Snatched From Home: What Would You Do To Save Your Children? (DI Harry Evans Book 1) (24 page)

Friday

Finishing his call with Sarah, Campbell walked into the office to find the team assembled. Chisholm’s desk was littered with empty Red Bull cans, his bin overflowed with the plastic cups dispensed by the vending machine in the hall and an empty pizza box lay on the floor beside his chair. If this was not indication enough he’d never left his desk, the unshaven chin and bloodshot eyes would have told of his nightshift.

‘Any news?’

It was Evans who answered him. ‘Nowt on the kidnappings. An elderly woman was found unconscious in a farmhouse near Windermere. A shotgun was lying beside her. She came round when she was taken to Westmorland General.’

‘Who found her?’

‘Her son when he arrived for work at half five. When she came round she told the attending officer that she’d fired a warning shot at some thieves. She also said she’d seen shadowy figures loading things into a small cattle wagon.’

‘Sounds like our thieves, but we’ve got to prioritise the kidnappings surely?’ Campbell was pleased his theory had paid off but was more concerned about the two children. They had only sixteen hours left before the deadline and no leads whatsoever.

‘Of course we have to prioritise the bloody kidnappings. Do you think I’m fucking stupid?’

‘So what do you propose then?’ Campbell squared up to Evans, unafraid to challenge him.

‘I want to see what that lying fucker Nicholas Foulkes has to say about Keith Morgan. If I don’t learn owt helpful, you and me are gonna go see Frankie Teller and drop in on the old dear who saw the burglars.’

‘At what point do you inform the brass?’

‘I don’t. If we can’t find them by midnight, then we’ll pay the ransom and deal with tracing them afterwards.’

Even after a night’s sleep, Campbell still wasn’t convinced about Evans’s plan, so he argued the points that troubled him most. ‘How the hell are you gonna pay the ransom? Isn’t it against all police and government principles to be extorted?’

‘Chisholm will sort the ransom, and for all intents and purposes it will be the Foulkes’s who make the payment.’

Campbell bit back a response. Evans was risking everyone’s career and Campbell had no idea if it was worth it. Should he turn a blind eye and help Evans, or should he be a good little boy and trot off to the DCI to whisper tales into his ear? Too much was at stake to make the wrong decision. Not least for his own career. This was a great chance for him to make his mark on the force and perhaps overturn the limit that had been put on his prospects for promotion.

Turning to Chisholm he asked for details on how the money would be acquired.

‘You sure you want to know, guv?’ Chisholm flicked a glance at Evans asking for permission to inform Campbell of their plan.

‘No, I’m not sure. But if I’m involved, then I need to know everything.’ Campbell gestured for Chisholm to speak.

‘Basically we’re gonna transfer a penny from lots of different accounts into the Foulkes’s account.’

‘That’s theft.’ Campbell shook his head. ‘There’s no way I can be a party to anything like that. You’ll get caught in no time. Besides, how are you gonna make that happen?’

‘We won’t get caught, guv.’ Chisholm’s voice was soft. ‘I’m writing a programme which will transfer one penny into and out of millions of bank accounts. When the programme is finished, enough of those pennies will have found their way into the Foulkes’s account to pay the ransom.’

‘What about bank security systems, firewalls, all the measures in place to stop people doing exactly what you’re planning to do?’

Chisholm smiled. ‘Don’t worry about that, sir. I’ve never yet met a system I can’t get into. The sheer volume of transactions I’m planning will take a hundred analysts a lifetime to trace. And when they’ve finally checked the millions of transactions for every account, they will find a very small percentage of them out by just one penny. Trust me, it’s not worth anybody’s time chasing after us when all they’ll find is the odd missing penny.’

‘It’s still theft.’ Campbell jerked his head forward as he spat the words.

‘Technically it is borrowing, sir. The money will be returned to the accounts as soon as the children have been rescued. I’m gonna insert a retrieval code which will follow the money and identify the kidnappers account.’

‘That won’t be admissible in any court.’

Evans stepped in. ‘No, it won’t. But it’ll save two children from a terrible fate. Now stop wasting his time and get cracking. Paying the ransom is a last resort.’

Campbell shuffled papers across his desk trying to find anything that might give them a breakthrough. The mother had given them a registration number for the kidnappers’ van. It had been a dead end. The number plate belonged to a Ford Mondeo, registered in Aberdeenshire. He turned to the CCTV footage supplied by Potter, which showed Keith Morgan to be a short, barrel-shaped man in his mid-fifties. Well-dressed, with salt-and-pepper hair, Morgan cast an intimidating presence on-screen. In person, he’d be able to dominate people, bending them to his will through sheer power of personality.

Looking up, he saw Evans in conversation with Lauren. Evans pulled out his wallet and handed a sheaf of notes to her. Campbell noticed that the young woman wasn’t wearing her usual attire of short skirt and revealing top. Today’s clothes were unflattering black trousers and a loose pink top.

Turning his focus back to the case, he got Evans’s attention. ‘Harry, I want to question Nicholas Foulkes. Let’s get him to tell us everything.’

‘Me and Lauren are gonna speak with him just as soon as she comes back. We’re gonna break that lying bastard.’

Evans was desperate to get Nicholas Foulkes to talk, but reason told him the man was holding out on him out of fear for his children’s safety. He knew that to get truth from Foulkes he’d need to break his resistance. He’d tried interrogating him when he’d arrived at the station. Rousing him from his sleep, Evans had tried to break Foulkes without success. Foulkes had stuck to the same lie despite all the insults and threats he had thrown at him. More drastic measures were called for, and that’s what he’d conspired with Lauren for. She had been agreeable to his plan.

He couldn’t understand the DC’s propensity for exhibitionism. She delighted in flaunting herself, making herself desired by every man who came into her orbit. His Janet had been different. She had been shy and reserved, possessed of a grace far more entrancing than the slutty behaviour Lauren displayed. Janet knew her looks attracted men’s attention, but she never set out to capitalise on it, whereas Lauren was brazen in her choice of clothing and open about her busy sex life.

‘I’m ready, guv.’ Lauren’s head poking around the office door interrupted his reverie.

‘You sure about this?’

‘’Course I am. If it wasn’t so serious then it’d be fun.’

That little slapper is getting off on this.

Evans despised himself for what he and Lauren were about to do, but there was no way he was not going to do it. The thought of those two children alone and afraid was too much for him to bear.

‘C’mon then, lass, let’s get it over with.’

As they walked past, Campbell stood and confronted Evans, his hand extended towards Lauren. ‘Harry, whatever you’re planning is a serious no-no. Getting Lauren clothes like this and making her wear them in the office is a step too far. I think DCI Tyler should hear about this.’

‘Excuse me, DI Campbell, but if I have a problem with DI Evans’s conduct then I’ll deal with it myself. I know you’ve noticed that I always wear revealing clothes. DI Evans is the one man in this room who looks at my face when he’s talking to me.’ Lauren smirked as Campbell, Bhaki and Chisholm all started examining their shoes or vague spots around the ceiling. The back of Chisholm’s neck was fire engine red as he hunched over his keyboard. Her mocking tone wrapped in pure venom ‘I dress the way I do because I enjoy the attention. If it was warm enough and PSD would let me, I’d wear a bloody bikini. If DI Evans is asking me to wear this, then he’s got a reason that’s sod all to do with getting his jollies.’

Evans had watched the exchange with as near to wry amusement as his escalating temper would let him. ‘Turn that radiator back down, Jabba.’ Chisholm stopped fumbling about at the side of his desk. ‘She won’t ever be wearing a bikini in this office. Lauren, put your coat on and come with me. The rest of you can work out our next move. See if you can think up a way to find those poor bloody kids.’

Taking a deep breath and putting on a polite mask, Evans entered the interview suite and spoke with a false bonhomie. ‘Me again, Nicholas. DC Phillips here has a few questions for you.’

Evans could see wary suspicion in Foulkes’s eyes as he answered. ‘I don’t see how I can help you, I’ve told you everything.’

‘You can start by telling us the truth. This is off the record and whatever you say stays between us.’ Evans held a hand up to stall Foulkes’s protest. He gestured at the controls for the suite’s various recording devices. ‘None of what we discuss in here will be recorded. The only people who’ll be told will be members of my team.’

He took a seat opposite the man and took in his haggard face. ‘What can you tell us about Keith Morgan and your real gambling debts to him?’

‘Nothing. I’ve told you everything.’

Evans could tell that Foulkes was lying. He could also see fear in the man. ‘Let me show you something, Nicholas. I want you to understand exactly what they are doing to your daughter.’

He nodded at Lauren, who stood up and peeled off her coat revealing a French Maid costume.

‘This is what they made your daughter wear, Nicholas. Young Samantha, aged seventeen made to parade around in a sex costume. We’ve watched the videos, Nicholas. Watch DC Phillips as she moves around the room. Every eyeful you get of her is the same eyeful those bastards are getting of your daughter. We’ve been through her wardrobe, looked at her Facebook pictures. She doesn’t wear clothes half as revealing as her friends do. She keeps herself covered up.’

‘I know, I know.’ Foulkes was sobbing and hiding his eyes with one hand.

‘Tell us what you know so we can catch these bastards and save your kids.’

‘I can’t, he’ll kill us all. He threatened me after the second card school I attended.’

‘Tell us.’ The two words were a command and entreaty in equal measure. When Nicholas’s head shook, Evans gave a resigned nod to Lauren who moved behind Foulkes and removed the maid’s outfit.

Underneath the costume she was wearing a red lacy dress identical to the one Samantha had worn in the second video.

Lauren moved until she was stood right in front of Foulkes and spoke for the first time since entering the room. ‘Nicholas.’ He lifted his head and focused his eyes on hers. ‘Look at me. Can you see my nipples through the sheer material? Do you remember Samantha being filmed wearing a dress like this one?’

‘Please. Stop this.’

‘That’s probably what Samantha said. She didn’t have a choice. You do.’

‘I don’t.’

‘You have to think how she felt, dressed like this against her will. She’d be expecting to be raped any minute. I know I’d be expecting it.’

Nicholas’s gaze moved from Lauren to Evans. ‘Please. Stop her behaving like this. Please stop her.’

‘She’s right, Nicholas.’ Evans kept his voice soft. ‘Samantha will have been terrified of being raped from the moment they were taken. I’ll bet that being forced to dress like that will have made her expect it even more.’

‘I’ll tell you something, Nicholas, I’m a bit of a slapper. I think I’ve got a lovely body and I love showing it off with short skirts, sheer tops and so on. I love the attention my clothes get me. By wearing the clothes I do, I can pull almost any man want to. I can feel their eyes drinking me in. I can sense their lust and desire. By dressing the way I do, I’m the one in control. Do you think Samantha is in control? Do you think she can manipulate men the way I can?’ Lauren’s voice was filled with scorn as she fired the questions at Nicholas.

‘No.’ His head was in his hands. He could hardly speak for the sobs emanating from deep inside his body.

Before Evans could stop her, she grabbed Nicholas by the hair and lifted his head so it was level with her chest, and slapped him hard across the face.

‘Do I have to go on, or are you gonna grow a pair of balls and tell us what we need to know so we can rescue your daughter? Or are you gonna leave her to be tormented and raped by the men who have her and Kyle at their mercy?’

‘OK, OK, I’ll tell you.’ There was defeat and self-pity written all over Nicholas’s face, his voice cracked like ice cubes in a cold drink.

Not bothering to cover herself up, Lauren sat down in front of Nicholas and asked in a gentler tone. ‘Who is he and how did you meet?’

‘We met by chance at Aces High, the casino I told you about yesterday.’

‘Who introduced you?’

‘Nobody really. We were at the same poker table and got talking.’

‘And then what?’

‘He asked me if I fancied a high-stakes game with no limits.’

‘And you said yes,’ Evans’s words a statement rather than a question. ‘Fuck’s sakes, Nicholas. Hadn’t losing money at Aces High taught you that you’re shit at cards?’

‘I thought that I could have a big win and make all my losses back. Once I was into him for over fifty grand, I kept chasing a big win to clear my debts. It never happened, though.’

‘You dickhead. You even wasted our time yesterday with your lies about owing the money to Aces High. I’ve seen your account. You’re in credit with them for God’s sake. That time wasted meant another day for your kids to stay in the pervert’s hands.’

Lauren asked the next question, cutting Evans off. ‘Where and when did these card schools take place?’

‘They were at different hotels every time. Usually a county house hotel, in or near the lakes. Keith Morgan would hire a suite and we’d all go, have dinner and then a game of cards. They were held on the last Friday of every month.’

‘Did Frankie Teller join you for these games?’

‘God, no. He hated Keith and told me to stay away from him.’

‘You should’ve bloody listened to him. You’d have saved that lad and lass of yours a shedload of grief.’

Lauren waved Evans down to keep him quiet. ‘Nicholas, can you tell me how these games were arranged? And can you remember which hotels you went to and on what dates?’

‘I’d get a text two days before each game. It told me the name of the hotel, the postcode and a time. The games were always on the second Friday of the month.’

‘Have you still got his texts in your phone?’

‘Yes, but the texts came from a different number each time. I tried calling once to say I couldn’t make it but there was just a message saying the number was not in circulation.’

Evans lifted his mobile from the desk and called Chisholm. ‘Run a trace on the father’s mobile for every text he got on the second Wednesday of every month.’

‘So where did they take place?’.

Nicholas recited the locations. He described Keith Morgan as being short and stocky, around fifty-four or fifty-five years old. He described Morgan as being initially charming until he was in debt. He’d turned nasty and Nicholas was intimidated by him and daren’t refuse him anything. Then the threats had come: ‘Pay up or else. If you don’t pay up, then you’ll be sorry. We know where you live, where you kids go to school.’ He’d remortgaged the house and his shop without telling his wife, but still hadn’t been able to clear his debt.

Nicholas only knew the first names of the other players, in two cases he could only remember a nickname. Each of the men had sported either a Lancastrian, Cumbrian or Scouse accent which muddied the waters further. Some of the players were shady like Morgan, most others had been enticed into the card school the same way as him. He knew that two of the latter group were also members of Aces High.

Feeling they had got the truth from him, Evans dismissed him with a warning that if he found out Nicholas had kept anything back, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Evans was pleased to have got the information he needed, but disturbed by the methods he’d had to use. Even for him, dressing someone up like that to force a confession was low. Also troubling him were the urges the sight of Lauren’s body had awoken. He was disgusted at himself, but he knew that he’d soon have to have his itch scratched.