When they were reasonably sure that there were no suspicious eyes watching they drove slowly across the wet lot and pulled up alongside the lorry. Another man dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt jumped nimbly from the back doors and looked around. Satisfied that there were still no prying eyes he went to the rear of the trailer and using a pair of bolt cutters cut through the securing padlocks and opened the door. Returning quickly to the open doors of the van he replaced the bolt cutters with a lethal looking crowbar and went back to the trailer. Having one last look around he hauled himself up and into the cavity of the trailer and waited for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the virtual darkness the only light coming from the crack between the open doors.
He moved quickly climbing over and squeezing in-between the cargo that consisted of boxes of various shapes and sizes. There were only a few boxes that matched the size of the one he was looking for and a quick glance told him immediately which ones to pass by. He was almost two-thirds of the way along the trailer when he found it.
It was a large wooden crate measuring four feet high by four feet wide and six feet long. Using the crowbar he worked fast forcing open the crate. Officially listed as carrying machine parts and on a casual inspection the box did indeed look to be full of machinery. Row upon row of smaller cardboard boxes of varying colours and sizes each labelled with different machine parts filled the outer limits of the crate but within the centre, in a space not big enough to keep a large dog, were the bound forms of three small girls.
The girls had been sat on a plank of wood across the top of the genuine cargo to spread their weight and their hands and feet bound with duct tape with another strip across their mouths to prevent them from making a sound. Cleverly concealed air holes had been drilled into the wood but apart from that no other consideration was taken for them.
Unable to move and suffering from painful cramp after being entombed in their mobile prison he had to carry each of them in turn back to the van.
The grey van left the scene as unobtrusively as it arrived.
Chapter 18
The office was not what she was imagined. What she expected was a seedy, run down low-lit dive but instead the place was quite a clean and well lit with seats, a couple of gaming machines and was manned by a dark-haired middle-aged woman.
Grimshawe`s metallic silver Lexus pulled up alongside the kerb and parked about a hundred metres behind the BMW without her seeing him. As soon as he got out of the car he immediately recognised her car. Keeping close to the shop fronts along the small parade he slipped into the cab office and climbed the stairs to the office above two at a time.
“Boss,” the excitement was already showing in his voice, “we have a problem!” he nodded towards the window, “She's here!”
Thanos rose from behind his desk and headed for the only window in the office. “Who's here?”
Grimshawe covered the ground from the door to the window in quick time in his eagerness to prove his usefulness to the boss,” It's her. Richard’s American sister!”
Thanos stood to one side of the window and carefully peaked round the edge his eyes darting up and down the street below, “Where?” he demanded.
“The flash beemer. That’s her.”
Once he knew what he was looking for the car was easy to spot. “You sure that’s her?”
“Definitely.”
He stood watching the car in silence for a long time wondering what she knew and then a new, disturbing thought crept into his mind. Were the missing files there and Morton lied to him or were they really not there. He could only see the car and not the occupant, “Follow her and see where she goes.” He said finally.
Grimshawe grinned. He liked being the new number one, “Okay boss.”
Thanos thought fast, “Shaun,” he asked, “what car are you using?”
Taken by surprise and not thinking he replied, “Mine. Why?”
“You might want to use the old white van. Less conspicuous!”
Grimshawe nodded knowingly. He had just been taught a lesson. Why use a car that will stand out when he could use a white van, one of thousands on the roads of London every day and never even be noticed. Lesson learnt he stored that in his memory for future use.
Thanos had already set to work sowing the seed in Grimshawe`s slow mind that maybe it was his turn to be number one. Time to replace an old dog with a new, obedient puppy!
Grimshawe sang along with the radio as he followed her drumming his fingers on top of the steering wheel in time with the music. Today he was in a good mood. After driving the boss around and raping a beautiful woman he was sure that nothing could spoil today for him. Spotting her was easy, or rather spotting her car was. “Follow her,” the boss had told him, “just make a note of where she goes.” He kept what he thought was a safe distance behind her as she made her way home.
His lack of discipline and habit of looking at the girls was about to ruin his day. Concentrating more on the blonde in the short skirt than he was on the road it was too late to stop in time as he slammed his foot hard on the brake pedal locking the wheels causing the car to slew across the road slightly but not enough to prevent himself from rear-ending the flash BMW he was tailing.
Francesca stopped at the red light and looked into her mirror just in time to see that the driver behind was not paying attention and the next thing she heard were screeching tyres followed by a huge jolt as the front of the white vehicle rammed into her followed by the unforgettable sound of crushing metal as she was propelled over the white stop line. If it had not been for the fact that she had her foot on the brake pedal she would have been shunted far enough forwards to be in the path of the crossing traffic.
Grimshawe froze his outstretched arms pushing back against the steering wheel pinning him into the seat. He was still gripping the wheel tightly even after the impact. There was a few seconds immediately afterwards when everything around him just seemed to melt away. Even though he was aware that he was surrounded by cars and pedestrians it was as though he was in a bubble and he was the only one there.
Shit! he thought, he had been told to discreetly follow her how was he going to explain this to Thanos!
Francesca rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her head around on her shoulders. As she alighted from the car her eyes were immediately drawn to the damage before looking around for the idiot responsible.
As in the case with most automobile accidents the initial reaction of shock soon transferred itself swiftly into anger and as she strode purposefully towards the guilty vehicle she looked through the windscreen at the driver and froze as their eyes meet. She recognised him immediately. She felt her mouth go dry and the small hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She had an uncontrollable feeling to run. It can’t be coincidence, she thought, even though he's in a different car. It's him!
It was the cold staring eyes that she recognised as the same eyes that were watching her closely yesterday outside the solicitor’s office. Suddenly mental images of someone rifling through her apartment flashed through her mind with Davenports words reverberating around in her head, He’s a dangerous man. You really don’t want to cross him! A dangerous man! Thanos! Somehow he had to be connected to Thanos. She stopped in mid-stride her hand reaching out to steady herself on the side of her damaged car.
Grimshawe saw her coming and knew at once from the look on her face that she recognised him. Panic began to set in. He knew that he could not afford a run in with her as it might lead to the police being involved so he done the one thing that was, probably, the worst course of action that he could possibly have taken. He drove as fast as he could away from the scene.
Shaking, Francesca got back into her car. No longer concerned about the damage or the fact that the driver responsible had driven off she managed to drive a short distance before pulling over to the side of the road. Physically shaking she breathed in and out rapidly gulping in as much air as her lungs could take.
Without thinking her t
rembling hand reached for the business card tucked away in the back of her purse and dialled the number on it.
******
Robert Montgomery, MP sat working at his desk in his private office in the Houses of Parliament. He jumped as his mobile phone rang interrupting the paper he was working on. “Robert Montgomery,” he answered casually.
“Mr. Montgomery,” said a clipped voice, “just a quick call to let you know that we are holding a package for you at the club.”
Montgomery felt the butterflies start in his stomach. He had been waiting for this particular news for some time and, as always, he knew that he would not be able to wait for too long before collecting. “Thank you,” he replied as a contented smile creased his handsome face.
“I'll get a secretary to contact you about the collection date.”
“Tomorrow,” he inquired hastily.
The caller cut him short before he could continue, “A secretary will phone you, sir. Goodbye.”
Robert Montgomery sat back in his leather chair and allowed himself to momentarily enjoy the warm, tingling sensation that was slowly spreading up from his groin to his stomach.
******
Morton worked harder in the gym than usual pushing his body to its physical limits lifting heavier weights more often. It was his way of working off his frustration and anger at Thanos. But even after spending two hours working out and another hour sitting in the sauna he was still angry.
On his way home he found himself heading to Kim’s place and grinned. It was unintentional but at least he knew that she would be happy to see him and it was better than sitting at home alone brooding besides, he owed the girl and so he thought he would offer to take her out for a meal that night. He liked her. He always had. He had first met her on a cold, wet night. She was sheltering under a railway bridge arguing with two young men, prospective clients, over her fee when things turned nasty and they started to drag her off. Realising that she was young and had no one to protect her he had done the decent thing and chased to two would-be rapists off and later convinced her to work for him.
He had often used her body over the years. She was the only girl he ever felt totally relaxed with and always treated her gently. She was different from the other whores he used. They were there for his personal gratification and nothing else, their feelings meant nothing to him but with her it was always different. Having arranged to pick her up at eight o’clock that night he left for home.
******
“Inspector Davenport,” Ernie always answered his business phone in a very brisk, official voice. He, like a lot of professionals, kept two phones, one for business and one for friends and family. His personal phone never rang very often.
He did not recognise the voice at first until she introduced herself, “Inspector, it's me, Francesca Bianchi!” her voice was soft and shaky not the confident reporter he had meet before. He was surprised at her call as he did not think that he would see or hear from her so soon although he always knew that as long as she showed an interest in Thanos their paths would inevitably cross again.
“Miss Bianchi,” the sound of his deep voice felt reassuring.
“I didn't know who else to call. I’m not sure why I called you actually…” her voice trailed off as though she was having second thoughts.
“Miss Bianchi,” he started again, “is there something the matter?” There was an awkward silence for a moment as Francesca thought. Maybe she was over-reacting and making a fool of herself. “Miss Bianchi?”
“Er, oh, I feel such a fool,” she said softly more to herself than to him.
”Well, what can I help you with?”
There was a pause as she thought about whether she was doing the right thing in telling him before she blurted out in a rush, “Someone’s been in my apartment and I think I know who!”
He thought for a moment carefully choosing his words, “You mean a burglary?”
“Well, no. That’s just it. Nothing’s missing it’s just that…” she paused wondering how she could explain it. “things aren’t…” he heard a loud sigh as she collected her thoughts and tried to explain, “its just some things have moved. They are not exactly where I put them and today I was followed by the same man that I saw yesterday!” she finished her sentence in a great rush.
Ernie thought quickly, why should anyone follow her and what has she got that is worth going to all the trouble of trying to conceal a break-in. “Who would be interested in you right now, Miss Bianchi? Do any names come to mind?” He phrased the question carefully knowing of her interest in Thanos.
“What?” she replied. The question had caught her slightly off guard. “I don't know,” she lied unconvincingly.
There was a long silent spell at the other end of the phone and then came the question she knew he would ask, “Why did you call me and not notify your local police about this?”
“Well, I just thought that after your warning about our mutual friend… you know…what you said about him being dangerous.” She could hear herself babbling, “And besides, I thought that perhaps you should know!” she said defensively. Why should he know? She thought to herself, God, she could have kicked herself. She sounded like a frightened schoolgirl. The truth was that she was frightened and even though she did not like to admit it, especially to herself, she needed the reassurance of knowing that London was not like New York.
Ernie really wanted to see her again. He felt like an old fool, though. Here he was a middle-aged man with a crush, yes, he admitted to himself, a crush on a girl who looked young enough to be his daughter. He tried to tell himself it was only because he had been without female company since his divorce and that was such a long time ago. He could use this as an excuse to see her, “Perhaps I should come over and have a quick look around? If that would make you feel any safer?” he offered quickly.
An hour later she was showing him the things that had been moved. Experience and common sense told him not to bother arranging to have finger prints tested for even though the immaculately wiped clean surfaces would have been the perfect medium for finger printing he knew that anyone who took the time and trouble to break into an apartment like this and not steal anything was not going to be careless enough to leave prints behind.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why would anyone break into your apartment and not steal anything?” He thought for a moment, “Do you need to keep a set of spare keys at security? You know, these sorts of places don't vet their security staff that closely. They’re mostly low paid, untrained and, more worryingly, unchecked guys who answer ads in the local paper. It could be that one of them just wanted a look round.” He looked casually around as he spoke noting that she seemed to have exceptional and expensive taste. He did not like to add that maybe one of the guards was a pervert and probably went through her underwear drawers. “Is there something in here that would interest someone? Something other than valuables?” he probed.
The drive home with the air-conditioning blowing out icy cold air had given her time to calm down and clear her head, “Tell me about Thanos,” her attempt to deflect his interest in her was obvious, “is he as bad as you say or is it something more personal, Inspector?”
Ernie found himself having trouble concentrating whenever he looked at her. She really was quite beautiful. He decided there and then that in order to make progress they needed to collaborate and share information. “What is your involvement with Thanos?” the question came out a bit more blunt and confrontational than he intended.
Francesca looked shocked at the accusation, “I've never even met him,” at least she was telling him the truth but somehow even telling him the truth did not seem right.
He looked closely at her and made up his mind to take a chance and dropped his official tone, “Let’s stop playing games, shall we Miss Bianchi? From now on you will call me Ernie and I, if I may, will address you as Francesca?” Francesca, he thought, a beautiful name, it suited her well.
His sudden chang
e of attitude took her by surprise. She was not used to people she dealt with being quite so open first off. Normally, her negotiations with anyone be they informants, police or even colleagues were always a game of give and take. He was different and she liked that.
“You first.”
He smiled. Still the games, he thought but if he wanted to know what she knew he was going to have to trust her honesty and so he told her most of what he knew and suspected about Thanos. She sat in the middle of the sofa looking out across the river, lightly stroking her chin and listened in complete silence as he spoke never interrupting him even though she had questions of her own to ask. When he had finished she sat there totally absorbed as she took in everything she had just learned. Things were now beginning to make sense. She considered just how much she should tell this policeman. Her private dilemma was if she shared what she knew with the authorities what sort of impact would that have on her breaking the story of a lifetime and all that would mean to her in terms of professional prestige and money or should she help them and hasten the capture of this animal. After all, he did not know about the tapes yet!
Ernie waited patiently as she wrangled with her conscious but the wait proved worth it as she explained about Andy Richards, about the green file and its contents but more disturbingly about the note from her stepbrother.
Ernie felt the excitement rise within him. She had been gifted, more by luck than any hard work, more information on his nemesis in a matter of days than he had managed to accumulate over a period of years. If he could gather some hard, indisputable evidence and go in front of a judge then he knew that he would be able to put this public menace behind bars for once and all.
“Could I see these files?” he asked hopefully.
Francesca walked over to him and lent behind the sofa and brought out the green box file. Ernie’s heart skipped a beat and he hoped that she would not notice the slight tremor in his hands as he took the box from her. Was this it? Was this what he was looking for? Incontrovertible proof!
The Qadesh Club Page 13
