Target (4 page)

'Kidnapping's nothing like as rare as people think,' said Tina Boyd as we approached the double doors at the front of Jenny's apartment block, 'but it's almost always drugs-related. People getting held to ransom by dealers over unpaid debts, that sort of thing. Could Jenny have been involved in the drugs trade, do you think?'

I couldn't honestly say for certain, but Dom had never mentioned anything about it, and he'd been anti-drugs since a friend of his had OD'd on a mix of coke and ecstasy back at uni, so I didn't think so. 'She's just a normal girl, you know,' I answered wearily.

'That's what I can't understand,' she mused, pressing her warrant card against the glass so that the doorman could see it. It was the same guy as earlier – grey-haired, middle-aged, ordinary looking. He buzzed us in.

I felt strangely sheepish as I followed Tina over to the front desk. She introduced us both and said that I'd been in the building about three hours earlier and had witnessed a possible abduction.

The doorman fixed me with a bemused expression. 'Really? Who was abducted then?'

'A Miss Jenny Brakspear. Apparently she lives on the ninth floor.'

He frowned. 'Blonde Jenny?'

'That's her,' I said.

He looked puzzled. 'That's weird. I haven't even seen her tonight. I thought she'd gone on holiday.'

'Hold on,' I said, unable to believe what I was hearing. 'You did see her. She called out to you. Your name's John, right?'

'Yeah, it's John, but I still didn't see her.'

'John what?' asked Tina.

'Gentleman,' he answered, 'and I'm telling you I didn't see her tonight.'

Tina wrote down his name in her notebook. Not that John Gentleman was one you were likely to forget. I couldn't believe the guy was lying.

'What's supposed to have happened then?' he asked Tina, giving me a distasteful look.

'We can't divulge any details at the moment, sir,' she answered smoothly. 'I'm assuming you've got CCTV cameras in this building?'

Gentleman nodded. 'We've got two. One's at the back, at the entrance to the underground car park, and there's another above the front doors where you've just come in. The one at the back's been on the blink for the last few days. We've got an engineer booked in for tomorrow. But the front one's working all right.'

'Mr Fallon says that he came in here at approximately midnight. Do you mind if we take a look at the footage for about fifteen minutes either side?'

'Sure,' said Gentleman, double-clicking on a mouse under the desk and turning round the PC monitor so we could see what was happening. 'We use DVR filming technology in the cameras so it records straight to the computer's hard drive. It means we can store the film indefinitely.' He double-clicked again and a close-up aerial view of the area just outside the double doors appeared. He fast-forwarded through it quickly until the time in the bottom left-hand corner said 23.30. Next to it was Sunday's date. 'Right, I'm slowing down the search now so we're moving through the footage at sixteen times normal speed. Just let me know when you want me to stop.'

We watched in silence. For most of the time the area was empty. Occasionally, though, people appeared, and Gentleman slowed down the footage so we could get a look at them. He seemed very keen to be as cooperative as possible.

The time in the bottom corner of the screen hit 00.00 and Monday's date appeared. Gentleman kept searching. A handful of other people appeared, but not Jenny and me. It hit 00.15. Gentleman looked at Tina expectantly, and she looked at me.

'You said midnight didn't you, Mr Fallon?'

'It might have been a bit later,' I muttered, even though I knew it hadn't been.

I watched as the time moved inexorably towards 00.30.

'This is bullshit,' I said eventually. 'This film's been tampered with. I was here tonight. I can describe Jenny's apartment if you want me to.' I ran a hand across my forehead, feeling the exhaustion taking hold, trying to get a grip on what the hell was happening.

'Look, mate,' said Gentleman, 'I've been here all night and I haven't seen you, I haven't seen Jenny, and I haven't tampered with this. Nor's anyone else.'

I turned to Tina. Her expression was impassive. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

'When was the last time you saw Miss Brakspear?' she asked the doorman.

'Yesterday, I think. She told me she was going on holiday.'

'Where?'

'Barbados. She's a bit of a world traveller, Jenny. I thought she said she was going tonight, but it might have been tomorrow.' He shrugged, his casual demeanour suggesting that my story was no longer even worth attempting to take seriously.

But credit to Tina Boyd, she didn't turn round and leave, even though I think I would have done. Instead she asked to see Jenny's apartment.

Gentleman didn't look too happy. He said he wasn't authorized, but Tina was insistent, so he located the keys and took us up in the lift.

As he unlocked Jenny's front door I scanned the woodwork for signs of forced entry but there wasn't a single scratch. I wondered how the hell the two kidnappers had got in. Jenny hadn't let them in. She'd been in the bedroom.

So, the chances were they'd also had a key.

I knew what the inside of the apartment was going to look like before Gentleman led us inside, and my suspicions were immediately confirmed. The front room was immaculate. The coffee table I'd clipped while running away was set at exactly the right angle between the two sofas.

Gentleman and Tina both looked at me expectantly. Unsure what to say, I walked past them and into the bedroom.

The bed was made. There was even a cuddly teddy bear with a sky-blue bow sitting perfectly symmetrically between the two sets of puffed-out pillows. The bathroom door was shut. There was no sign of the clothes Jenny had been wearing nor, more worryingly, my jacket. In fact, nothing was out of place. The room was so damn tidy it could have been part of a show home.

I flung open the bathroom door. It was perfect in there, too. No sign of any bloodstains from where I'd clouted the Irish guy with the soap dish. What I did notice, however, was that it smelled of disinfectant in a way it hadn't done earlier.

'Someone's cleaned this place up,' I said firmly, turning round.

'I can see that,' said Tina, coming into the room behind me. 'It looks great. But let me tell you something, Mr Fallon. In my experience, criminals never like to hang around after they've committed their crime. If these two men kidnapped Miss Brakspear, as you say, then it's extremely unlikely that they would have taken the time to make the bed and give the place a spring clean afterwards.'

'I know that,' I said, feeling like I was going mad. 'But that's exactly what happened. I promise you that. I'm not making it up.'

For several seconds, Tina didn't say anything. Gentleman appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. He was wearing an expression that was part way between irritation at being dragged all the way up here and the kind of patronizing pity usually reserved for the mentally ill.

What was worse was that in his shoes I'd have felt exactly the same.

Tina asked him if all the apartments on this floor were occupied.

'I'd have to check,' he answered, 'but I think Jenny might have been the only one living on this floor. What with the credit crunch, they've only sold about half the units in the building. Maybe not even that.'

Christ, that was all I needed.

We went back outside, and even though it was past three in the morning Tina knocked on the doors of the floor's other three apartments. No one answered.

I felt embarrassed and confused. Those events just hours earlier had happened – the fact that my jacket was missing was enough to prove that – but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Tina got Gentleman to copy the footage from the CCTV camera on to a USB stick she was carrying and thanked him for his time. When we were outside, she told me she'd file a report and make some enquiries, but there was little enthusiasm in her tone.

'Someone's covering for these guys,' I persisted, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. 'I swear it. That's why the camera for the underground car park wasn't working. Why there was no sign of forced entry. And why the place was cleaned up. I was there tonight and I know exactly what I saw. I bet if you check that footage through carefully enough, you'll see that it's been tampered with.'

Tina put up a hand to stop me. 'I'm sorry, Mr Fallon, but criminal conspiracies are a lot rarer than most of us like to think. Criminals just don't tend to be that clever. If two men did kidnap Miss Brakspear, it's highly unlikely that they were in cahoots with the door staff because the more people there are who know about something like this, the harder it is to keep it secret. Even you've admitted that Jenny's an ordinary girl with an ordinary job, and was acting perfectly normally when you met her earlier, so it's highly unlikely she's a victim of some kind of conspiracy. What I want you to do is to keep calm, try not to read too much into everything, and leave the investigating to me.'

'I bet if you check passenger lists for all flights to Barbados out of London Jenny Brakspear's name won't appear on them.'

'Mr Fallon, please.'

I wanted to keep trying to convince her that I was telling the truth, but I could see it wouldn't work. Instead, I asked her what she planned to do.

'I'll contact Jenny's place of work, and I'll contact her family to find out if they can shed any light on things. And when I've done that I'll be in a better position to decide what to do next.' She pulled out her car keys. 'You said you didn't have any money, didn't you?'

'That's right. My wallet was in my jacket.'

'Where do you live?'

'Colindale.'

'Do you want a lift home?'

I nodded, thankful at least for this kindness. 'Please.'

We drove back in silence. For a while I shut my eyes, but I didn't sleep. It was just easier than talking to DS Boyd. I knew she didn't believe me, and I could understand her scepticism, but it was an awful feeling to have witnessed a violent crime and know that a young woman's life was in danger yet have no one take you seriously.

Traffic on the road was sparse and it was barely twenty minutes later when Tina turned into my street.

'Whereabouts is your house?'

'Anywhere round here's fine,' I said, not wanting her to see my crappy little pad after Jenny's flashy apartment.

She pulled in a few doors down from Ramon's place and yawned. 'Get some sleep, Mr Fallon. And when you get up tomorrow have a good long shower. You're not smelling your best.'

I nodded. 'Thanks for the lift, and please, don't give up on this. There's a young woman missing. If we don't do something...'

'I'll make enquiries, I promise.'

'Can I take your number? Please. Just in case I think of anything else.'

She didn't look too happy but produced a business card from her handbag and handed it to me. 'I don't want you to take this as an excuse to keep calling me, Mr Fallon, because it won't help me locate Jenny. And I'm off duty in a couple of hours and I'll be sleeping. Understand?'

'Sure, thanks.'

Reluctantly, I got out of the car and stood in the darkness. DS Boyd pulled away with a small wave and her car quickly disappeared down the street, leaving me alone.

The night was dark and cool, and for a few minutes I stayed where I was. I thought about going to Ramon's place and asking if I could stay there but there were no lights on in his flat and I really didn't want to have to recount what had happened to anyone else and endure their sceptical stares. So I slowly headed down the street.

Home for me was a rented one-bed ground-floor flat in one of the 1950s terraced houses that lined both sides of the road. I'd been there over a year but had never really got used to it. It was small and characterless, and I'd spent far too many lonely hours in it.

Approaching the front door now, I felt the tension rising in me, knowing it was possible that Jenny's kidnappers had already used the information in my wallet to find out where I lived. I looked over my shoulder but the street was silent. I checked the locks on the door but they were intact. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.

That night at least there was no one waiting for me. I switched on the light and went through to the kitchen, where I poured myself a glass of water and drank it down in one. For the first time that night I noticed how awful I smelled and it amazed me that Tina had volunteered to drive me home. Her car must have reeked, yet she hadn't made a fuss. She struck me as a good-hearted person, even though she had an impressive line in cutting looks, and a good detective as well. There was an air of quiet confidence about her which I liked, and I really hoped she'd do something with this investigation.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It had just turned half past three. I needed my bed. But there was still something I could do before I gave up on Jenny for the night. Something that might shed some light on events.

Even though I really didn't want to have to do it, I located the landline receiver and, taking a deep breath, dialled one of the few telephone numbers I knew by heart.

Dom Moynihan and I had been friends since school. After university, when I was temporarily unemployed, he'd helped get me my first job in the City, at the stockbrokers where he was working; and when, years later, my marriage had finally broke up and I'd returned to London, bitter and defeated, it was him I'd gone to for support. The thing was, Dom had always been there for me when I needed him, and although I'd always appreciated everything he'd done for me, and had told him so on many occasions, I'd never actually done any major favours in return. I would have if he'd ever needed one, but the fact that I hadn't always made me feel that I owed him, even though I knew he'd never call in the debt.

And when you owe someone, you really don't want to shit on them. Nevertheless, I picked up and put down the handset twice before finally forcing myself to make the call.

'Rob?' he groaned into the phone. 'Is that you? What's happened? You all right?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'Sort of.'

'Listen, I'm in Dubai on business. I've got a breakfast meeting in ten minutes. Let me call you back.'

'No, I need to talk to you now.'

'What's wrong?' he asked. 'Is it anything to do with Yvonne and Chloe?'

Dom, more than anyone, knew how hard I'd taken the break-up of my marriage and how much I missed the two of them. He sounded concerned, and I felt a rush of guilt so strong I almost burst into tears. But I forced myself to stay calm.

'They're fine,' I replied. 'The reason I phoned you was...It's about Jenny.'

'Jenny?'

'Jenny Brakspear. You know, your ex-girlfriend. When was the last time you saw her?'

'Christ, ages ago. Why?'

'She's a normal girl, right? She doesn't have any secrets or anything, does she?'

'Of course she's normal. Why are you asking me all this?'

I took a deep breath. 'She was kidnapped tonight. About three hours ago.'

'What? How do you know?'

'I was there.'

'Where?'

I paused before answering. 'At her apartment.'

He asked me what I'd been doing there, and then listened while I gave him a brief explanation.

'I'm really sorry, Dom. I didn't mean to do it. It just happened, you know? And when she told me that you were still trying to get back with her, that was it. I said I wasn't interested.' This was bullshit of course, but sometimes a lie causes far less harm than the truth.

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and I waited, wondering if this meant the end of our friendship.

'Did she honestly tell you I was trying to get back with her?' he asked eventually.

'That's right, and when she said it, I told her—'

'Are you sure?'

'What do you mean?'

'Are you sure that she actually said it?'

'Of course I'm sure. It was only a few hours ago.'

'That's weird.'

'Why?'

'Because,' he replied, sounding strangely distant, 'I haven't spoken to her in at least six months.'