Truth or Dare (9 page)

J
ohn Wright opened his eyes. His head pounded from more than just the lunch-time alcohol and rich food. He tried to move. Couldn’t. Looked around. He was still in his hotel room but he had been duct-taped to the room’s upright wooden desk chair. He scanned the rest of the room: Denise was tied to the plush velvet chair, a gag over her mouth. Her eyes were wide, fear-filled. He recognised the expensive underwear he had bought for her that she was half undressed in, one stocking on, one rolled down. Despite his own rising fear, he noticed that he still had an erection.

Damn those little blue pills, he thought.

‘Back with us?’ said a muffled voice from behind the mask. ‘Good.’ The figure moved over to the window, drew the curtains. ‘Don’t want anyone looking in, do we? Not that they will. Not up here.’ He turned back to the room. ‘Now. Let’s see…’

John Wright found his voice. ‘If it’s – if it’s money you want…’ A voice that was smaller and shakier than he had imagined.

‘Money?’ The masked figure laughed. ‘Always money with you people, isn’t it? Your sort. Think that money is the answer to everything. Isn’t that right?’

‘Well…’ John Wright tried to shrug, as if the answer was obvious. ‘What else is there? Why else would you do this?’

‘Why else indeed? What else is there?’

‘Quite.’ John Wright felt hope rise within him. A small, hard glimmer of hope. He could bargain. He could deal. He had a chance of getting out of this now. ‘What else?’

The masked figure leaned in close. ‘Justice, Mr Wright. Justice.’

John Wright was confused now. ‘Justice? For what?’

‘What d’you think?’

Then John Wright understood. ‘Oh, I see. Right. I see what you are. What you’re doing. You’re one of those Anonymous people, aren’t you? I get it now. I’m the big bad banker and you’re the… what? Masked hero? Is that what you think?’

‘Yes, Mr Wright. That’s exactly what I think.’

The figure turned away from John Wright and began to take out implements from his rucksack. He placed these implements on the desk. Denise’s eyes widened when she saw what they were. She tried to scream. The gag stopped her.

John Wright, noticing her reaction and feeling that earlier fear return, tried to crane his neck, see what she was looking at. The figure blocked his view. That just made things worse.

The masked figure finished arranging things, turned back to John Wright. ‘Mr Wright, you know what you’ve done, don’t you?’

‘I should imagine I’ve done all manner of evil things to someone like you.’

‘Yes you have. Let’s not deny it. You work for a bank that has not only laundered drug money but also engineered the crash of several years ago. And you did this… why? To make money, of course. For yourself.’

‘So?’ John Wright felt himself becoming defensive. ‘Is it a crime to make money?’

‘You work for a bank that short sold mortgage-backed securities during the mortgage crisis. You knew what was happening and decided to bet on the collapse of sub-prime mortgages as well as shorting mortgage-related securities. You made your company four billion in the process.’

‘So what? It’s my job.’

‘And you were handsomely rewarded. While the rest of the world, the rest of the people in this country, were forced into a life of hardship that even their grandparents hadn’t had to endure. All because you wanted to make some money for yourself and your friends.’

John Wright had had enough. His earlier fear was giving way to anger now. ‘It’s the way the world works. And the sooner you and your naïve, idealist friends accept it the better. Now let me go and we’ll say no more about it. Keep me here and I will make you very sorry for this. Very sorry.’

The masked figure walked round the room. ‘Were any bankers punished for their actions? Did anyone go to jail? I mean, what you all did was criminal. But did you have to stand up in a court of law and answer for your crimes?’

‘Of course not. As I said, that’s the way the world works. Now don’t be so bloody naïve and let me go.’

‘The way the world works. Naïve. Right.’ He took out of his bag a laptop, opened it. Showed John Wright the screen. ‘Recognise this?’

John Wright stared. ‘How did you —’

‘Do you recognise this?’

He kept staring at the screen. ‘It’s… it’s my account.’

‘One of them. One of your off-shore accounts.’ He flicked between screens. ‘I’ve got several more here, too. More accounts. All full of your money. All of them.’ He put the laptop down on the desk, turned back to John Wright. ‘You’re very rich, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am…’ He sounded like he was in shock.

‘Very rich. And you became very rich by making other people very poor. Didn’t you?’

John Wright didn’t answer.

‘Didn’t you?’

‘If you… if you say so.’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘What… what d’you mean?’

‘Well, as I said, no one stood trial for what they had done. You didn’t stand trial. And you should have done. Your actions were criminal. And you never ever answered for them.’ He leaned in close. ‘Until now.’

He turned away from John Wright, picked up something heavy from the desktop. Examined it, hefted it in his hand, turned back to Wright.

‘See this?’

He brandished what he was holding in John Wright’s face. Wright flinched.

‘This is… well, you can see what it is. A pair of bolt cutters. I was going to go for secateurs at first. But they would have been too messy. Not to mention too much like hard work. Something you’re not used to, eh, John?’

Wright recoiled from the cutters. ‘What… what are you going to do?’

‘Well, as I said, you haven’t answered for your crimes. And you should have. I think we’re all agreed on that. So now, this is your chance. All you have to do is tell me what you value most. And I let you go.’

Wright waited. Not sure he had heard correctly. ‘You…let me go?’

‘Of course. This is justice, not vengeance. You have a choice. A genuine choice. I give you that choice, you pick one thing or the other. Depending on your answer, on what you pick, you get to go. Free. Now.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch.’

The masked figure moved a drinks table in front of Wright, put the laptop on it so that Wright could see the screen. Next to the laptop he laid the bolt cutters.

‘So here’s the question.’ The masked figure looked between Wright, Denise and the laptop. ‘What do you value most?’

‘What?’ His voice was wary, sensing a trick.

‘It’s very simple,’ said the masked figure, a note of irritation in his voice. ‘What do you value most?’

‘In… this room? The world? What? What d’you mean?’

‘In the world. I think we can rule out this woman here. I’m sure she’s fine for a few hours of fun, if you can last that long, but she’s just a distraction. So it’s down to two things. You and your money.’

John Wright said nothing. The masked figure continued.

‘You see, you were caught with your fingers in the till. Taking out other people’s money and stuffing it into your own pockets. Or rather, your own accounts. And you got away with it. So I ask you again. What’s more important? Your money or…’ He picked up the bolt cutters. ‘Your fingers?’

John Wright stared at the cutters. ‘This is a joke. This is not real.’

‘It’s no joke.’

‘It’s… it’s some kind of prank. You’re a… a student. From some pressure group. You’re filming this for YouTube or something.’

‘That’s a no. To either of those things. This is, as I said, for real. This is happening to you right now. So. What will it be? Fingers or money?’

Wright said nothing.

‘This is boring, John. You need some incentive.’ The masked figure leaned forward. Hit some keys. ‘Watch the screen. See there?’ It was filled with rows and rows of numbers. ‘That’s your accounts. For every second that you take to decide, money is going out of your account. I’ve set up some random charities to be the beneficiaries. It’ll be gone and it won’t be coming back. And when it’s gone, it’s all gone. So come on, John, what’ll it be?’

John Wright watched the screen, his eyes wide with horror. He saw everything he had worked for disappear in front of him. He thought hard, mind whirring. He could let the money go. Yes. Do that. He could always make some more. Yes. That’s what he would do.

‘Oh,’ said the masked figure, as if reading his mind, ‘I should say something else. I’ve set this program not only to empty your accounts but to cancel your credit cards too. And lose your personal credit rating. And lots of other lovely things. In short, I’ve set this up to personally ruin you. Once it’s completed its run, there’ll be nothing of you left. And it’ll make you out to be too much of a financial liability to employ. Anywhere. So what’ll it be?’

Wright saw the numbers disappear off the screen, the figure flex the bolt cutters.

‘I’m not… not going to be intimidated by the likes of you.’

‘The clock’s ticking.’

The numbers seemed to be disappearing even quicker. Gone and never coming back. He felt his panic increase. If it kept going at the speed it was, he wouldn’t be able to replace it. Not as much as would be lost. Not in this lifetime. The numbers speeded up even more.

‘Fingers,’ he called out. ‘Take… take my fingers…’

He was sure that beneath the mask, the figure smiled. ‘That’s better.’

He moved over to where Denise was sitting, picked up something from the floor. A pair of her expensive silk and lace panties. Crossed back to Wright, stuffed them hard into his mouth.

‘That should stop you screaming.’ He picked up the cutters, positioned them round the little finger of Wright’s right hand. ‘One at a time, I think. Ready? Here we go.’

He brought the blades together.

‘W
hat the hell do you think you’re doing? What are you playing at?’

Phil had just returned to the station and been informed of Sperring’s actions. He wasn’t happy. He found Sperring angrily entering the incident room and hauled him into his office, trying not to slam the door, not wanting to give the rest of the team any indication of what was happening, how angry he was.

Sperring turned to Phil, squared up to him, matched anger with anger. ‘My job. What did you think I was doing?’

‘You pull Moses Heap in without consulting me… on what? What charge, what suspicion? What have you got?’

‘Nadish pulled it together. Heap’s got previous. Threatening behaviour with a crossbow. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’

‘And there’s only one crossbow in Birmingham, is that what you’re saying?’

‘I’m saying,’ said Sperring slowly, as if spelling it out for a retarded child, ‘that it was too much of a coincidence to miss. We had to talk to him.’

‘Yeah, I agree. We did have to talk to him. Maybe it is too much of a coincidence. But we didn’t need to pull him into the station to do it, did we? Especially not someone who’s had such a public road to Damascus conversion from gangster to good guy.’

Sperring snorted. ‘If you believe all that bullshit.’

Phil said nothing, scrutinised his junior officer. ‘That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’ he said, voice dangerously low. ‘Once a villain, always a villain, right?’

Sperring shrugged. ‘Statistically, yeah. That’s right.’

‘And you don’t believe in the benefit of the doubt?’

‘If he can go all Damascan road like you said, let’s stick to biblical stuff and say I’m agnostic on that one.’

‘And now you’ve got Glen Looker involved,’ said Phil. ‘Jesus Christ. Birmingham’s biggest ambulance chaser. You know how many lawsuits he’s brought against us?’

‘Yeah, I do. And you know how many villains are walking around free because of him? Because he’s got them out on some fucked-up bullshit technicality? Just shows. That’s who Heap calls when he’s in trouble. Stick together, that lot.’

Phil’s door opened without a knock. Both men stopped talking, turned. DCI Alison Cotter, Phil’s immediate superior, entered.

‘What the hell is going on?’ she said, once the door had slammed behind her. ‘I’ve got a high-profile community leader talking about claims of police harassment and I’ve got his lawyer, that piece of shit scrote Looker, telling anyone who’ll listen that he’s going to raise a lawsuit against this department.’ She looked between the two men. ‘Would either of you care to explain what’s going on?’

Neither spoke. Eventually Sperring, throwing razor-tipped glances at Phil, opened his mouth.

‘Well —’

‘He’s got previous, ma’am,’ said Phil, before Sperring could say any more. ‘I know he’s whiter than white now, especially to the media, but there are too many similarities in this case. Too many coincidences. Moses Heap seems to know or be associated with the victims and Darren Richards. And he also has a previous conviction for using a crossbow.’

Phil didn’t actually know if it was a conviction or a caution but he had committed himself.

Cotter said nothing, looked once more between the pair of them.

‘He didn’t want to talk in front of his associates,’ said Sperring, ‘and we didn’t think it a good idea if he did. So he gave us no choice but to bring him in for questioning.’

Cotter took a deep breath. Held it. Eventually she nodded, expelled the held air.

‘And the harassment? The brutality?’

‘What d’you think?’ said Phil before Sperring could answer.

‘I know exactly what I think,’ Cotter said. ‘And I think I know exactly what’s happened.’

‘He’s got no case at all for harassment or brutality,’ said Sperring. ‘None whatsoever. And he knows it. He’s just talking out of his arse.’ Sperring stopped, stared at his superior. ‘Ma’am.’

Cotter sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. Okay. Leave it with me. I’ll go and make penitent noises to Looker and let Heap go. And hope all this blows over.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Phil. ‘It’s appreciated.’

Cotter nodded. ‘I don’t suppose he confessed, did he?’

‘Didn’t get that far,’ said Sperring.

‘Pity. Would have made things a lot easier. Don’t worry. We can spin this. A woman and her daughter have been murdered. If Heap wants to make this all about him and be seen as getting in the way of finding the real killer, then we can get very nasty with him. Very nasty.’

‘Thank you,’ said Phil.

Cotter left the room, closing the door behind her. Neither man spoke.

Eventually, Sperring broke the silence.

‘Why’d you do that? Take a bullet for me?’

‘What should I have done?’ asked Phil. ‘Thrown you under the proverbial bus?’

Sperring shrugged. ‘What I expected.’

Phil’s features were impassive as he spoke. ‘We’re a team, Ian. You, me, Nadish, Imani. And the rest. A team. And we back each other up. Even if we don’t agree with what the other one says or does, we back them up. Right?’

Sperring took his time but eventually nodded. ‘Thank you, boss.’ He couldn’t make eye contact with Phil but he held out his hand to shake.

Phil accepted it. Their hands dropped. They stood there in silence once more. Before either could speak, there was a knock at the door.

‘What does she want this time?’ said Sperring.

‘Come in,’ Phil said.

It was Elli, the team’s resident tech expert. She was small, Asian and she took full advantage of the licence to dress down that Phil had instigated. In fact, she had been doing it before he arrived there and knew, in her shy but certain way, that she was too valuable to the team to be told off for it.

Today’s T-shirt, worn with the usual jeans, boots and assortment of heavy-metal jewellery was a grid of primary-coloured TARDISes arranged in a faux-Andy Warhol style. At least Phil understood this one.

‘Boss?’ Her voice was hesitant, fearful of interrupting something, but her eyes spoke of urgency.

‘Yes, Elli. What can I do for you?’

‘He’s… back.’

‘Who?’

‘The caller. The one from last night. He’s on the line now.’

Phil and Sperring both ran from the room.