them up and was on his radio, bringing his team up to speed on the change of plan. Not that they would be needed, the kidnappers being already over the Belgian border on their way to Calais. It had been, as far as could be arranged, a risk-free operation. Shove the kid in the back of the cab, slip the Leiden-based driver a hundred-Euro note and remind him it would be good for his health to forget who gave it to him. Now they just had to sit back and wait to see if the van Durens honoured their side of the bargain. If they did, then result. Three-quarters of a million in the bank, a tidy little job and no mistake, and plenty of other kids to go for to fill the vacancy. If they didn't, then they'd better not let the kid out of their sight ever again.

  The boy was standing there, alone and bewildered, as the doors slid open. Boegenkamp was there first, bounding through the gap and gathering him up in his arms. Frank smiled at Rachel van Duren and gave her a thumbs-up, then watched as she ran towards her son. You didn't get many happy endings in this job, so you needed to savour them when they turned up. He might stay on another night, see if Marco fancied a wee pub-crawl around the city, maybe even check out the famous red-light district, although strictly as a social observer. They'd been bloody lucky, he knew that, because he was certain that the villains' original scheme hadn't included handing back the kid. But at least now he had a blueprint that he could use next time it happened, assuming of course the next victim's family had a cool million and a half going spare.

  Because there would be a next time, he was sure of that.

  Chapter 22

  'Hi Amanda, nice to hear from you!'

  Jimmy hadn't exactly been surprised when he glanced down and saw who was calling him. Whilst it was true that for most of his life he had been pretty hopeless at reading signs of attraction even when to an outside observer they were bloody obvious - at least that's what Maggie kept telling him - with Miss Amanda Fletcher of Her Majesty's Prison Service even he could tell there was an interest. An interest that was definitely not going to be reciprocated. For a moment Jimmy had debated whether he should take it or not, but eventually admitted to himself that he would like to know the reason for her call, and the easiest way to find that out was to answer it. She had seemed momentarily taken aback by the fact that he had actually picked up and by the effusiveness of his greeting.

  'Yes, well thank you!' There was a pause during which he assumed she was catching her breath. 'It's lovely to talk to you too. I was beginning to think you'd lost my number.'

  'No no,' he said, quite truthfully, 'just been a bit busy, that's all.' He had been busy but that wasn't the reason he hadn't called her.

  'All work and no play makes Jimmy a dull boy. You should come and play with me, we could have a lot of fun.' That wasn't the first time he'd heard someone say that, and he didn't doubt that it might be true, but it was how to escape afterwards that would be the problem. Especially given her profession.

  'That would be nice,' he lied, 'but well, it would be a bit difficult, let's put it that way.'

  'Don't tell me, you're with someone,' she sighed. 'All the nicest ones always are.' By her tone he guessed that the revelation, untrue though it was, had neither surprised nor particularly upset her.

  'Nicest ones? I don't know about that,' he laughed, 'but I guess you didn't call me just to tell me how amazing I am.'

  'I did actually, but there was something else too,' she answered. 'It's your friend Mr McCartney. He's in hospital.'

  Jimmy couldn't hide his surprise. 'What? What happened?'

  'He fell over. In his cell. Smashed his face against the wall five or six times and broke his nose. He was unconscious when they got him to the Royal Free.'

  'Fell over? Really?'

  'That's what it will say in the official report. But no, of course not really.'

  'So what did happen then?'

  'Well the first thing is when I hears that our boy is getting moved to A Block.'

  'What, where all the nutters are kept?'

  'That's right, well remembered.' From her tone he could tell that she was enjoying the story, and that she was in no hurry to get to the end of it. 'I mean, that's highly unusual. Normally the only reason you get moved from our wing over to A is if you have done something really bad or upset someone very important, so I thinks, oh-oh, this doesn't look good for our Blake.'

  'So what did he do?' Jimmy asked. 'A bust up with one of the officers or something?' If he could have seen her expression, he would have realised how far from the mark he was with this supposition.

  'Well, not exactly,' she said, sounding evasive. 'It was because he got on the wrong side of one of the organised crime crews. Not that I'm surprised because he's a right twat, isn't he?'

  'So, these guys can arrange for someone to be transferred to another part of the jail. As if they run the place?' Jimmy said incredulously.

  She laughed. 'Well more or less. It's all about the give and take of prison life, ain't it? You do this little thing for us and we'll do something for you. Bob's your uncle then a couple of weeks later the governor is boasting to the Home Affairs Committee about a nice little drugs bust or about finding a stash of mobiles in the shower block.'

  'So who do you think beat him up then? Because I'm assuming he didn't actually fall over six times.'

  She laughed again. 'Oh, I know who did it all right. Everybody around here knows that. It was Johnny Watson and Pete Smart. A right couple of hard bastards they are. You wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them, believe you me.'

  He was struggling to get his head around the fact that someone could order a beating inside a jail as easily as ringing for a takeaway. And that the authorities apparently knew who was responsible yet did nothing about it.

  'This is an eye-opener for me Amanda, it really is. So what are these two guys in for? Murder or something I assume.'

  She grinned. 'What are they in for? Watson and Smart aren't inmates, they're screws. Do you think we allow our guests to just wander into anyone's cell and do this sort of thing? What sort of establishment do you think we're running here?'

  'Jesus Amanda, there's a lot about the prison system I'm obviously ignorant of. But I'm guessing you must have some idea what it was all about?'

  'Yeah, well sort of. My mate Andy Smith, remember the officer you met on your last visit, well he's kind of mates with the two of them and apparently it was all to do with some legal document or other.'

  'You're kidding,' Jimmy said, unable to hide his surprise. 'It wasn't about a pre-nuptial agreement, was it?'

  'I don't know the details, might ha
ve been mate. 'Course, that's why you came to see him, I remember now.'

  'Aye, that's right.' Now his mind was racing as he skimmed through all the possible reasons he could think of why someone might want to beat up McCartney. With his history, there probably was no shortage of folks who might bear him a grudge, but surely the timing of this was too much of a coincidence just a few days after his own visit. And it was not as if that would have been kept a secret in that place. Someone had been doing some digging into McCartney's visitor log.

  'So Amanda,' he asked her, 'do you or your mate Andy have any idea who ordered this?'

  'And do you think if I knew I would tell you?' she said disbelievingly. 'No way mate, I value my health too much for that. Some people are saying it was one of the Irish firms, but I don't think Andy knows and he doesn't want to know either. But you know Jimmy, you could always visit McCartney in hospital and ask him yourself, I'm sure he'd be very pleased to see you. We've got a rota for guard duties and as it happens it's my turn tomorrow afternoon. And then maybe we could go for a drink afterwards.'

  Jimmy couldn't help but chuckle. 'Nice try Amanda, but some other time eh? But listen, thanks for letting me know all this.' And he was grateful to her, although at that moment he had no idea what it meant for the case, but he could figure that out a bit later. Satisfied he had all he needed, he was just about to bring the call to a close when she said,

  'Now you just wait a minute Jimmy Stewart, because I've kept the best for last.'

  'You're a right tease Miss Fletcher,' he said, grinning to himself. Aye, a tease in more ways than one. 'Come on, tell me.'

  'So Andy says that the story going round is that McCartney was paid twenty grand by someone to make a document disappear and this seems to have displeased someone important. That's all Andy has heard.'

  'Amanda, you're a wee darling!' And he meant that too. This was dynamite. Someone had been prepared to pay good money to make the Fox-Montague pre-nup evaporate, and there was only one person who stood to gain from that happening.

  The only problem was, that person was now very much dead.

  ◆◆◆

  It was seven thirty in the evening, and for Maggie this was her sacred time, the blissful hour she got to spend with her son before bedtime, just the two of them, united in love as step by step they erased the trauma that had upended their lives just two years earlier. But the combined consequences of Jimmy's earlier call with Amanda Fletcher and the surprising text that Maggie had subsequently received was so startling that for once she had to make an exception. Which was why he was now sitting opposite her in her tiny kitchen hugging a mug of coffee and munching on a chocolate digestive. Ollie was naturally delighted about his visit, racing around in his P-Js and excitedly urging him to examine his latest Lego creation.

  'It's a Buzz Lightyear, Uncle Jimmy. To infinity and beyond!' He picked up the spaceman and, holding it aloft, circled the room at speed, accompanied by a loud whoosh.

  'Aye, I can see that mate. It's really good. I love Toy Story, it's one of my favourites.'

  Maggie laughed. 'Now then Ollie, leave Uncle Jimmy alone, will you? I tell you what, if you're a good boy, you can watch it for ten minutes. Go through to the sitting room and I'll set it up for you.'

  Ollie adopted a serious tone. 'But not the original film mummy, I like Toy Story Three best.'

  'Already a wee film critic, eh?' Jimmy said, smiling. 'You know, I think that's my favourite too.'

  'And then can we play football Uncle Jimmy? Please.'

  'Of course mate. I'll go in goal and you can take penalties at me, how about that?'

  Satisfied, Ollie followed his mum out of the room, leaving Buzz in the care of Jimmy. A few seconds later Maggie returned, grinning from ear to ear.

  'I doubt whether he'll sit there for five minutes, but you never know, now that he's got a promise of a game a football with you.'

  'He's a great kid Maggie, a real credit to you. After everything you've been through, I mean, it's just amazing.'

  She nodded. 'Well maybe, but we just get through it day by day. And it's getting better, much better.' She didn't dare tell him how much of that was down to him. Jimmy Stewart had saved her life, in more ways than one, and one day she intended to tell him how much that had meant to her. But for now, they remained just colleagues, and maybe that's how they would stay.

  'Well, as I said, he's a fine boy. But anyway, I suppose we'd better get down to work, don't you think? I don't want to waste your whole evening.' As if she could think of a better way to spend it.

  'Yeah, so what about our Mr McCartney then?' Maggie said, shaking her head. 'Not the smartest sandwich in the picnic, is he?'

  'Aye, you could say that. I bet he wished he hadn't taken that twenty grand now.'

  'He's a troubled soul, let's put it that way.'

  'And Charles? How did he get roped into it, because him and Benjamin Fox weren't exactly best mates, were they?'

  Maggie shrugged. 'We can only assume Fox paid him to do it. That's all I can think of.'

  'Aye, or maybe Benjy-boy had something on him,' Jimmy said uncertainly, 'because we know that our Charles is a very complicated man. So you never know what might be hidden away in his back-story.'

  'The thing is,' Maggie said, thinking out loud, 'the poor man is completely broken, isn't he, so he wouldn't have been thinking straight whatever the reason. And then he decides to invest his whole future in Sharon Trent, and well, I think we knew that those feelings were all one way.'

  'Aye, poor guy. Been there, done that.'

  She gave him a surprised look. Surely it was impossible that there was a single woman on this earth who wouldn't fall for Jimmy Stewart? But then she remembered. Astrid Sorenson, beautiful, desirable and dangerous. The woman for whom he had left his adored Flora, only to find out when it was too late the terrible mistake he had made.

  'Top-up?'

  A mumbled sound which might have been 'Aye' emerged through a mouthful of digestive crumbs. He gave her a thumbs-up as a back-up.

  Carefully, she filled his mug to the brim. 'But you know the thing with the pre-nup, that's really serious. Twenty grand to make Melody's copy disappear, I mean that's naughty.'

  'So what will happen then?'

  'Well if McCartney makes a full confession, then I think Asvina will put the matter in front of the family court and argue that Melody's recollection of the terms of the agreement, though not backed up by actual evidence, can be taken to be true.' Although if that text she had received was to be believed, then perhaps the picture wouldn't look quite so bleak.

  'So Melody will get her seventy-five percent then?'

  'Possibly. Except of course we have seen Charles Grant's copy of the agreement which says the exact opposite.'

  Jimmy frowned. 'But that must be a forgery, surely?'

  'Who knows. That's something that'll be very difficult to prove.'

  'So it's still all a complete mess then?'

  'Yes, just less of a complete mess than it was. But there might be a way through this if Charles can be persuaded to tell the truth about his copy.'

  'You've been trying to get a hold of him, haven't you?' Jimmy asked. 'What were you going to say to him?'

  'I don't know really. I was just going to tell him the police were looking into the da Vinci matter but hadn't made any progress yet. But I've left him a dozen messages and he hasn't got back to me. To be honest, I'm a bit worried he may do something stupid.'

  'You don't mean ... what, kill himself?' Jimmy said. 'He wouldn't do that, surely not?'

  They were interrupted by the reappearance of Ollie, hopping up and down on one leg and carrying a bright yellow indoor football. 'Can we play now Uncle Jimmy? Can we play now?'

  He raised an enquiring eyebrow in his mum's direction. Smiling, she said, 'Ok darling, but just five minutes and then bed. Then Uncle Jimmy has to go out.'

  Jimmy looked at her, mystified. 'Go out? No I don't.'

  Now it was time to tell
him about the text. The text from Miss Melody Montague.

  'Look at this,' she said, shoving her phone into his face. 'See what it says?'

  He gave a grimace as he read it out loud. 'Guess what!! Pre-nup has turned up! Send Jimmy. xx. What the Jesus fuck is that all about?'

  She'd seldom heard him swear and it sounded so out of place that she burst out laughing.

  'Well just hang on a minute,' he continued, protesting. 'What, you want me to go now?'

  'Why not?' she said, trying and failing to suppress her laugh. 'It's a lovely evening and it'll only take you twenty minutes to get there. I'll send her a text, tell her you'll be there by half-past eight. You only need to stay five minutes. In fact you don't even have to go in if you're a scaredy-cat.'

  'I'm not scared,' he said, trying not to laugh himself. 'But why can't she just send us the bloody thing in the post?'

  Maggie chuckled. 'Oh my goodness, what's the world coming to? Captain James Stewart of Her Majesty's Royal Ordinance Regiment refusing an order. I'll have to have you court-martialled or executed at dawn.'

  'I'm not in the blooming army any more, thank god,' he railed, 'but I'd take the firing squad anytime over an evening with Melody Montague.'

  'Don't be such a drama queen Jimmy, it needn't take more than a minute. Not unless she entices you in to her boudoir, that is.'

  He ignored the jibe. 'I'm sorry, I'm not doing it. No way.' She could see he was doing his best to sound angry, but not really succeeding. A moment later, his face cracked into a smile.

  'You're a bloody awful woman and a bloody awful boss, Maggie Bainbridge. But go on then, I'll do it.'

  She tried not to sound triumphant. 'I knew you would. But thank you. I've already texted her to say you're on your way.'