The Phoenix Series Box Set 3

by Ted Tayler

  “No one off the top of my head, Athena,” replied Henry, “but I’ll get my thinking cap on, and report back as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” said Athena, “perhaps we should get on with hearing what you’ve uncovered Giles?”

  At that moment, Phoenix entered the room.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” he said, “I needed to check a few things. What did I miss?”

  “Not a lot,” said Rusty, “we chatted about you most of the time.”

  Phoenix sat next to Athena and nodded to her.

  That was his apology for wandering off without a word, she thought. He didn’t bite at Rusty’s comment either. He always used to have a sarcastic comment to hand when Erebus headed up the morning meetings. Athena had lost count of the number of times she stifled a laugh as Phoenix brightened up proceedings with his dry humour.

  Least said, soonest mended, she thought and nodded to Giles to carry on.

  “Before I take you through what we found yesterday, I’d like to recap on the Wirral, and Portsmouth missions, if I may?”

  “Keep it brief,” said Athena, “carry on.”

  “The disposal of the bodies from the Manchester affair is complete,” said Artemis, “the safe-house will now be put on the market. The proceeds will be substantial. Our intention is to buy two smaller properties in Macclesfield, and Runcorn. The laying of false trails in Portsmouth, and Southampton has been successful. We believe Phoenix’s suggestion to ‘dirty up’ the reputations of the two undercover agents was exactly what the police wanted to hear. It saved them having to work too hard on the case. To use a railway line analogy, the case has left the mainline, and is now on a siding gathering dust.”

  “As for our disappearing drug charity worker,” said Giles, “we have identified a few leads, but there are no sightings in recent days. Artemis found Dawn Prentice on CCTV on Friday the second of May.”

  Artemis handed copies around the table.

  “This group of females were on the pavement outside the charity building. Dawn is highlighted. We believe they just finished work. Dawn’s car was later captured on camera in Kensington High Street. This would be one route she might have taken to get home to Notting Hill Gate.”

  “Do we have evidence of her reaching her home?” asked Athena.

  “Inconclusive proof,” said Artemis, “she stopped in traffic near the cinema as you can see in this image. The timestamp shows it shows it’s six in the evening.”

  “Are there no cameras in her street?” asked Rusty.

  “Sadly, none,” said Giles.

  “So where does this leave us?” asked Henry.

  “We trawled back through earlier CCTV images from the cinema area on the off chance,” said Artemis, “and found this.”

  Copies of a series of further images were handed around. While everyone studied the photos, Giles continued: -

  “This man was seen on the street on five occasions, either walking alongside Dawn Prentice or following her at a short distance. The time stamp on these includes successive Saturday lunchtimes. Dawn was a regular customer at a deli on Notting Hill Gate. She doesn’t appear to know him or be comfortable in his company. He is a convicted felon, mostly for aggravated assault. Dominick Nagy works as a minder for a drug dealer called Adam Kovacs.”

  “Did Kovacs supply her with drugs back in the day?” asked Rusty.

  “He fitted the profile,” said Artemis. “The neighbourhood fits, he’s added the designer drug angle to his menu too, so we checked the financials to see if he was the one blackmailing Dawn.”

  “I didn’t trace where the actual payments went when we carried out the checks for her Olympus candidacy,” said Minos. “Zeus hoped we could give her a clean bill of health. We found enough evidence to suggest she reopened links with her past. That was enough to rule her out as Aurora.”

  “Understood,” said Giles, “we found a regular payment to an overseas account. This was cancelled only days before the confirmation of her disappearance.”

  “The timeline we have put together indicates Dawn was approached by Nagy on behalf of Kovacs at least six weeks ago,” said Artemis. “Nagy was caught on CCTV stalking Dawn as you have seen. He approached her on the Saturday lunchtime. The payments began the week after. Dawn was on her way home on the second of May. She didn’t arrive at the charity on the fifth. Nobody was over-concerned. She was a volunteer. By the nineteenth, her colleagues started to worry. She didn’t answer her phone, she didn’t appear to be in her flat, although her car was parked in the street. On Wednesday of that week, they contacted her solicitor. Dawn informed her workmates she was leaving her fortune to the charity in her will. They discovered one of his cards on her desk. The solicitor accompanied the girls to the flat. He rang the bell and got no reply. He tried the door. It was open. They found signs of a struggle and phoned the police.”

  “How did you fill in the gaps?” asked Athena,

  “I visited the flats myself last evening,” replied Artemis. “I could get done for impersonating a police officer, but it was easy enough to slip back into the old routine. I even persuaded a young guy on the top floor to admit he’d got home on the night of the second, to stumble over a pizza delivery by her door. He took it upstairs and polished it off.”

  “That’s my girl,” smiled Rusty.

  “You were tied up in the orangery for the afternoon. Giles thought I could do more good on the ground. I left at half-past two, caught several occupants already at home, the others as they returned from work. I got back here at just after ten. Giles and I finished putting this together for today, and you were asleep when I reached the apartment.”

  “So, where’s Dawn Prentice been since the second of May?” asked Henry.

  “It’s certain Kovacs has her,” said Giles. “Where he has her is something we’re pinning down. I’ve got people hunting for properties he’s known to use. My major concern is the solicitor stopping the payment. If she’s still alive, Kovacs might decide he has no further use for her.”

  “Then we need to find her fast,” said Athena, “get back to your search. Good luck.”

  Phoenix had contributed nothing to the meeting since his late arrival. As everyone collected their things together and prepared to leave, he finally spoke.

  “Why would Kovacs kidnap her? She had already been blackmailed into setting up regular payments. So, it wasn’t for money. She must have been taken for another reason. What else could he want her for, except to finance his designer drug supplies? Whatever it was, she’s been at his mercy for over three weeks.”

  “I can’t see this matter ending well,” said Henry.

  “Not for Dawn Prentice, I agree,” said Phoenix, “and not for Adam Kovacs.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Monday 2nd June 2014

  Sean Walsh dreaded Monday mornings. Tommy always phoned him from Belmarsh first chance he had. He wanted to hear family related things. Had Sean seen Colleen over the weekend? Did he know how his kids were? How was Sean’s daughter Saoirse getting on at school?

  Sean could only give an honest answer to one question. Colleen hadn’t been over to his place for weeks, but Tommy wouldn’t want to hear. Because he hadn’t seen Colleen, he didn’t have a clue what was going on out in Marbella either. Except temperatures were in the mid-forties now. The only thing he knew for sure was that Saoirse spent more team out of school than in; according to the truant officer who had become a regular visitor at Sean’s house.

  Tommy didn’t need to know that either. So, when he called this morning, it would have to be bullshit yet again.

  Sean looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Half-past eight. Saoirse was still in bed. Another duvet day. He decided to call Colleen, to catch up on her news. At least he could try to have something genuine to give to his brother-in-law. Sean sighed. With Tommy inside for thirty bloody years, this could become a real chore.

  Colleen picked up on the second ring.

  “Who’s that?” she barked.<
br />
  “It’s me, Sean,” he said, “touchy aren’t you, sis?”

  “I’m busy,” Colleen replied. “I’m clearing out Tommy’s gear. There’s stuff he’ll never get to use again.”

  “Hold on,” said Sean, “what do you mean? What sort of stuff?”

  “Old clothes, for a start. Nothing to fit you. Odds and ends he’s had in the wardrobe for years. He never used them on the outside. It stands to reason he won’t need them in Belmarsh or Durham.”

  “Yeah, he mentioned Durham on the phone last week, but a transfer isn’t confirmed yet.”

  “If it is, we need to try to help him escape. It may be impossible to spring him from prison, but the transfer journey offers a load of opportunities.”

  “I’ll mention it to the boss when I see him later,” said Sean.

  “Don’t tell that bastard a thing, Sean Walsh,” said Colleen. “He washed his hands of Tommy as soon as the door of his cell slammed shut on the first night. No, we’ll do it together, the Walsh family. You choose the team. I’ll put up the cash.”

  “It will cost a fair bit, Colleen,” Sean replied, “where are you going to get that amount of money?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Sean. I’m downsizing. The cars have gone. Tyrone and Rosie are looking for something more reasonable in Marbella. I’m clearing Tommy’s things, so I’ve got less to take when I move.”

  Sean was struck dumb. Who was this person his sister had become? Ever since she and Tommy had got together when she was fourteen, she had been under his thumb. He said jump, she asked how high. Sean had seen the evidence on her face when she had questioned Tommy O’Riordan. Suddenly, she was decisive and full of action. It unnerved him. What was she going to do next?

  “Have you thought this through, sis?” he asked. “What about the appeal. Tommy reckoned last week it was going ahead.”

  “Listen to yourself, Sean,” Colleen scoffed, “you’re as naive as him. There are no grounds for appeal, nor is there a snowball’s chance in hell of his sentence being reduced. The only way he’s coming out is if we get him out. He can’t stay in this country, so, we’ll need to smuggle him overseas. It shouldn’t be hard. Thousands enter this country illegally every year. All we need is to get one bloke to travel to the continent. From there he can fly to a country without an extradition treaty with the UK.”

  Sean’s head was spinning. Colleen had really thought this through.

  “This downsizing is to get the cash together for Tommy’s escape, then?”

  “You’re catching on, Sean,” said Colleen, and after promising to keep in touch, she ended the call.

  Colleen smiled to herself. It was as easy to pull the wool over her brother’s eyes as it was Tommy’s. She had no grand plan for a life abroad if Tommy was ever set free. The attempted escape plot was expected of her. Tommy still had long arms, no matter which prison he was in. If it failed, he stayed inside for thirty years. If he escaped…well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Time to carry on with the clear out, then she could start packing things she really wanted to take with her to her new home in the sky.

  Across town, Sean still chewed over what he had learned this morning. Far from picking up hints as to what to discuss with Tommy, he was deeper in it than before. He didn’t have long to wait for his phone to ring.

  “Hello, Sean,” said Tommy, “who were you talking with for so long? I had to join the back of the queue again.”

  “Nobody,” lied Sean, “the phone must have been off the hook, mate. How are you?”

  Tommy brought him up to speed about conditions inside. He asked the usual set of questions. Sean made all the advisable responses on the status of the appeal. He told Tommy to stay positive. He said he had heard Tyrone and Rosie were having a busy time of it in Spain but didn’t go into detail. As for Saoirse, she was a very popular young lady, people at the school were always asking after her. Somehow, Sean winged it and got through the ordeal. There was an impatient queue behind his brother-in-law this week, so things had to be curtailed. When he put down the phone, Sean breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  That was out of the way for another week. Now all he had to worry about was Hugo Hanigan. As soon as the boss reached his office at noon, the orders would come thick and fast. He needed to be on his toes. There was no cause to mention Tommy’s appeal. Or the potential transfer to Durham. Hugo didn’t have any interest in Tommy O’Riordan.

  For the past few weeks, the leader of the Grid had only two things on his mind. He thought Sean had slipped up in appointing Seamus McConnell as his lieutenant and never missed an opportunity to rub it in. It didn’t help that Seamus had an annoying habit of cocking up every job Sean let him do on his own. He had to wet-nurse the guy, and supervise everything he tackled. Sean had known Seamus had limited ability, but the talent pool from which he had to select a second-in-command was shallow.

  Hugo’s second, and most pressing problem was the unexplained number of deaths of members of gangs from the Grid network. Sean tried to convince him that it was natural wastage. It was a phrase Tommy had used. Late at night in the social club, after hours, with a bottle of Jameson’s in front of them, demanding to be finished.

  “The game we’re in, Sean,” Tommy would say, “ain’t one where you get a long-service medal. Villains end up in the nick or the cemetery. You and me, we’re old school and have kept out of trouble so far by using our wits. Time served on the streets has provided us with a good supply of nous. The trouble with kids today coming into this caper, they haven’t got time to learn the ropes. They want it all, and they want it now. Live fast, die young. So, we can expect to lose a few hotheads along the way. Raise a glass to them, and move on. That’s the best you can do.”

  Sean thought it ironic Tommy had ended up in the nick despite his street smarts. A dollop of spit on a strip of sticky tape had done for him. A quick check of the clock told him he’d better grab a coffee and a sandwich. Time marched on. Hugo would be calling.

  There it was. Ten past twelve. Sean swallowed hard and picked up.

  “Yes, boss, what can I do for you?”

  “We’ve got a problem,” said Hugo.

  Sean could tell he was on speaker-phone. Hugo paced up and down, wearing out the luxury carpet in his office. Always fidgeting. Forever on the move, his boss. A bundle of screwed-up energy, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. Sean didn’t ask what the problem was, he waited for Hugo to speak next. Anything he said might be the trigger for an explosion.

  “The month of May is finally over, thank God,” Hugo continued, “thirty-one days of headaches. You know how good I am with numbers, don’t you Sean? That’s what you and the others pay me for. Before last month we had a steady line of growth in our business. The Grid grew stronger every day. We had our setbacks. Your brother-in-law getting sent down for one. The disruption of our plans to murder the High Court Judge for another. Since I returned from Dublin, that steady growth has faltered. Supplies to dealers in the Guildford area have been interrupted after four of our West Indian friends were arrested by the police. One of our rising stars in London, Lay-Z Gordon, was gunned down, and his sister Abigail arrested.”

  Hugo still paced. Sean held his breath. Would there be a question for him? Should he risk a comment?

  “Are you listening to me, Sean?” yelled Hugo.

  “Yes, boss,” Sean replied, “but these are isolated incidents. A few people have left the game, but there’s no shortage of people wanting to take their place.”

  “You think? No, Sean, I think, you listen. Add up these numbers. Two Roma, and seven Poles in Birmingham. Fourteen in Manchester. How many’s that?”

  “Twenty-three?” said Sean.

  “Yes, give the man a cigar. Twenty-three people who relied on us for their living, either found dead in their homes or disappeared off the face of the earth. Add in the people I mentioned earlier, and we’ve got almost one every day in May. How can that be right?”


  “It’s not right, boss, but it’s the game we’re in,” said Sean, hoping for the best. “We’ve got people up North asking questions. The word on the street is someone took them out so they could absorb those districts into their business. I’m waiting to hear which outfit was responsible. If they’re not working with us, then we need to teach them a lesson.”

  “What if they’re part of the Grid already?” asked Hugo, who had stopped pacing.

  “We congratulate them for showing initiative boss,” said Sean, crossing his fingers. “It reduces our overheads.”

  “There might be a future for you yet, Sean Walsh,” said Hugo. “If they’re a new outfit looking to horn in our patch they need to be eliminated, is that understood? And it needs to be painful.”

  “Yes, boss,” said Sean, breathing more easily.

  “Keep me informed on progress. Make sure the slack these deaths caused is taken up by our people, or new faces that sing the same tune. I want June to show that a steady trend of growth is back on track.”

  Hugo ended the call. Sean walked across the lounge to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large one. He needed it.

  ***

  Athena and Phoenix were back in their apartment having lunch with Hope. The morning meeting had been brief. Giles and Artemis gave a quick update on progress, then returned underground to collate the latest data they had gathered on Adam Kovacs.

  Minos and Alastor had nothing further to add, except that they continued to prepare background stories for the new recruits. Henry too was eager to show his face in the training rooms, to welcome the new arrivals. Rusty left the meeting with Henry, to touch base with their senior trainers. The meeting may have been shorter than usual, but actions speak louder than words.

  Phoenix and Rusty were to meet in the orangery at two o’clock. Artemis was to join them for a meeting for the first time. So far, she had only been invited inside once, with Athena on a guided tour soon after she arrived at Larcombe.