Dead or Alive (33 page)

‘OK, you piece of slime, it's crunch time. Where are they?'

‘Do I get to go free?'

‘What you get is a head start, but you'll definitely need your passport, and you'll need to be in a hurry.'

‘Why would you do this for me?'

‘Just think, man! I've just killed a cop. I'm not doing anything for you, I'm doing all this for me. Do you think I want to get involved with the cops any more than you do? The second I'm told the kids have been found, I'm out of here to collect my reward and you can make your own arrangements. Your future is of no interest to me.'

Formosa nodded. It kind of made sense. Sep knew it needed to make some kind of sense. ‘OK,' said Formosa, who could foresee an opportunity for revenge on this man, maybe even forestall him in his planned escape. ‘I'll tell you. The kids are in the cellar of a derelict church hall I own in East End Park. Number 18 Cross Park Terrace.'

‘Any of your people with them?'

‘One, maybe two.'

‘If this isn't true I won't piss about, I'll instantly kill you. I want you to understand that.'

‘I understand.'

‘No second chances if this is a lie. If it's the truth, who knows?'

‘How do you mean – Who knows? You said you wouldn't kill me if I told the truth.'

Sep snarled at him. ‘I'm not sure you have told me the truth, and I'd certainly enjoy pulling this trigger on you. You're a useless slimeball who inflicts pain and cruelty and misery on this world for your own gain. It might be too much of a temptation to resist!'

‘But—'

‘Just shut the fuck up!' roared Sep, thrusting his gun forward and allowing it to appear as if his finger was tightening on the trigger – a trick he'd taught himself many years back. He adjusted his aim slightly and fired another shot that missed Formosa's head by a fraction of an inch, leaving the gang boss wide-eyed and shivering with shock and terror. Beads of sweat had appeared on his brow. He held his shaking hands up and was having trouble keeping them still and Sep knew from the fear in his eyes that the man was telling the truth. It was probably the first time in his life that Formosa had been subjected to such terror.

Sep took out his phone and called Fiona. ‘18 Cross Park Terrace, East End Park in the cellar of an old church hall. Probably two armed men there. Take an armed response unit and go in heavy-handed. I'm at the address I gave you. I assume you've got a unit ready to come in here as well … Good, I've got them covered.'

Formosa screamed at him. ‘You're supposed to let me go free.'

‘Free? Did I say that? No, I meant I'd let you live.'

‘You bastard! You'll get life for killing a copper.'

‘No I won't – get up Cope.'

Cope got to his feet to face Formosa's wrath. Sep fired again. This bullet just whistled past the gangster's nose. ‘I only put one blank in the gun. Sit down, Vincent. If you try to run I'll put the next one through your knee. I'll definitely enjoy that.'

Formosa sat down, glaring at Cope who looked anywhere but at him. ‘The blood came from an exploding capsule,' Sep explained, as if to pass the time. He knew a casual conversation wouldn't interest Formosa, it would just annoy him, and Sep liked annoying such people.

‘I worked it by remote, but I did need Inspector Cope's full cooperation of course. After finding out what I have on him, he's turning Queen's Evidence in return for leniency, although I did record all our conversation just now, including how you burned a lot of bodies in your furnace. It's not all bad news, though.'

Formosa glared at him.

‘I assume you want to hear my good news,' said Sep. ‘I should get my job back. Might even get it back with a promotion to compensate me for all my troubles. They'll
need
me back of course, with Mr Cope having to leave suddenly. Come on, you've got to be happy for me, Mr Formosa.'

‘Hang on. You're not a copper. You can't arrest me.'

‘Of course I can, I can make a citizen's arrest and hold you until the proper coppers get here. And when they do get here and arrest you, that's when all your assets are frozen pending the courts taking everything off you and they'll hold it until the proceeds of crime guys get working on you. Hey, compared to you, Mr Formosa, Jimmy Lennon's a billionaire.'

T
en minutes passed in relative silence, broken only by the occasional cursed threat from Formosa to Cope, who was feeling very sorry for himself. He was now totally unsure if he'd done the right thing, going along with this man, whose house he'd been living in, whose wife he'd been sleeping with, and whose life he'd all but destroyed. But it was all too late now, he must hope for the best and place his trust in this man. Sep read his thoughts.

‘You're wondering if you've done the right thing?'

Cope shrugged. Sep turned his attention to Formosa. ‘Tell me, Vincent, if I hadn't twigged your game, would Cope here have lived much longer than me?'

‘Maybe five minutes longer.'

‘Honesty at last,' said Sep, still pointing the gun at Formosa. He swapped hands.

‘My right hand was getting tired,' he explained. ‘When your hand gets tired you instinctively tighten your grip which often ends up with you firing off a shot. Did you know that, Vincent?'

Sep's mobile rang. With his free hand he switched it on. ‘… Really? … Excellent. How are they? … Well that's only to be expected … Yeah, come in now.'

He turned his phone off and smiled at Formosa. ‘It would seem you've been having severe attacks of honesty, Mr Formosa. The children were where you said they were. Two men arrested and on their way to the clink; two children freed and on their way home.'

‘It's a pity
you
haven't been having an attack of honesty,' grunted Formosa.

‘I know and I do apologize but I find that dealing with lowlife and being honest never work together.' He looked at Cope and added, ‘and I look upon you as lowlife, Cope, which means I haven't been exactly honest about what will happen to you. The truth is I've got no influence whatsoever, not with anyone. They don't need your Queen's Evidence, they've got you bang to rights as it is, apparently. I'm guessing you'll be an old man when you get out. Mind you, Formosa here will die in prison as an old and useless lag, so it could be worse.' Sep smiled at Cope as he added, ‘You made a big mistake when you tried to destroy my life, you should have left me well alone and I wouldn't have come after you. Hey, remember when I said I'd catch up with you? Well, consider yourself caught.'

Cope's eyes bulged, his face reddened and he looked to be about to explode with rage. Sep pointed the gun at him to calm him down but Cope ignored it, got up from his chair and approached Sep as if to attack him, which would have been awkward. Shooting him would complicate the situation no end. Shit! Why did he have to rile the man?

Then, as if on cue, the door was kicked open and four armed officers burst in, followed by Fiona who looked at Sep's gun, raised a censorious eyebrow and shook her head. Sep was sticking it in his pocket as she said to him, ‘The children will be on their way home by now. I've already notified Mr Strathmore in hospital of your part in this. He's delighted, as is the superintendent, although the super does have one or two things he needs to talk to you about.'

J
uliet Strathmore was looking in the mirror and she didn't recognize what she saw. The face looking back at her from the glass was a stranger's face. She scarcely remembered the beautiful woman who used to look back at her. Her blond hair was mousy and dank, her skin sallow, her blue eyes empty of life and surrounded by dark rings. The emptiness inside her was giving her constant nausea. She wanted to throw up but had nothing to throw. She had sores at the sides of her mouth that she'd been told were caused by lack of vitamins, but the only thing she lacked were her babies. She didn't care about vitamins or skin or hair or eyes. She didn't even care about her husband who, she'd been told, was in hospital after attacking Formosa.

‘Did he get my babies back?'

‘No.'

‘Oh.'

‘Would you like to visit Peter?'

‘No.'

It was a large mirror in the hallway of their house in Harrogate. She'd returned there that morning after spending some time in hospital recovering from the overdose. She wasn't really aware that she'd taken an overdose; she was only aware that her children had been taken from her life, and her children
were
her life. The mirror went from head-height down to the floor. It had been designed by at interior decorator who said it would reflect the light coming through the windows on either side of the front door and light up a dark corner of the spacious hallway. But Juliet wasn't interested in light. Her world of choice was cheerless and dark. She didn't deserve any better because it was probably the same world as her babies were living in – that's if they were still alive. And that was the deep cut; not knowing if her babies were dead or alive, not knowing if they had been murdered by these vile people, and if they had, what sort of terror had they been through in their final hours. She lived in a world of the deepest sorrow, emptiness and fear and dread – the dread that came when yet another police car arrived because this one might be bringing the news that her babies were dead and if that happened she might as well be dead.

‘You really need to eat something,' her sister was telling her. ‘You need to keep your strength up for when the children come back.'

But this desperate optimism was now falling on rocky ground. Juliet had heard it so often she knew it for what it was. Eliza was ten years younger than Juliet, and had once been given the same treatment by her big sister that Juliet gave to her children.

‘All you've done is sip tea and nibble at biscuits. At least take some of these multi-vitamins. Two a day is all you need.'

Juliet could see her sister standing behind her. Through the mirror she could see the reflection of her whole desolate world. Just her and her sister. She loved her husband but he didn't need her love right now. He was big and tough and he was kind to her and he loved her, but she blamed him for allowing their children to be taken. And now he'd gone off to beat up the man who had taken them, and he had failed at that – failed her and their children. Jesus! He was a bloody useless man at times!

‘Peter will be in hospital about a week,' Eliza had told her, but it didn't register. Eliza was there to replace Peter as Juliet's guardian. She was never to be left alone. Eliza even slept in a spare bed in the same room as her sister. The sisters' parents lived in Australia and were standing by the phone awaiting a call to come through from England. They had wanted to come over but Peter had put them off that idea. He had enough to cope with looking after Juliet without her parents adding to the problem. Eliza kept them up-to-date with events, such as they were. She was bright and practical and, if anything, could lift Juliet's spirits far better than Peter could. She was also beautiful, just like her big sister.

As Juliet stood there she wanted to scream away all her fears and her sorrow. She wanted to scream at the mirror until it cracked and disintegrated just as she wanted her fears and sorrows to disintegrate. But she had no screams left in her, no tears left, no voice, nothing with which to vent her complete desolation.

To cap it all, she had been seeing things. A face in a window of a grandfather now long dead. She'd been talking to him, asking him if he knew where her babies were when Peter had come into the room and asked who she was talking to. Her grandfather faded away and she blamed Peter for that.

‘I was talking to my granddad to see if he knew where the children are. You spoiled it.'

‘Sorry – maybe if I go out he'll come back.'

‘No, he won't come back, he never liked you.'

What she didn't realize was that Peter was just as distraught over the abduction of their children as she was, only he had to hold things together for her sake. Not now, though; sometimes he needed to relax his hold.

‘For God's sake, Juliet, you're not talking to anyone. You're seeing things!'

‘Am I?'

‘Yes … I'm sorry but you are, and for your information I got on very well with your granddad!'

This was why she didn't believe what she was seeing just after Eliza went off to make a cup of tea. She saw the reflection of two children standing in the doorway – holding hands. Juliet froze, trying to hold the image before it faded away. They looked familiar: albeit emaciated, unwashed, with dirty, untidy hair, scabs here and there – a couple of real tykes, but they looked very much like her babies. She spoke to them in the mirror, not daring to turn around lest they disappear.

‘Are you … my children?'

They didn't fully understand her question.

‘Hi, Mum!'

James's voice had her turning round. Yes, they were still there and they were smiling at her. No mistaking those smiles. Eliza appeared and screamed with shock and delight. Juliet looked at her sister and asked, ‘Can … c … can you see them?'

‘Of course I can see them!'

‘Are they my babies?'

‘Of course they are. It's James and Milly. They're back, Juliet!'

Juliet was now shaking with shock, but a kind of shock she had never experienced before. This was unbelievable news shock. Long-gone tears now made a reappearance. Her mouth quivered as she made her way towards them, her steps unsteady, feeling faint. Eliza saw the problem, stepped forward to help her sister and sat her on a chair.

‘We're scruffy because we've been kidnapped,' said James.

‘We know that,' said Eliza.

‘And we pong a bit,' said Milly.