“No crap, Sherlock,” Eli said, snapping his gum to add emphasis.
“Does anyone have any idea who Ron Thompson is? Do we have any clues as to how Wynter has gotten herself into this mess or where she might be?” Quinn broke in.
“I’ve requested a triangulation on the phone signal,” Idris informed Quinn.
“Did you try calling back?”
Annoyance crossed Idris’s features. A pen jumped acrobatically between his fingers as he responded in curt tones, “Hell, no! What a good idea, Quinn. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, wait, of course I called back. No answer. There’s no signal from the phone. That’s why requesting a triangulation to pinpoint the phone towers from this last received message is our best bet.” Idris heaved a loud sigh. “We can pinpoint the location to within a few kilometers of where she made that call from.”
“That could take hours and by then she might not be there.” Quinn’s mouth set in a stubborn line. Holy hell! Couldn’t the woman have kept herself out of danger for just a few days until he sorted out the mess of the stolen schoolgirls? He looked at Reuben. “Does your mother have any idea as to her whereabouts?”
“I asked mum about Bex’s movements today. She said that she’d had a visitor around ten a.m. this morning.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Reuben.”
“It was Li Jian.”
Quinn flinched as though Reuben had slapped him. “Are you saying the same Li Jian from yesterday’s courtroom fiasco called on Bex Wynter?”
“I presume so. I don’t know how many Li Jians there are in London, especially ones that Bex might know. Mum says that Bex went out with him and returned about an hour later, alone. She then asked mum if she could borrow the car for a couple of hours. Mum hasn’t heard from her since.”
“Listen, now that Bex has disappeared, I think we should call Dresden and fill her in on the details,” Idris said. The pen cartwheeled between his fingers.
“All in good time,” Quinn snapped, his eyes daring Idris to go behind his back. He swung his attention away. “Reuben, how much intel did you manage to dig up on the shipping company?”
Reuben’s gaze swung between the two men. Quinn nodded at him, ignoring Idris’s mutinous look. “Any year now, Reuben.”
Reuben consulted his laptop. “Sino-Anglo Shipping Group or SASG is a privately owned enterprise, specializing in exports and imports between China and the UK and Europe. Peter Van Hokstad is the Executive Chairman and based here in the UK. Li Fa Ping is the Chief Executive Officer based in Shanghai, Bjorn Hofsnider is the Chief Finance Officer, also based in Shanghai. SASG controls nearly two hundred ships, predominately bulk carriers and container ships. Main crewing sources are Chinese with some Indians.”
Quinn ran a heavy hand over his chin. “Who’s this other Li character?”
“It turns out Li Fa Ping is Li Jian’s uncle. Li Jian primarily uses SASG for his car export business.”
“To get this straight, we are talking about the same Li Jian defended by Isla in court yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“This bloke is turning up way too often for it to be a coincidence. I want everyone here concentrating on Li Jian. I want every detail you can find about him, right down to the color of underwear Li is wearing today. I especially want to know his exact whereabouts as of two seconds ago. He’s the last person to see Wynter, aside from your mother, Reuben.”
Reuben pulled Quinn aside, leaving Idris and Eli alone at their computers.
“You should have told Bex about the kidnapped schoolgirls.” His voice held a bite of accusation. “If you’d been honest with her she would’ve had all the facts and she might have avoided danger.”
“Don’t be daft, Reuben. Bex’s situation has nothing to do with this case. What’s the connection?”
“It’s not exactly a secret that she’s the head of the Youth Crimes Team or that we’re investigating the missing girls.”
“What’s your point, Reuben? You think the perp has put those facts together and taken Wynter to ransom to stop us investigating the disappearance of twenty-two girls? No one’s contacted the office. I think you’re on the wrong track. Best get back to work, Rookie. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
* * *
“You’re telling me that DCI Wynter is now missing, presumed to be in danger? Standing, you’re not in over your head, you’re drowning!” Dresden’s tone over the speaker phone was icy.
“I’ve put out an APB on the license plate for Georgina Richards’ car that we believe Wynter was driving. Hopefully we get a sighting on that or a match on the phone signal to pinpoint her whereabouts.” Quinn’s ego was stinging from the rebuke.
“A missing police officer is not a good look. I don’t want to be fielding press questions on that issue.” Dresden’s voice drifted from the phone as desiccated as a desert. “I hate to do it, but you’ll have to call for CID back up. There’s no way you, Carson and Richards can handle everything on your plate right now.”
“Just give me a few more hours, Ma’am. We’re exploring a possible connection with a Chinese national. Just let me interview him and we can make a determination after that.”
“Standing, too many people’s lives are at stake. Hand this case over to CID immediately. I told you at the beginning this was out of our jurisdiction and now you’ve proved it.”
Chapter 29
Fairbridge House College, Bromley
Using the spigot on the end of the pipe that had snapped into her hands, Bex managed to hammer close the broken tubing and stop the water flooding into the sink sufficiently so that it slowed to a dribble.
That left her with nearly a foot of thin-walled copper tubing, set off by the faucet like a miniature golf club. Instead of a nine iron, she had a useful ten-inch copper, she thought with satisfaction.
“What are you going to do with that? Use it as some sort of weapon?” Isla had watched Bex’s struggle without comment.
“First, I want to see if we can use it as a crowbar to jack off those planks at the window. I think our best chance of escape lies that way.”
Holding the bar, she moved out of the bathroom, heading purposefully towards the window. She left the light on in the bathroom and the door open to provide as much light as possible into the room.
“If this works, we’ll stack the beds in front of the door to buy us some time and I’ll show you a little trick to get out of these zip lock wrist ties,” Bex said. With a plan in place she felt hope trickle back inside her, stiffening her spine. They were going to be okay.
She had hardly propped the pipe under the first wooden board when she heard footsteps scrape outside the door. She leapt away from the window, hurriedly jamming the tubing between the mattress and the bed frame, out of sight. She flung herself down on the mattress as Red Eyes entered. Light from the bathroom gleamed over his shaved skull.
He cast a suspicious glance around the room, taking in Bex lying on one bed and Isla, sitting stiffly on the other. He used a card to swipe the door locked behind him.
“Pleased to see me, bitches?”
“As pleased as I am to see any bald-headed, blood-sucking murderer.” Bex kept her voice bland, but she raked him up and down, checking for bulges in his clothes that would indicate he was carrying more weapons than the gun held loosely in the hand hanging by his side. English gun laws were strict, but Bex had learned during training that a rash of blank-firing or replica pistols were constantly invading the country to be illegally converted into firing live ammunition. She recognized Red Eyes’ gun as a 9-millimeter Russian Baikal IZH-79. The casual way he held the firearm told Bex he wasn’t concerned that the two of them were a threat. Bex hoped to use that blasé machismo attitude to her advantage.
He kept the black, compact weapon trained on her as walked between the two beds. He stopped in front of Isla, who maintained her bravado. “Listen, if you release us now you’ll be in a whole lot less trouble when the police raid this place. Just so you know,
they’re already on their way.”
“Are they now? Is that because of your phone call to your ex-husband?”
Shock spread across Isla’s face.
“Do you think we wouldn’t keep tabs on Li Jian’s barrister? We have to be on top of any deals you might cut or any information you might disclose to other parties. Of course we bugged your phone.”
Isla spluttered. “That’s outrageous. A total invasion of privacy.”
He chuckled, the sound mean and low in his throat. “Oh, I haven’t begun to invade your privacy yet, bitch. I heard you getting all chatty with your pig of an ex. He’s in charge of the schoolgirl investigation and it sounds like you two have unfinished business. The boss likes that. Thinks you could be a good bargaining chip and the boss likes to keep a little insurance on hand.”
Without warning he lashed out, the butt of his gun striking Isla square against the temple.
Bex yelled and lunged forward. Swiftly, in a continuous progress of retracting his arm from the first blow, he swung his fist to backhand Bex, his hand weighted with extra power from the gun he carried. Bex tried to hijack her own movement to the side but was still knocked to the floor. The inside of her cheek smashed against her teeth and she tasted blood.
The man yanked Isla’s head up to check she was out cold. He slammed her against the wall before letting her drop onto the mattress. “Your turn next, sweetheart. But right now I have a score to settle with DCI Wynter.”
Grabbing her hair, he hauled Bex from the floor to her feet, ramming the gun against her ribs. His eyes crawled over her body. Pushing his face into hers, he rolled his head towards her ear and his tongue licked up the side of her cheek.
As his saliva trickled down her skin, she shuddered. The last man to touch her had been Zane. This was not the next man she wanted to lay hands on her. For a moment she was paralyzed with loathing.
He smirked. “Oh, am I going to have some fun with you.” He gripped the front of her button down shirt and ripped it open, buttons spilling to the floor. Then he placed his palm against her chest and shoved her so she fell back onto the mattress.
Bex curled her legs up and then lifted her hips to give herself more power as she drove her legs towards his stomach. He stepped backwards just far enough so her feet barely grazed him, and her legs fell back onto the bed.
“Just what I like.” He grinned. “Pussy with attitude. I’m really going to enjoy bringing you to heel.” He brought the gun up to stare her in the face. “Now, take off your jeans.”
Bex stayed still, although her heart was thumping. Fear and exertion made it difficult to catch her breath. The gun gave him an enormous advantage and she fought down her panic. All her training for the past two weeks had concentrated on this one unalterable fact of English policing. Every day she was fighting crime without a weapon.
“Introduce violence into a situation and you’ll lose!” her instructor had hammered home to the class. “If you’re unexpectedly facing a gun or a knife, you’re better off using your voice. Talk. Talk down the situation. Talk down the perp. Become his best friend and he won’t want to use that gun or knife against you.”
She couldn’t make herself smile at Red Eyes, but she injected a cajoling note into her voice. “Why don’t you tell me your name? We don’t have to do this the hard way.”
He sneered. “The hard way’s the only way I like it.” He thrust his hips out so she couldn’t miss his intention or the erection tenting the front of his own slacks, below the protruding belly. His eyes glistened in a face warped with carnal hunger. His lust was palpable. “I’m already hard and ready to rock and roll.”
“Remember, the boss doesn’t want you to damage the goods.”
“Then don’t make me damage you. Besides what I’m about to do to you is nothing compared to what’ll happen to you once the boss ships you off to Shanghai. You’re not a sweet white virgin that the customers will pay huge dollars for. You’re destined for the dockyard brothels.”
He laughed, his tongue circling his lips, leaving them wet and slippery. She watched the rise and fall of his aroused breathing and repressed another shiver.
“Oh yes, once you get there you’re going to be wishing it was just me sticking my dick into you. Now, take your jeans off, bitch, before I shoot your face off.” His voice turned harsh, the gun waved restlessly. “Or maybe you’d rather I shot your friend.” The muzzle swiveled towards Isla’s limp form.
“No!” the word ripped out of Bex’s throat. She didn’t care particularly about Isla Standing, but no one else was going to die because of her!
“Then do it before I count to three. One.”
Think, damn it, think! she scolded herself.
“Two.”
Even if she launched herself at him his trigger finger would move quicker than she could knock him off balance and Isla would be dead. He cocked the gun.
“Wait, I’m doing it!” she exclaimed.
It was difficult with her hands tied, but she popped the snap on the top of her jeans and lowered the zipper. She hooked her thumbs into her waistband and wiggled her hips as though trying to lower the jeans.
“Hurry up!” he snapped.
“I can’t do it with my hands tied,” she protested. “Can you help me?”
His eyes narrowed as though considering the trap. He glanced at his watch and Bex suspected that he had called in on them without anyone knowing. Good. If his time was limited that would put pressure on him and pressure made for poor judgment and mistaken decisions.
He switched direction with his gun hand. Training it on her, he reached out with his left hand to yank at her waistband. Bex kept her body weight secure on the bed so the jeans didn’t budge.
“Lift up, damn it!” he growled with frustration. Shoving the gun in his waistband, he bent over, grabbing at the legs of her jeans.
“Like this?”
Bex shifted her hips, thrusting her legs in the air to hook her ankles around his neck. She pressed her thighs together, squeezing as hard as she could. His hands instinctively latched onto her legs as his face quickly bloated.
She threw her bound hands above her head and scrabbled behind her, searching for the faucet she had stashed earlier. His hands clamped onto her thighs as he frantically clawed at them, trying to force them apart and loosen the pressure building on his neck. Veins pulsated through the reddening skin.
She clutched the cold metal of the copper piping. Bending her knees, she brought his head towards her as she swung her bound arms to hit him across the head with the miniature club. Instead, he drove his body sideways and she missed the vital blow. The metal flew from her grip.
He was at least sixty pounds heavier than her, although most of that weight lodged around his middle. Still the dead weight of him was enough to drag her legs down as he crashed against the mattress. Her leg muscles screamed with fatigue as she fought to hold on. She heard the metal pipe clang against the floor.
“Bex! Oh, my God!” Isla’s voice broke through the sounds of their heavy panting and distracted her.
Red Eyes’ hand flailed out and connected with the bridge of Bex’s nose. She gave a yelp, her eyes watering with the pain, and almost lost her grip. “Grab the faucet and hit him!” she screamed. “Isla, use the faucet!”
With the upper half of his body on the bed, his feet had purchase on the floor and he used the thrust to hammer forward, shoving her towards the wall. Bex squeezed harder, making her legs an iron vice. All those sessions in the gym had to count for something! The veins were popping in his forehead, his eyes bulging as he drove ahead until her head crashed against the wall.
Her vision blurred. Her muscles burned with fatigue. Using her last ounce of energy she twisted her legs even tighter. Suddenly she felt him slump. For a few more seconds she forced herself to maintain her grip until she was sure he had blacked out.
Drawing in a ragged breath, she lifted herself up to pull the Baikal from his waistband. Aiming it in his direction she s
hoved his body from between her distressed legs. As she rose from the bed, her thigh muscles quivered and gave way.
“Bloody hell! Why didn’t you hit him on the head with the faucet?” Bex demanded, collapsing onto the floor.
Isla was prone on the bed, a red welt visible across her forehead. Bex picked up the copper piping and waved it in front of Isla’s face. She blinked several times, trying to focus.
“Oh, you mean the tap?”
“Bloody English words!” Bex’s head sank back against the bed frame as weak laughter frothed up her throat. She hadn’t laughed since Zane died, and now she found she couldn’t stop.
Chapter 30
Third floor, New Scotland Yard
“Have we got any deets on Li Jian or Ron Thompson yet?” Quinn demanded as he stalked back to the corner of the third floor allocated to their team. Through the floor to ceiling windows, a glowing London Eye stared back against the purple and pink-streaked sky.
The three men were huddled around the computers. Reuben’s fingers were flying over the keyboard. Idris lifted his head, pinning him with a look that insisted on knowing what Dresden had said.
Idris could bloody well wait until Quinn was ready to disclose the case had been snatched from his hands!
“Ron Thompson’s the caretaker at Fairbridge House College,” Reuben piped up.
“I’m still trying to track Li Jian’s whereabouts. I’ve put an APB on his car registration,” Eli said.
Quinn paced in front of the window, feeling the weight of their eyes on him.
“Let’s regroup. A busload of girls from Fairbidge has disappeared. The bus deviated from its route and was found in Welwright Lane, Bromley. The bus driver was murdered, execution style, and his body was left in the front garden of one of the residences. All the girls’ clothes, packs, phones, everything they owned was left in the bus. Were the girls on the bus too? Unknown. The bus was then loaded into a forty-foot high shipping container and taken to Manchester where the bus was dumped. Have we got any news yet on prints, DNA, anything at all picked up from the interior or exterior of the bus?”
Bex Wynter Box Set Page 27
