Deadly Vengeance: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns (Detective Jane Phillips Book 3)

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Hi, Guv,’ said Jones.

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘They’re preparing him for surgery. Looks like he has a fractured skull, swelling on the brain, a fractured pelvis and internal bleeding. There’s also some potential damage to his spine.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Phillips, almost lost for words.

  ‘Izzie’s here, but they won’t let her see him. Judging by the state of his injuries, that’s probably for the best, to be honest.’

  ‘What about Entwistle?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘On his way over, Guv.’

  ‘So am I. Are you still in A&E?’

  ‘Yeah. Just sat in the waiting room.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.’

  Phillips ended the call, her mind awash with images of Bovalino and the times they’d shared over the years; good, bad and, in some cases, deadly. Filled with a sense of foreboding, she was impatient to get to the MRI. ‘Sod it,’ she said out loud, switched on the siren and blue lights, then accelerated into the outside lane. In the world of Major Crimes, this was a real emergency.

  The remaining journey took a little over seven minutes, and after she had parked in a spot reserved for police vehicles, she made her way through the main doors of the Accident and Emergency department. Inside, she soon found Jones, Entwistle and Izzie Bovalino, huddled together on a row of plastic seats screwed into the polished concrete floor.

  As she approached, Jones and Entwistle stood.

  ‘Guv,’ said Jones.

  ‘Guv,’ repeated Entwistle.

  Phillips nodded to them both, and approached Izzie with open arms, who stood and allowed her small, petite frame to be enveloped in a hug. After a long moment, Phillips pulled back and stared into Izzie’s elfin face. ‘How are you holding up?’

  Izzie’s eyes and nose were red and swollen, and her mascara had left black streaks, which matched her long dark hair, down her cheeks. ‘I’m ok. Just praying for Lorenzo.’

  It was strange to hear Bovalino called by his first name. He was – and always had been – Bov to the team, and it was easy to forget his wife and family referred to him by something else.

  ‘How’s he doing?’ asked Phillips.

  Izzie opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

  Jones stepped in. ‘He’s just gone into surgery. They need to stop the internal bleeding, then fix his broken bones. The doctor reckons it could take a few hours.’

  ‘Every day since he became a policeman, I’ve prayed for him, you know,’ Izzie said softly, ‘I prayed to God to keep my Lorenzo safe, to bring him home to me each night. But I was always terrified…’ Her words tailed off as tears streaked down her cheeks once more. ‘I can’t lose him, Jane. He’s my life.’

  Phillips wrapped an arm around Izzie’s shoulder. ‘You’re not going to lose him. He’s a fighter.’ She said the words, but, deep down, she was worried too. Judging by his injuries, even if he did survive, the chances of making a full recovery looked slim. ‘Do you have anyone who can come and sit with you?’

  Izzie nodded. ‘My sisters are on their way now. They’ll be here soon.’

  Phillips squeezed her tightly again. ‘Good. We’ll sit with you until they get here.’

  Sometime later, Izzie’s sisters arrived en masse, making a noisy and heart-warming – Italian-style – entrance. In a flash, Izzie was surrounded, wrapped up in her family’s love.

  Phillips signalled to Jones and Entwistle that it was time they took a break, and together they headed for the Colombian Bean Cafe on the ground floor of the main hospital building.

  Ten minutes later, armed with a strong black coffee each, they regrouped around a table in the corner of the cafe.

  ‘I’m really scared, Guv,’ said Jones. ‘He's my best mate. What if he dies?’

  ‘We can’t think like that, Jonesy. We have to be strong for Bov – and for Izzie,’ said Phillips.

  Jones dropped his chin and nodded.

  Phillips waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

  After a long moment, he exhaled sharply and lifted his head. ‘So, how was the meeting with Fox and Saxby?’

  Phillips sat back in her chair and blew her lips. ‘Far worse than I was expecting, I’m afraid.’

  ‘How so?’ asked Jones.

  ‘She’s not happy that you and Bov broke protocol by not waiting for back-up.’

  Jones eyes widened and his jaw clenched. ‘If Bov had caught the guy and saved Hollie, he’d be a hero. But because he got away, we’re the villains now?’

  Phillips nodded sagely. ‘I’m afraid so. You know how Fox works, Jonesy. She’s the queen of the “self-preservation-society”.’

  ‘She’s a fucking bitch,’ spat Jones under his breath.

  Phillips took a sip of her hot coffee. ‘Yes. She’s that too.’

  ‘But how can she say Jonesy and Bov messed up?’ asked Entwistle. ‘They found the kidnappers’ hideout based on a single shadow in the background of a grainy video. That’s amazing detective work.’

  Phillips let out an ironic chuckle. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about police politics, Entwistle, but then again, I’ve been at this for twenty years and I’m still getting it wrong.’

  Jones banged his fist on the table, drawing anxious looks from patrons at the nearby tables. ‘How can she stitch Bov up like this when he’s fighting for his life?’

  Phillips reached across and placed a reassuring hand on Jones’s wrist. ‘Because that’s what she does. I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t take it personally. Fox is looking after Fox. It’s what she does best, and it’s what she’s always done.’

  Jones’s lips formed a snarl. ‘Well, all I can say is, she better watch where she’s walking alone at night. One of these days, someone might give her what she deserves.’

  Phillips had worked with Jones for long enough to know he was just venting. As much as he hated Fox, Jones was as straight a copper as you could find. But she understood his anger and frustration. It was tough for her to swallow too.

  She said nothing for a few minutes to allow him to calm down. Then she took a deep breath and blew it out. ‘Look. I know this will go down like a shit-sandwich too, but Fox has decided that Saxby will take the lead on the ransom-money drop.’

  Both men recoiled in their seats. Unsurprisingly, Jones was first to speak. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

  His language again drew disapproving looks from those seated nearest to them.

  Phillips quietly apologised on Jones’s behalf before she turned back to face him and Entwistle. She leaned forwards and spoke in hushed tones. ‘Look. I don’t like it any more than you do, but she’s made up her mind. She’s worried it’s all gonna go tits up, and wants to distance MCU from any fallout. She reckons the Met can carry the can.’

  Jones’s eyes were wide and wild now. ‘But that’s nonsense. The man is a buffoon. He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing.’

  ‘I know. I know. And I made the exact same point to Fox this evening, but she’s not having it. Saxby’s in charge of the operation, and all strategy related to it.’

  ‘So, we have to do what he says then, Guv?’ asked Entwistle.

  ‘Yep. I’m afraid so.’

  Jones sat back and rubbed his hands down his face, causing the skin to redden. ‘In that case, the girl’s dead, plain and simple. If Saxby’s in charge, she’s a gonner.’

  Phillips had no reply for Jones, because she too feared the worst.

  ‘So, we’re still expecting the ransom drop details tomorrow?’ said Entwistle.

  ‘I think so, but Saxby has other ideas. He reckons us discovering their hideout could panic them into killing Hollie and making a run for it. But I don’t see it. They’ve been one stop ahead of us the whole time. Plus, as I pointed out to him and Fox, these guys don’t panic. They knew we were coming, and had a plan to escape. No. I’m sure they’ll be back in touch. They’ve got four million reasons to, after all.’

 
; Jones shrugged his shoulders. ‘So what do we do now? What’s next?’

  Phillips drained her coffee and stood. ‘Now? Now, Jonesy, we go back and check on Bov. He’s our priority tonight. We can deal with Saxby and Fox in the morning.’

  36

  November 8th

  Phillips was getting out of the shower when Saxby called.

  ‘Sir Richard has received another video from the kidnappers. I want you over there immediately.’ His tone was more than a little superior. She mused he must be smug after the conversation with Fox the previous day.

  Phillips bit her tongue. Naked, apart from a towel, this wasn’t the time to get into the semantics of the new chain of command. She checked the alarm clock on her bedside table – 6.27 a.m. ‘I’ll be there by 7.15.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Saxby, and ended the call.

  Phillips threw her phone onto the bed and took a couple of deep breaths to calm her growing anxiety. Saxby wasn’t going to get the better of her.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in her usual charcoal grey suit with a white shirt and black boots, and carrying her overcoat on her arm, she stepped out of her front door. Because she always wore her hair tied back, she’d had no reason to waste time blow-drying it.

  The drive from her Chorlton terraced house to the Hawkins’s Altrincham mansion took just twenty minutes, and as she pulled up on the street outside the large metal gates, she spotted Saxby’s car coming from the opposite direction. The gates opened and she drove in before him, and up to the house.

  As she stepped out, Saxby parked up behind her. He seemed as keen as ever to be first to the front door, and almost threw himself out of his car in order to catch Phillips before she walked up the front steps. He tugged at her arm, and she turned to face him.

  ‘From now on, we follow the correct procedure.’ He stepped uncomfortably close, his face just a few inches from hers.

  Instinctively she took a step back, but he followed her. Personal space was clearly not something he valued. ‘Listen, Saxby. As I understand it, you’re in charge of the ransom drop. Not the investigation. I’m still the SIO on that, so cut the senior officer crap, will you?’

  Saxby flashed a thin smile. ‘After the ransom drop, there won’t be an investigation.’

  Phillips opened her mouth to respond, but was stopped in her tracks by Sir Richard, who opened the front door. ‘It’s about time you lot arrived.’

  Saxby turned and thrust out his hand. ‘Sir Richard,’ he said as Hawkins shook it, ‘how are you holding up?’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s my money and my daughter I’m worried about.’ He turned and walked back into the house.

  Saxby raced in after him, and Phillips fell in behind.

  Once again, Sir Richard directed them to the kitchen, where Sandra Hawkins sat at the large kitchen island. The scene was identical to their first meeting. Hawkins turned his laptop to face them. ‘This came in at 5 a.m. today.’ He pressed play on the video.

  As before, Hollie appeared in the middle of the screen, but the location was different – a good indicator that it had been recorded in the last twenty-four hours, thought Phillips.

  ‘My name is Hollie Hawkins. The time is now 1 a.m. on Friday the 8th of November. I am being well treated and remain unharmed. To ensure that continues, and to secure my safe return, my father, Sir Richard Hawkins, is to pay four million pounds in cash tonight. The location where the money is to be left can be found at the following grid reference: Sierra Kilo 1-4-2 9-0-1. The money is to be left at this exact location at twenty-three hundred hours, in eight waterproof bags, half a million pounds in each. My mother, Sandra Hawkins, is to deliver the cash, alone. If my captors seen any sign of police involvement – or trackers on the money – you will never see me again.’

  Phillips noted the change is Hollie’s delivery. In comparison with the first video, she appeared a lot calmer, certainly less frightened of the situation. Phillips recalled the vast array of books and magazines in the room where Hollie had been held captive, and was filled with hope that the gang was actually treating her well – that perhaps the first video had been made to look worse that it was in order to shock Richard and Sandra Hawkins into paying the ransom.

  ‘So. It looks like we have no choice but to pay the money,’ said Hawkins, fixing Phillips with an icy glare.

  ‘Do you have the cash?’ asked Saxby.

  ‘Yes. It’s in here.’ Hawkins beckoned them into his home office, situated just off the kitchen. On the floor were several bags, each stuffed with packets of bank notes.

  ‘Can your wife lift that kind of weight? That’s a lot of money,’ said Phillips.

  ‘I know it’s a lot of money,’ said Hawkins. ‘It’s a lot of my money.’

  Sandra Hawkins appeared at the door. ‘If it’s split up into eight bags as they’ve asked, I should be able to lift them out of the car. That’s all I have to do. I won’t be carrying them anywhere.’

  ‘I’ve told her she’s not going,’ Hawkins barked. ‘One of you lot can do it instead.’

  Phillips made to answer him, but Saxby beat her to it. ‘Sir Richard. I understand your concern, but our priority has to be the safe return of your daughter. As the kidnappers have made clear, we cannot be seen to be involved.’

  ‘But you will be involved, won’t you?’ said Hawkins.

  ‘Of course. We’ll follow Mrs Hawkins at a safe distance, using surveillance experts. We’ll also have teams of specialist firearms officers on standby. The goal is to let the kidnappers take the money, then follow them to where they’re keeping Hollie. We go in, grab Hollie, and get your money back.’

  ‘It sounds so simple when you say it, DCI Saxby,’ said Phillips, only just able to mask the sarcasm in her voice.

  If Saxby noticed her tone, he didn’t show it. He continued his grandstanding. ‘You’ll be glad to know that I am taking control of the operation tonight. I am very confident that, by morning you’ll have your daughter, and your money, safely back where they belong, and we’ll have the kidnappers in custody.’

  Phillips closed her eyes for a moment. This guy really had no clue. There was no way this team would make life so easy for them. She pulled out her phone and opened up the web browser, then began to type into it.

  ‘Are we boring you, Chief Inspector?’ said Saxby.

  Phillips looked up. ‘No. I’m just checking the location attached to that grid reference. Seems prudent to know where we’re going, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Saxby bristled, then forced a thin smile. ‘Quite.’

  ‘Here we are,’ said Phillips, turning the phone to face the room. ‘It’s up near the Snake Pass, in the High Peak.’ A winding, narrow road, Snake Pass cut through the rough terrain of the Peak District, a cluster of unforgiving hills that connected Manchester to Sheffield and the rest of Yorkshire.

  ‘That seems like an odd place for the drop,’ Hawkins observed. ‘I mean, it’s open country up there.’

  ‘Well, as we’ve discussed before, Sir Richard,’ said Saxby, ‘I do believe the kidnappers to be ex-military. That is the exact kind of landscape they are trained to operate in.’

  Phillips couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He believed? It was her team that had ascertained the military link! ‘I know I’m no expert on these things,’ she said, ‘but even with their military training, isn’t using a location, with just a handful of roads in or out, a huge risk?’

  Saxby scoffed. ‘Never underestimate the cunning of a military man.’

  ‘I wouldn’t. And that’s why it seems odd to me. These guys don’t take risks.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good job I’m in charge of the operation then, isn’t it?’ said Saxby.

  ‘So how will all this happen tonight?’ Hawkins cut in.

  Saxby almost stood to attention as he answered. ‘How long does it take to get from here to the Snake Pass, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘About an hour.’

  ‘Ok. In that case, Mrs Hawkins, I would like you to le
ave here at 21.45 and drive to the location, which we will pre-programme into your GPS. You will be followed by a number of surveillance officers, in various vehicles, throughout your journey. Once you get there, leave the money on the ground, as advised, and drive home. Do not look back, and no matter what you see, do not stop. You will be watched and monitored by my officers at all times – as will your money, Sir Richard.’

  Hawkins blew his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Will she have air support?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Saxby.

  ‘Will there be an eye in the sky? Like a police helicopter?’

  Saxby shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. They are far too loud. The kidnappers would know we were watching them. No. We’ll be using well practiced metropolitan police, surveillance techniques utilising cars and motorbikes, as well as officers on the ground in the surrounding terrain. Don’t worry, Sir Richard, Lady Hawkins, we’ll catch them.’

  Phillips wanted to scream. The golden rule of surveillance was to expect the unexpected. Plan for the worst and hope for the best. In this instance, Saxby was already planning his victory parade. Somehow, she had to find a way to mitigate the damage his over-confidence was in danger of causing.

  ‘Right then,’ said Hawkins, looking at his watch.’ I’m afraid I have some calls to make.’ It was clearly time for Phillips and Saxby to leave.

  ‘Of course, Sir Richard. I know how busy you must be,’ Saxby said, almost bowing.

  Phillips smiled warmly as she passed Sandra Hawkins, whose eyes were wide, filled with fear. She wanted desperately to comfort her, tell her everything was going to be ok, but with Saxby in charge, she couldn’t make that promise. Her daughter’s life was now in the hands of an idiot’s ego.

  Outside on the drive, as Phillips was about to get her into her car, Saxby grabbed her by the shoulder, forcing her to face him. Once again he stood up close, and she could smell his pungent, stale coffee and nicotine-laced breath. ‘As of now, I have total control of this operation. I want you and your team in my office at 11 a.m., ok?’