by Rae Shaw
‘Alright.’ Jackson leaned back in her chair and eyed the two couples. Julianna remained pale but her hands holding the cutlery were steady. ‘Are you okay, Julianna?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes.’ Julianna’s stoicism was remarkable, and enviable.
Jackson tossed his fine linen napkin on to his empty plate. ‘At the moment there’s a frenzy of ongoing activity. People are moving, trying to cover their tracks and the enforcement agencies are casting many nets. Both Zustaller’s gang, and the other trafficking gang, are in a state of flux. I find Zustaller’s failure to control his empire ironic.’
A faint smile crossed Jackson’s face. ‘This is a man who acquired territorial gangs, like he tried to with Mark’s father's in Manchester. His assets weren't just money, they were human. Rather like mergers and acquisitions, he built a business up from a base. But it appears he had no means to control his sprawling empire. There were betrayals and infiltrators from both rivals and law enforcement agencies. He stretched himself too thin and failed to contract to protect his interests. Not that I’m disappointed, but he was a crap executive.’
‘But he’s gone,’ Luke said in an exasperated tone. ‘But I'm here. So is Sophia. I thought you told me Sophia wasn't a target.’
Mark leaned toward Julianna and explained. ‘After you two were snatched, and Sophia ended up in hospital, Jackson and Moran assumed Sophia was the target – her connection to a wealthy family makes her a potential kidnap victim. It was only after Sophia recalled the details of her attackers, did we realise she was never the intended target.’
Jackson's hearing was acute. ‘Not then, but now she might be because, yes, it would appear that Zustaller is gone, so is one of his captains and the underlings are headless chickens. This is a rout, but it’s not victory. Others will fill the shoes of the departed. The window of opportunity to strike will last a few days and then the rabbits will be back in their underground warren forming new gangs.’
‘You can’t keep us here indefinitely,’ Mark said.
‘No, I would like my house back, very true,’ said Jackson. ‘But bringing you here isn’t due to the ongoing police operation. The surviving gang members are more interested in saving their own arses at the moment. However, there are others, who could make trouble. Who have made trouble. They’re the hidden criminals, who outwardly appear normal, hardworking citizens and quite often pillars of society. They do their good deeds while behind the scenes they practise their criminal activities. They betray and inform. You must have wondered, Julianna, how Stazki came to find you so easily.’
Julianna said nothing.
‘You’ve found something out?’ Mark pushed his plate to one side, his appetite shattered once again. The headache, now dulled by painkillers, rumbled beneath his temples, threatening to return.
‘I’m finding something out,’ Jackson replied. ‘While others concentrated on finding you, the pedantically thorough Tess has been following up other leads. She, Gary and Chris are the only ones who know what I asked her to do.’
‘What leads?’ Sophia asked.
‘Those in Julianna’s circle who aren’t whom they seemed to be.’
Julianna gasped. ‘My friends!’
‘No, not friends. Your friends are steadfastly loyal to you,’ said Jackson. ‘A wider periphery of people.’
‘Who?’ asked Mark. ‘Who wants to hurt us?’
‘I’m awaiting confirmation. There are two key suspects. One works directly for me, the other indirectly. It is the latter that Tess is seeking further information about.’
‘You’re not going to tell us?’
‘I want more proof. In the meantime, rest.’
‘I’d like a bath,’ Julianna said quietly. ‘And clothes that fit better.’
The clothes Julianna had been given in hospital had been purchased in a hurry from a supermarket.
‘I tell you what, while you two rest, I’ll have Tom Draper drive out to your house and pick up some clothes for you. You can give him your house keys,’ Jackson suggested. ‘I’ll get Hettie to show you to a room.’
Mark rose to his feet and wobbled. He should speak to his sister, but fatigue won out and he happily climbed the stairs. Julianna followed him. Tipping over onto the bed, and paying no attention to clothing, they lay side by side, their fingers touching, their breathing soft and secure in the knowledge they were safe. Later, when they stirred from a brief nap, they undressed each other and lay down again, this time closer and in such a way they could comfort each other with kisses and caresses. From there, they joined together until the whoops of children playing outside reminded them they weren't home yet.
In the garden, Hettie and Jackson played with the kids. It was a breezy day. Mark watched the family through a window: Jackson kicking a ball to Noah while Hettie perched Evey on her hip. So much laughter and joy. Mark crushed the envy. There was no reason he couldn't have that love in his life, if he wanted it.
Close to four o’clock, Jackson summoned him and Julianna to the kitchen.
‘Jessop is going to be fired on Monday.’ Jackson fiddled with the coffee machine. He had changed into a suit and tie. So official looking, it signalled a change in mood.
‘Why?’ Julianna asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
Jessop mainly worked as a security guard, patrolling the basement and manning the doors of the tall office block.
‘He slept with an underage girl. And I don’t mean a seventeen-year-old, I mean she's fifteen. Tess dug up the dirt on him and he became a suspect. However, although he has appalling judgement when it comes to picking up girls in pubs, nothing else warrants suspicion.’
Mark thought he had got off lightly, which meant Jackson was more interested in somebody else.
Jackson poured coffee into a mug. ‘Julianna, did you ever tell Graham Saddler about your Dublin adventure?’
‘Yes, I suppose I did, though not in great detail. I mean, I didn’t provide the background of why Ellen was there.’ She took a sip out of coffee. ‘He liked to talk about the raids he went on when he was in the police. Arresting pimps, rescuing girls and I suppose I compared my experience to his.’ Jackson stared intently at Julianna and she blinked. ‘No, surely not. I mean, he was always kind-hearted and appeared genuinely concerned for the girls. Graham?’
‘He's not who you think he is. Turns out Saddler left the force under a cloud. A fellow officer suspected he was interfering with prostitutes off duty. He certainly wasn’t paying for any of their services. The other officer couldn’t prove anything and, as Saddler was his superior, he felt vulnerable. Saddler saw the writing on the wall and took early retirement. This has now only come to light due to the gentle persistence of Tess.’
‘And he came to work for Opportunitas as an advisor,’ Julianna said.
Mark had met him at Fasleigh; the quiet police inspector who had said little. He gripped the handle of his mug tighter.
‘Sophia mentioned that a few girls disappeared after Saddler had spoken to them.’
‘Yes,’ Julianna said, chewing on her lower lip. ‘Only on Friday we commented on one not turning up for work.’
‘All very suspicious. Tess check his expenditure; he has expensive habits: golf clubs and holidays abroad, lots of holidays in different countries. He has far more money than his pension warrants.’
‘You’re going to see him, aren’t you?’ Julianna said.
‘Yes. Now, before he takes flight. Chris and I are going. I want the truth,’ Jackson said.
Mark rose to his feet. ‘Then we're coming too. Don't argue about it, please. I want closure on all this, we both do.’
Julianna agreed. The weight of fatigue lifted; she knocked back her coffee with one mouthful. ‘Let's all go.’
An unusually pensive Jackson acquiesced to her demand, which surprised Mark.
Graham Saddler lived within easy reach and driving to his generously-sized house took no more than half an hour. Mark sat with Julianna on the back seat with his fingers
interlaced in hers. Jackson was up front, next to Chris, the cast iron man who said little. The long summer evening would extract every last morsel of sunlight and add it to the residual heat in the air. Turning into a secluded sideroad in a leafy suburban village, Mark spied a silver executive saloon car parked up outside the double garage.
‘Nice pad,’ Mark said. The exterior was impeccably maintained with hanging baskets and tulips in the borders. The interior was hidden by Venetian blinds. The accountant part of his brain quickly totted things up. ‘He couldn’t have paid for this on a copper’s salary.’
The former coppers in the car didn’t disagree with his assessment. Chris scratched his unshaven chin. ‘So unless a horde of ancient spinster aunts died on him, he has other sources of income.’
The quartet of visitors approached the front porch. The doorbell rang and after several achingly long seconds, the door opened. Saddler had gained weight. Grey belly hairs poked out between the stretched buttonholes of his creased shirt. His flushed cheeks and bald patch glistened with a sheen of perspiration. The low sun dazzled him, and he took a step back. Jackson filled the vacated space, and in moving forward, showed his face.
‘Jackson,’ Saddler said, his eyes widening further when he shifted his gaze to Jackson’s companions. ‘What—’
‘What am I doing here or more to the point, what is Julianna doing here?’ Jackson finished the sentence with his foot over the threshold. ‘Good question. I’ll come in and tell you.’
Chris and Jackson herded Saddler backwards into his own house. Graham blustered with annoyance. ‘I'm busy.’
Julianna closed the front door and Jackson signalled to Chris. ‘Look around.’
Saddler planted his stubby hands on his hips with agitated indignation. ‘Wait a minute. You can’t just poke your nose about my house and—’
‘See what you’re up to? If I was a policeman, it would be highly irregular, but I’m not,’ Jackson said, almost pleasantly. ‘Of course, you’re free to call your former colleagues; I would welcome their presence.’ He folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Saddler dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.
The house was in a confused state. There were un-ironed clothes heaped about the spacious kitchen-diner and dirty plates and saucepans stacked on the worktops of the kitchen. Mark fingered an empty picture frame hanging on the wall. Something had happened and recently. Another empty photo frame lay on the sideboard surrounded by broken glass. The cat’s litter tray was an unpleasant sight and Mark wrinkled his nose at the lingering odour. There was one fundamental absence in the house.
Jackson lifted a tea towel out of the sink. ‘Where’s your wife, Graham?’
‘None of your business,’ Saddler said. ‘This is a fucking infringement of my rights.’ He pointed his shaking finger at Jackson; his cheeks now fiery.
‘She’s gone, sir.’ Chris trotted into the diner from the hallway. ‘Her clothes are missing from the wardrobes, no toiletries, and other knick-knacks. Also, he’s packing too.’
Julianna picked up something off the dining room table; it had been buried underneath the piles of washing. ‘Your passport.’ She handed it to Jackson.
Jackson thumbed through the immigration stamps. ‘It seems you have a fascination with visiting, let me see, the Ukraine, Serbia. And Thailand.’ He dropped the passport back on the table.
‘Cheap beer,’ Saddler said with a shrug.
‘All in the last couple of years. You've been busy. Local girls not good enough for you or are your tastes too particular for them?’
Mark thought him too brash. Too confident. Julianna's hands bunched into fists. Chris cleared his throat and gestured to Mark to keep back. They were professionals and they were worried. He slid his foot and his heel hit the skirting board.
Saddler’s hand disappeared under the nearest washing pile. Mark caught a glint of metal just as Julianna leapt forward. She careered into Jackson's outstretched arm. Mark was stuck by the back wall, Chris in the doorway and Jackson and Julianna to one side. They were fanned out and blocking the exit to the hallway. However, behind Saddler was the opened patio door. The blinds flapped in the breeze. An ugly silence descended.
Saddler raised the gun and pointed it directly at Jackson, who didn't flinch, which impressed Mark because his own legs had turned to jelly. The nauseating taste of fear filled the back of his throat. This, what he felt, was how Julianna had experienced all the previous night.
‘Now who’s in control?’ Saddler chuckled. ‘You'll regret turning up here unannounced. Yes, I’m leaving and to be honest I don’t care what mess I leave behind.’
There was a window in the kitchen and as Mark's attention flitted around the room, a shadow blocked out the light for a second. He opened his mouth to warn Jackson but was distracted by an ear shattering bang. In the same instance, an invisible force slammed him into the wall. He had been punched, which given nobody was anywhere near him, was ludicrous. The violence of the unseen blow knocked the air out of his lungs. Pain seared down his side and he gasped for breath. The wall held him up for a couple of seconds, then his legs collapsed under him and he crumpled to the floor.
45
Julianna
Julianna had experienced such a burden of adrenaline in the last twenty-four hours, she was too numb to notice its renewed effects. She had seen those wild eyes of Saddler's before – the man at the farmhouse just before she shot him. This time she had no defensive gun, only her lightning responses. She lifted her leg as Saddler's finger squeezed the trigger. Her foot failed to make contact. However, the jab served a different purpose. The gun went off, but his inexperience showed. Distracted by her swinging leg, the shot missed Jackson.
A red inkblot rapidly seeped through Mark’s t-shirt and rippled down his side. Chris froze; the chief bodyguard’s aghast expression locked on Mark’s bloody chest. Julianna started toward Mark.
‘Don’t go near him,’ said Saddler, curtly. ‘He can bleed out there.’
Pulsating with fury and hate, she wanted to tear Saddler apart. But the punch bag technique wouldn’t work here – Saddler had the advantage. She let out a low cry of frustration.
Saddler returned the gun’s sights to Jackson; his outstretched arm trembled and fresh beads of sweat trickled down his flushed face.
‘Still,’ Jackson urged Chris. Jackson's life was all about taking risks and he rarely screwed up. However, the risks he took were financial ones. Money was easier to sacrifice. People’s lives were very different. She hoped he remembered her intuition wasn’t as trusting.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw movement outside. Perhaps nothing more than the elusive cat, except it wasn't that small. Jackson’s steady gaze fractured for a second too. What had he seen?
‘You’ve made your point, Saddler,’ Jackson said, regaining his composure with deft swiftness. ‘Why don’t you just go? Tie us up. We’ll be stuck here for a while, and you can get away.’
‘Shut up.’ Saddler’s eyes bulged. ‘I have the gun. I get to decide. He’ll pay me a bonus, especially when I give him her.’ He jabbed his other hand at Julianna. ‘So the news on the TV about the shoot-out and chase, it's all you?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you give me to them?’
Saddler shrugged, mocking her with a touch of bravado. ‘When I told Roman that you boasted about Dublin, he was furious. You humiliated him and it took weeks for him to recover. Roman had this idea to get his own back. Mark, I knew, lived with you, but he really wants you. I told him about your little walk on Fridays. It's bad practice, Julianna, to stick to a routine. You should know better.’
Jackson's blue eyes flickered, then returned to the gun. She saw the same thing – the movement wasn't a cat. She had to stop staring at the intruder on the patio or risk Saddler seeing her reaction.
As Jackson kept him talking, Chris edged toward Mark. Chris understood the significance of what was happening in the room and outside
. He kept Saddler occupied with his small act of rebellion. Saddler frowned but didn’t order him back.
Julianna joined in the distraction. ‘How long have you worked for them?’
‘Years. While I was in vice, other units too. So easy. I let them know when raids were on, when the girls needed to be moved about and they kept me satisfied in other ways – money, not girls. I'm not that cheap.’ The smile was unpleasant. ‘They hate your charity. Told me to get in there: infiltrate it and appear the generous volunteer and if I could send a few of the girls back to them, they would line my pockets.’
‘So why are you leaving in a hurry?’ asked Jackson.
Saddler rested his bottom against the dining room table, the gun steady, his stance obnoxiously confident. ‘Since I can’t raise anyone, I've decided to take a sunny holiday abroad until it all dies down. I was going to send my apologies for reneging on my commitments to your beloved Opportunitas, but since you're here, I can do it in person.’
‘Your wife?’
A brief flare of his nostrils, then he laughed, a half-hearted chuckle. ‘Left. Well, she’s been leaving for years, and this week she packed up proper in a hurry. She’ll come back for some photos of her family, but I’ve dealt with them. She’ll want the cat, too; she loves that filthy fur ball.’
Mark inhaled sharply and his legs twitched. Blood trickled down into the crevices of the laminated floorboards. Time wasn't on their side.
‘Stazki’s dead,’ Julianna blurted. ‘So's his boss.’
Saddler snapped to attention and shook his head with disbelief. ‘No.’
Another glance over her shoulder. Mark’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to maintain consciousness.
She faced Saddler. ‘That car chase, he smashed the car. Seen that in your news bulletins; two dead men in a car in a ditch? A bald middle-aged man with a puckered scar on his left cheek. I had a good look at him.’
‘You’re panicking, aren’t you?’ Jackson sensed a climax too. ‘Things have been going wrong for a while, haven’t they? What with infiltrators and rivals.’