Snatched From Home: What Would You Do To Save Your Children? (DI Harry Evans Book 1) (26 page)

Kyle clambered up Samantha’s makeshift ladder with ease. Her arms were out, ready to catch him should he fall. His natural athleticism made her caution redundant. He was out of her reach in seconds and made his way into the attic without mishap.

‘Urgh. It’s dark and smelly up here.

‘Shush. Remember what I told you. Have a look about and find the way I told you about.’

There was silence as Kyle peered into the gloom, picking out the route Samantha had told him to follow.

Keeping her voice to a whisper, Samantha checked his progress. ‘Can you find it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Now go along it nice and quietly and then come back to the hole.’

‘’Kay.’

Samantha wanted Kyle to familiarise himself with the attic, so that when they made their final attempt to escape, he would be able to follow her in the dark attic. Tempting as it was to try now, she planned to wait for darkness. At what she hoped were regular intervals, she had gone into the bathroom and switched off the light. When the thin streams of light stopped coming through the ventilator fan, she would put her plan into action, provided she could hear no sounds of movement outside the bedroom door.

‘Sam.’ Kyle’s head poked out of the hole in the ceiling.

‘What?’

‘Let’s just go now.’

‘No. Come down.’ Seeing Kyle about to refuse, she added a little steel to her voice. ‘Now.’

With a stony face, he clambered down.

‘Why don’t we try now? It was easy to get to.’ His confidence buoyed her, but she wanted to stick to her plan.

‘I want to wait until it’s dark, that way we’ll be harder to find if they start looking for us.’

‘I guess.’ His eyes locked onto her bare feet. ‘How you gonna run with no shoes?’

‘We’ll go across the fields.’

‘Fields?’

Realising she hadn’t said anything about what she’d seen when she’d been taken downstairs, Samantha explained they were being held on a farm.

‘Why don’t we steal a tractor when we get out? They’ll never be able to stop us then.’

Samantha smiled. In Kyle’s world, tractors were all powerful vehicles that could do anything. Stealing a car or some other vehicle had crossed her mind before she discounted the idea. She’d only ever had a few driving lessons. It was one thing driving her instructor’s car, with him sitting beside her offering advice and encouragement. It would be a different story altogether by herself and she didn’t want to run the risk of being caught before getting out of the farmyard. Besides, if their captors had a second vehicle they would give chase. Samantha knew she wasn’t a competent enough driver to win any kind of race. Either the kidnappers would catch her and force her to stop or she would crash in her attempts to get away.

‘I don’t know how to drive a tractor, and anyway, I bet there’ll be no keys in them.’

‘Oh.’ Kyle’s face dropped. ‘Boohoo for no keys.’

‘As soon as it’s dark we’ll go. OK?’

‘’Kay.’

Samantha didn’t dare think what would happen if they failed this time. The same questions burned their way through her mind.

Would Elvis let Blair rape her if the ransom wasn’t paid?

Would the men really use that torch on them?

Would they survive the threatened amputations?

How many limbs would the men cut off?

How could she protect Kyle?

Could she bring herself to ask for Kyle to be spared if she took his punishment?

Evans treated a law-abiding driver to a stream of abuse accompanied by a series of hand gestures, which didn’t require an expert in sign language to translate. Campbell had spent half the journey back to Carlisle talking to his wife. While Evans was pleased for the man, he still felt the tightness in his chest that belied his well wishes. The pride and love in Campbell’s voice made his own loss even more acute.

Updates from Bhaki soured his mood further as every possible lead turned into a dead end. This case was like a darkened maze. Every time he thought the investigation had turned a corner he was faced with an identical blank wall. Nothing was going for them and he was wracked with doubts as to what to do. Never in his thirty years on the force had he been faced with such a situation.

He’d instructed Bhaki and Lauren to run interference for Chisholm, as he wanted his entire focus on obtaining the ransom through his bank-swindling programme. There was so much that could go wrong, he didn’t dare believe Chisholm could get the money into the Foulkes’s bank account undetected. A bank safety measure could derail Chisholm’s efforts, as could a failure to break security codes or the ever-tightening noose of the deadline could prove too close for Chisholm’s programmes to assemble the necessary funds.

He couldn’t bear the idea that he may fail those kids. That they may suffer because of his own failings. Irrespective of what anyone told him, he believed he’d failed his own unborn child. Saving Samantha and Kyle was his chance for redemption. The days of sitting in court for Yates’s trial would be torturous enough, without the added burden of a second major failure weighing on his shoulders.

The sound of his mobile going off jerked his mind away from his melancholy thoughts.

‘Harry. It’s Greg. I need to talk to you.’

‘I’m with DI Campbell, sir, and you’re on speaker.’ If Greg was going to drop the hammer on him, he didn’t want Campbell’s commiserations before he’d had time to accept the news himself.

A pause as ACC Hadley chose his words with care. ‘Come and see me as soon as you get back to the station.’

For the last few miles Evans was puzzling over Greg Hadley’s request to see him. ACCs didn’t summon DIs to their office themselves. A DCI or even a chief inspector usually ran such errands for them. As a rule of thumb, ‘shit rolled downhill’, each rank bollocked by the one above.

Without this chain of command, Evans figured Hadley wanted to see him regarding his future. The urgency of the meeting was not a good omen. However, there could be another reason his old friend had summoned him. Perhaps he’d found out about the kidnapping and how Evans had been keeping it secret from his superiors. If that was the case then he’d lose his job, pension and all entitlements on the spot. He needed information. To go into Hadley’s office without any idea of the reason for the meeting could have disastrous consequences. If Hadley already knew about the kidnapping and his handling of it, the shit would have already hit the fan for his team. Evans put a call into the office and waited to see who answered.

‘DC Philips.’

Lauren. Thank fuck. If she’s still in the office answering the phone then the powers that be can’t know about the kidnapping. Or could they?

‘Lauren, it’s me. Have you an update?’ An innocuous question in case anyone was listening at her end.

‘’Fraid not, guv. DS Chisholm is still battering away at his keyboard. He only speaks to us when he wants another coffee.’

‘I’ll be back shortly. Tell Bhaki to go home and get a couple hours kip as he’s on stakeout duty again tonight.’

Evans wasn’t concerned about Bhaki’s well-being or state of alertness. He wanted him out of the building, so he could speak to him before entering the police station. Something had been off in the conversation he’d just had with Lauren. A missing element nagged at his mind, an observation as yet unprocessed but somehow vital.

Driving into the car park of the station he parked next to Bhaki’s Golf. As the DC walked across to his car, realisation struck Evans. Hard. Chisholm hadn’t been in the office. That’s what was missing – the sound of a keyboard being pounded within an inch of its digital life. Whenever Chisholm was doing any kind of programming, he battered the keys making his keyboards rattle and clack as his hands tried to keep up with his brain.

Climbing out of the car, he called Bhaki over. ‘They know, don’t they?’

Incomprehension spread across Bhaki’s face. ‘Who knows, guv? And what do they know?’

‘The brass. They know about the kidnapping. When I called in just now, Chisholm wasn’t there. Just Lauren. They got her to act normal, didn’t they?’

Sympathy edged its way into Bhaki’s voice. ‘No, guv. Nothing like that happened. DS Chisholm was in the toilet when you called. He’s been gulping down energy drinks and coffee all day. It’s the only time he’s left his seat all day.’

Feeling stupid for his mistake, Evans made sure that he didn’t meet Campbell’s gaze. ‘Fine. Get back to work. You can sleep later. There’ll be a wooden top to wake you if anything happens.’

The two men approached their boss, nervous about what they were about to say but neither prepared to let the matter drop.

‘What do you want?’ Marshall glared at his cohorts. He’d been watching them over the last few days and knew they were uneasy with their new role as kidnappers. There had been glances he wasn’t supposed to see. Conversations had stopped when he’d walked into a room. He wondered whether they were about to walk out on him now that push was coming to shove.

Williams was their elected speaker. ‘The ransom’s due to be paid tonight. What happens if it isn’t paid?’

‘We’ll do as we’re told.’

‘You’ve gotta be kidding.’ Williams shook his head. ‘That boy’s only about eight or nine. Surely you’re not gonna let that sick fucker Billy use his acetylene torch on a kid that young. Hell, the lassie isn’t that much older.’

Marshall sighed. ‘Like I said. We do as we’re told.’

‘And what exactly have we been told?’ Pete Johnstone spoke for the first time, supporting his friend.

‘You know what we’ve been told. Take a limb off each of them and then upload the video to the site along with directions to wherever we dump them.’

Williams screwed his face in revulsion. ‘If that’s what you’re gonna do then we’re leaving now. If we get caught doing this, we’ll do a lot of very hard time. We didn’t sign up to maim and torture kids. A bit of stealing here and there, you said. Helping to kidnap them was bad enough, but this is way too heavy for us.’

‘So. You’re walking out on us then?’

‘I ain’t staying round here to get involved in that shit. Are you, Pete?’

‘No chance. I want nowt to do with cutting limbs off kids.’

‘I’d think long and hard before you did anything like that. You don’t know the boss as well as I do. When he learns you abandoned us, he’ll come after you.’ Marshall lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. ‘It won’t be anything personal. It’ll be business. He makes it his business to make sure his men do as they’re told.’

‘So now you’ve resorted to threatening us?’

‘Me? I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you that the man you’re planning on crossing will not take it lightly.’

‘So that’s it then? Fucked if we stay, fucked if we leave?’

‘That’s one way of putting it, but you can think yourselves lucky: you’ll be out on the rob tonight while I’ll be here with Billy.’

The two men left and Marshall smoked his cigarette and contemplated their role as kidnappers. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he felt the same as Johnstone and Williams. Mutilating kids was a terrible thing to contemplate. His boss had no qualms about such methods and he knew from painful experience that any sign of disobedience incurred brutal retribution.

Billy Alker was his boss’s private torturer. The man derived a perverse satisfaction from inflicting pain on others. He would be happy to take his acetylene torch to the kids, although in all probability he’d try to rape the girl first. It had taken all of Marshall’s efforts to make sure it hadn’t already happened. This kidnapping hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected. He’d thought the father would have found the money by now and paid up. As the deadline was nearing with no sign of payment, there was every possibility he’d have to deliver those poor kids into Alker’s hands.

Johnstone and Williams might complain, but by his reckoning they had it easy. They’d be meeting up with the boys from Liverpool to burgle two of the farms he’d pinpointed. Two more wagonloads of stolen goods would come in tonight. Once they’d been stripped of all identifying plates and serial numbers they would be moved out and sold on at various points around the country. After that there would be one more week here, before they packed up and moved on. In the meantime, it was left to him to prevent Billy Alker raping the girl.

Thank God this job is nearly finished.

Evans took a deep breath then gave a single rap on the door of Hadley’s office. The next five minutes would either end his police career or give him the lifeline he’d been praying for. The only solace he could find was the kidnapping remained unknown to his superiors.

‘Come.’

Opening the door he walked into Hadley’s office and obeying the waved hand sat in the ergonomic seat opposite Hadley.

Without asking Evans if he wanted a drink, Hadley retrieved his bottle of whisky and poured two generous measures.

The sight of the whisky intimated both good and bad news to Evans. Good, because there was no way he’d be getting whisky if Hadley knew he’d covered up a kidnapping. Bad, because of the size of the measures: Hadley wasn’t a big drinker, yet his glass held three fingers of whisky, neat. His face was set in an inscrutable mask.

‘What’s the score then, Greg? Do I get to keep my job or not?’

‘Not.’ A pause as Hadley took a drink to give Evans time to process the news. ‘I’m sorry, Harry, but the chief constable himself has stepped in on this one.’

‘That sneaky bastard.’ Evans’s tone was full of resentment. ‘He’s spent more time climbing the greasy pole than he has policing. What the fuck does he know about anything?’

‘He knows all about policies, targets and budgets. Sadly those are more important than ever before. He plays things strictly by the book and has no room for individual thinkers and free spirits like you.’

‘That tosser will ruin policing. What about hunches? Local knowledge? Intuition? I’ve been a copper for thirty years and have the best arrest record in the county. I know every bugger and every bugger knows me and what I stand for.’

‘I know, Harry, I know. But it’s all about due process and public image these days.’ Wiping a hand across his face, Hadley chose his next words with care and softened his tone even further. ‘You also have the highest number of complaints against you. In fact, there have been more complaints against you every year for the last ten years than there have been against any other two officers combined.’

‘So? I filled the fucking cells, didn’t I?’ Evans raised his hands in apology. He hadn’t meant to attack Hadley.

‘You did, but that’s not enough nowadays.’

‘So what happens now then?’ Evans was resigned to his fate. He’d done everything he could to retain his job and failed.

‘You’ll be on compassionate leave for the duration of the trial and then you’ll be given the usual send off.’

‘What? A few drinks with folk I’ve worked with over the years. A speech from you or the chief constable. A pat on the back followed by my arse hitting the pavement.’

‘It’s tradition.’

‘Fuck tradition. I don’t want any of that shite. Once Yates’s trial is over, I’ll clear my desk and just slip away.’

‘Fair enough, Harry. If that’s what you want.’

Evans rose from his chair, the whisky untouched. ‘Thanks for trying to help, it didn’t work but at least you tried.’

*    *    *

Striding through the police station, Evans swallowed his disappointment and refocused on the task at hand.

Bursting into the office he ignored everyone else and went straight to Chisholm. ‘How you getting on?’

‘Nearly there, guv. In about half an hour, I’ll be ready to set my programmes into action. I have them all set up and ready to go.’ Chisholm’s eyes stayed on the screen and his hands never stopped typing as he answered.

Evans didn’t understand why the programmes weren’t already starting to raise the ransom. ‘Then why don’t you start now? We need that money in the Foulkes’s account by eleven at the latest.’

‘I know, guv, but this computer doesn’t have the all the processing power I need to run my programmes. I need a more powerful computer.’ Chisholm gave tight grin. ‘Don’t worry though, I’ll soon have two of the UK’s biggest computers at my disposal.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m taking over management of Google’s and Amazon’s server farms. With their power I’ll be able to run all my programmes at once and leave the trail so muddy that nobody will ever trace it back to us.’

Evans knew Chisholm was worried about being digitally traced. If that happened, the computer genius would face prison time. Realisation of what he was asking Chisholm to risk washed over him. He rested a hand on Chisholm’s shoulder and took in his sweat-covered face. ‘If you want to walk away from this now, I won’t blame you. I’ll go upstairs, tell them about the kidnapping and take all the fallout.’

Chisholm’s face was grim. ‘And what’ll happen to those kids? It’s too late for that, guv. We’re the only chance they’ve got now.’

Chisholm’s words echoed around Evans’s brain as he looked round the team. Perhaps the chief constable had a point, he was a renegade in charge of a team consisting of a rookie, a slapper and a geek.

Straight-laced by-the-book coppers like Campbell were the future of policing. All investigations would be conducted by the latest set of rules. Nobody would need local knowledge any more. Instead they’d sit in an office using computers, forensics and statistics to catch criminals. Gone would be the days of shaking down suspects, or using real detective work to make an arrest. Everything would be all touchy-feely and politically correct. Maybe he was better off out of it.

He looked at his watch. It was just after seven thirty. ‘Will three hours be long enough to get the money?’

‘Guv.’ Chisholm’s tone was laced with a patronising disapproval. ‘Three seconds will be long enough. The rest of the time is me making sure that we aren’t traced. When I’m finished doing this, everyone who holds a UK bank account will have a statement that’ll show over a million transactions. Nobody will be able to unravel it all. Now would you please bugger off and leave me to it.’