by Lee Wood
36
Yellow Submarine
Following the ‘off the record’ advice from Phil and after a lot of thought, Roger sat down in his room at the Milton Motel and dialled his mum’s number.
A voice he recognised as Kevin O’Connor answered with a gruff “Yeah.”
“I’ll do a swop for my father. I’ve already started to put things in place to raise the cash. But I need forty-eight hours. If you look after my father in a decent way and I get to speak to him just before the exchange, then we have a deal.”
“What about the police?”
“I haven’t spoken to them and I won’t. I think you know I’m not going to get them involved. You’ve taken virtually everything from me, my only daughter and my lovely mother. All I have left is my dad. I just want to make sure he’s safe at the end of this.”
“Two days it is. Your dad stays healthy until then. And no funny business.”
“That’s more your sort of thing. I play by the book, as you are aware. I’ll call you as soon as everything is in place.”
Roger dropped the phone by his side on the bed and put his hands over his face.
One chance. That’s all he had. If something went wrong, then his dad would be dead. The problem was, he knew even if he did the exchange, in all probability, O’Connor wouldn’t let his father walk free. He knew too much.
He had already checked the tracking devices he had attached to Kevin’s 4x4 and the Transit van on his computer, but there was no signal. The batteries must have gone flat.
Suddenly his phone dinged with a text message from a withheld number.
‘Fez club. Tomorrow night. 1 to 3 a.m., Park Street. Call 07239 445445. Yellow Submarine. Good luck.’
Roger dialled the number.
“Hello.”
“I was given your number by an associate. He told me to say Yellow Submarine.”
“So how can I help you?”
“I need to get my hands on a couple of special items not available in the shops, if you get my drift.”
“Okay. Give me the details, and I’ll see if I can help you.”
The following evening at eight, Roger received another text from the withheld number.
‘Received confirmation. Green light for tonight.’
At ten o’clock, Roger drove the 59-plate VW transporter van he had purchased for £3,000 into Park Street Car Park in a position where he could see each car as it drove in.
The two rear windows of the van had been covered with a one-way mirror film tint purchased from a local auto store. The instructions had made it quick and easy to apply. “Once the mirror tint is applied to glass it will give a mirror finish from the outside whilst allowing clear vision from inside all in a colour of your choice. The self-adhesive backing allows easy fitting with the aid of a little soapy water.”
Forty minutes later, the car Roger had been waiting for appeared in the car park. It drove up the ramp where Roger had parked and continued to the third floor. Roger got out of his van and walked up the ramp to see where it had been parked on the far side against the wall. Once he saw the lone occupant make his way towards the exit stairs, he waited a couple of minutes and then went back to his van and drove it up to the third floor and parked with the rear doors facing the back of the white BMW he had been observing.
Roger sat in the back of the van and waited. When he had parked, the third floor had about twenty cars parked but as time passed many of them were driven off until by 1 a.m., there was just a handful.
Roger heard the doors at the top of the stairwell open and watched as Tyson O’Connor walked towards his car. There was an unforeseen problem. He was not alone. Tyson had his arm around an attractive young lady.
Roger hesitated. He didn’t want to harm anyone other than the scumbag he had come to get.
Should he, shouldn’t he? He needed to make a move if he was to stand any chance of getting his father back safely.
Luckily, Tyson helped.
He walked the young lady round to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her and then walked around the back of the car.
“I’m gonna take a quick piss,” he informed the girl.
Tyson stood behind his car, looking down as he relieved himself.
Roger quietly opened the rear doors of the van and got out. He crept up behind Tyson, and as he heard something and turned, Roger zapped him with the Taser gun he had purchased illegally following the Yellow Submarine phone call.
Tyson sank unconscious to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Roger grabbed his hands and pulled a pair of police-issue handcuffs from his pocket, also supplied by Yellow Submarine, and made sure Tyson’s hands were secure behind his back. He then put two long plastic ties around his legs and pulled them tight and lifted him into the back of the van. He placed a ski mask over his head and turned it 180 degrees, making sure Tyson’s mouth was in line with the slit Roger had made in the back of the material, and so he couldn’t see the route they would be taking if he gained consciousness.
As Roger drove away, he noticed the young lady get out of the car and walk around, trying to work out where her male partner had gone. Roger drove at normal speed to the exit and off into the night. So far there was no sound from the back, which either meant Tyson was still unconscious or pretending to be and biding his time.
Twenty minutes later, the silver coloured van turned into the narrow private driveway that led down to the premises of the equestrian centre Roger had purchased and was going to give to his daughter at the evening party of her twenty-first birthday.
The van came to a halt, and taking no chances, Roger opened the back doors and stepped back while holding the Taser gun in one hand, a powerful torch in the other and a baseball bat on the floor close by as back up.
With no movement, he shone the torch into the van. Slowly the figure sat up. Roger could see the handcuffs and cable ties were still in place. He brought over a large trolley on wheels, the type used by garden centres to haul their plants around. The level was virtually the same as the floor of the van. He tied some rope around Tyson’s legs and then hauled him from the van onto the trolley, making sure he was a few feet away at all times. He couldn’t afford to underestimate what this person was capable of.
Once he was satisfied his prisoner was still secure, Roger pulled the trolley into the nearest of two metal shipping containers placed side by side that had originally been intended to store hay and feed for the horses but had never been used.
Once inside, Roger picked up the Taser and hit Tyson to ensure he would be in no fit state to attack him as he transferred him to the wooden slab he had prepared.
The slab consisted of a piece of solid oak about two metres high and one metre wide and as thick as a door. It was covered on one side with a thin layer of foam. The other side had four square metal plates, about eight inches square. Each one had a bolt attached that went through the wood and on to the side with the foam. Attached to the two lower bolts were metal bracelets that had been specially made to fit around both of Tyson’s ankles. The two other plates had bracelets for his wrists. It would take the strength of an elephant to break any of the short chains. It was virtually upright against one side of the container.
After buying the oak, Roger had taken it to his engineering factory and together with a couple of his best employees, had added the items of hardware. They had shown surprise at the items but had not dared to ask their boss why he was constructing such a strange piece of apparatus.
Roger first cut the cable ties around Tyson’s feet and placed the metal brackets around his ankles. Next, he took out the key and unlocked the cufflinks and transferred Tyson’s wrists to the brackets and locked them.
Just to be sure, Roger then took a length of chain and placed it around Tyson’s waist. Each side then went through a metal-rimmed hole on each side of his body, which he then secured with a powerful padlock.
By the time Roger was satisfied his prisoner was secure, it was 2 a.m. He
had been up for nearly twenty hours. He closed the doors to the metal container and padlocked it. The container had air holes, so he knew Tyson wouldn’t die due to lack of oxygen. More’s the pity, Roger thought.
37
The Exchange
The alarm Roger had set on his watch announced the time was midday.
His natural reaction was to check his phone, which he’d switched off before driving to the car park the previous night. He was aware the phone could be tracked, and as Phil Jones had reminded him on more than one occasion, the police believed Kevin O’Connor had someone on the inside, and that person might be able to find his location via the movement of his mobile phone.
He had slept in the other container. Earlier in the day, he visited the local furniture store and purchased a folding bed and brought it back in the VW van.
By 2 p.m., Roger had refreshed himself and eaten a meal, although he didn’t feel too much like food, he needed to be alert and ready if he was going to make sure O’Connor didn’t get the better of him.
Roger couldn’t afford to make a mistake if he wanted to see his father alive.
He checked in on Tyson.
“You bastard. My father’s going to cut you up into little pieces and feed you to the fish.”
“From where I’m standing you’re in no position to threaten me. You killed my mother. I would be extremely careful how you talk to me, or I might decide to do the same to you.”
Tyson looked down and went silent.
Roger closed the doors to both containers and got into the van he had parked round the side and drove off until he reached the branch of Tesco’s on the other side of Trentbridge and drove to the far side of the car park.
He dialled the number he had for Kevin.
“Yeah.”
“How’s my dad?”
“Fine and dandy.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“He’s not here.”
“What do you mean he’s not there? What have you done with him?”
“Calm down. What I mean is I’m not at the place where he is enjoying our hospitality.”
“Then phone me back when you are, and I’ll tell you where your son Tyson was last night.”
And with that, Roger hung up.
Let him sweat for a while, he thought.
An hour later, Roger’s phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hello, son.”
“Is that you, Dad? Are you alright?”
“Yes, son. I’m okay. Don’t let these bastards try–”
Kevin’s voice came on the phone. “See, I told you he was fine.”
“You’d better keep him that way. If any harm comes to him, then Tyson gets the same.”
“What are you on about?”
“Last night. I kidnapped your son. I’m holding him. He’ll come to no harm as long as my father stays healthy. You understand?”
“No, no. My son is at home.”
“I think you had better check before you say that. Last time I saw him he was securely tied up, as I’m sure you have done with my father. Oh, and when we meet for the exchange, you had better bring him a fresh pair of trousers. He’s had an accident in the ones he’s currently wearing.”
“If you harm my son I’ll kill you, you bastard.”
“Now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine. If you harm my father, I will kill you. I’ll phone you later with a location to do the exchange. I’m in charge now if you want to see your son again.”
Roger ended the call. That way he felt more in control, although he was shaking with fear.
He still had lots of work to do.
One hour later, Roger phoned Kevin.
“Ready to do an exchange? We’ll meet on the Milton Industrial Estate at units nine and ten. They are both currently unoccupied. Tonight at seven. You bring my dad, and I’ll bring Tyson and the cash. A straight exchange and no funny business.”
At seven o’clock, Roger drove into the industrial estate and parked up close to units nine and ten.
Kevin O’Connor was nowhere to be seen, but Roger had an idea he wasn’t far away.
He couldn’t see the black 4x4 vehicle parked on the hill that overlooked the estate and Kevin O’Connor watching him through binoculars. He had been there for the past two hours, after checking with his contact in the police but also double-checking by driving along all the nearby streets to make sure the police were not waiting for him.
He watched as Roger parked up. He could see someone in the front passenger seat of the car with what looked like Tyson’s trademark red Scuderia Ferrari cap. He saw Roger go to the boot and remove a large silver metal case, much deeper than a briefcase, the type used by photographers to keep cameras from getting damaged in transit. And large enough to hold £500,000 in cash.
Once Kevin was satisfied no one else was around, and there were no police hiding anywhere, he walked back to the vehicle. “Get off that fucking phone, Lennox. We’ve got work to do. Put the old geezer in the front seat.”
Lennox did as he was told and got into the back seat.
Kevin drove slowly into the industrial estate and along the first line of units and round the end units to bring his vehicle facing Roger’s Mercedes then backed away about five metres.
Roger stepped out of his car holding the silver case. “I’ve got your money. It’s all here. And I’ve got your son here” he said pointing to the figure sitting in the front passenger seat. “Let my father get out of the car, so I can see he’s alright.”
“Let Tyson go.”
“After what happened to my mother, not until I’ve seen my father is alright.”
Kevin beckoned to Lennox to bring Roger’s dad from the car. “There yer go. Right as rain. He’s been well cared for. Now throw over your car keys. And the cash.”
“Roger did as he was asked and slid the case along to where Kevin was standing by the driver’s door of his vehicle.
As he did, he noticed Lennox walk round to the back of the 4x4 and opened the boot.
The lid of the boot in the open position was above the roof of the vehicle, but through the back window, Roger noticed Lennox holding what looked like a baseball bat.
Kevin had opened the case and was occupied, picking up the bundles of cash. A big grin across his face. “Quick, Dad, run over here.”
Vernon moved quickly and ran over to his son.
“Nice try. But I’m afraid we can’t leave any witnesses. Tyson, get out of the car.”
The figure didn’t move.
“Tyson, get out of the fucking car.”
Lennox walked round from the back of the 4x4 to where his father was standing. He was carrying a baseball bat. “I’m going to fucking enjoy this. By the time I’ve finished battering the fuck out of you, they’ll only be able to identify you from yer fucking dental records.”
Roger grabbed his father’s hand and pulled him as he took a step back and opened the rear door of the Mercedes. He reached down to the floor just as Lennox rushed at him, the baseball bat high above his head and his eyes filled with rage.
Roger knew he had to make a move otherwise they would both be dead.
38
The Dummy
Lennox was three feet away from Roger. Another couple of steps and the bat would come down.
Roger aimed the Taser and fired, hoping it wouldn’t let him down. Lennox stared at him as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened then slumped to the floor, writhing in agony.
Kevin moved forward in a rage, dropping the case with the money and raising his fists.
Roger knew he didn’t stand a chance in a fist fight, but he had to protect his father. He picked up the bat that lay near Lennox, and as Kevin came into range, Roger swung it at Kevin’s legs.
He heard a loud crack as the solid wood of the bat struck Kevin across the side of his leg at knee height. Kevin screamed out in pain.
Roger noticed Lennox, still looking a bit groggy but starting to get back to
his feet by leaning on the bonnet of the Mercedes.
Lennox looked across to the passenger seat.
“Tyson, what the fuck are you doing sitting the…” He stopped mid-sentence as he realised it wasn’t his brother but a lifelike mannequin dummy wearing Tyson’s trademark red Scuderia Ferrari Cap.
“Quick, come on, Dad.”
Roger grabbed his father’s hand and pulled him to the door of unit ten.
Once they were inside, Roger locked the door.
Unit 10 on the Milton Industrial Estate was the place where Roger had originally started his business twenty-four years earlier. He still rented it, partly for sentimental reasons, although nowadays it was used to house another business he was involved in called Trentbridge Technology Training.
Roger led his father through the building to the door at the rear and then told him to get into the passenger side of the VW van he had parked their earlier, with Tyson securely tied up in the back.
Roger went over to the large roller shutter door and pressed a button to raise the door. Once it was clear of the van he got in and drove the van out. Then lowered the shutter door from the outside and took the key. He hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Mmm. Mmm,” said Tyson securely tied up in the back of the van with gaffer tape across his mouth and the ski mask covering his head.
Roger said nothing. He drove to the Milton Motel.
“Look, Dad. You’ll be safe here. I’ve booked you a room. Here’s the key. Stay here tonight, and I’ll get back to see you in the morning. It’s eight o’clock now; the restaurant is open until ten. Why don’t you have a quick freshen up in your room and then enjoy a meal. I’ve got things to sort out.”
“Be careful, son. They told me they would kill us both when they had me tied up. These are not nice people.”
