Pitch Black: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 1) (37 page)

The second I got back into the office, I started to put a team of my own together. If we found an address, the best time to pay a visit would be this evening, when we knew the kidnapper would be out leading Nick, Luke and the rest of their gang on a merry dance.

I had Dan, of course, and I chose another four men from the UK office to assist. Six would be enough to search a building, plus a driver.

Now all we needed to do was locate the damn property.

Nick called at five. “We’re leaving for the drop point.”

Luke went complete with tracking devices sewn into his clothes and more built into the bag with the ransom. We’d given him an earpiece to keep in contact with the rest of the team, and he had his phone as backup. The kidnapper’s message told him to go to a shopping centre in Sydenham, South London and await further instructions.

Half an hour later, Nate called. “I’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities. I’m looking for photos of the sons.”

It wasn’t long before he started firing emails at me. The first photo was a bust—the guy was too chubby, grinning into the camera with a big dimple in his chin. Nothing like Luke, and another fifteen minutes wasted.

We struck gold with son number two.

“That’s him,” I told Nate. “Simon Howard.”

I scanned through the background information Nate was plucking out of cyberspace. Simon had been born to Fiona Howard just eight days before Luke came into the world.

“First born son—no wonder he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas,” I said.

Simon’s life had not been one of privilege. His first home was a maisonette in a poor area, not far from JJ’s. He’d gone to the local state school, where he’d passed his exams despite a poor attendance record, excelling in computer studies and electronics before going on to study computer science at university. Had he been aware of his father’s identity at that point? Was he trying to emulate him? Or seek his approval? If that had been his plan, it hadn’t worked, because Luke still ended up as the golden boy. That must have stung.

“Address, Nate?”

“Flat 403, Shelton House. From Google Earth, that looks like a block of flats in Bromley. On a side road just off the high street.”

Nate pulled up the satellite photo onto the screen. Simon lived in the middle of a heavily built up area. There didn’t look to be many parking spaces nearby, and 403 would be on the fourth floor. Not exactly conducive to carrying a struggling kidnap victim into. What would he have done, used the lift and kept his fingers crossed?

“No good. Try the mother?”

It was six thirty by the time Nate came back with the news that Fiona Howard had lived in a small, detached house in a quiet cul-de-sac in Lewisham.

“I can’t find a record of it being sold since her death.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Bet you fifty bucks that’s where she is.”

“No way I’m taking that bet.”

My team was packed and ready to go, so within two minutes we were in the back of a specially modified van, ready for our eight-mile trip from the office to Lewisham.

As we sped through darkened streets, a surge of adrenalin rushed through me. I’d tried to tell myself I could live a normal life, but the truth was I’d felt dead inside. Now I was ready to face the darkness again.

This was me. This was who I was.

Chapter 35

LUKE SAT BESIDE Nick in a nondescript black SUV as they drove to the specified location. The bag containing the ransom jiggled up and down as he bounced his feet, trying to dissipate some of his nervous energy. A million pounds was a lifetime’s work for most people, yet it all fitted in one small holdall.

Luke still didn’t know where the cash came from, but Nick assured him it was genuine. At least Luke hadn’t had to try and withdraw it from the bank. The manager had been suspicious as hell about his tale of buying a second-hand Ferrari last time, and Luke doubted he’d have fallen for it if he showed up at the branch claiming he wanted to buy a Bugatti Veyron as well.

The driver pulled up a little way from the shopping centre with five minutes to spare. Luke would walk the last part alone, with Nick as his shadow.

Luke was in a daze as he exited the car. He couldn’t help thinking of the disaster in the woods. What would happen if he messed up this time? Would he receive Tia’s hand? Her foot?

“Careful, buddy,” said Nick. He pressed down on Luke’s head in time to stop him hitting it on top of the doorframe.

Luke barely noticed. His sister dominated his thoughts. What if they couldn’t get her back?

Outside the car, Nick patted Luke on the back. “Good luck.” He melted into the darkness before Luke had a chance to reply.

Luke walked slowly along the pavement, his eyes darting from side to side. Where was the kidnapper? This wasn’t a nice area, and his hand shook as he gripped the handle of the bag tighter. Nick and six more teams may have been in the surrounding shadows, but he’d never felt more alone in his life.

Luke used to think he could look after himself, but recent events had shaken him. First his misjudgment of Ash, then his injury in the woods, and finally his inability to get Tia back had all put a massive dent in his self-confidence.

At the appointed time, Luke stood beside the entrance to the shopping centre, desperately trying to look more in control than he felt. Nick had returned his phone to him in the car, fully charged, and at one minute past six it vibrated with a message.

Unknown: Follow the road to left of shopping centre two hundred metres. Self-storage unit on left. Key at desk in name of Johnson.

Luke relayed the instructions to Nick over the radio, keeping his voice to a whisper in case the kidnapper was nearby.

Nick’s voice came back through his earpiece. “Copy, I’m behind you. I’ll send a couple of teams ahead to the storage place.”

Luke increased his pace as he walked, wanting to get the drop over with. A hundred yards left, then fifty.

There was the storage place, a neon sign out front proclaiming “elf S ore.” Like the rest of the area, it had seen better days.

In a faded lobby, an old lady sat at a desk with the remains of a cheese sandwich on a cracked plate in front of her, cackling at an episode of “The Jeremy Kyle Show.” She squinted up at Luke through rheumy eyes, attempting a toothless smile.

“Do you have a key for Johnson?” he asked.

“Oh yes, your brother said you’d be by. Look just like him, you do.”

Really? He looked like the guy? The thought gave Luke the creeps, but he tucked the information away. He needed to mention it to Nick in case it was a clue. And what about the name Johnson? Did that mean anything?

The key was for a unit on the first floor. Following the old lady’s directions, Luke found himself outside a shabby wooden door secured by a hasp and a shiny padlock. He looked both ways along the corridor. It appeared empty. Was somebody watching? He couldn’t see anyone, and he needed to take a chance and call Nick to explain the situation. After he’d filled him in, he asked, “Should I open the door?”

“Not sure there’s a choice. Just go slowly and carefully, and stop if you feel any resistance.”

“All right.” He slid the key in the lock. “I’m not sure if it means anything, but the old lady on the desk reckoned I look like the man who rented this storage unit. Maybe he had the same colour hair as me or something?”

“Er, we’ll bear that in mind. Now, try the door.”

The padlock was well oiled, and the door swung open smoothly. A single, bare light bulb lit the small space, swinging in a hint of breeze. Ahead of him Luke saw a bag, a pile of clothes, a cheap mobile phone, and a note.

He picked up the note first.

Swap the money and the software into the bag on the floor. Strip off all of your clothes and shoes and put on the ones next to the bag. Don’t even think of keeping any electronics on you other than the phone supplied, or your sister dies. And smile, you’re on camera.

In the corner above his head, Luke spotted the CCTV camera, the red light blinking underneath showing it was turned on. Shit. He didn’t dare speak to Nick—he wasn’t a ventriloquist. And what if it had sound?

Instead, he followed the instructions, first transferring the ransom into the new bag. His hands shook so much he dropped a handful of bundles on the floor, wasting precious time as he retrieved them. Next he had to change. The kidnapper had left a pair of jogging bottoms, a T-shirt, and a red sweatshirt. Should he take off his underwear and socks? He glanced at the camera again, its beady eye steady, then stripped to his skin. The cheap sweatshirt was too small, and the shoes slopped around on his feet. How far would he have to walk in them?

As he tied the second lace, the phone on the floor vibrated, signalling the arrival of a message.

Unknown: Go back to the shopping centre and take the 180 bus. Use the travel card in the trouser pocket. Run - you have 2 minutes.

Luke took off down the stairs, reaching the bus just as the doors were closing. Nobody boarded after him. Had the following team kept up? He looked out the window, but all he could see was the glare of headlights and the occasional glow from homes on the tired street.

Was Nick in one of the vehicles? Or the kidnapper?

The bus wound its way through South East London for forty minutes. Luke tried to keep track of the route, but he wasn’t familiar with the area, and soon lost track of where he was. He counted the number of stops, and after the twenty-third, he received another message.

Unknown: Get off at next stop. Take the ferry.

What ferry? Was he near the river?

He hopped off the bus at the twenty-fourth stop, clutching the bag as if his life depended on it. Or rather Tia’s. He saw a boat getting ready to depart from the end of a pier and ran to catch it. A sign told him it was free to use, and he leapt on among the multitude of cars, lorries, and foot passengers.

Luke found a seat next to a businessman in a rumpled suit. “Where does this boat go?”

The businessman raised an eyebrow, but answered the question, his voice weary. “It’s the Woolwich ferry. It’ll dock on the other side of the river in five minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Did Luke dare try to call Nick? He studied his fellow passengers, but none were paying any attention to him. He dialled the number Nick made him memorise on the phone the kidnapper gave him.

Dammit! There was no credit.

He turned to the businessman again. “Any chance I could borrow your phone? I’ve got a family emergency.”

The man sighed and handed it over before returning to his newspaper.

Nick’s number went straight to voicemail. What was he playing at? Luke left a garbled message telling Nick where he was as an exodus of passengers signified the ferry had reached the opposite bank. Thirty seconds after he stepped onto dry land another text arrived. He was to travel on foot this time.

Unknown: Two miles, twenty minutes. Take the road next to the hair salon then take the first left, second right, third left, fifth right, second right, fourth left. Don’t be late.

Luke set off at a sprint. He was fit, but the heavy bag slowed him down. Running the ten-minute miles specified would be uncomfortable, especially in a pair of shoes that didn’t fit. He had no idea where he was or where he should be going and didn’t even have street names to confirm whether he was heading in the right direction. Was he alone now? He hadn’t seen a familiar face since he left the storage place.

Could things have gone any more wrong?

Luke had been running for eighteen minutes when a police car overtook him, blue lights flashing and siren wailing, closely followed by a second and then a third, all heading in the same direction as him. What was going on up there?

A few seconds later, the phone rang.

The voice on the other end was harsh. “I said no police. Such a simple instruction, and you fucked it up. I’ll tell your sister you said goodbye.”

“Wait, I didn’t call the police, I don’t know why they’re here…” Luke started, but realised he was talking to dead air as the kidnapper had hung up.

He was screwed. His sister was about to die.

What could he do? He had no phone to call for help, and the streets were unfamiliar. Sure, he had cash, but if he started waving it around would someone help him or mug him for it? He tore at his hair in despair.

Something the size of a grain of rice clung to his finger. He tried to flick it off, but it was stuck. What was it? He moved under a streetlight to get a better look and was peering down at the small black object when Nick jogged up behind him.

“I see you found the extra tracker then. So what’s happening? Why have you stopped?” Nick wasn’t even breathing hard.

“The bastard called me. He got spooked by the police up ahead. He’s going to kill Tia.” He thought for a second. “Did you phone them?”

Nick shook his head. “Damned bad luck that. They’re doing a drug bust. Bunch of potheads have turned a family home into a cannabis factory, and it looks like they’ve called half the force in to pull the place apart. Must have been a slow day at the station.”

“Fuck! Wait, the kidnapper must be nearby and so are the police. Could they set up a roadblock or something?”

“That’d take too long. I need to make a call.”

“Who to?”

“Just give me a minute.”

Luke paced the dirty pavement as Nick pulled out his phone and started to speak.

“Things have gone to pot this end. Quite literally. If you’re going to act, you need to do it now because the bastard told Luke he’s on his way to kill Tia.”

Luke strained his ears but couldn’t catch the reply.

“Right, I’ll let you get on with it,” Nick said, then hung up.

“Who were you speaking to?” Luke asked again. “What are they doing?”

“The other team. The one out looking for Tia.”

“What do you mean? I thought there weren’t any leads?” Before Dan left that morning, he’d asked her if there was anything new. Her apologetic shake of the head had left him in despair.

“Well, you’d better hope our esteemed leader’s back on form and her hunch of a couple of hours ago turns out to be right,” Nick said. The words, “Because that’s the last chance Tia has,” were left unspoken, but the implication was clear.