'So, no mention of the family history?'
'Nothing worthwhile,' Roger said.
Carole slid a strand of hair behind her ear, her face thoughtful. 'OK, we concentrate on Draper and Nash, we have no choice, because we can't keep Jepson under the microscope, not without any proof.'
'Is Lasser still convinced he's involved in some way?' Odette asked.
Placing her hands on the table, Carole rose to her feet. 'You know what he's like, he has his gut feelings about Jepson, but that doesn't mean he's right about the guy.'
'He's not normally far off the mark though,' Odette reminded her.
Carole chewed her lip, the anxiety showing on her face. 'I know, but for now we concentrate on the missing men, and if it leads us to Jepson then I will be the first to pat Lasser on the back.'
Seconds later, the office door swung closed as Carole left.
Roger sighed before rubbing a hand across his hair. 'What do we do next?' he asked.
Odette looked back at the desktop screen. 'We need to get out of here, I'm tired of looking at the computer…'
'I'd sooner stay and keep looking if that's OK?' he broke in.
Pursing her lips, she nodded before patting him on the shoulder. 'Right, I'll catch you later.'
At the door she turned, Roger was already busy tapping at the keyboard, with a shake of her head she left the room, closing the door quietly before striding off along the corridor.
85
'That will be fine,' Jepson said, the phone held to his ear as he looked out of the bedroom window, the magnificent view of the well-laid out manicured gardens was slowly turning fading as the sun slipped to the wooded horizon, the shadows lengthening.
'Are you sure?'
'I'm positive, Richard, tomorrow will be fine.'
'And Max will be ready?'
'I've told you before, he is always ready,' Jepson paused, 'now, what do we know about the challenger?'
'I know the man is an animal, unbeaten so far, so Max will have to be at his best.'
Jepson smiled at the warning. Over the years he had watched Max in action numerous times, and he knew that no matter who was put in front of him they would be no match for his man.
'Do we know how many will be attending?' he asked.
'Thirty are definite, though some of the younger ones are disappointed that they won't be taking part in a chase.'
'Yes well, they will have to wait and that's an end to the matter.'
Richard cleared his throat. 'The older ones cannot wait to see the fight; they miss the good old days.'
Jepson grimaced at the excitement in Richard's voice.
'They have always preferred the voyeur's approach,' he admitted.
'And let's face it, their running days are well behind them.'
'I doubt whether any of them bothered to run even when they were in their prime,' Jepson said as he turned away from the window and crossed the room before laying on the four-poster bed.
'Not everyone is as athletic as you, Charles.'
'Are you trying to butter me up?'
The man on the phone laughed again. 'The guests should start to arrive around seven, let's hope they get value for money.'
'Goodbye, Richard.' Ending the call, he looked up at the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling, his face thoughtful.
When he thought of Rea Lomax his expression darkened, he was taking a risk with that woman and even now, he was unsure what to do. He had offered her an escape route and yet she had come back to him and surely that proved her interest in what he had to offer? Then again, he knew the woman was intelligent and she had seen what had happened to Draper, so perhaps she had returned to the house through fear rather than a real need to learn more from him?
The thought soured his expression even further, he pictured her moving through the trees, initially she would have been desperate to get away, yet perhaps she had pictured Draper – his head exploding under the shotgun blast. He imagined her coming to a stop in the darkness, thinking things through and the spectre of Max would have risen in her mind, and the thought that he could be following her through the woodland would have taken hold. That alone could have been enough for her to turn around and head for the house.
Swinging his legs from the bed, he felt the anger rise, the truth was he had been so crushed by the death of Julie, his Julie, that he hadn't been thinking straight. He had tried to fast track Rea Lomax into taking her place and in doing so he had agreed to concessions, like allowing her to contact her father.
'Another mistake,' he mumbled to himself, and suddenly the idea of trying to mentor Rea seemed not only preposterous but dangerous as well.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his smooth brow for once creased with lines of concern.
Long ago, he had learned that it paid to never get too close to a person, although with Julie he had broken his own rule and to a large extent it had been the same with Max. The rest had been nothing more than a commodity, something to be used not just for monetary gain, after all he had never needed the money. No, it was all about tradition and keeping the boredom at bay whilst watching the others, the baying mob, their faces twisted in dark glee as the blood was spilled.
That was the really fascinating part of all this, the way people would change in an instant, men who would normally be stoic in all they did, would lose that control, the control that had made them a success in life, stripping away the façade they always wore to reveal the true person beneath.
Then he pictured Rea again and his lips became a thin line, given the time she could learn, he had no doubt about that, though now the uncertainty was back, that strange feeling that she had only returned through the fear of what had happened to Draper when he had been promised release. If that was the case then it meant that she was trying to outsmart him, waiting, and watching until a better chance to escape appeared.
'She's playing me,' he said, his voice laced with genuine astonishment. 'Yes well, two can play at that game, you conniving whore,' he snarled as the sun continued to sink back to earth, taking the day with it. Though he knew that tomorrow it would offer new horizons, and Rea Lomax would die.
86
Lasser drained the glass and stifled a burp as Bannister glanced at him and scowled.
They were sitting on the back of the boat on a couple of fold-out chairs, the air starting to feel chilled as the sun faded on another day.
'I think Draper's dead,' Lasser said as he pulled out the pack of cigarettes.
Before Bannister could reply, the whippet came dashing along the towpath before leaping onto the back of the boat, tail wagging furiously as it went first to Bannister for a pat and then Lasser.
Seconds later, Jackie appeared, smiling as she saw them both.
'Now this is unusual, seeing you two taking it easy,' she said, stepping onto the boat.
Lasser rose to his feet, 'I'll make you a brew,' he said.
'It's OK, I called at the barn on the way back and grabbed one,' she said before sitting down in Lasser's chair. 'So, why are you two looking so glum?'
Lasser opened his mouth to reply but then Bannister was talking.
'I'll have a brew,' he said before turning to Jackie. 'It's this bloody case, it feels as if we're treading water, we have three people missing and…'
Lasser went to put the kettle on, Bannister's voice fading as he moved into the boat.
87
Rea sat on the edge of the bed, hands gripping her knees, listening to the interior voice, as she gnawed her bottom lip.
She was trying to separate the facts from the strange fantasy that her mind had conjured since being snatched by Jepson, and now as she thought things through the fear came roaring back.
Mark was dead, although he had been responsible for the death of the woman named Julie, had he really deserved to die? In her head she heard the echo of the gun, saw Mark slam to the ground, his head in ruins, and there was Jepson seemingly unconcerned with what had been done in his name. The man called Max had pulled the tr
igger, but it had been Jepson who had ordered the execution, and that's what it had been. Jepson had never intended to let him go, it had all been part of the plan, the game he was playing. Closing her eyes, she pictured Jepson as he darted forward and slammed her to the ground, his face blasted with fury, but then seconds later the easy smile was back, and the apologies had flowed from his lips as if shocked by his own actions.
Though now, as she sat in the luxurious bedroom, she knew that the real Charles Jepson was the one who had attacked her, not the one who talked about embracing his teachings, not the one who looked pained when she snapped at him.
He had allowed her to send a message to her father but had used a disposable phone in the process, knowing that it couldn't be traced. Even though she was in this plush room with the comfortable bed she knew the door was locked. She had swapped granite walls for this bedroom and suddenly she knew that if she had carried on walking along the lane, following the car then she would never have made it to the road. She would have suffered the same fate as Mark, she would have been killed and then no doubt buried in the woods, never to be found.
She swallowed the fear as she realised how close she had come to losing her life and then the reality hit home, she was being held against her will and she had no idea what Jepson's ultimate goal would be. Deep inside the small voice continued to whisper, and occasionally she would nod in agreement.
'He intends killing you, that is his ''ultimate goal'', that's what all this is about, it's about death not expanding your mind, don't be fooled, don't be gullible,' the inner voice warned.
Tears slipped free as she recognised the voice, it belonged to her father, it had always belonged to her dad. In the past when she had become involved with the wrong person, the warning voice had always been there, she had always ignored it until the truth could no longer be denied. By which time her relationship would be in a mess and the reality could be denied no longer.
'Ignore me this time and you will die,' the voice of her father insisted.
Rea's eyes sprang open, and she knew that he spoke the truth, this wasn't like ending a relationship that was going nowhere, it wasn't about any of that.
This was about life and death, this was about seeing her father again and telling him how sorry she was for ignoring his advice, how sorry she was for causing him heartache over the years. All the times she had ignored his heartfelt advice, all that had led her right here to this place, locked in a huge house with a madman.
She almost gasped aloud as she realised that is exactly what Jepson was, behind the fancy words, behind all the wealth… he was insane.
At last, she acknowledged the truth and somewhere inside she felt the determination flare to life.
'About time,' her father said with a sigh.
88
'So, Jepson came clean about his families past not through choice, but because he was worried that at some point it would be dragged into the light and splashed all over the papers by someone like Brewster?' Bannister asked as he took a sip from the coffee that Lasser had made.
Jackie nodded. 'Giles suggested that Jepson's hand was forced and that's why he started to talk openly about his family history.'
'Did he say who was going to print bad stuff about him?' the DCI asked.
'He wasn't specific though he did say that Jepson has left-leaning tendencies.'
'Which means that any right-wing media would have loved to rip him to shreds given the chance,' Lasser suggested.
Jackie reached down and patted the whippet's head. 'It doesn't matter what side of the fence you are on, the other lot are always looking for ways to vilify you.'
'This world stinks,' Bannister said with feeling, as a couple of bats zipped overhead as twilight descended.
'Bet you're a right-wing Tory,' Lasser said as he winked at Jackie.
Snapping his head around, Bannister fumed. 'By Christ, you're a cheeky sod at times.'
'Giles did say that Jepson had fingers in lots of pies, including the media,' Jackie hurried out the words in an effort to stop the DCI going on a political rampage.
'I guess if you have things to hide then it makes sense to get yourself involved with the media types who hold the same views that you do,' Lasser answered as Bannister continued to fume about the slur.
'Well, it seems to have paid off, I mean, there were no front-page scandals about our local lord,' Jackie said as she slid the zipper up on her jacket, the air cooling as the bats went around again.
'Truth is, when you are talking about aristocracy, they probably all know secrets about one another, so they keep their mouths closed, knowing that if they ever said anything then the same could happen to them,' Bannister said before checking his watch. 'Right, you two, as much as I enjoy your company, I had best head home.'
'You can stay here you know that,' Jackie offered.
Bannister smiled and nodded. 'Course I do, but I've seen enough of his ugly mug for one day,' he nodded towards Lasser. 'Besides, I need my own bed and I need to get my thinking cap on, and I suggest you do the same,' he glanced at Lasser as he rose from the fold out chair.
'I can't imagine you wearing a night cap.'
Bannister sighed. 'Why do you always have to reduce everything to a bad joke?'
Lasser smiled. 'I prefer to think of it as light relief in a grim world.'
'Yes well, remember Rea Lomax, I'm sure she would like some light relief right about now,' he said, kissing Jackie on the cheek before stepping to the towpath.
They watched him walk away, Lasser slipping a hand around Jackie's waist.
Then she looked at him. 'How do you fancy some light relief?'
Lasser grinned before dipping his head to kiss her.
89
Max stood in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the lake though his mind was locked in the past. He thought of the pain that some of the contests had inflicted on his body, old scars each one a reminder of how he had lived his life.
At the beginning, he had been taking part in illegal fights, no real rules, you simply fought until the other man was beaten into submission. He had been young, and he could recall the cheers of the crowd, and the snarls of disappointment on the faces of those who had bet against him.
Then Charles Jepson had come into his life and things had changed, and as far as Max was concerned, they had changed for the better. Right from the start he had been aware that Jepson manipulated him, though he had always known deep down that if Jepson hadn't taken an interest, then he would have been locked up by now or worse still, he would have died years ago.
The truth was Jepson had treated him with respect and that was something he had never experienced in the past, it had been astonishing to find that he had been given the time and space between fights to train his mind and body. Gone were the days when he had been fighting at least twice, sometimes three times, a week, illegal brawls held in empty factories. The only difference had been that when you fought for Jepson you fought to the death. He could still recall the first fight and he had almost died, then the reality had hit harder than his opponent, he had no idea what his name had been, but he had been ten years older than Max, a hard man with a blank expression, his face a mass of scars.
Jepson had tried to prepare him for what was to come, he had been honest from the outset, but Max hadn't been fully convinced until the man tried to strangle the life from his body and just as his vision began to darken, he had realised that this was no joke. Jepson had been deadly serious.
Two minutes later he had been kneeling above the older man, his fists raining down, smashing into the bloody face with devastating force.
The following weeks had been spent in training as Max prepared for the next fight, knowing that he had to be fitter, stronger, more brutal than he had ever been in the past.
Five years later the fighting had suddenly stopped, and he could remember Jepson telling him that he was free to go.
At first Max had been confused by the words and then he had admitted to himse
lf that he had been nothing more than a gladiator, owned by Jepson and yet the thought of being cut free had filled him with a strange sense of dread.
It had been twelve months since his last fight and his life had been good, he had his own cottage on the outer edge of Jepson's land and his workload had been virtually non-existent and yet he had never let his mind and body deteriorate. He trained every day, brutal sessions that left him drenched in sweat. Chest rising and falling as he stepped into the shower and let the cold water run over his aching body.
Now, he had been asked to fight again and he felt the first thrill rush through his mind, training was fine, though it could never make you battle-ready no matter how hard you punched the bag.
Somewhere out on the lake a duck quacked, seconds later he had stripped out of his clothing and waded into the water, ignoring the cold as he lunged forward, the stars above glittering in the darkness as he powered his way through the beer-black water.
90
Lasser woke with a yawn before stretching under the duvet as his mind slowly surfaced from the sleep.
He could hear Poppet barking outside the boat and he knew that Jackie was feeding the ducks and swans, the whippet dashing about in excitement.
The image brought a smile to his face as he climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.
Twenty minutes later he was slipping his phone into his jacket pocket and heading outside, Jackie smiled as he stepped to the towpath and brushed his lips across hers.
'Morning, sleepyhead, I left you snoring.'
Lasser ran a hand across the back of his neck as Poppet moved to his side, tongue lolling as he leaned down to stroke the top of her head.
'Are you sketching again today?' he asked.
'Actually, I was thinking of heading over to see Dot, I've not seen her for a few weeks, and I want to make sure she's OK.'
Lasser smiled as he thought of Dot Marsh, the last time he had seen her she had been in the back garden of the farmhouse pushing her granddaughter on the swing, the house feeling like a home rather than the hellhole it had been when her husband had been alive.
Driven by Fear (The DS Lasser Book 27) Page 29